The Scent of Paper.

  The air in the office of Daon Solution pretended to be mundane.

  It smelled of cheap instant coffee, the ozone of laser printers, and the dry heat radiating from computer towers. People tapped away at their keyboards with faces that screamed, "I just need to survive this week."

  But to Tae-yoon, beneath that stale layer of corporate normalcy, there was a different scent mixed in.

  The scent of documents.

  It wasn't the smell of wood pulp or ink. It was the distinct, metallic stench that arose when someone tried to bury numbers. The smell of a deletion so clean it left a scar. People called it "sanitized," but to Tae-yoon, a blank space was louder than a scream.

  —Someone is hiding something right here.

  That day, Tae-yoon fulfilled his promise to create a "boundary of safety" within the company.

  He called Lee Hyun-ah and Han So-hee into the corner meeting room. He deliberately left the door ajar so that if Team Leader Park walked by, it would look like a boring document sorting session.

  Thud.

  Tae-yoon dropped a stack of worn-out file folders onto the table.

  The labels were dreadfully boring: 'Security Maintenance Cost Settlement', 'Partner Contract (Extension)', 'Foundation Event Support Expenses'.

  To the naked eye, it was administrative chloroform.

  "This is your verification mission," Tae-yoon said with a faint smile, adjusting his glasses to look more like the clumsy Manager Kang.

  "Do not hack. Do not infiltrate. Just... read. Only what is on this table."

  Hyun-ah scoffed, spinning a pen in her hand.

  "Manager, are you hiring us as filing clerks now?"

  "Exactly. Assistant Manager Lee, you have good eyes."

  "Good eyes? I wear contact lenses."

  When Tae-yoon shrugged playfully, Han So-hee laughed quietly, already flipping through the first folder.

  But the laughter didn't last long.

  Hyun-ah’s finger stopped at a single line in a contract.

  The account flow for the 'Security Maintenance Fee (Monthly Flat Rate)' was wrong. Money that should have gone to a security vendor was detouring into a 'Medical/Foundation' account before vanishing into a shell company.

  "This..." Hyun-ah lowered her voice, her eyes sharpening. "This isn't a security maintenance fee."

  Tae-yoon said nothing. He simply nodded.

  Han So-hee, scanning the settlement tables, caught a recurring keyword. It was clearly an abbreviation known only to insiders.

  "Here."

  So-hee slid the paper across the table toward Tae-yoon.

  "SGMF... It appears repeatedly. I think it stands for Sungjin Medical Foundation."

  Hyun-ah read the acronym again and narrowed her eyes.

  "Sungjin is... siphoning money through a charity foundation?"

  "We can't say 'siphoning' yet," Tae-yoon cut in firmly.

  "We are currently at the stage of 'smelling'. Once we confirm the stench... then we look for the corpse."

  Han So-hee hesitated for a moment, then spoke cautiously.

  "I... might have a way to help."

  When Tae-yoon looked up, So-hee clenched her fingertips together.

  "I have an acquaintance in hospital administration. I can't steal anything illegal. But... there is a range of information available through official channels. Like anonymized statistics or foundation donation flows. Legal data."

  Tae-yoon paused for a breath, then nodded.

  "Good. Do not do anything illegal. We will find the 'hole' using only legal data."

  As the directive fell, Hyun-ah stared at Tae-yoon intently.

  "Manager... did you really come here to do this kind of thing?"

  Tae-yoon smiled, his mask slipping back into place.

  "Me? I'm just a guy who got lucky and landed a desk job."

  Hyun-ah didn't believe him. Instead, she tossed the paper onto his desk with a heavy thwack.

  "Manager."

  Her voice was strangely serious.

  "This isn't security. This is Medical."

  At that moment, Tae-yoon’s eyes went cold—just for a fraction of a second.

  Then, he returned to being the good-natured 'Manager Kang'.

  "Yes. That's why... we need to be even more careful."

  The Zero Statistic.

  The first piece of legal intel Han So-hee brought back was suspiciously quiet.

  In the transplant-related statistics published by the foundation, a specific period was empty.

  A section where the numbers were cleanly '0'.

  In medical statistics, '0' is rare. Especially in a period involving a massive foundation like Sungjin. A zero isn't a lack of data; it's a deletion of reality.

  So-hee’s lips trembled as she pointed it out.

  "Here... strangely, only this specific period is empty. Other months have data, but this period is just zero."

  At those words, Oh Se-na quietly lifted her head.

  Se-na wasn't officially "on the team" yet. She was just an anxious connection from the previous company whom Tae-yoon kept running into.

  She was timid. She couldn't make eye contact, and her voice was small.

  But in front of numbers, she was different.

  In front of numbers, she didn't hide.

  "I... I can organize that," Se-na said, pulling out a pencil.

  "This period... it overlaps with the contract extension date. And... the dates when large sums of money were withdrawn."

  Se-na overlaid the settlement sheets, the contracts, and the donation records into a single comparison chart.

  Her pencil scratched against the paper—skritch, skritch.

  And in the center of that comparison chart, a recurring internal code name surfaced.

  H-GLASS.

  Se-na whispered.

  "This... was erased on purpose. It fits... too perfectly."

  That 'perfect fit' turned Tae-yoon’s stomach.

  The moment Tae-yoon saw that code name, his heart sank.

  GLASS.

  Yuri. (Note: 'Yuri' means 'Glass' in Korean).

  The fact that her name was resurfacing as a 'word' in this world was a grotesque nightmare.

  Tae-yoon spoke low.

  "Ha-jun. H-GLASS... verify where we've seen this trace before."

  Ha-jun scrolled through a few monitors, his eyes widening.

  "Hyung... this... it's similar to the pattern we saw at the end of the logs before. It feels like they just changed the file name to hide it."

  Min-su ground his teeth.

  "Are you saying this is really connected to the Yuri incident?"

  Hwang Seo-hui—no, the woman who had been hiding under the alias 'Ghost'—quietly looked at the comparison chart.

  Her expression didn't change.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  But Tae-yoon knew.

  That wasn't the face of someone without emotion; it was the face of someone who had buried their emotions alive.

  "That's why I told you," she said, her voice low and raspy.

  "It was bait."

  In her voice, Tae-yoon felt an old memory vividly awakening.

  The syntax, the breathing, the way she ended her sentences.

  The texture of the message the Ghost had left.

  The texture of a person who said 'Don't follow me', while actually preparing to die alone.

  Tae-yoon raised his eyes.

  He met Seo-hui’s gaze.

  And the two of them froze simultaneously, just for a second.

  Seo-hui’s eyes trembled minutely.

  "You..."

  Tae-yoon was the same.

  "Seo-hui...?"

  It was a moment where the world seemed to stop.

  The defender who had existed only as a 'Ghost' for months.

  The woman who had been at the scene of the tragedy, where Yuri and Seo-hui’s own brother had died.

  The name Tae-yoon had tried to avoid even after returning from the abyss.

  Hwang Seo-hui.

  Seo-hui clamped her mouth shut.

  "Don't say that name... here."

  Tae-yoon laughed, a dry, hollow sound.

  "Then why did you use such a terrible alias in front of me?"

  Min-su and Ha-jun looked back and forth between them, swallowing hard.

  "Hyung... did you know each other?" Ha-jun asked quietly.

  Tae-yoon sighed instead of answering.

  "It's been a long time," Tae-yoon said.

  "Truly... a long time."

  Seo-hui tried to act cold.

  But that coldness crumbled for a split second.

  It wasn't joy; it was a crack of relief that screamed, 'You're still alive.'

  "You've been back for a while," Seo-hui stated.

  "Yeah. A while," Tae-yoon replied briefly.

  "But why are you still... alone?"

  Seo-hui’s eyes sharpened.

  "Alone is comfortable."

  "Liar," Tae-yoon said firmly.

  "You aren't alone because it's comfortable... You're doing it to punish yourself alone."

  Seo-hui’s jaw tightened.

  "What do you know?"

  "I know," Tae-yoon said.

  "You were like that back then, too. When someone got hurt, you thought it was better if only you got hurt more."

  Seo-hui laughed. A short, frigid sound.

  "So what? Sungjin took Yuri and my..."

  She couldn't finish the sentence. The words choked her.

  Tae-yoon didn't force the blocked words out.

  Instead, he spoke very quietly.

  "If that's the case... stay by my side."

  Seo-hui’s eyes widened.

  Tae-yoon didn't avert his gaze.

  "If you fight alone, you die," Tae-yoon’s voice was low and strangely certain.

  "I... cannot allow that."

  Seo-hui’s expression wavered for the first time.

  She wasn't swayed by persuasion.

  She was shaken because her hidden exhaustion had been spotted by the only person who understood the weight of her grief.

  Min-su spoke roughly, breaking the tension.

  "Hey, this isn't the time to be sentimental. The important thing is... that H-GLASS and SGMF are connected by the same rope. That means the foundation and the transplant line..."

  Seo-hui turned her gaze to Min-su.

  "Correct."

  Then she looked back at Tae-yoon.

  "And more importantly... what we are seeing now is just the 'surface'."

  Seo-hui opened her laptop. Her fingertips moved fast.

  "That foundation is charity on the outside. But on the inside... it's a place that turns people into 'numbers'."

  Ha-jun gasped.

  "People... into numbers?"

  Seo-hui nodded.

  "Yes. That's why no one says it's strange even if the statistics are empty zeros. Because they cover it all up with the word 'Anonymization'."

  Tae-yoon’s eyes grew cold again.

  "Then, the next step isn't a hole in the data... it's the field."

  Seo-hui spoke low.

  "The Foundation Gala. More traces will surface there."

  As soon as those words fell, a message from Team Leader Park popped up on Tae-yoon’s phone.

  It was a notification: 'We have to go to support the Sungjin Foundation event.'

  Tae-yoon smiled bitterly at the screen.

  "Good," Tae-yoon said.

  "Then let's pretend to do the company's work... while we find the box we're looking for."

  The Encounter.

  The event hall was glamorous.

  The lobby glittered, people laughed, and camera flashes erupted like lightning.

  But to Tae-yoon, that sparkle looked like a 'screen'.

  The truth is always behind the screen.

  In the center of the briefing materials, a large logo was emblazoned.

  SGMF.

  The moment Tae-yoon saw that logo, the back of his neck went cold.

  And right then, a familiar, unpleasant sensation brushed past his shoulder.

  Click— Click—

  That rhythmic sound of heels.

  When Tae-yoon looked up, Choi Seo-hyun was crossing the lobby in a sharp suit.

  As soon as she saw Tae-yoon, her expression hardened.

  "You again?"

  Tae-yoon deliberately put on his goofy face.

  "Ah, I... I somehow got lost again. Why is this building so complicated..."

  Seo-hyun scanned Tae-yoon with disbelief.

  She was someone who had already 'felt' the sharpness hiding behind his clumsiness several times.

  Seo-hyun spoke low.

  "You aren't from the Foundation, are you?"

  Tae-yoon laughed awkwardly.

  "The Foundation? I... I like the Meat Foundation. The Pork Belly Foundation..."

  Seo-hyun’s eyes grew colder.

  "Don't joke. This isn't a place for jokes."

  In that coldness, Tae-yoon felt a strange sensation.

  ‘Choi Seo-hyun isn't pretending not to know.’

  ‘Either she is the enemy, or... she genuinely knows something.’

  The path to the backstage area opened up.

  Tae-yoon pretended to take a wrong turn and moved toward the document storage room.

  He scanned the boxes visible through the gap in the door.

  And he saw it.

  A box marked 'GLASS'.

  The moment that word pierced his eyes, Tae-yoon’s fingers stiffened microscopically.

  Just as he was about to move to open the box—

  The wind shifted behind him.

  Choi Seo-hyun was there.

  Close. Too close.

  "I got lost," Tae-yoon said in his stupidest voice, but Seo-hyun’s gaze moved past his act and locked onto the box he was staring at.

  She hadn't missed that Tae-yoon’s eyes were 'fixed' on it.

  "You," Seo-hyun said low.

  "If you touch things here carelessly... you will die."

  Tae-yoon couldn't distinguish if that was a warning or a threat.

  But one thing was certain.

  Choi Seo-hyun knew.

  She knew that this place wasn't 'clean charity'.

  Tae-yoon tore his eyes away from the box and smiled at Seo-hyun.

  "Ah... okay. I won't touch it. I really hate dying."

  Seo-hyun looked straight at Tae-yoon.

  "Then why... do you look at it with such dangerous eyes?"

  Tae-yoon didn't answer.

  The moment he answered, too much would leak out.

  Seo-hyun added one last, cold remark.

  "Someone like you... shouldn't stay here long."

  The fact that her words sounded strangely like worry made Tae-yoon feel even more unsettled.

  The Assembly.

  That day, the team gained one more certainty.

  SGMF is not just a money pipeline.

  H-GLASS is not just a code name.

  And Choi Seo-hyun... might not just be the "Face of the Foundation."

  On the walk back to the hideout, Tae-yoon looked back at Hwang Seo-hui.

  Seo-hui said nothing.

  But Tae-yoon knew. Seo-hui had seen the scene at the gala too.

  Seo-hui finally opened her mouth.

  "It's confirmed now."

  Tae-yoon replied low.

  "Yeah. Now... we have to end it."

  Seo-hui walked in silence for a while before throwing out one last sentence.

  "Then I have a condition too."

  When Tae-yoon turned his head, Seo-hui’s eyes became cold like the Ghost again.

  "Don't let anyone move alone."

  "..."

  "Not even me. Not even you."

  Tae-yoon laughed briefly.

  "Right. So stay by my side."

  Tae-yoon spoke slowly, making sure the words sounded like a promise, not an order.

  Late that night, under the blue light of the hideout monitors, the seats of the seven finally began to take shape.

  Tae-yoon (Phantom), Min-su, Ha-jun, Hwang Seo-hui (Ghost), Oh Se-na, Lee Hyun-ah, Han So-hee.

  People who crumbled in different ways, and endured in different ways.

  Tae-yoon spoke quietly.

  "From now on... let's stop pretending to catch them."

  Everyone held their breath.

  Tae-yoon continued.

  "Let's end them."