The auction hall shimmered with golden light. Soft classical music floated through the air, mixing uneasily with the tension that had just arrived. Collectors murmured behind their raised paddles, unaware of the storm about to break.
Eun-chae and Lee Mi-ran stepped in, controlled, alert, scanning the room.
"That's him," Eun-chae whispered, her eyes locking on the Chairman at the center stage.
Mi-ran's jaw tightened. "We take him now."
They moved forward. Silent. Deadly.
A bodyguard intercepted them. "Restricted."
Eun-chae flashed her badge. "Cyber Crime Division."
Mi-ran stepped beside her. "Chairman. You need to come with us."
The Chairman's faint smile didn't reach his eyes. "This is an auction. You're interrupting business."
Eun-chae took another step. "This is over."
The guard grabbed her arm. Hard. Pain shot up her shoulder, but she twisted, tried to fight back—only to be slammed into a display stand. Glass shattered beneath her. Blood stung her palm.
The chaos erupted. The second bodyguard lunged at Mi-ran. They collided with a pillar. Pain exploded across her ribs, but she retaliated, driving her knee into him. He barely flinched.
Eun-chae fought through the agony in her hand, blocking, elbowing, swinging a chair. Each movement a battle against the surge of pain and the force of her opponent. She kicked, ducked, rose, and fought again, her breathing ragged, blood coating her fingers.
Mi-ran moved like a storm—elbows, knees, a precise strike to the jaw—and the second guard finally collapsed. Eun-chae's final push sent the first sprawling to the floor. Silence fell, broken only by their heavy breaths.
The Chairman, once calm and composed, froze. Then panic set in. He turned and ran.
"Don't even try," Eun-chae warned, ignoring the burn in her hand and the ache in her shoulder. She sprinted, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall near the stage.
Mi-ran limped slightly, but her focus never wavered. Handcuffs clicked open. "Chairman of Cheonghwa Museum," she said, voice sharp. "You're under arrest."
The crowd erupted—whispers, gasps, phones raised.
Eun-chae tightened her grip, despite the blood and pain. Together, they dragged him forward, leaving the broken auction, the fallen guards, and a hall that had just witnessed justice.
And as the classical music hummed on, the weight of what they'd done—and what they were about to uncover—hung thick in the air.
The interrogation room was cold, sterile, and unforgiving. A single table sat under harsh white light, casting shadows that seemed too heavy for such a small space.
The Chairman sat restrained, his breathing uneven, his composure fractured. Across from him, Kang Eun-ji, Lee Mi-ran, and Eun-chae stood like predators circling.
Eun-chae's hand was wrapped in a rough bandage, streaked with faint blood. Mi-ran rolled her shoulder, still sore from the fight, but her eyes were sharp, unrelenting.
Silence stretched. Thick. Tense.
Eun-ji pressed RECORD.
Click.
"Let's start again," she said, stepping closer, her voice low and precise.
"What do you do in the museum hall?"
The Chairman didn't answer. His eyes flicked away.
"Those red paintings," Eun-ji continued, each word deliberate, cutting through the stillness. "What are they?"
Nothing.
Eun-chae leaned forward, aggressive now, the heat of anger radiating off her.
"And what is your connection to Project Crimson Red?" she demanded, her voice sharp, almost shaking.
Still nothing.
A faint smirk appeared on the Chairman's lips.
Eun-chae snapped. Her hand shot out—SLAP! The sound echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls like a gunshot.
"Answer the question!" she barked.
He said nothing.
Her fingers gripped his collar, pulling him forward. "People are dying because of this. Start talking."
Slowly, deliberately, the Chairman lifted his head. Calm. Too calm.
"You're too late," he said, voice smooth, confident.
Mi-ran's eyes narrowed. "Then tell us why."
The Chairman leaned back slightly, a slow, deliberate motion. "Watch. Watch how I escape."
Eun-chae's anger flared. Without hesitation, she drove a hard kick into his stomach. He gasped, folding forward, but there was no fear in his eyes—only calculation.
"Try it," she spat.
Eun-ji stepped in immediately. Controlled. Commanding.
"Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the room like ice.
She looked directly at the Chairman, cold and focused. "You're not going anywhere."
Without another word, she turned, walked to the door, and opened it. Officer Jung stood there, ready.
"Call the forensic department," Eun-ji instructed. "Lock down Cheonghwa Museum. Full sweep. Every hall. Every painting. Every entry point."
"Yes, Ma'am," Jung said, straightening instantly.
Eun-ji stepped out, Mi-ran following. Eun-chae lingered, one last glance at the Chairman. His faint smile returned, slow, unsettling, like a shadow in the corner of her mind.
The door shut. Click.
Inside, he lifted his head again, eyes glinting. Calm. Calculating. Dangerous.
And the room felt colder than ever.