Detective Lee Do had learned long ago that the dead spoke louder than the living.
You just had to know how to listen.
The walls of his small apartment were bare except for one photo — a woman and a little boy.
His wife. His son.
Taken from him years ago in a hit‑and‑run that was never solved.
Some nights, he could still hear his son's laughter. Other nights, only the sound of the impact.
That was when he learned the truth about the world:
Justice was a myth.
You fought for it anyway.
The sound of his phone buzzing snapped him back.
"Another shooting," his superior said.
"Where?"
"Busan."
That made four.
In four different cities.
Lee Do boarded the train the same night.
He hated leaving Seoul, but there were no leads left there.
This wasn't just a city problem.
It was national.
Meanwhile, Moon Baek watched a news broadcast from his office.
He wasn't smiling this time.
Not because of guilt — that ship had sailed long ago.
But because he saw the ripple effect of his actions.
The guns weren't just tools.
They were symbols.
And Korea was waking up.
Lee Do arrived at the Busan precinct by dawn.
The crime scene was worse than he expected — a family gunned down in their car.
He stood there, jaw tight, as the forensics team collected evidence.
The same casings.
The same make of gun.
And in that moment, he knew this wasn't random.
Someone was orchestrating this.
And Lee Do wouldn't stop until he found them.