Chapter 1 – The Transfer Nobody Asked For
Choi Ido hated elevators.
They were too quiet. Too slow.
The mirrored walls reflected him from every angle – stiff suit, newly pressed badge clipped too carefully at his belt, hair still damp from rushing out of his apartment. He looked like someone pretending to be confident.
Seoul Metropolitan Police Headquarters.
Even the name felt heavy.
Just three days ago, he had been filing noise complaints and mediating arguments between drunk neighbors in a quiet district where everyone knew each other. Now he stood inside a building where crimes made headlines.
He decided three things the moment he stepped into Seoul Metropolitan Police Headquarters.
One – the building was way too big.
Two – everyone walked like they were late for something important.
And three – he absolutely did not belong here.
He stood near the entrance longer than he should have, holding a paper cup of coffee he didn’t remember buying. People passed him nonstop. Phones rang. Someone swore loudly somewhere behind him. A printer kept screaming like it was dying.
Back at his old station, mornings started with convenience store kimbap and gossip.
Here, it felt like the air itself was stressed.
A man rushed past him carrying folders stacked dangerously high. Another officer nearly collided with a rolling evidence cart. No one noticed the rookie standing awkwardly near the entrance.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Act normal.”
He checked the department number again and stepped forward –
Bad decision.
He turned a corner too fast and slammed straight into someone.
Hard.
The impact knocked the breath out of him.
Files slipped from his hands and scattered across the floor.
“I’m so sorry-!” Ido dropped into a crouch instantly, scrambling to gather papers. “I didn’t see-”
A calm voice answered above him.
“It’s alright.”
Not annoyed. Just… steady.
Ido looked up.
The man standing in front of him broad-shouldered, dressed neatly but without trying too hard. His expression was composed, almost gentle, though his eyes carried a quiet exhaustion that didn’t match his age.
He was already helping pick up the papers.
“You’re new,” the man said casually.
Ido froze. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’re apologizing too much.”
“…Right.”
They stood at the same time, and the man handed the files back neatly stacked.
“Choi Ido?”
Ido straightened instantly. “Yes, sir.”
The man nodded once.
“I’m Song Geon-woo.”
Silence.
Ido’s soul left his body for a second.
His boss.
He just crashed into his boss.
“I- I didn’t mean to…”
He had body-checked his commanding officer on his first day.
“I’m really-”
Geon-woo’s lips twitched slightly, almost amused. “If you apologize again, the team will think I’m bullying you already.”
Ido shut his mouth instantly.
Geon-woo turned and gestured for him to follow.
“Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
The introductions went by too fast.
Too many names. Too many handshakes. Someone already called him “rookie.” Another detective warned him not to touch the office fridge unless he wanted to start a war.
Someone handed him coffee that tasted like pure violence.
Ido laughed politely, trying not to look overwhelmed.
He failed.
Geon-woo seemed to notice.
“Sit here,” his boss said, guiding him toward an empty desk near his own. “You’ll work with us directly.”
Directly?
Geon-woo’s desk was right next to his.
Which felt… stressful.
Ido blinked again. Detectives here usually earned that position after years.
Before he could ask, alarms suddenly rang through the department.
Every conversation stopped.
A sharp voice came through the speakers.
“Possible serial abduction case. New victim reported. Surveillance match confirmed.”
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
The casual noise disappeared, replaced by focused urgency.
Geon-woo was already moving.
“Everyone, briefing room. Now.”
His calmness didn’t change, but the room obeyed him without hesitation.
Ido followed, trying not to look lost.
Photos appeared on the screen: missing persons. Similar locations. Same time window. No witnesses.
Three victims in two weeks.
“This isn’t random,” Geon-woo said quietly. “The suspect studies routines. Chooses targets carefully.”
Ido watched him more than the screen.
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t try to dominate the room. But somehow everyone trusted him anyway.
Geon-woo glanced toward him suddenly.
“Detective Choi.”
Ido nearly stood too fast. “Yes!”
“You worked community cases before?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then what do you see?”
Every head turned toward him.
Great. First day and already public speaking.
He swallowed.
“The victims… they all live near small local markets,” he said slowly. “Places with regular routines. Someone could watch them without standing out.”
Silence.
Then one detective snapped their fingers. “That actually fits the camera gaps.”
Geon-woo nodded once.
“Good catch.”
Just that.
But Ido felt weirdly proud anyway.
“Gear up,” Geon-woo continued. “We move now.”
First day.
First case.
Field work.
People rushed out again.
As Ido grabbed his jacket, Geon-woo spoke quietly beside him.
“You did well.”
Ido didn’t know why that made his chest feel tight.
Outside, sirens began to wail.
Ido watched Seoul rush past the window, lights blurring together.
Yesterday, his biggest problem was a stolen bicycle.
Today, he was chasing a serial kidnapper.
He glanced at Geon-woo in the driver’s seat – calm, focused, like chaos didn’t touch him.
Dependable.
Safe.
And somehow… a little distant.
Ido had a feeling this job was going to change everything.
He just didn’t know how much yet.