Episode 13 – Masked Charade
Morning light found Kevin Kim in a boardroom of glass and marble, tailored suit sharp enough to cut. Sun pooled across the long table as executives murmured figures and forecasts.
But Kevin's mind wasn't on quarterly reports. His phone, facedown, buzzed twice — a message from Alex:
> Circle-linked gala. Tonight. Invitation secured. Need cover.
Kevin's jaw twitched. Across from him, a junior manager faltered mid-sentence under that cold gaze.
"Schedule the rest for next week," Kevin ordered, voice flat. Chairs scraped hastily as the room cleared. Alone, Kevin exhaled — a breath he'd been holding since last night's escape.
---
✦ Ordinary lives, hidden wires
Elsewhere, Guen Park stepped into the white-tiled hush of the National Forensic Service. Her white coat settled over yesterday's bruises, dark hair twisted neatly out of the way.
"Park sunbae!" a younger technician called. "Autopsy briefing at eleven!"
Guen forced a calm nod. On her wrist, the slim watch hid an encrypted comm — Alex's voice could break through anytime. But for now, she was only Dr. Guen Park, reading case files, scalpel balanced steady in gloved hands.
---
Minjae rolled out of bed near noon, hair tousled, last night's club perfume still on his shirt. A message blinked from Kevin:
> Gala tonight. Bring the car.
Minjae smirked, grabbed an energy drink from the minibar, and headed out. But halfway down the hall, he stopped short: Miran.
She walked, head down, holding lab reports tight to her chest. The moment she spotted Minjae, she stiffened, trying to slip past.
Minjae's palm thumped against the wall, blocking her. "Morning, kitten."
"Don't call me that," she whispered, eyes darting anywhere but him.
His grin sharpened. "Still scared of me?"
She pressed back, voice smaller: "Yes."
Something flickered in his gaze — annoyance, amusement, or something softer — but he just leaned closer. "Good. Means you remember me." Then he let her go, sauntering off without a backward glance.
Miran's shoulders slumped. Her chest felt tight — not just from fear.
---
✦ The Circle's next move
In the heart of CHIPER's HQ, Alex and Dohee traced names through tangled webs: shell companies, foundations, aliases.
Dohee's finger tapped a photo of the gala invitation: Seoul Children's Future Charity.
"Front for laundering dirty money," she murmured. "And rumor says a high-ranking Circle broker will attend."
Alex leaned back, typing one-handed. "If we tag his phone, we might trace the whole network."
Dohee caught his sleeve gently. "Be careful."
Alex paused, eyes softer. "You too, counselor."
They didn't kiss. They didn't need to. In that quiet, the look said enough.
---
✦ Suits, dresses, and a dance
That night, Kevin stood outside the grand staircase of the Han River Grand Hotel. His tux fit like a second skin; shadows under his eyes betrayed sleepless nights.
A car door opened. Guen stepped out, gown dark emerald, hair swept up with a few loose strands brushing her neck.
Kevin's breath stopped — just for a moment.
"You clean up," he said, voice low.
"So do you," Guen answered, cheeks pink.
He offered his arm, almost formally. She hesitated, then took it.
"Remember," he murmured, "we're a couple tonight. Investors from Shanghai."
"And you remember," she shot back, "not to order me around."
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. "I'll try."
---
Inside, crystal chandeliers scattered light over hundreds of masks — peacock feathers, silver filigree, black velvet. Waiters drifted by with champagne; music curled through the air like silk.
Alex, disguised as staff, passed Kevin a slim case. Inside: a bug small as a grain of rice.
"Target's phone," Alex whispered. "Circle broker — likely in the VIP lounge."
Dohee, dressed in sleek navy, joined them. "Security scans at the lounge entrance," she warned. "Phones, metal, jewelry."
Kevin's eyes flickered to Guen. "Time for plan B."
---
✦ Distraction by design
Minjae appeared, black mask hiding half his smirk, tie undone just enough to look roguish. "Shall I create a scene?"
Kevin's answer was curt: "Make it messy. But don't get thrown out."
Minjae's grin widened. "No promises."
He turned, spotted Miran at the far end — pale pink dress, shy eyes downcast. Without warning, he strode over, hand catching her wrist.
She startled, gaze snapping up. "W-what?"
"Dance," he said simply.
"I… can't," she whispered, trembling.
His grip tightened, pulling her into the swirl of couples. "Too late."
---
They danced — or rather, Minjae led, and Miran stumbled breathlessly to keep up. At first, she tried to pull away, but his palm on her back pressed her closer.
"Don't look away," he murmured. "Smile, kitten. Or they'll suspect something."
Her lashes fluttered, cheeks flushed. But she obeyed — a tiny, trembling smile.
Somewhere between spins, Minjae's smirk faded, just a second — and returned sharper.
---
✦ Slipping shadows
With security distracted by Minjae's reckless spins and a "spilled" glass of champagne, Kevin and Guen slipped past velvet ropes into the VIP lounge.
Dim lights. Quiet laughter. The broker sat with a small group, phone on the table.
Guen forced her pulse to slow. "Go," she whispered.
Kevin moved, hand steady despite pounding heart. But halfway there, the broker's bodyguard turned.
Kevin froze — just enough time for Guen to trip, wineglass toppling. Red spilled across marble.
"Oh!" she gasped, voice high and flustered.
The guard cursed, stepping back. Kevin's hand brushed the broker's phone — bug slipped under the case.
---
They turned to leave — but the broker caught Guen's wrist. "Wait," he drawled. "I've seen you before."
Kevin's mask dropped a fraction. "She's with me."
The broker smiled, oily and sharp. "That's what worries me."
For one taut second, the room held its breath.
Then Kevin's arm wrapped around Guen, pulling her so close her perfume blurred thought. "Then mind your own business."
He didn't shout. But something in his voice made even the guard step back.
---
Outside, Guen's knees almost buckled. Kevin steadied her, hand warm on her waist.
"You did well," he murmured.
"I… felt sick," she admitted, voice shaking.
He hesitated, then leaned closer. "Me too," he whispered.
For a breath, the mask fell, and she saw not the cold CEO — but the man behind it.
---
✦ Aftermath and unexpected softness
In the dark van, Minjae dumped Miran onto the seat, breathing hard. "Good distraction, kitten."
She glared, chest heaving. "Don't call me—"
His hand cupped her chin, rough. "Scared?"
She didn't speak — too angry, too shaken.
His thumb brushed her bottom lip, lingering. "Good," he whispered. "Stay scared of me."
Then he released her, turning away — missing the tears that burned at the corners of her eyes.
---
Alex removed his cap, sweat dampening hair. "Bug's working," he confirmed. "We'll track contacts, calls, routes."
Dohee's hand brushed his. "And then we bring them down."
Alex met her gaze, softer now. "Together."