Location: IRON JUDGEMENT Covenant Southern Branch, Southern Busan
Time: 11:42 PM—a steel compound lit by sodium floodlights, the city around it sleeping. Inside, the walls buzz with a low tension that never quite dies.
The top-floor office had stripped-down monitors. No holo-screens. Just concrete walls, a railing that overlooked the lower training yards, and a table with a single glass ashtray.
Seo Ilyeon stood with both hands on the railing, unmoving, as he watched the rookies train below—blades swinging, cores flaring, their future laid out before them like a battlefield.
Behind him, the soft click of heels.
"You sent for me?"
Said a composed voice.
Councilwoman Jin Seohwa. One of Ilyeon's few long-standing allies. Older than him, smarter than him, and the only person who knew how close he was to breaking.
Ilyeon didn't turn around.
"You heard what happened."
He said flatly.
Seohwa stopped at a respectful distance.
"I did. Doyun. The whole squad. That Rift should've been textbook. But it wasn't, was it?"
He didn't respond. Just pulled a small device from his pocket and tapped it. A dim holo-flicker blinked to life on the table.
Blurry footage.
Screams. Corelight. Chaos.
Then a frame—brief—of Han Jaemin, face shadowed, weapons drawn.And just after… static. The Rift footage cuts out.
"This was supposed to be my operation."
Ilyeon muttered.
"I built that team. I trusted them. And now I've got families knocking on my door asking where their sons are buried."
Seohwa walked closer, looking over the footage, arms crossed.
"And the Association's final report?"
"Buried."
Ilyeon said with a grim smile.
"Sanitized. Nobody talks. Nobody investigates. Not even an internal audit."
"So, you're saying…"
"They're protecting him."
Ilyeon growled.
"Whether it's by choice or by ignorance—I don't give a damn. Han Jaemin walked out of that Rift alive. My men didn't."
Seohwa watched him in silence, then finally nodded once.
"I'll make a few calls. Nothing local. Nothing traceable. You'll get your ghost."
Ilyeon didn't even flinch. He shook his head once.
"Don't bother."
Seohwa blinked.
"What?"
He looked her dead in the eyes—no smile, no posturing. Just a promise soaked in blood.
"I'll kill him myself."
A pause. The hum of electricity from the training yards filled the silence.
"I want him to know why he's dying. I want him to remember their names when he bleeds."
Seohwa said nothing.
Just a slow, sharp breath.
And then she turned, heels clicking as she walked without another word—because she knew this wasn't a plan anymore.
It was a reckoning.
A single projection screen floated midair in front of Seo Ilyeon as he sat behind a matte-black desk—no ornamentation, no décor, just data and duty. The flickering of reports danced across his sharp eyes.
Across from him, Seohwa stood quietly, holding a tablet. Her dark suit was pristine, not a wrinkle on it despite the hour. She was always the last to sleep—if she ever did.
Ilyeon leaned back in his chair and muttered without looking at her.
"How's the schedule?"
Seohwa didn't need to ask for context. She pulled up the calendar.
"Solid through to the fifth cycle. You're locked in for the Jeju raid, then the High Table summit, followed by the U.S. delegate trials. The drills are mid-cycle, and the anniversary week overlaps with the Abyssal commission hand-in."
Ilyeon raised one brow.
"So I'm booked solid for the next…?"
"Roughly four months."
He scoffed under his breath and sipped whatever lukewarm tea remained in his cup. The air was still, heavy.
"Clear three weeks after that. Something private."
Seohwa paused.
"Is it official?"
"No."
He replied.
"Association?"
"They don't know."
"Division?"
"Keep it off the record."
She gave the faintest nod, typing silently on her tablet. The tap of her fingers was the only sound in the room.
"Name?" she asked after a pause.
"Han Jaemin."
That made her glance up. Just briefly. But she didn't comment.
"Location?"
She asked.
"Doesn't matter," he said.
"He'll come."
She nodded again and entered the task.
"Assuming he's still alive in four months."
Ilyeon's eyes didn't move from the screen.
"He will be."
"You're certain?"
"He has plot armour."
Ilyeon muttered under his breath with a dry smirk, then spoke clearly:
"No weapons. No team. I'll handle it myself."
Another pause.
"You really want to fight him one-on-one?"
Seohwa asked.
"No."
He replied, setting the tea aside.
"I want to make sure when he dies... he knows exactly why."
Seohwa looked down, tapped a final confirmation on the screen, and nodded.
"Scheduled. Cleared three weeks after your current slate. Black access only. No backups. No alerts."
Ilyeon stood up slowly, stretching his shoulders.
"Good. Don't mention this to anyone. Especially not Gyeongmin."
"Of course."
"Seohwa."
"Yes?"
"What do you think of him?"
She closed her tablet and gave a rare answer, soft-spoken but razor-clear:
"He's not afraid to bleed."
Ilyeon gave a faint smile. Not kind. Not cruel. Just a recognition.
The door to his study clicked shut. No more assistants. No more councilwomen. No more schedule.
Just silence. And him.
Seo Ilyeon stood in front of the tall window, hands behind his back, the city lights of Seoul stretching beneath him like a board ready for play. His reflection ghosted in the glass—sharp eyes, furrowed brows, jaw tight.
His voice broke the silence, low and cold.
"Either one of them better speak up…"
A pause. A faint sneer tugged at the edge of his lip.
"…or they better have a damn good excuse for what happened that day."
His fingers twitched, a brief flicker of violet sparking in his palm before fading. It returned almost instantly, stronger. The aura was slow at first, like a gas leak. Deep, rich violet blooming out from his skin, pulsing off his back in waves.
"But who am I kidding?"
He chuckled to himself, gaze still fixed on the city.
"I'm not here to listen. I'm here to drag the answer out. Piece by piece…"
His teeth gritted in anticipation as that smirk—no, that devilish grin—fully bloomed across his face. The light in the room flickered once.
"Whether it's Jaemin… or the other one… I'll tear open their silence. One scream at a time."
The violet energy was now a thick haze around him, buzzing faintly, warping the edges of the desk lamp's glow. It licked up the walls, hungry.
He finally turned away from the window and sat, folding his hands together, elbows on the table. The aura dimmed, but that smile… it lingered.
"Three or four months. Let them laugh. Train. Sleep. Dream."
"I'll be wide awake."
11:08 PM, Somewhere off the southeastern coast, en route to Busan Port
The ship, Saebyeok Hae, was a behemoth of rusted steel and reinforced hulls—an old sea veteran. Scarred by typhoons and years of transport, she now hauled bulk cargo: alloys, refined steel, machine parts, and classified weapon-grade shipments.
The route was changed at the last minute. Unstable rift currents near the Jeju trench had disrupted the main sea lanes, leaving only one detour: around Ulleungdo. This was a longer path, and not one the captain favored.
"Calm waters today."
Murmured Captain Min Joohyuk, a broad-shouldered man in his early fifties with crow's feet stitched into his eyes.
"Almost too calm."
Said his second mate, staring out at the navy-blue horizon.
Most of the crew were down below, resting. After four days straight of haul duty, they'd earned a breather. Someone was playing music off a portable radio—light jazz crackling in the background. A couple of deckhands laughed over instant ramen and tales of past storms.
Min sat in the cabin, reading over the final inventory report.
"All secure. ETA: 40 minutes."
He sipped lukewarm coffee and exhaled. Maybe this run wouldn't be cursed after all.
Then—
"Captain! You should come see this!"
A young sailor yelled, banging the door open.
Joohyuk stood instantly.
"What is it?"
"The island… It's gone from view."
Joohyuk stepped onto the main deck. The salty breeze hit him first, then the chill. He turned towards where Busan was supposed to be.
Gone.
Not like fog or horizon line gone. This was wrong.
He looked up.
A swirling mass of clouds had formed overhead. Black and still. No lightning. No sound.
Like the sky was holding its breath.
"Hell no."
"Signal command."
He barked.
"Send distress signal to Busan. Get our location pinged—now."
"Aye, Captain!"
The helmsman twisted the wheel hard.
"Turning bow! Bearing northwest!"
The rudder didn't respond.
"Why aren't we moving?"
"We are… just not the way we want."
Joohyuk glanced over the port side. Waves lapped gently. But the island was closer now.
Too close.
He gritted his teeth.
A dark cloud began creeping over the ship docked at the Port of Busan. Crowds waited anxiously as a massive light suddenly pierced the sky—an explosion so terrifying it rocked the shore of Ulleungdo, visible even from Busan.
The port head snapped into action, checking every system, but all signals from the ship vanished. Panic settled in.
The incident report was quickly filed and replied.Incident report: The ship Saebyeok Hae was lost with all crew members aboard and the cargo.Location: Shore of Ulleungdo.Reason: Unknown.Note: The Coreborn Association urges all ships and sea transport companies to permanently avoid the path near Ulleungdo Island at all costs.