A Deal With the Devil?
Seokjin - Ghost
Seokjin had been sitting in the police tent for what felt like a lifetime. In reality, it had been about 18 hours, which was still an unacceptable amount of time for a man of his refined tastes and delicate constitution. His body was stiff from the awful chair, his mind felt like it was wading through sludge, and his eyelids were at constant war with gravity.
He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in over 30 hours. The last nap he’d taken had been just long enough to convince his brain that it needed more rest—only for him to be rudely yanked back into the chaos of the heist. But of course, to anyone looking at him, he was still effortlessly put together. His shirt remained crisp, his hair perfectly styled, and not a single dark circle dared to make an appearance on his face. He might have been dead inside, but he was going to be flawlessly dead inside.
Across from him, a group of officers were hunched over their laptops, attempting to trace any sign of Signal. Not that it was going well. Seokjin had the distinct feeling that Signal had already fled the country. And then there was Seonsaengnim, the infamous mastermind behind this mess. The police were chasing his shadow with nothing but the breadcrumbs Signal had provided, and Seokjin had a nagging feeling that even those might be fake.
But of course, he couldn’t voice that. Hope was a dangerous thing to lose in an investigation like this. And while Seokjin wasn’t particularly sentimental, he understood that sometimes people needed something to cling to—however flimsy it might be.
That didn’t mean he was going to waste his energy chasing two dead ends at once. No, thank you.
A small blinking light on his laptop drew his attention. A new message had just come in.
Seokjin didn’t need to open it to know it was from Yoongi. He could already feel the smugness radiating from the screen. Still, curiosity got the better of him, and with a sigh, he clicked on it.
Hey, cop boy.
Seokjin exhaled sharply through his nose. Yoongi always knew exactly how to get under his skin. The message wasn’t even that bad, but it was the principle of the thing.
“Cop boy.” How dare he? Seokjin was a man, thank you very much. A mature, responsible adult who had made the reasonable decision to leave his life of crime behind.
…Even if that decision was starting to feel like a mistake at times.
Seokjin had left his hacking days behind because he wanted to do something meaningful. Something that actually made a difference. But so far, the police force had turned out to be just as full of gray areas as the underground world he’d abandoned. It wasn’t the clean-cut justice he’d hoped for. And Yoongi—annoyingly perceptive Yoongi—knew that. That was why his jabs hurt.
Seokjin didn’t regret leaving, not exactly. But some days, he did miss the simplicity of his old life. Back then, it had just been him and Yoongi against the world, weaving through digital networks like ghosts, untouchable. They’d been a perfect team—until Seokjin had decided he wanted more.
He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. Nostalgia wasn’t going to help him now.
With a sigh, he stood, stretching his stiff muscles. He needed fresh air. Badly.
“I’m stepping out for a few minutes,” he told Captain Park, who barely acknowledged him. Jungkook, however, looked up, next to him Lee Jaesun.
Jungkook frowned slightly, concern flickering across his face. “You want me to come with you?”
Seokjin snorted. “What, afraid I’ll get kidnapped in the five minutes it takes me to breathe in some pollution?”
Jungkook didn’t look amused. “You look like you haven’t slept in years.”
“Wow, thank you for your endless support, Detective. I feel so rejuvenated already,” Seokjin deadpanned. “I’m fine. I’ll be back soon.“
Jungkook didn’t seem convinced, but he let him go without further protest.
As soon as Seokjin stepped outside, the crisp November air slapped him in the face. He inhaled deeply, letting the cold wake him up.
For a moment, he just stood there, taking in the quiet. The distant hum of sirens, the murmurs of officers stationed outside—it was all background noise compared to the noise in his own head.
Then, he pulled out his phone and, against his better judgment, typed out a reply to Yoongi.
To: Cairo.
Still alive, huh? Must be nice to have nothing better to do than send me passive-aggressive emails in the middle of a heist.
And please. If I wanted to feel important, I’d be doing something far more entertaining than babysitting a bunch of officers who think “enhance” actually works like it does in the movies.
P.S. If you want ramen so badly, maybe you should have robbed a convenience store instead of a five-star hotel.
Ghost.
Seokjin hesitated for only a second before hitting send. He wasn’t sure why he was indulging this, but maybe it was just the exhaustion talking.
A few minutes later Seokjin stood in the small park, inhaling the crisp air as he pressed his fingers against his closed eyes. His body screamed for sleep, his brain felt like it was buffering, and frankly, he deserved a damn medal for functioning at this point.
The distant hum of the city surrounded him—the occasional honk, muffled conversations, the rhythmic clicking of a photographer’s camera. But above all, the Lotte World Tower loomed, its glass exterior reflecting the chaos below. Police officers, press, and curious onlookers gathered around it, as if waiting for the next plot twist of this real-life thriller.
For a second, he allowed himself the illusion of peace. Just one deep breath.
Then someone slammed into him.
Seokjin stumbled slightly, his eyes snapping open. “Yah—” He turned, glaring at the jogger who had just barreled into him without so much as an apology.
The man, clad in a gray hoodie and black jogging pants, kept moving like nothing had happened. His pace was unhurried, casual, as if bumping into people was just part of his fitness routine.
“Excuse me!” Seokjin called out, raising an eyebrow. “You planning on saying something? Like, I don’t know, ‘sorry’? ‘Excuse me’? ‘Wow, Seokjin, you’re so incredibly handsome, I was blinded and accidentally ran into you’?”
The jogger didn’t even look back.
Seokjin huffed. “Rude.” He adjusted his coat and was about to let it go when he noticed something on the ground. A plain, cream-colored envelope, slightly thick.
Frowning, he bent down and picked it up.
“Great,” he muttered. “Mister No-Manners over there probably dropped this. Should I return it?”
But as he turned the envelope in his hands, his blood ran cold.
One word was scrawled on the front in black ink.
Ghost.
Seokjin felt his heartbeat slam into his ribs.
Who the hell—?
His head snapped up, eyes darting around the park. Was someone watching him? Was this a trap?
But the park was eerily quiet. The only people nearby were a mother and her kid by the swings, and a businessman looking at his phone near a bench. The jogger was already gone.
Seokjin’s fingers tightened around the envelope.
He could march straight back to the tent. Hand this over to Jungkook. Let the police deal with it.
…Except that wasn’t an option.
He had spent years burying Ghost. No one at the station knew about that past, and if they did? Well, let’s just say it wouldn’t end with a friendly slap on the back and a “Wow, what a cool backstory!”
He couldn’t risk it.
He couldn’t throw it away, either.
Which left him with exactly one very dumb, very reckless option.
With slightly trembling fingers, Seokjin slid his thumb under the envelope’s flap and opened it.
Inside was a folded letter and… a burner phone.
Oh, fantastic. Nothing suspicious about that at all. Nope.
Swallowing hard, he pulled out the letter and unfolded it. The handwriting was sharp and precise, like someone who never made mistakes.
Dear Ghost,
You’ve been pretending to be someone else for so long, I wonder if you’ve forgotten who you really are.
The police force doesn’t suit you. Let’s be honest, you’re too smart to be their loyal little tech puppy. Fetching files, running trace searches, sitting quietly while they take credit for work you could do in your sleep? What a waste.
And justice? Don’t make me laugh. You know the truth. You’ve seen it firsthand. The police don’t serve justice. They serve whoever signs their paychecks. They’re bound by red tape, politics, and rules that make no sense. You can’t fix a broken system from the inside, Ghost. You know that.
But we—you and I—we could do something greater. We could build something better. We could be free.
You have a gift, and you’re wasting it. I’d rather see you at my side than rotting behind a desk, obeying orders from people who don’t deserve your loyalty.
If you’re interested—and let’s be real, you are—I’ll be in touch with a time to talk. You set your conditions. You decide your worth.
I look forward to seeing what choice you make.
- Seonsaengnim.
Seokjin stared at the letter.
Then he stared at it some more.
Then he actually let out a small, incredulous laugh. Was this a joke?
Seonsaengnim, the infamous mastermind currently holding hostages in the Lotte World Tower, wanted to recruit him? Like some Bond villain trying to lure the ex-spy back into the game?
Absolutely not.
No way.
He wasn’t even tempted.
…Okay, maybe a tiny part of him was curious. A microscopic, barely-existent part.
Because, technically, Seonsaengnim had a point. The police weren’t exactly what Seokjin had hoped. He had joined because he wanted to make a difference, but reality wasn’t that simple.
Most days, he wasn’t fighting crime. He was filling out paperwork, following orders that made no sense, and playing by rules that criminals never had to. And the worst part? The best part of his job—the hacking, the digital pursuit, the thrill—wasn’t even his anymore. He did all the work, and someone else got the glory.
Back when he was Ghost, the world had been simpler. He had worked on his own terms. He had been untouchable. And back then, Yoongi had been by his side.
Yoongi, who had sent him a message today, casually reminding him of the world he had left behind.
Seokjin exhaled sharply.
No.
It didn’t matter if a microscopic part of him was tempted. It didn’t matter if Seonsaengnim’s words hit a little too close to home. He wasn’t going back.
The risk was too high.
Not just for him—but for Jungkook, too.
Jungkook, who had trusted him, who had relied on him, who would never forgive him if he even considered this.
Seokjin let out a slow breath, staring down at the letter in his hands. The paper felt heavier than it should. Probably because it carried the weight of a past he’d buried and a future he didn’t want to consider.
Seonsaengnim. The mastermind. The criminal genius currently holding an entire luxury tower hostage. The lunatic who had somehow decided that he, Kim Seokjin, ex-hacker turned police tech expert, would make an excellent recruit.
Yeah. Right.
The sheer audacity was almost impressive.
With a snort, Seokjin crouched down, pulling his lighter from his pocket. (Technically, he wasn’t supposed to carry it—smoking was a terrible habit, and Jungkook had given him several long-winded lectures about it—but old habits died hard.)
He flicked the lighter open, the flame flickering to life.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then, with a sharp exhale, he pressed the flame to the edge of the letter. The paper curled, darkening as fire licked across Seonsaengnim’s elegant, taunting words.
Seokjin watched, arms resting on his knees, as the letter crumbled into ash on the ground.
There. Done. Gone.
He stood up, dusting his hands off.
Now, about the burner phone—
He looked at it.
It looked back at him.
Okay, obviously it didn’t. It was a phone, not a sentient being. But still.
He should destroy it. He should definitely destroy it. Smash it, toss it in a sewer, throw it at a particularly aggressive pigeon—something.
Instead, his hand slipped it into his pocket.
And that was when his brain started screaming at him.
Excuse me? Hello? What the hell was that?
He had checked the phone earlier. No messages, no calls. It was muted. Completely harmless. And yet, he hadn’t crushed it under his heel like he was supposed to.
Why?
Seokjin scowled at nothing in particular as he stomped out the last glowing ember of the letter. Maybe it was the tiniest, microscopic part of him that wasn’t ready to throw this chance away. Maybe a small, stupid part of him still wanted to hear what Seonsaengnim had to say.
Not because he was actually considering it, of course.
No, this was strategy.
He could outwit Seonsaengnim. Maybe trick him into revealing something. Maybe play along just enough to get ahead of him.
It was absolutely not because a minuscule, exhausted, nostalgia-drunk part of him missed the thrill of real hacking. The rush of being untouchable. The feeling of working outside the law, where boundaries didn’t exist.
Nope. Definitely not that.
He was just being smart. That was all.
Right?
Seokjin huffed and shook his head, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as he started walking back toward the police tent.
Yeah. That had to be it.
Absolutely nothing else.
*******
Taehyung - Seonsaengnim
Taehyung had planned everything down to the second.
Timing was crucial in a heist like this, but subtlety? Subtlety was what made it art.
He had waited. Patiently.
The moment Seokjin had stepped out of the tent, Taehyung’s fingers had moved effortlessly, his phone hidden beneath the cover of an open case file. A quick tap on an encrypted chat, a single message sent with no response needed. The burner phone was already in play. His ally had been waiting for the exact moment Seokjin was alone.
The jogger? His.
Not a professional, of course—just a local under-the-radar type, paid well enough to follow instructions and ask no questions. The job was simple: bump into Seokjin, drop the envelope, and leave. No eye contact. No hesitation.
And now? Taehyung simply had to watch.
Seokjin was good. Very good. Taehyung had expected that.
He walked back into the tent like nothing had happened, his expression perfectly neutral. But Taehyung was watching.
The micro-expressions. The slight stiffness in his shoulders. The way his fingers twitched—just once—before he shoved his hands into his pockets.
Ah. You opened it, didn’t you?
Taehyung had practically written that letter just for the thrill of watching this exact moment.
A polite, clever little taunt. An invitation. A temptation.
And Seokjin? Oh, he was spiraling. Taehyung could see it.
Is this a trap?
Is this a test?
Why would Seonsaengnim need me?
Am I still a good boy then?
He barely held back a smirk. Seokjin had no idea that every thought running through his head was already accounted for.
But for now, he had to play his own part. He let his gaze flick away, keeping his expression carefully set into concern. Jaesun, the distressed older brother. Jaesun, the man with a family held hostage. Jaesun, who would never—never—be involved with something like this.
Jungkook’s voice snapped him out of his musings.
Jungkook turned to the center of the tent. “Alright, listen up. I want status reports.”
The tension in the room spiked. Officers from both teams stepped forward, looking equal parts frustrated and defeated.
First up: Signal.
Taehyung kept his expression neutral, but inwardly, he was enjoying this far too much.
The officer shifted. “We’ve checked all his known locations, contacts, financial records—he’s vanished.”
“Translation: you have no idea where he is ,” Jungkook cut in flatly.
Silence.
Next up: Seonsaengnim.
One of the other officers cleared his throat. “We’re still working on identifying him. We’ve compiled a list of possible suspects, but nothing conclusive.”
Jungkook’s jaw ticked. “So, you’re telling me we still have nothing.”
“…Yes.”
Taehyung had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He hated this—hated being out of control, hated knowing that his prey was watching him and not the other way around.
And god, it was fun to watch him squirm.
Not in a cruel way, of course. Taehyung wasn’t that sadistic.
It was just—fascinating.
Jungkook was so rigid, so determined, so utterly obsessed with being right, with being better. Watching him unravel, piece by piece, was like watching a carefully wound clock slowly start to tick out of sync.
Admiring the view was only natural.
For… research purposes. Obviously.
Jungkook exhaled, forcibly pulling himself back together. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll deal with it later. Right now, focus up.” He gestured to the nearest screen.
“Because in about thirty seconds, our masked lunatics are going live again, and god knows what fresh hell they have planned for us this time.”
Taehyung relaxed back in his chair, folding his hands neatly in his lap.
Yes. This was going to be fun.
*******
[Live Broadcast - Wedding Korea TV]
[The screen flickers to life, now a familiar sight to viewers across the nation. The studio’s bright lights shine down on the two moderators, Kim Hyejin and Park Jinwoo, who sit rigidly at their desk, their expressions taut with anxiety. Between them stands the masked man, his Hahoetal mask catching the light at just the right angle to make its carved grin seem all the more sinister.]
[Masked Man]:
“Ah, my dear audience. Back so soon? Still eager for a little… revelation?”
[He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment.]
[Masked Man]:
“Honestly, I thought after the last broadcast, you might have had your fill. But no—greedy, greedy little viewers, always wanting more.”
[He gestures dramatically to the center of the stage. A single chair sits under a harsh spotlight, and in it, Kim Do-hee, the Minister of Defense, sits with her back stiff as steel. Her sharp suit, always a symbol of her authority, now does little to mask the tension in her posture. Her manicured fingers grip the armrests, her trademark red lipstick slightly smudged at the edges—perhaps from a clenched jaw or an anxious bite of the lip.]
[Masked Man]:
“You didn’t think I’d let the person with the second most votes off so easily, did you?”
[A pause, the air thick with unspoken implications.]
[Masked Man]:
“Kim Do-hee, dear Minister, you’re special. You deserve a special… interview.”
[The moderators exchange uneasy glances, shifting in their seats. Hyejin swallows hard before glancing at her notes.]
[Kim Hyejin]:
“Minister Kim, thank you for… uh… joining us.”
[Kim Do-hee doesn’t respond, her lips pressed into a thin line. The masked man chuckles softly, shaking his head.]
[Masked Man]:
“Oh, don’t be shy, Minister. You’ve never had trouble speaking before. Or was that just in front of Parliament, where you could control the narrative?”
[She exhales sharply, tilting her chin up defiantly.]
Kim Do-hee:
“If you think this little circus will intimidate me, you’re mistaken.”
[Masked Man]:
“Oh? Then why do I see your pulse jumping in your throat? Nerves, Minister? Or just the weight of all those little secrets pressing down on you?”
[Kim Do-hee’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t break her silence. The masked man tuts, pacing leisurely around her chair.]
[Masked Man]:
“You see, Minister, I had so many options for today’s discussion. We could talk about offshore accounts, military contracts, maybe even some… interesting defense deals that never made it into the public reports.”
[He stops behind her, lowering his voice just slightly, as if sharing a secret.]
[Masked Man]:
“Or we could talk about a certain operation. One that didn’t quite go as planned. One that left… casualties.”
[Kim Do-hee’s fingers tighten around the armrests, but her face remains carefully blank.]
Kim Do-hee:
“I don’t deal in speculation.”
[Masked Man]:
“Oh, but I do. And my speculations tend to come with… evidence.”
[He pulls a sleek tablet from his pocket, turning it toward the camera. The screen is blurred to the audience, but Kim Do-hee’s face flickers with the briefest hint of recognition—before she forces it back into impassivity.]
[Park Jinwoo]:
“M-Minister Kim, would you like to address this—”
[Masked Man]:
“Ah, denial. The first stage of scandal survival. But you’re smarter than that, aren’t you? You know how this works.”
[He waves the tablet slightly, like a cat playing with its prey.]
[Masked Man]:
“So let’s make it fun. I have three very… interesting pieces of information here. The audience gets to vote on which one they want to hear first. And, well… you know how it goes. If the people pay enough, we might just reveal all three.”
[A graphic appears in the corner of the screen: three locked files, each labeled only with a cryptic phrase.]
[1] Project Iron Shield
[2] The Blue Orchid Incident
[3] Personal Correspondence - ‘Dearest’
[The live poll immediately lights up as thousands of viewers rush to vote. Kim Do-hee’s breath is measured, but her shoulders are tense.]
[Kim Hyejin]:
“Minister Kim, do you have anything to say before the vote closes?”
[A long silence. Then—]
[She turns her head, looking directly into the camera for the first time.]
Kim Do-hee:
“To whoever is watching this, believing every word of this farce—be careful. You never know when you’ll be the one in the chair.”
[The masked man lets out a soft, amused laugh.]
[Masked Man]:
“Oh, Minister. That almost sounded like a threat. But threats only work when you have power.”
[The poll timer ticks down: 00:07… 00:06… 00:05…]
[Masked Man]:
“Shall we see what the people have chosen?”
[The screen cuts to black.]