The Mokpo files were a labyrinth of corporate doublespeak and carefully sanitized numbers. Seo-jin had been staring at quarterly shipping manifests for two hours, her coffee long gone cold, when she found it.
A single line item, buried in subsection 4.7 of the transportation logistics: "Special cargo handling - Mokpo Port Authority - ₩847,000,000."
Nearly a billion won for "special cargo handling." No itemization. No shipping codes. Just a number that made her pulse quicken.
"Find something interesting?"
Seo-jin's head snapped up. Min-jae stood beside her desk, having approached with the silent grace of a predator. How long had he been watching?
"Just reviewing the transportation costs," she said, keeping her voice level. "The Mokpo handling fees seem unusually high."
"Do they?" He leaned over her shoulder to look at the screen, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "What makes you think that?"
Careful. Too much interest looks suspicious.
"I worked in logistics before Kim & Associates," she lied smoothly. "Port handling usually runs about sixty percent lower than this, even for specialized cargo."
Min-jae was quiet for a long moment, studying the numbers. When he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. "What would you recommend?"
"A detailed breakdown of the charges. Maybe a comparison with similar operations at Busan or Incheon ports." Seo-jin looked up at him, noting the way his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Unless there's a specific reason for the premium pricing?"
Their eyes met, and she saw something flicker in his gaze—calculation, maybe even approval.
"Draft a memo," he said finally. "Request the breakdown from Mokpo operations. Copy me on everything."
"Of course."
But as he started to walk away, he paused. "Miss Yoon? That logistics experience you mentioned—which company was it with?"
Her heart hammered, but her expression remained composed. "DongAh Shipping. Small operation, mostly domestic routes."
"Hmm." Min-jae's smile was unreadable. "I know the owner of DongAh. Played golf with him last month. Interesting man—mentioned they've never hired female logistics coordinators."
Shit. Shit shit shit.
But before panic could show on her face, Min-jae continued. "Of course, he also mentioned he's old-fashioned about these things. Probably missed a lot of talented candidates because of outdated thinking."
The reprieve felt like stepping back from a cliff's edge. "Some people are slow to adapt," she managed.
"Indeed." His smile sharpened slightly. "I've always found it's the people with... complicated backgrounds who prove most valuable. They understand the importance of discretion."
Was that a warning? A threat? An invitation?
"I completely agree," Seo-jin replied carefully.
"Excellent." Min-jae checked his watch—a sleek Patek Philippe that probably cost more than most people's cars. "I have lunch with the board in twenty minutes. Hold my calls until two-thirty."
"Understood."
But as he walked toward the elevator, he called back without turning around. "Oh, and Miss Yoon? When you draft that memo about Mokpo—you might want to be very careful about who else sees it. Some information is... sensitive."
The elevator doors closed behind him, leaving Seo-jin alone with her racing thoughts and a screen full of suspicious numbers.
She waited exactly three minutes, then activated her earpiece.
"Phoenix to Control."
"Go ahead."
"I found something. Financial irregularities in Mokpo operations, nearly a billion won in unexplained handling fees."
"Good work. Can you access more detailed records?"
"Working on it. But there's a complication." Seo-jin glanced toward the elevator bank. "I think Min-jae knows I'm not who I claim to be."
Silence on the other end. Then: "Explain."
"He's testing me. Asking questions with answers he already knows, giving me opportunities to lie." She rubbed her temples, fighting off a tension headache. "Either he's the most paranoid executive in Seoul, or—"
"Or he's involved and trying to figure out what you know." Park's voice carried new urgency. "Phoenix, if your cover is blown—"
"It's not blown. Not yet." Seo-jin looked at the Mokpo files still glowing on her screen. "But I think he's playing a game I don't understand yet."
"Then figure it out. Fast. We need those records."
"Understood. Phoenix out."
As she ended the connection, Seo-jin stared at the screen displaying those damning numbers. Whatever was happening in Mokpo, Han Min-jae knew about it. The question was whether he was trying to stop her from finding out—or helping her dig deeper.
And she was starting to suspect the answer might be more dangerous than either option.