Gun pressed the latches and the briefcase clicked open.
Kangmi kept her hands still in her lap. She kept her breathing even. She watched his hands, not his face.
Gun looked down at the interior. He reached inside and ran his fingers along the empty lining. He did it slowly, pressing into the corners, as if he had miscounted and the paper was simply hiding.
The briefcase was empty.
He stayed like that for a moment, looking down at nothing. Then he looked up at her.
"Where is it?" he asked. "The Red Paper."
Kangmi said nothing.
But...
The corner of her mouth moved. Just slightly, and just for a second. But it was there.
---
Eleven hours earlier, Kangmi sat across from Seongji Yuk with her arms folded and her legs crossed. The Red Paper lay on the desk between them, turned so she could read it. She had read it twice.
"You understand what you're asking me to do," she said.
Seongji nodded.
She reached across the desk for the paper. Seongji's hand moved first, pulling it back and tucking it inside his jacket. The movement was calm, not aggressive.
Kangmi looked at him. "You're not leaving it with me."
"If you don't have it, no one has a reason to come after you," he said. "I'll bring it to the court directly. You handle everything else."
Kangmi held his gaze. Nam stood behind her and to the left, close enough to act. She didn't look at him. She already knew her answer.
"All right," she said.
Seongji stood and moved toward the door. Kangmi looked at the dried blood on his clothing.
"Will you be okay?" she asked.
He turned back with a slight smile. "I'll manage. Just make sure to handle everything." He left without waiting for an answer.
Nam spoke after the door closed. "Ma'am, I don't think we need to worry about him. He's clearly an exceptional individual."
Kangmi picked up her glasses and put them back on. "But the tallest trees are the first to fall in a storm."
---
Back in the present, Kangmi looked at Gun across the open briefcase.
"You neutralized my protection," she said. "You had me alone in a car with nowhere to go. I understand why you thought it was over." She glanced at the empty case in his hands. "But you came for the briefcase the moment you arrived. That was the only thing you were looking for. So I made sure it was the only thing you found."
Gun looked at her.
"You never considered that the paper might already be somewhere else," she said. "That was your mistake."
But...
A smile appeared on Gun's face. Not the thin, contained expression he had worn during the fight with Nam. This one was wider, and it reached his eyes.
Kangmi's composure slipped. Her brow pulled together. She had outmaneuvered him, and he knew it, and he was still smiling.
"Why are you smiling?" she asked.
Gun looked down at the empty briefcase. Then he let it go. It dropped to the asphalt and bounced once, the hollow interior facing up toward the pale sky.
He pulled out his phone.
---
The taxi moved through light Friday traffic toward the courthouse district. Seongji sat in the back with the briefcase on his lap and his hands resting on top of it.
The court closed at six. He had confirmed that before leaving. Today was Friday, which meant if he didn't file today, the weekend absorbed everything. Saturday closed. Sunday closed. Monday was two full days away, and two days was enough time for too many things to go wrong.
It had to be today.
He looked out the window. His side still ached. His clothing was still stiff with dried blood. The briefcase was solid under his palms, and that was enough.
He didn't feel the car behind them accelerating. The first thing he knew was the impact, a massive force hitting the rear of the taxi and throwing him forward into the seat in front. His hands came off the briefcase. The world tilted. The driver's head hit the steering wheel, and then the taxi was over the curb, the front corner grinding against a concrete barrier before it stopped.
Seongji sat still for a moment. His shoulder hurt, and his neck, and he could feel his pulse in his temples. He moved his fingers and they responded. He pushed himself upright and the seat held him.
The driver was slumped over the wheel. His chest moved, but he didn't wake up.
Seongji grabbed the briefcase and checked the latches. It was intact. He got out of the car.
The door of the black car behind them opened. The man who stepped out was lean and unhurried. He wore a white jacket with gold trim at the collar and cuffs, and his blond hair was slightly disheveled from the impact. He wore glasses. He looked at Seongji, then at the briefcase, then back at Seongji's face.
A smirk pulled at his mouth. "We're meeting too often," he said.