The door clicked shut behind them, and suddenly the noise of the bullpen faded to a distant murmur. Yoon Seo-ah stood just inside the office, her back straight, her face composed, waiting.
Dae-hyun moved behind his desk but didn't sit. He simply looked at her for a long moment, his eyes unreadable.
"I don't care what your past is," he said finally. His voice was quiet but firm. "I don't care that you were an actress. I don't care about the magazines or the movies or the awards. None of that matters here."
Seo-ah said nothing. She simply watched him, her dark eyes steady.
"What matters here is the work. The cases. The people we're trying to protect." Dae-hyun leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. "I hope you do well. Not because the commissioner forced you on me, but because every person on this squad matters. Including you."
Something flickered in her expression—surprise, maybe, or disbelief.
Dae-hyun continued. "The people out there—Min-jun, Jin-young, Shi-eok, Soo-ah, Hae-rin—they won't hate you. They might be awkward. They might not know how to act around you. But they won't hate you." He paused. "You're part of Team Zero now. That means you're my people. And my people are my responsibility."
Seo-ah's lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
"I'm not going to coddle you. I'm not going to go easy on you because of who you were." Dae-hyun's voice hardened just slightly. "But I am going to expect you to learn. Fast. Watch Soo-ah. She's younger than you and less experienced in the world, but she knows how to be a detective. She knows how to notice things, how to organize information, and how to be part of a team. Learn from her."
Seo-ah nodded slowly. "I will."
Dae-hyun pushed off from the desk and extended his hand.
"Welcome to Team Zero. Properly this time."
Seo-ah looked at his hand for a moment—rough, capable, steady. Then she reached out and shook it. His grip was firm but not crushing, professional but not cold.
"Thank you, Captain," she said quietly. "I won't let you down."
"You won't let yourself down." He released her hand and moved toward the door. "That's what matters."
He pulled the door open and stepped into the bullpen. The others looked up from their various tasks, curiosity in their eyes. Dae-hyun scanned the room until he found Soo-ah, who was half-hidden behind a stack of files at her desk.
"Soo-ah."
She straightened immediately. "Yes, Captain?"
"Seo-ah is with you. Wherever you go, whatever you do, she goes with you. Teach her what you know. Show her how we work." He paused. "She learns fast. Keep up."
Soo-ah blinked, then looked at Seo-ah, who had followed Dae-hyun out of the office. A wide smile spread across her young face.
"Really? I get to—yes, Captain! I won't let you down!"
Seo-ah inclined her head toward Soo-ah, a small acknowledgment. "Thank you. I'll try not to be a burden."
Soo-ah waved her hand dismissively. "You won't be! Come sit by me. I'll show you everything—how we organize files, how we log evidence, and how we use the board. It's going to be great!"
Dae-hyun watched them for a moment, then turned to the rest of the team. "New case. Missing persons."
Min-jun raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"
Dae-hyun moved to his desk and pulled out the commissioner's folder, flipping through until he found the right section. "A young woman. Twenty-four years old. Park Soo-jin. Disappeared two months ago from her apartment in Mapo. No witnesses, no evidence, no nothing. The case went cold in three weeks."
Jin-young leaned forward. "Missing persons isn't usually our jurisdiction."
"It is now." Dae-hyun handed the file to Min-jun. "The Commissioner flagged it. Something about it bothers him. And if it bothers him, it bothers me."
Min-jun opened the file and scanned the contents. "There's not much here."
"Then we'll find more." Dae-hyun looked at Seo-ah. "You wanted to learn. Start with this. Put everything from that file on the board. Every detail, every statement, every photo. By the time you're done, I want to be able to see this woman's life from across the room."
Seo-ah stepped forward and took the file from Min-jun. Her hands were steady, her expression focused. "Understood, Captain."
She moved to the whiteboard and began to work.
The others watched for a moment—the most famous face in Korea, standing before a police whiteboard, pinning up photos of a missing woman they'd never heard of. It was strange and surreal and somehow exactly right.
Min-jun shook his head slowly. "Well. Never thought I'd see that."
Jin-young shrugged. "She's a detective now. Detectives work."
"Fair point."
They turned back to their own tasks, and the bullpen settled into its usual rhythm of quiet focus.
---
The afternoon passed slowly. Seo-ah worked methodically, pulling information from the file and transferring it to the board. Photos of Park Soo-jin—a pretty young woman with a bright smile—went up first. Then statements from her family, her friends, and her coworkers. Then a timeline of her last known movements. Then a map of her neighborhood, marked with the places she'd been seen.
Soo-ah hovered nearby, offering suggestions and pointing out details Seo-ah might have missed. They worked well together—Soo-ah's enthusiasm balanced by Seo-ah's calm precision.
By evening, the board was full.
Seo-ah stepped back and surveyed her work. The missing woman's face stared out from the center, surrounded by the fragments of a life suddenly interrupted. It was organized, comprehensive, and clear.
She turned toward Dae-hyun's office. He was at his desk, reading through something, his door slightly ajar. She crossed the bullpen and knocked gently.
"Captain."
He looked up. "Yes?"
"The board is finished. We've put everything from the file up. If you want to review it."
Dae-hyun stood and followed her out. The others gathered as he approached the whiteboard, watching his face for any reaction.
He stood before it for a long moment, his eyes moving slowly across every detail. The photos. The statements. The timeline. The map. He took it all in, filing it away, connecting it to everything he already knew.
Then he turned to face them.
"Good job," he said quietly. "This is exactly what I wanted."
Seo-ah's shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. Soo-ah beamed.
Dae-hyun looked at them all—his team, his people, his responsibility. "Tomorrow, we dig deeper. Jin-young, I want phone records, bank records, social media—anything that might tell us where she went. Min-jun, you and Shi-eok will talk to the family again. Sometimes they remember more after time passes. Hae-rin, start building a profile. Who was she? Who might want her gone?"
They nodded, absorbing their assignments.
Dae-hyun paused, then continued. "But before any of that—" He looked at Shi-eok. "You asked me to teach you. To show you what I know."
Shi-eok straightened slightly. "Yes."
"Then we start tonight." Dae-hyun moved toward the door. "There's a gym upstairs. Empty, fully equipped, and perfect for training. I'll teach anyone who wants to learn. Not just fighting—though we'll start there. But how to move, how to read an opponent, how to use your body the way you use your mind."
Jin-young raised a hand. "I'm a hacker. I don't fight."
"Then learn to defend yourself. One day, your code won't save you." Dae-hyun's voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "Everyone. Every single person on this squad. You'll learn. Not to be fighters—to be survivors."
Soo-ah's eyes lit up. "Really? You'll teach us?"
"If you want to learn."
She was already on her feet. "I want to learn!"
Min-jun groaned. "At my age?"
"Especially at your age." Dae-hyun's lips twitched. "You're not getting younger. Might as well get better."
Even Min-jun cracked a smile at that.
Shi-eok was already moving toward the door, a rare eagerness in his step. Jin-young hesitated, then shrugged and followed. Hae-rin stood more slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. Soo-ah bounced on her heels, practically vibrating with excitement.
Seo-ah remained where she was, watching them.
Dae-hyun paused at the door and looked back at her. "You too. You're part of this squad. That means you train with the squad."
She met his eyes for a long moment. Then she nodded once and moved to join the others.
They filed out of the bullpen together, up the stairs to the floor above, where a gym waited—empty and ready and full of possibility.
Behind them, the whiteboard stood covered in the fragments of a missing woman's life. Tomorrow, they would find her.
Tonight, they would become something more than just colleagues.
They would become a team.