Seoul, 2003.
6 years since Kairi died.
6 years since the church burned.
6 years since they learned how to breathe again.
OPENING SHOT — A NEW SEOUL
The city glows gold in the evening light. Skyscrapers now where old ruins once stood.
The skyline no longer bleeds. It breathes.
A modest detective agency sits above a dry-cleaner in Hongdae.
Frosted glass doors. Faint smell of incense. Walls lined with photos, certificates, and a small framed bullet.
The name on the door:
PACIFIST AGENCY – SAIGERU & PARTNERS
Missing people, cold cases, forgiveness optional.
INT. DETECTIVE AGENCY – LATE EVENING
Souta (33) sits behind the desk, reading a missing person file.
She wears a silver ring. Faint wrinkles around her eyes. A pen stuck behind one ear.
We hear children's laughter from the next room.
Her three kids—two daughters, one son—are playing on the carpet.
Ryouma (35) walks in, coffee in one hand, a cane in the other (old injuries never healed).
He grumbles, exhausted.
"Why do all cold cases involve people named Min-Soo?"
"Do they name themselves before vanishing?"
Souta (without looking up):
"It's the John Smith of Seoul, get over it."
1998: "Ex-detective Huáilán turns herself in for war crimes and underground executions related to the Pacifist Case."
1999: "Huáilán sentenced to 25 years with parole. Early release unlikely."
2003: "Exoneration hearing adjourned. Surprise witnesses arrive."
—
INT. COURTROOM – FLASHBACK – 2003 (2 MONTHS AGO)
Huáilán (35) sits in shackles.
The room is silent.
Then—
Souta and Ryouma walk in, now adults.
The crowd murmurs.
They take the stand. They testify.
"She saved our lives.
She fought the monster who raised us.
She earned a new life, because she helped us get ours."
EXT. SEOUL DETENTION CENTER – A WEEK LATER
Huáilán is released.
Alone. Cold wind. No one greets her.
Except a cab parked across the street.
Souta leans out the window.
"We're down one investigator.
Job comes with crap coffee, ungrateful clients, and long hours."
Huáilán (quietly):
"Is there pain?"
Ryouma:
"Only when you lie to yourself."
She gets in the cab.
No more words.
BACK TO PRESENT – INT. AGENCY – LATE EVENING
Huáilán, now unshackled, works at a side desk.
Her desk is brutally organized: every pen aligned, every paper corner folded perfectly.
She types one line, stops, deletes it, starts again.
Ryouma walks by and tosses her a file.
"You missed one. The kid's real name isn't Min-Soo. It's Katarina."
She freezes. Glances at him.
He shrugs.
"Don't look at me like that. Karma's bored."
FAMILY LIFE – SOUTA'S HOME
Later that night.
Souta returns home.
Her kids run to her. The youngest (5) draws a picture of "mom catching the monster."
Her husband (gentle, quiet, a schoolteacher) smiles and sets the table.
For the first time, we see Souta peaceful.
She touches her daughter's hair and says:
"You'll never meet her. But you'll know what she turned me into. And what I chose to become instead."
Souta walks into the attic.
Alone.
She opens an old locked box.
Inside:
A broken crucifix dagger
The final cassette
Katarina's badge
Kairi's photo, folded from decades ago
She plays the cassette one last time.
"If you've built a life…
Then I died the way I hoped.
That's all I ever wanted.
Even if it meant I never saw it."
She doesn't cry.
She just sits there.
Letting the tape finish.