In a secluded, encrypted realm of the internet—far beyond the reach of any ordinary browser—a quiet hum echoed in a digital conference room, accessible only to those granted entry through lines of shadow-coded protocol. No cameras. No names. Only five glowing emblems hovered over a dim virtual circle, each pulsing gently in response to its user's presence.
These five were not mere observers.
They were architects.
The unseen hands behind the game—individuals whose influence reached into governments, corporations, and war rooms. While the world remained oblivious to their existence, they watched every move, every death, every scream… with an unnerving calm.
A low, composed voice cut through the digital silence.
"So, I hope you all are ready to enjoy the next phase of the show."
The speaker's tone was formal, yet carried the unmistakable authority of someone who had never been questioned. The rest listened—some in silence, others leaning forward in thought—though none interrupted.
"My heartfelt gratitude to all of you for your contributions. Without your… loyalty, none of this could've functioned this seamlessly."
He paused deliberately, as though preparing to reveal something heavier.
"Now, as for Kimaru Jong Han… I trust you will maintain the rules among our administration. The seat has been offered to you in good faith. Don't break it."
The mention of Kimaru's full name shifted the energy slightly. One of the other participants responded with a faint laugh—tinged with disbelief.
"Thanks for giving Kimaru a seat. Honestly, I didn't expect you'd actually agree to it."
The first voice returned, this time with a softer cadence—almost warm.
"There's no need for surprise. He may keep the seat for as long as he deems himself worthy. In fact, he's now one of the very few political leaders in the world to have a formal place within this council."
Then the warmth vanished, replaced by a haunting finality.
"That is… until he violates the rules."
Scene Transition: Korea
Inside a lavishly secure high-rise, built from reinforced glass and digital walls, Kimaru Jong Han sat alone in his darkened office. The glow of the virtual meeting interface had just faded from his screen, but the echo of that last sentence still lingered in his ears.
"Until he violates the rules…"
He stared blankly at the black monitor in front of him, fingers pressed tightly against each other. A storm swirled beneath his perfectly composed expression.
Despite being one of the most influential political minds in East Asia, here—within the walls of that shadowy council—he was still considered… replaceable.
His breathing grew slightly heavy as he leaned back in his chair, the luxurious leather creaking faintly. His eyes twitched toward the drawer of his desk—where a revolver lay untouched. Not as a tool of violence, but as a reminder. A symbol of control.
They think I'm a pawn. That I'll follow the rules like a dog on a leash?
He clenched his jaw but said nothing. Years of diplomatic grooming kept his fury locked behind silence. Slowly, he reached forward and closed his laptop, placing it down with surgical precision.
He didn't shout. He didn't move. He simply… planned.
Because Kimaru Jong Han never acted on impulse.
He only acted when the move guaranteed power.
And somewhere deep within, he'd already begun plotting the consequences of breaking a few rules—if it meant gaining more than just a seat.