Mira quickly excused herself, saying she had a meeting during the lunch break. Theo left for one of the Bureau's exclusive restaurants to meet a friend. He'd offered for me to tag along, but the thought of third-wheeling through sixty minutes of inside jokes didn't exactly sound appealing.
'The first time I've ever felt like a lunch break is unearned… it doesn't even feel like a break when we haven't done much work in the first place.'
I wasn't even hungry, but I wandered out to a bakery on the next street just to stretch my legs. When I returned, the office was quiet — just the low hum of the air conditioner and the faint tick of the clock on the wall.
Then I noticed him.
Someone was sitting in my chair, his posture perfectly relaxed, one leg crossed over the other as he hummed softly to himself, eyes on his phone.
'Uh… is that employee lost?'
I hesitated, glancing around, but no one else was in the room. My confusion deepened. Whoever he was, he seemed comfortable — too comfortable to be someone who'd just wandered into the wrong office.
I took a cautious step forward.
"Excuse me," I said, keeping my tone polite but firm. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
The man pocketed his phone and rose smoothly from my chair, his movements practiced — elegant, even. Then he turned to face me.
"Ah," he said with a warm, measured smile, "you must be Yuwon Weaver."
The moment his eyes met mine, I understood why the room suddenly felt colder.
He looked… young. Mid-twenties, maybe. But something about him refused to fit neatly into that impression. His presence carried a weight— the kind that made you straighten your posture without realizing it.
His hair was a pale, flaxen blond that caught the office light in a way that made it shimmer faintly, as though it absorbed and reflected more than it should. It was neatly parted into soft curtains, slightly tousled at the ends, like he'd run his fingers through it just to give it life.
His eyes-- sharp gold, almost metallic — watched me with the patient curiosity of someone who already knew the answers. There was warmth there, but behind it, something glimmered — a precision, a restraint. Like every blink, every tilt of his head, was performed for a reason.
He wore a variation of the Bureau's standard suit-, though calling it that felt wrong. His was tailored to perfection, a light brown shade that carried a subtle sheen, the fabric heavier and more structured than the standard issue. The tie around his collar shifted between gold and amber depending on the light, and his shoes looked polished enough to mirror the ceiling lights above.
Everything about him radiated quiet warmth and control — not arrogance, but an effortless command of the space he occupied. Even standing still, he seemed to move the air around him.
He extended his hand, his smile unwavering.
"Vice Director Han Dojin," he said pleasantly, as if we were old acquaintances meeting at a café rather than a subordinate's desk.
I blinked, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.
'The Vice Director? Here??'
I quickly straightened and shook his hand. "I—I apologize deeply for not recognizing you, sir."
He tilted his head, studying me with that same unreadable warmth. "You look caught off guard," he said with a quiet laugh, his eyes narrowing just enough to look genuine. "I like visiting the field teams unannounced. Keeps things… authentic."
He released my hand with a smooth motion, then clasped his arms behind his back, his demeanor suddenly lighter — almost playful. "Besides!" he added, with an easy grin, "letting you skip both the Theory Exam and the Physical Exam without anyone noticing was quite the hassle. So naturally, I wanted to meet the man in the flesh — to see just what kind of talent Supervisor Ash decided to vouch for."
He spoke casually, voice laced with warmth, though I could hear something beneath it — a tone too even, too measured to be entirely spontaneous.
'Of course... I should've expected this. It's not every day a high-ranking official bends protocol for a fresh recruit.'
"Ah, yes — that makes sense," I managed, gesturing toward the couches near the coffee table at the other end of the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable, sir. Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?"
He chuckled softly, patting me lightly on the back as he walked past. "Oh, please. You can drop the formalities, Yuwon. They make things feel colder — too corporate, don't you think?"
He moved toward the largest couch and sat down with graceful precision, crossing one leg over the other. "One black tea, please. No sugar. If you don't have any, just a glass of water will do."
I nodded quickly and headed to the small kitchen area. The room felt unusually quiet — the low hum of the air conditioning the only sound between us.
'Huh… no black tea at all. Good thing he mentioned water as a second choice.'
I filled a glass, the clink of the faucet echoing faintly in the still air, and returned to hand it to him. He accepted it with both hands — polite, deliberate — and gave a small, almost grateful smile before taking a sip.
"Thank you," he said softly, setting the glass down. His tone was gentle, but it carried an effortless authority that made the word sound like both praise and appraisal.
I sat down across from him, still feeling like the air itself had adjusted to accommodate his presence.
Han Dojin swirled the water in his glass for a moment, watching the faint ripples before taking another small sip. His gaze lingered on the surface like he was reading something there — something I couldn't see.
Then, finally, his attention shifted back to me.
"So," he began, his tone light but deliberate, "how are you finding the Bureau so far, Investigator Weaver?"
I straightened instinctively. "It's… a lot to take in," I said carefully. "But I'm adjusting. Everyone's been supportive."
He smiled faintly. "Supportive. That's good to hear."
His words seemed genuine, but the pause afterward stretched just long enough to feel intentional. "And what about you? Are you supportive of the Bureau?"
The question caught me off guard. I blinked. "Pardon?"
"I'm asking," he said, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, "if you believe in what we do here. Truly. Containing the incomprehensible, categorizing it, sending people inside anomalies to tame them like wild dogs."
His golden eyes glinted faintly under the soft office lights. "Do you believe this system is right?"
There it was — a question far too loaded for casual conversation. Yet he asked it as if we were discussing the weather.
"I…" I hesitated, carefully measuring my words. "I think what the Bureau does is necessary. People need protection from the anomalies. If we don't handle them, no one will."
Han Dojin studied me in silence, his expression calm — almost serene. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Necessary," he repeated. "That's the word most recruits choose." He smiled again, but this time it didn't reach his eyes. "Though I do wonder how long that word will keep sounding noble."
The air between us felt heavier now — not threatening, but thick with meaning I didn't fully grasp.
Then, just as quickly, he leaned back and chuckled quietly. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to start your first day off with philosophy." He waved his hand dismissively, and the tension eased like a snapped thread. "It's a habit. I like to know how the people under me think."
"I don't mind, sir," I said, though my pulse still beat a little too fast. "I… appreciate the honesty."
"I'm glad." He tilted his head again, watching me with a kind of fond curiosity. "Honesty is expensive here, Weaver. You'd be surprised how few can afford it."
A brief silence followed. Only the hum of the fluorescent lights filled the room.
Then his voice softened again, almost warm.
"Supervisor Ash spoke very highly of you," he said. "Said you handled your Evaluation Trial with… remarkable composure. Even when things became rather ugly."
"I was just doing what I had to do," I said quietly.
Han Dojin's smile widened slightly. "That's exactly what makes you interesting."
He stood then, setting the glass down carefully on the table. His movements were graceful, precise — like every motion had already been rehearsed.
"Keep doing what you have to do, Investigator. But," he added, glancing at me with that same golden gleam, "Don't trust the Bureau blindly."
Before I could respond, he was already heading toward the door, his tone bright and pleasant again.
"Tell your team leader to stop by my office when she's back from leave, would you? And do take some time to learn and rest — next week might be less quiet."
Before he reached the door, it opened.
"Yuwon, d—"
A white-haired girl froze mid-sentence.
"Han?" Sera blinked. "What are you doing here?"
Han Dojin gasped dramatically, clasping his hands together. "Oh my god, I didn't know you two were… friends!" His voice pitched up in mock surprise. "Sera finally made a friend! Is this how proud parents feel?"
"I-- I have plenty of friends, you know!" the usually sharp, monotone girl stammered, clearly mortified.
"Yes, yes, of course you do!" he said with a mock tearful sniff. "You know what they say—one real friend is worth more than a hundred—"
"Off you go. Go, go, go, go."
Sera muttered, shoving him lightly toward the door.
"Ah—Sera, please, this is sort of embarrassing in front of Yuwon," Han protested, though he made no real effort to resist.
"Weren't you leaving anyway, old man?" she shot back, pushing the door open.
"What did you just cal—"
The glass door closed before he could finish, sealing his voice behind it.
I stood frozen in place, still processing what had just happened.
The faint echo of Sera's sigh lingered in the room.
'...What the hell was that?'