Chapter : 3
“No. For now, the order is to keep watch from within the country. Some major figures in South Korea have their feet in this, and it’s better not to get entangled if we can avoid it.”
Looking slightly tired, she turned her gaze back out the window.
Cho Ji-hoon had staged his death last night and fled to China.
The amount of money he had siphoned off so far totaled a staggering 30 billion dollars. While everyone was gathered at the fake funeral hall, they confirmed the transaction history of his bank accounts.
That was probably all Ahn Jae-hyuk knew.
On the surface, Cho Ji-hoon was nothing more than the chairman of the group he had founded. Jae-hyuk must have somehow obtained information that Cho had acted as a broker for an international crime syndicate, trading and skimming absurd amounts of money in the middle.
‘Idiot.’
Of course, discovering even that much deserved applause.
Cho Ji-hoon had been meticulous. With only the resources available to Korean detectives, investigating him would have been no easy task.
But Jae-hyuk already knew the names of the powerful figures Cho had been dealing with.
And that was as far as his luck as a detective would take him.
Cho Ji-hoon’s criminal activities extended far beyond what the South Korean police, operating only within the country, could uncover.
‘So he really did become a detective.’
Hyun thought of young Jae-hyuk.
When she had been ostracized simply because boys frequently confessed their feelings to her, Jae-hyuk had been the first to reach out a hand.
Her last memory was of being close with Jae-hyuk, Dae-ik, and Jang Sung-hoon.
After the incident that inevitably drove her away from her friends, she vaguely heard that Jae-hyuk had entered the Police University. She had assumed he’d ended up as a detective, wearing some rank insignia and drawing a steady paycheck.
‘But even so.’
“…S-senior!”
Doksa looked puzzled at Hyun, who was staring blankly as if she hadn’t heard him calling her.
Normally, she noticed even the slightest movement beside her. But today, something seemed off.
“Senior, are you listening?”
“Yeah. Go on.”
He wanted to ask what she had been thinking about, but something more important came first.
“They say Cho Ji-hoon ran.”
The news had just come through the earpiece in Doksa’s ear.
“He slipped away?”
Letting a person of interest escape meant an emergency. Even so, Hyun remained remarkably calm.
Doksa continued relaying the report.
“But Wang Hun disappeared with him.”
“That’s a bit of a problem.”
There was one fact Ahn Jae-hyuk would never be able to uncover.
There had been a time when Cho Ji-hoon suddenly began handling absurd amounts of money. It was right after he started dealing with Wang Hun, the youngest son of a Triad boss.
“Flight ticket records?”
“They’re checking now, but it’s hard to track because the identities are unclear.”
“Wang Hun’s doing.”
Hyun had already anticipated that Wang Hun had a hand in staging Cho Ji-hoon’s death.
She let out a bitter sigh as her prediction proved correct.
There were things Cho Ji-hoon could never accomplish alone—but Wang Hun could make them happen. That was the power of the Triads.
Among the criminal organizations representing Asia, there were the Korean organized crime syndicates, the Japanese Yakuza, and the Chinese Triads.
Transnational crime groups were increasing by the day, and there weren’t many ways to counter them.
Interpol had judged that it was impossible to uproot these organizations entirely.
Interpol primarily gathered and connected information between nations but did not have authority to conduct direct investigations or make arrests.
So an unofficial agency was created—“Cyclone.”
It was Hyun’s organization: one that secretly produced exceptional agents every year and managed criminal organizations from the shadows.
Like Interpol, Cyclone could not officially step into investigations. However, it could manipulate data and resolve cases as long as they didn’t become public.
Disguise and undercover work were their specialties. They even cleaned up scenes quietly.
Though their methods were somewhat unethical, the acceptable range was wide as long as nothing became public.
Of course, they were still bound by the laws of their respective countries—for example, abiding by South Korea’s prohibition on firearms.
Investigating Cho Ji-hoon, who had been colluding with the Triads, was recently Cyclone’s primary mission.
“The question is whether we move first or wait,” Doksa said, setting down the receiver with a troubled expression after finishing the transmission.
Now that Cho Ji-hoon and Wang Hun had vanished, if their goal was to re-enter Korea, the agents would be busier than ever.
“But why fake his death? He could’ve just moved with Wang Hun from the start.”
“A double deal. Most likely.”
“What? You’re saying Cho Ji-hoon was playing both sides?”
There was no concrete evidence. But Hyun’s instincts had never been wrong.
She was one of the few S-class agents within Cyclone—ranking in the top 0.1 percent. It wasn’t just intuition; countless experiences backed her judgment.
“He’s got nerve. Planning to stab Wang Hun in the back. You checked Cho Ji-hoon’s account yesterday, right? That money was originally supposed to go to Wang Hun.”
The amount recorded in Cho Ji-hoon’s account did indeed belong to Wang Hun.
But with Cho’s “death,” the money had vanished entirely.
One thing was certain—it hadn’t gone into Wang Hun’s hands.
“Wang Hun will think someone stole it from him. Cho Ji-hoon will have Wang Hun lash out at the wrong target, then scoop up the diverted money. Simple bastard.”
Bold indeed. Cho Ji-hoon had embezzled funds from private military corporations. Those companies were grinding their teeth, eager to catch him. Hyun had been the first to sense their movements and anticipate a coming storm. She took responsibility for investigating him.
As a result, it was revealed that the source of Cho’s siphoned funds included organizations wanted by Interpol, such as the Triads.
‘Of all things to mess with—the Triads.’
Just as Hyun had grasped the thread and was about to launch a full-scale investigation, she heard news of Cho Ji-hoon’s funeral.
“He must’ve gotten his tail caught somewhere and faked his death. What he’s hiding and how much he’s taken—we’ll have to find out from here.”
“Then he won’t come straight back to Korea?”
“Who knows. Depends where he stops first. Anything else?”
Hyun pointed at the receiver Doksa had set down.
“No. For now, it’s a standby order. Move once their location is secured.”
Doksa’s car entered the apartment complex where Hyun lived. He parked quickly and turned off the engine.
As Hyun stepped out, Doksa followed and spoke.
“Just in case—I should mention, your friend will likely be put under surveillance too. You know what that means, right?”
“Do you think I wouldn’t?”
Despite her cold response, Doksa didn’t react.
At present, there was a high possibility that Dae-ik held inheritance rights to Cho Ji-hoon’s assets. That alone made him a subject of Cyclone’s management.
“If we have to summon Jo Dae-ik, you’ll pretend you don’t know him, right?”
Hyun pictured Dae-ik’s face—always smiling brightly, seemingly unaware of everything. How had he grown up so pure under such a sinful father?
“Handle it yourselves. I’ll stay out of that.”
She approached Doksa on the driver’s side and held out her hand. As if accustomed to it, he placed the car keys into her palm.
“Thanks. Go on home.”
It was well past midnight. The early dawn air was chilly. Wearing a black suit, Hyun’s silhouette faded into the darkness as her junior watched her off.
After news of Cho Ji-hoon’s disappearance, headquarters remained quiet. Since he was moving with Wang Hun, they had decided to observe the situation.
With no further orders coming down, Hyun spent unusually peaceful days.
Four days after Cho Ji-hoon’s funeral ended, the phone connected to the number on the business card she had given Dae-ik rang.
“Hello?”
