Episode 18 – Dark Waters
The yacht drifted in the fog of early morning, moonlight spilling across dark water like silver oil. Miran stood at the railing, dress fluttering in the breeze, her pulse thudding unevenly. The air smelled of salt and secrets.
Inside, guests in tuxedos and silk gowns moved through the ballroom, laughter slick as the marble floors. But under the music, Miran felt it: tension, coiled and sharp.
Kevin leaned against the railing nearby, black suit perfectly tailored, gaze locked on the crowd below. Beside him, Guen brushed a strand of hair from her face, scanning faces with quiet focus.
"This is too clean," Guen murmured. "No chatter about what's really on auction."
"Agreed," Kevin replied, voice low. "Stay close. And watch Minjae."
At the far side of the deck, Minjae looked nothing like a man on a mission. He sprawled on a chaise lounge, whiskey in hand, a blonde perched on his knee. He laughed easily, but his eyes — cold, calculating — never stopped scanning.
Miran watched him from the shadows. Just hours ago, she'd seen that same easy smile vanish as he'd pinned a man against a wall for information, his voice flat and dangerous. Her skin still prickled at the memory.
She forced herself to look away. Nearby, Alex and Dohee moved together, a quiet team: Alex with his earpiece, eyes locked on his tablet; Dohee, elegant in black silk, murmuring updates.
"We're patched into the cameras," Alex whispered to Kevin. "Swan just arrived. With the buyer."
Kevin's shoulders tightened. "Then it starts."
---
The auction began, announced by a voice smooth as velvet. Guests drifted into the main ballroom. Crystal chandeliers threw fractured light over polished wood, and laughter masked nervous glances.
Kevin and Guen moved side by side, blending with the crowd. At a table, Minjae's gaze flicked up briefly, then back to his glass.
"Buyer's not on our list," Guen murmured.
Kevin's eyes narrowed. "Swan doesn't trust anyone. He'd bring a ghost buyer."
Miran hovered near the back, hands clenched. She shouldn't be here. Her heartbeat thundered loud enough to drown the music.
---
Suddenly, Alex's voice crackled in everyone's earpiece. "Incoming. Swan's taking the buyer to the lower deck."
"Copy," Kevin murmured. He caught Guen's arm gently. "Stay close."
Without breaking stride, they slipped away from the ballroom, Miran trailing behind, breath caught in her throat.
They descended a narrow staircase into shadows. The air turned cooler, heavy with salt and oil. The lower deck was quiet, lined with locked doors and crates of expensive wine.
Ahead, Swan spoke in low tones with a tall man in a black suit. Between them, a briefcase lay open: stacks of crisp cash.
Kevin's hand dropped to his side, ready. Guen's gaze sharpened. Miran froze, halfway down the steps, barely breathing.
Then another voice, lazy and amused: "Didn't wait for me to start the show?"
Minjae lounged against the wall, jacket off, sleeves rolled to the elbow. His grin was pure trouble.
Swan's eyes flicked, annoyed. "This isn't your part, Minjae."
"I make my own parts," Minjae drawled, stepping closer.
The buyer shifted, his hand brushing inside his jacket. Kevin's gaze caught it instantly.
---
The moment cracked like glass. The buyer drew a gun, but Swan turned and shot him first, a flash of fire in the gloom. The blast echoed, deafening.
Kevin lunged, pulling Guen down. The bullet punched into a crate, wood splintering inches above their heads.
Miran's scream caught in her throat. Frozen, she saw Swan swing the gun toward Minjae.
Minjae moved faster than thought. His arm locked around Swan's wrist, twisting until bone cracked. The gun clattered to the floor.
Without hesitation, Minjae drove his knee into Swan's chest. The man crumpled, gasping. Then Minjae punched him, once, hard enough to send blood spraying.
Swan fell, eyes glassy, body limp.
---
Miran stood at the bottom step, heart slamming against her ribs. She had seen fights before — but this was different. The way Minjae's expression emptied, the brutal, mechanical precision. He didn't hesitate. He didn't blink.
And then his eyes met hers: cold, dark, as if he barely recognized her. "Stay quiet," he ordered, voice like steel.
She nodded, throat too tight to speak.
---
The deck settled into silence. Swan and the buyer lay dead among spilled cash. Guen slowly rose, hair mussed, eyes wide.
Kevin straightened, shoulders tight. "Was this your plan, Minjae?"
Minjae's grin didn't reach his eyes. "Plans change."
Kevin's jaw worked. "She saw everything," he muttered, nodding toward Miran.
Minjae's gaze flicked to her, unreadable. "Then she'll keep her mouth shut."
---
Upstairs, chaos had spread. Guests evacuated by security teams. Dohee coordinated quietly, her hand on Alex's shoulder as he scanned feeds.
"Police on route," Alex said, voice taut. "Ten minutes."
"Wrap it," Dohee ordered.
---
Minutes later, they gathered outside, sea wind sharp on sweat-damp skin. Miran's hands shook so badly she couldn't hold her phone.
Kevin looked at her, softer than before. "You okay?"
She opened her mouth, then shut it. Her gaze darted past him — to Minjae, wiping blood from his knuckles, face unreadable.
Guen stepped closer, voice gentle. "Come on. We need to debrief."
But Miran barely heard her. Minjae's eyes had turned away, as if she were no more than background noise.
---
Back at HQ, the briefing was short. Swan's death meant the case closed quickly — too quickly. Kevin knew loose ends would surface.
As they spoke, Miran sat silent, eyes distant. Every time Minjae's name was mentioned, she flinched.
Later, in the hall, Minjae cornered her. His hand braced beside her head, body blocking the light.
"You saw what I am," he said, voice low. "Don't test me."
She swallowed, terror coiling in her gut. "I… I won't say anything."
His smile was cold. "Smart girl."
---
Night blurred into dawn. Miran lay awake, memory replaying: Minjae's fist smashing bone, blood on his shirt, his eyes dead and calm.
She had always feared him, a little. Now she feared him completely.
And yet, some part of her couldn't look away.
---