CHIPER : The Crime Unit
Episode 1: The Case that Gathered the Shadows
Outside, Seoul lay slick with late rain. Neon signs flickered over wet streets, buses hissed past, and from a nondescript glass tower in Gangnam, a single light still burned long past midnight.
Inside, behind reinforced walls and bulletproof glass, was a room known only to six people.
No agency badge, no press leak. Just a single brass plate on the door:
> CHIPER
Crime Unit: Private, Unofficial, Elite.
A name whispered only where official channels failed — and monsters walked free under polished shoes.
---
The long mahogany table stood scattered with coffee cups, laptops, a half-eaten sandwich, and a potted cactus in the shape of a skull (Minjae's gift, naturally). On the wall, a massive screen flickered: photographs, names, police files — a swirling mess that meant murder.
Kevin Kim was already there, black shirt sleeves rolled to forearms, hair still damp from rain. He tapped a pen against the table, eyes sharp as scalpel steel. At 27, he wore the weight of Han River Holdings' CEO title with the same ease as his secret life: the leader of CHIPER.
Beside him sat Guen Park, forensic doctor by day — by night, the heartbeat of this clandestine team. She looked up from a pathology report, lips pressed tight in thought. Rain had darkened her short hair, and faint bruises showed on her knuckles from sparring that afternoon.
Across from them, Alex Kim was typing furiously, half a grin under messy bangs. The group's hacker — boyish charm wrapped in genius code.
Next to him, Park Dohee scrolled through legal articles on her tablet. Hair tied in a sleek ponytail, gold-rimmed glasses balanced on her nose — the quiet strength behind the group's courtroom victories.
Jeon Minjae, leaning back in his chair, twirled a pen between tattooed fingers. Bad boy grin, sharp jawline, and the smell of expensive leather mixed with danger. His eyes drifted toward the table's last seat.
There, Choi Miran set down a tray of drinks — steaming coffee for Kevin, warm green tea for Guen, energy drink for Alex, jasmine tea for Dohee, and cola for Minjae. Soft curls framed her face, cheeks still pink from the rain. She bowed slightly, always polite, always shy. Her badge read: Chemical & Toxicology Specialist — but to them, she was also the gentle glue holding this chaos together.
---
A low chime echoed. Kevin straightened, voice calm but edged:
> "We have a case."
A photo appeared on the screen. A man in his forties — tailored suit, silver tie pin, dead eyes staring upward in the morgue shot.
Guen's brows knit. "Name: Im Taekyu. Former assemblyman. Missing three weeks, found last night near the docks."
Dohee added, "Cause of death: likely blunt force trauma. But the file says toxic residue found on clothes."
Miran spoke quietly, "Preliminary test points to a rare synthetic sedative, used mostly in underground trade."
Kevin's gaze swept across the team. "The police suspect robbery. But there's more: Im Taekyu was named in a whistleblower memo about a political bribery ring. That memo disappeared the day he vanished."
Alex clicked open another file. "Bank records. Three suspicious transfers to an offshore account, each just under mandatory reporting limits."
Minjae's grin faded. "And let me guess: the people who might have paid him… now want him dead before he could talk."
Kevin nodded once. "Exactly. And the case is ice-cold because officially, it's 'solved' as random homicide."
Silence tightened around the table.
> "Which," Kevin finished, "is why it's ours now."
---
They started to move as if pulled by invisible threads.
Alex's fingers danced across keys, hacking traffic cameras and private security feeds near the docks. Dohee called a trusted prosecutor contact, voice low but urgent. Miran pulled up chemical databases, scanning for known labs with access to the sedative. Minjae, phone against his ear, muttered in gangster slang — calling favors from the shadows only he walked.
Kevin glanced at Guen. Their eyes met, an old, silent conversation sparking.
> "Autopsy photos?" Kevin asked.
> "Already here." Guen flipped open her laptop. "Two head wounds, but also defensive bruising on the arms. He fought back."
Kevin's jaw tightened. "Which means it wasn't clean. Someone panicked."
Guen caught his tone. "You think it was personal?"
"Maybe," Kevin murmured. "Or sloppy. Both leave traces."
---
While the others worked, Minjae swung a playful kick toward Miran's chair. "Hey, bunny. Got anything to drink besides tea?"
She jumped, nearly spilling her cup. "I–I brought cola, didn't I?"
He leaned closer, voice dropping to tease. "You know I like iced coffee too. Next time?"
Miran nodded quickly, face flushed. "O-okay."
Minjae's grin softened just a hair — before he ruined it by adding, "And don't make it so sweet. I hate sugar."
Miran pouted, then turned back to her vials. Under her breath: "Playboy…"
Kevin's eyes flicked up, barely hiding a smirk. "Minjae, stop scaring the staff."
> "She's not staff," Minjae shot back. "She's CHIPER."
Miran froze — and then, shyly, a small smile touched her lips.
---
Hours blurred. The team compared notes, found patterns, argued. Guen's laughter mixed with Alex's curses when a camera file refused to load. Dohee's calm voice anchored them back to law and procedure. Kevin, ever the spine of the room, listened, weighed, guided.
Then, Alex froze. "Got something. Private dock, two nights before Im Taekyu's body turned up. Black SUV, plates belong to a shell company tied to… guess who?"
He turned the laptop. A familiar logo on shipping crates behind the car.
Dohee's voice dropped. "That's Han Seung Group. One of the most untouchable conglomerates in the country."
Kevin's eyes narrowed, cold as winter rain. "Untouchable… until now."
---
They mapped out next steps. Kevin and Guen would visit the private dock under cover of night. Minjae would handle extraction if things went south. Alex and Dohee kept digging. Miran would test dock soil samples for residue matching the sedative.
Kevin stood, chair sliding back. "Get some rest. We move tomorrow."
---
But as they rose, the door buzzed. A single file slid under: thick envelope stamped CONFIDENTIAL.
Alex picked it up, whistled. "Anonymous tip?"
Kevin opened it. Inside: photos. Im Taekyu — alive, arguing with a woman outside an unmarked building. And a single line typed on white paper:
> "Follow her, and you'll find the truth."
Guen shivered. "Who is she?"
Kevin studied the photo, jaw tight. "Whoever she is… she's next."
---
Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving streets glossy under streetlights. Inside, CHIPER stood at the edge of something bigger than a single corpse.
And somewhere in Seoul, a woman whose name they didn't yet know was running out of time.
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