Chapter 12: Seoul III
At 6:49 a.m.
Before the rush hour of the commute, a black helicopter crossed the still quiet skies above downtown Seoul.
A black and round MD 520N lightly placed down a pair of skids on the helipad installed on the rooftop of the Seoran Defense Kwanghwamun building amidst the loud noise of its propellers.
Before the helicopter had fully shut down, the door burst open, and Seo Seung-hyun leaped out.
The wind churned out by the rotating rotor blades swept through his clothes and hair.
Seo Seung-hyun briskly walked away, brushing his hair back roughly with one hand. No one followed or blocked him. The reinforced glass door leading to the elevator was already open, like the elevator inside the lobby waiting with its doors open, for him. Seo Seung-hyun walked straight to the elevator without hesitation.
The executive elevator connected to the rooftop helipad was elegantly decorated with red carpet, walnut wood, and gold plating.
Seo Seung-hyun personally disliked the interior of the Seoran building, including this elevator, though he never showed it. Probably.
Fortunately, unlike that elevator, the executive office was quite sophisticated.
Seo Seung-hyun stepped onto the solid red oak floor, which was not covered by any rug, without any hesitation.
Behind his flawless steps, drops of red blood fell one by one.
Kwon Shin-woo stood up from in front of the wide desk.
“CEO Seo, you’ve arrived.”
“Yes, I’m here. How have you been in the meantime?”
To that pleasant greeting, Kwon Shin-woo smiled silently.
“Thanks to your concern, I’ve been well. Please, have a seat.”
Seo Seung-hyun didn’t refuse and took a seat on the wide gray leather sofa placed on one side of the executive office. Blood slowly formed at the tip of his white sleeve, adorned with diamond cufflinks, then dripped down onto the glossy leather surface and pooled there.
Seo Seung-hyun’s expression did not change.
Kwon Shin-woo was the same.
“The secretary hasn’t arrived yet, so I don’t have much to offer you.”
Kwon Shin-woo said quietly.
Seo Seung-hyun shrugged his shoulders cheerfully.
“Did you come to work before your secretary? You’re diligent.”
“There’s a breakfast meeting starting at eight.”
After that, a few seconds of silence fell.
Beyond the reflective glass window that stretched from the ceiling to the wall, the entirety of Seoul viewed from the 57th floor was slowly dyed in the blush of dawn. The streaks of light that squeezed through the black blinds drew dozens of lines on the dark executive office and on the two alphas sitting silently facing each other.
Seo Seung-hyun was still sitting on the sofa, and Kwon Shin-woo was standing slightly leaning, with one hand lightly resting on the desk.
Their gazes groped through the void.
The air in the Seoran Defense executive office, furnished with monochrome furniture and wooden floors, became sharp and tense.
Then, Seo Seung-hyun’s soft laugh cut through that heavy atmosphere.
A cheerful voice followed after the short laugh.
“I know that one of Seoran’s SSBNs is on a trial run in the North Pacific.”
“It’s not particularly newsworthy that an SSBN is cruising the depths of the North Pacific, given there are more than a handful.”
“You’re right. Including those that were owned by the former Soviet Union and then decommissioned, the number easily surpasses three digits.”
Seo Seung-hyun pulled the corner of his mouth, displaying a cunning smile.
“Among them happens to be one that’s mine…”
Kwon Shin-woo lifted his black eyes to gaze at Seo Seung-hyun. No response flickered across those impassive pupils. Seo Seung-hyun chuckled softly.
“With that and a few F drones, World War III wouldn’t exactly be nonsense, would it?”
Kwon Shin-woo’s eyes narrowed as if amused.
He watched the man who mentioned strategic nuclear submarines and 6th generation drones, armed with SLBMs comparable in accuracy and range to land-launched intercontinental ballistic missiles, 633mm torpedo tubes, and supersonic anti-ship missiles known as “aircraft carrier killers,” as if they were mere toys, intently.
After a brief silence, Kwon Shin-woo spoke.
“You’re not unaware of what you’re discussing right now.”
“Well, my major may have been in economics, but I at least know what a strategic nuclear sub is.”
Simultaneously, Seo Seung-hyun reached into his pocket and pulled out something. Kwon Shin-woo’s gaze sharply followed the movement. A tiny flash drive, only as big as a finger segment.
Seo Seung-hyun tossed it lightly in the air with a cheerful smile, caught it, and then leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee.
“I’m not a humanitarian like you… What do you think I intend to do with these fascinating weapons and intercontinental ballistic missiles?”
“Who knows…”
The calm reply came back.
“If it were me, I’d be more focused on what someone with a strategic submarine capable of carrying nuclear warheads with a range of fifteen thousand kilometers and a CEP of less than one hundred meters could do, rather than what they would want to do.”
“Ha ha!”
A short guffaw burst out.
“Ah, my goodness. That was a question with an obvious answer. I asked you a foolish question, Executive Director. Of course, you’ll understand, right? We’ve known each other for years now.”
He rambled on, twirling the slender flash drive between his thumb and forefinger. His thin gaze was fixed on the tiny external memory, whose combined length and width were just a few centimeters.
“This little thing has caused quite a stir. Including both you and me, of course.”
Seo Seung-hyun’s voice became calmly lower.
Soon, he lifted his eyes, now thinly smiling, to look at Kwon Shin-woo.
“What do you say? Since you’ve taken it upon yourself for the sake of world peace, let’s end this cleanly.”
“To end this cleanly.”
Kwon Shin-woo continued quietly.
“Is the contract payment insufficient?”
“It seems not I, but you, are the one finding the contract terms insufficient. You even considered other options than me, didn’t you?”
Seo Seung-hyun teased.
Only then did Kwon Shin-woo look straight into Seo Seung-hyun’s eyes. A brief flicker of emotion passed through his emotionless black eyes.
“As you know, I tend to calculate and manage risks in advance.”
“Oh, is that so? Then this strategy is a failure. I recommend restructuring the risk management team.”
With a cold voice, Seo Seung-hyun put his hand back into his pocket and rose from the couch. The clotted blood inside the tightly folded sleeve dropped down, but neither of them paid it any attention.
Seo Seung-hyun turned and strode confidently towards the executive office’s entrance.
Only then did something resembling an expression appear on Kwon Shin-woo’s previously statue-like face. His straight brows narrowed slightly, and the ends of his thick eyebrows raised just a tad. It was a minor change, but on the alpha’s perfectly smooth face, it significantly revealed his irritation.
“CEO Seo.”
A faint note of annoyance was mixed in his voice.
“How should I accept that you’ve been hiding and sheltering the leaker who first stole that mere few megabytes file from our Code Zero lab, causing billions in losses, at your residence?”
Seo Seung-hyun’s steps halted abruptly in front of the heavy door.
His broad shoulders slowly turned around.
Leaning slightly and half-turned, Seo Seung-hyun grinned, showing his teeth.
“Ha, ha. Alright. It seems Executive Director Kwon is finally ready to make a proper deal. Shall we discuss this seriously?”
What followed was almost simultaneous between the two alphas.
“Deal with the nano-robots injected into Lee Young-jin, Kwon Shin-woo.”
“Hand over the item first, Seo Seung-hyun.”
Their cold voices overlapped by a few microseconds, and both expressions hardened simultaneously.
Seo Seung-hyun crossed his arms and narrowed one eye.
“I would’ve handed it over even if you hadn’t pulled such a stunt.”
“Really? How can I believe that?”
Their fierce gazes clashed in the air.
The expensive watches on the wrists of the two alphas, comparing their value would be absurd, incessantly ticked away the seconds.
Seo Seung-hyun’s eyes darkened, and his expression sharpened like a blade, disappearing from his face.
His veins bulged on the back of his hand.
He slowly moved that hand.
The fist that had gone into his trouser pocket came out and slowly unfolded his fingers.
The flat flash drive fell from his palm, dropping down.
The 1.7-gram memory, stained with blood drops, bounced a few times on the wooden floor with a ping sound, then rolled to a stop right in front of his shoe.
Kwon Shin-woo’s eyes narrowed swiftly, like a reptile’s.
That was the end of the standoff between the alphas.
Kwon Shin-woo pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it lightly.
Seo Seung-hyun’s left hand caught it in the air as if it were a bullet flying straight through. It was a white syringe pen with a capacity indicator. As soon as he verified it, Seo Seung-hyun turned around.
The red oak door, matching the floor, silently closed heavily.
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