[Two Days Later]
Morning light barely touched the glass walls of the Chief's office.
Chief was standing near the window, staring down at the busy street below.
He could see his own reflection faintly in the glass — arms crossed behind his back, face stiff, eyes heavy.
Anyone could tell just by looking at him. The tension was eating him from inside.
The fear in his eyes wasn't from the case itself… it was from the people above him.
The failed capture of the Underworld Judge had already spread up the chain, and now two more deaths — Yoo Chan and Kim Jae-ho.
The pressure on his shoulders was clear as day.
After a while, the Chief turned from the window and went back to his desk.
He pulled the chair and sat slowly.
A half-finished cup of coffee placed beside the pile of files, the smell already gone cold.
He rubbed his temple once and opened the report again — the failed operation report.
Across from him, the blinds were half-open, sunlight cutting through and landing on the floor.
A man in a black suit stood behind him. He'd been there since the start.
He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there with his hands behind his back.
Black tie, black sunglasses, not a hint of expression on his face.
Chief fingers were tapping at the edge of the desk as he read the same page again for what felt like the tenth time.
The words didn't change, but every time he looked at them, they hit harder.
On the top corner, it read:
[ Confidential Report — Internal Use Only ]
Filed by: Detective Choi Do-hyun, SMPA
Case ID: #UWJ-47-A
Subject: "Underworld Judge" — Current Lead Identification
Summary:
Evidence from several crime scenes, including the latest one at Euljiro metro, shows a DNA match with Park Joon-ho — ex-prosecutor, presumed dead ten years ago in a fire (File #PJ-09-F).
Observation:
DNA and physical traits both match, but I don't believe it's the real Park Joon-ho.
Possible use of advanced tech — something that can copy not just a face but the entire genetic makeup.
Every sample tested, from blood to prints, points to a full biological rewrite, not a disguise.
Conclusion (Personal Note):
If it's not him, someone's wearing his identity on purpose.
If it is him… then the dead just came back with a pulse.
Note:
Recommend keeping his name off record until confirmation.
Collected data also hints at a link with the Kang Electronics Case (2015) — the same one tied to Park Joon-ho's death.
Cheif took a deep breath, his throat dry.
Even reading it didn't feel real.
He knew that name — Park Joon-ho.
Every officer in this building did.
A prosecutor who burned to death during the Kang Electronics corruption probe.
That case was buried so deep it had dirt on top of dirt.
And now, ten years later, his name was back — printed in black ink, signed by one of his own men - detective Choi do hyun.
He closed the file slowly and looked at the door, waiting. His hand resting on the edge of the desk.
The knob turned.
The door opened with a click.
Detective Choi Do-hyun stepped inside, his coat slightly wrinkled, eyes tired but sharp.
The Chief looked at him for a moment, then leaned back in his chair.
There was silence between them, and the whole room felt heavy with it.
The Chief didn't speak right away, he just gave a small nod to Choi to sit on the chair.
The only sound in the room was the tick-tick of the wall clock.
The Chief stared at Choi for a moment, his fingers tapping slow on the edge of the desk.
Then he pulled open a drawer and dropped a thick folder on the table. The sound made Choi look up.
"Ten profiles," the Chief said. His voice was calm but carried weight. "Candidates. All handpicked from different branches."
Choi looked down. Each file was stamped Confidential with the red seal of the National Agency.
"These are the ones the higher-ups approved," the Chief went on. "Special cases. Not your clean-cut officers. Some got suspended, some transferred, some just don't fit anywhere else."
Choi dragged his thumb over the paper edges but didn't open them yet.
He already knew what kind of files these were — people who didn't fit anywhere.
The misfits. The ones too sharp, too reckless, or too stubborn to sit quietly under orders.
Talented, yes — maybe the best in their field — but their attitude made them a problem for every department they joined.
The Chief leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"You'll pick five," he said. "Your team. You report to me — no one else. And your only job is this case."
Choi nodded once but didn't speak.
Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at the man standing behind the Chief.
The guy hadn't moved since he entered — not even a breath out of place.
No name tag, no badge, no hint of where he came from.
His face was calm but too calm, like someone trained to erase emotion.
Choi had seen men like him before — not soldiers, not cops, not even secret service.
The kind that doesn't belong to any department.
The kind that doesn't exist in any record.
The Chief noticed his look but didn't explain. Instead, he said quietly,
"This came from higher up. After reading your report."
He paused for a breath, eyes lowering.
"They know this 'Underworld Judge' isn't a normal criminal. Whoever he is — he's careful. No cameras, no digital traces, no prints. He moves like he already knows what we'll do next."
He pushed the files closer.
"So if we can't catch a ghost with a normal net…" He gave a tired smile. "…we'll build a better one."
"Pick your five," he said.
To them, it wasn't a theory.
It was proof.
Park Joon-ho was alive.
The ghost had a face now.
But Choi knew better.
He'd written every word in that file.
Whoever this "Park Joon-ho" was… he wasn't the same man who'd died ten years ago.
He was something else entirely.
And that truth — the one no one dared to say out loud — was what scared the people upstairs the most.
Because they knew exactly why the real Park Joon-ho had been killed.