Jihoon paused for a beat as he closed the heavy mahogany door of the private room. Stepping into the quiet hallway, the name Rivert continued to echo in his mind, piercing his ears like a brand of hot iron.
"So, that spy is here too?" He loosened his tie slightly, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "Does this mean the rat has followed the old mountain man into the lion's den?" Jihoon let out a low, melodic laugh—a sound saturated with mockery and a deep, insulting arrogance. Fool. If he really brought that spy with him, then my work becomes effortless. I have been impatient to see that pawn for days, and if the trap closes here, it will save me an immense amount of time. As he moved toward the shimmering moonlight of the ballroom, the gears in his brain spun with lethal precision. It was the thrill of a predator finally seeing a ripple in the water—the satisfaction of knowing that after a long day of waiting, the biggest prey had finally surfaced.
He was so deeply entrenched in his calculations that he didn't notice the young man approaching from the opposite direction. The stranger, a six-foot figure withered by a visible shroud of fear and anxiety, collided squarely with Jihoon's shoulder.
"Who is this bastard, walking as if he's so short-sighted he can't see the ruin standing right in front of him?" Jihoon's initial instinct was a flash of cold irritation, but he maintained his professional mask. Out of habit for his public status, he began a polite, practiced apology. But as he raised his eyes to look at the young man, his feet froze to the marble floor.
"He is..."
Standing before him was Nova. Though the man 's face was a mask of hollow neutrality, he was clearly someone who didn't shy away from admitting a mistake. Nova bowed his head, his voice barely a whisper. "Are you okay, sir? I'm so sorry... my attention was elsewhere."
Under the soft, golden glow of the hallway lights, the tremors of Nova's anxiety were impossible to hide. Jihoon offered no immediate response. His eyes remained fixed on the man. cataloging every detail with a sense of dark triumph. This is the man. The one present in every CCTV frame, standing right beside that spy.
Jihoon quickly buried his true identity beneath a practiced, artificial smile—one he had rehearsed countless times for events just like this.
"It's quite alright. These things happen," Jihoon said, his voice smooth as silk while his mind measured Nova's every breath. Internally, Jihoon was reeling with a dark, euphoric joy. He could hardly believe his luck; his two primary targets were now within his reach, under the very same roof. The situation is just like 'buy one, get one free'.
Though he hadn't laid eyes on Rivert yet, Nova's presence confirmed everything he needed to know. He hadn't felt this level of satisfaction in years. The previous conversation with the Chairman had soured his mood, but seeing the seeds of his revenge finally budding before his eyes brought him a sense of profound peace—even if he knew this peace was merely a fleeting guest before the storm.
As Nova watched the man walk away, a strange, prickling sensation took root in the back of his mind. Why does it feel like I've seen him before? From the depths of his subconscious, a blurred image began to surface. He couldn't quite place the face, but the features were hauntingly familiar. Where... where have I seen him? Blue eyes, pink hair—the image flickered like a damaged film reel behind his eyelids. He strained every nerve in his brain, desperately trying to pull a name or a memory from the fog, but the more he pushed, the further it retreated. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he surrendered to the void. The mystery remained locked away.
(I need to find Agent Dohyeon. He must be worried sick about me,) Nova thought, glancing down at his watch. A significant amount of time had already slipped through his fingers.
I have to be careful now. I can't risk bumping into Rivert or that man again. The thought of Rivert sent a fresh wave of ache through his chest. If I show my face to him, I'll only become a hurdle in his mission. Even though his logic was sound, his eyes betrayed a deep, crushing disappointment. It felt like a lead weight in his stomach—the realization that he couldn't even offer a simple 'hello' to the person he cared for most. To make matters worse, he was trapped in a gilded cage of a ballroom, surrounded by the elite, where he knew no one but Dohyeon. He was a stranger in a room full of unfamiliar faces.

On the other side of the ballroom, Ivan's mood was beyond foul. He stood waiting for his master, Jihoon, to return and reclaim the spotlight, but a "dusty" intruder had invaded his mind like an extra electron, disrupting his internal orbit.
It wasn't because someone had dared to ignore him—he truly didn't care for the acknowledgment of lesser beings. He was the master of his own universe, a god in a room full of mortals.
Most people can't even hold my gaze, and I prefer it that way, Ivan mused, his thoughts swirling like dark ink. Their fear is written so clearly across their faces, as transparent as water. It gives me a sense of peace... a god-level serenity. It's a profound, chilling coldness that I crave. But when someone actually dares to look me in the eye? That brings a different kind of pleasure—a sharp, electric tingle. The stronger, more ruthless the enemy, the more exquisite the joy of watching them suffer.
But today... today was an anomaly.
Why does the image of that dusty man keep flashing in my mind like a recurring nightmare? How can something so utterly disgusting even exist in this world? It's hard to believe.
A brutal, demonic smile slowly spread across Ivan's face. His asymmetrical eyes, usually narrowed in boredom, were now wide and perfectly focused, gleaming with a predatory light.
"I bet he would look amazing if I managed to truly make him angry," he whispered to the empty air.
He rested his chin on his hand, the corners of his mouth twitching in a mock display of deep thought. It was a performance—a theatrical imitation of a man considering a difficult problem.
"I assume..." Ivan's eyes darkened as his smile grew wider. "He would commit suicide the very moment I ripped away someone dear to his heart."
The thought hit him with a physical rush. Suddenly, he felt a wave of dizziness—a dark, twisted giddiness. The prospect of breaking a soul so completely didn't just satisfy him; it made him feel alive.