Invitation to São Paulo
With every operative out on intelligence runs, only Han Hae-un remained on the fifth floor of the Mokhwa Building when Yeon-woo came up.
He had watched the floor every day through the cameras, of course, but this was the first time he had set foot on the fifth floor since the company moved in and the team started coming and going through the building.
Yeon-woo took the additive Hae-un held out, turning it over in his gloved hands, and shook his head.
"This is unusable."
"That bad?"
"Yeah. Completely unusable."
Hae-un shook his head, looking troubled.
"This was the best we could get through Baek No-ya. It's a strictly military-use item under total export ban, so…"
Yeon-woo added a reagent to the sample and watched the color shift.
The liquid he was testing was Mk-77 — the fuel mixture used in the U.S. military's primary incendiary munitions. If the flammable weapons for the Okinawa strike were going to leave no trace of a deliberate attack, this substance was essential.
"Hmm. In this condition, the vaporization rate is far too weak. Residues will remain no matter what. Baeksol will figure out it wasn't a fire accident — that someone hit them."
There was nothing to be done about it, though.
Baek No-ya operated primarily inside South Korea — a country so clean on weapons that a civilian caught with so much as a handgun, never mind an automatic rifle or a large bomb, made national news. The only arms dealers reachable through him were small-time Macau operators dealing in basic firearms.
"In my past life, the state supplied everything. I never had to worry about sourcing strategic materials…"
"Haah. Nothing we can do about it, I suppose. Team Leader, you know that dark-web information broker from Berlin — do you have any leads on illegal arms dealers? Somewhere like West Africa, the Middle East, or South America, where rebel groups run the show, would be ideal…"
Hae-un asked it half as a complaint, half as a plea. To his surprise, Yeon-woo simply nodded.
"I do."
"…Sir?"
Hae-un's eyes went round.
"After I transferred to the overseas division, my first field assignment was tracking arms dealers who traded with the North."
"Oh — so then…?"
But Yeon-woo shook his head at once.
"More precisely, I used to know. That was over a decade ago. If I went to the region myself and hunted them down, maybe. But if I start fishing around with outdated intel, those people won't surface. CIA or Interpol would pick up the trail first."
Hae-un nodded quietly.
Illegal arms dealers did not list "U.S. special-ops incendiary compounds wanted" on an online marketplace and wait for a high-manner seller to reply "Make an offer."
"Well… then there's no option for now. Just in case, I'll have Baek No-ya put out another feeler through Macau."
"Do that. And if we still can't get it, we go without. We'll just plan the operation so thoroughly that even if they investigate, they never find the hand behind it."
"Understood."
Yeon-woo peeled off the latex gloves stained with the additive and looked at Hae-un.
"How's the prosecutor work? Double life keeping you busy?"
Hae-un shook his head.
"If we're talking double lives, aren't you the busier one, Team Leader? You move between the brightest light and the darkest shadow."
"Not really. Once filming starts it's hectic, but right now, prepping a project, I'm freer than anyone. Nothing on the schedule except acting practice and my daily workout."
"I'm not struggling either."
Yeon-woo nodded.
Compared to the past life, neither of them was particularly overworked. No crossing a desert larger than South Korea on foot with nothing but a backpack to stay off radar. No infiltrating Yamoussoukro in Côte d'Ivoire while rebel gunfire tore through the city center to extract terrified diplomats.
"Glad to hear it."
"You too, Team Leader."
Apparently Hae-un had been thinking something similar. He gave a short, quiet laugh.
The next morning, Yeon-woo sat in the third-floor café from early on, reviewing scripts.
Son Jin-uk stepped out of the elevator, stretching.
"Hwaaam. Morning, Yeon-woo. Good morning, sir."
Kim Ju-seong smiled and asked what he wanted; Jin-uk ordered his usual coffee, then dropped into the chair across from Yeon-woo.
"Hmm? Scripts?"
"Yeah. I'm planning to do a film this year too, so I've been looking."
Jin-uk shook his head.
"Man. I can't even think about the next project until I've completely finished the one I'm on."
Come to think of it — the year before last it had been Star Beyond the River and Master Plan; last year, Sketch and White Blood. Jin-uk realized Yeon-woo had been doing one film and one drama every single year.
"I get it now. Yeon-woo, that's it, isn't it? You don't drink, you don't date — I kept wondering what you lived for. It's ambition."
"What?"
"You're going for simultaneous awards in drama and film every awards season, right? Win next year and it's three in a row."
Winning Best Actor in both fields at once had already been unprecedented. Taking top honors in both this year had set a record no one was likely to touch.
But Yeon-woo didn't choose projects for trophies. He let Jin-uk's nonsense pass with a light smile and returned his eyes to the script.
When his teasing was so casually ignored, Jin-uk pressed on.
"So — any decent ones?"
Yeon-woo shook his head.
"Nothing that pulls me in."
"What genres are you looking at?"
"Doesn't matter. I'm just waiting for something that clicks, and so far nothing has."
The basketball drama currently in development hadn't started from the kind of fierce pull his previous roles had. It was strategic more than anything.
Saebyeol Media is producing it in-house, so the budget can't balloon — and we needed a genre that could showcase a big cast, to introduce and flaunt the actors Saebyeol Entertainment has. That's how we landed on it.
It was a gauntlet thrown to the industry — a PR statement of Saebyeol's production power and talent pool — and a milestone project for the people gathered around Yeon-woo. But for the next film, he wanted none of that purpose. He wanted something that drew him in from the script alone.
Jin-uk eyed the stack of scripts on the table, thought for a moment, then offered advice.
"Hmm… then call the directors you've worked with before. Just to say hello."
"The directors?"
"There might be projects that haven't even reached the script-circulation stage yet. And directors talk among themselves — even when they're not producing something themselves, they usually know what other directors are cooking up."
Yeon-woo rubbed his chin.
"True. It's been a while since I checked in with any of them. Even without the scripts, I should make those calls."
He and Jin-uk kept talking, Yeon-woo still flipping through scripts for anything worthwhile, when his phone rang.
The screen read: Yoon Mi-yeon, Executive Director.
Yeon-woo answered, and her voice came through.
"Ah, Yeon-woo. Are you at the office right now?"
"Yes. Third floor."
"I'd like to talk about a schedule on the second floor, if you have a moment?"
Yeon-woo set down the script and nodded.
"Sure. I'll come down now."
He hung up, stood, and turned to Jin-uk.
"Jin-uk hyung, I'll be right back."
"Okay. I'm bored anyway — I'll look through some of these scripts."
Yeon-woo went down to the second floor. Yoon Mi-yeon and several planning staff were already in a meeting. He read the title on the screen and tilted his head.
São Paulo K-Pop World Festival?
He knew what it was. Dong-ha had postponed his basketball lessons for the drama shoot specifically to perform at that concert. What he didn't understand was why an actors' agency was holding a meeting about it — and why it was Media, not Entertainment, running the discussion.
Yoon Mi-yeon spotted him coming through the door.
"Ah, Yeon-woo. Perfect timing. Have a seat wherever you like."
Yeon-woo exchanged brief greetings with the planning staff and sat down. Yoon Mi-yeon resumed the meeting.
"This is an additional promotional schedule SL Electronics requested. Apparently the South American sales numbers for their new smartphone have been especially strong. They're looking to tie the campaign into the K-Pop World Festival already planned for São Paulo, Brazil."
Yeon-woo raised a hand.
"So the booking came to us? Don't tell me they reached out for J.Nari."
As an actors' agency with zero singers on the roster, the question was natural. Yoon Mi-yeon answered as if she'd expected it.
"We were confused at first too. It wasn't a booking for J.Nari — it came for the White Blood cast, and they specifically want you, Yeon-woo. Turns out the K-Pop Festival invites models and actors as celebrity guests even when they're not performers. They watch from special seats."
It was Yoon Mi-yeon's first time handling a K-pop-related booking herself, so she didn't know much. She added, looking a little uncertain:
"SL Electronics is a sponsor of the festival. If the actors accept, they want to run a fan-meeting-style promotion tied to the Universe smartphone. But it feels like they cobbled this together overnight because South America suddenly performed well, and from the company's side, we're not exactly enthusiastic."
The advertiser had asked, but it wasn't in the original contract — there was no obligation to fulfill it. SL Electronics was clearly just floating the idea to see if it stuck, and Yoon Mi-yeon was already halfway toward declining. Still, the final decision rested with the person who'd been invited — and the company's real owner — so she was presenting it as a formal review.
"São Paulo…"
"The appearance fee is actually larger than a CF, but it's so last-minute I was thinking we should turn it down."
As Yoon Mi-yeon added the details, Yeon-woo fell quiet for a moment — and Hae-un's words came back to him.
Do you have any leads on illegal arms dealers? Somewhere like West Africa, the Middle East, or South America, where rebel groups run the show, would be ideal…
West Africa meant civil wars. The Middle East and North Africa meant jihadists fighting under extreme Islamist ideology — regions thick with the reputation of danger. But South America, looked at a certain way, was the dream team. Drug lords, corrupt military dictatorships, guerrilla rebels — as an illegal arms market, it was the largest in the world.
"I'll go. Leave the other actors out. Just me."
"Right, I think we should decli— wait. You're going?"
He had been looking for a clean pretext to leave the country on legitimate business, the way he had for Berlin. This was perfect.
He kept that thought to himself and smiled as he answered Yoon Mi-yeon.
"A startup like us can't turn down a request from an advertiser the size of SL Electronics. They specifically want me, so I'll make a quick trip alone. Gotta bring home the money."
"Well… it is a major schedule, that's true, but…"
If the illegal arms markets of the Middle East and Africa were neighborhood convenience stores, South America was a department store. This Brazil schedule looked like a chance to stock up on quality weapons in bulk.
And unlike Berlin, where he had had to handle everything with his own hands, he now had people he could deploy. The approach needed to be more systematic — and safer.
I'll need to send Kim Su-hyeok ahead to Brazil — he's resting in Hawaii right now. No. This time Lee Gyu-jin and Park Jung-hyeon go too.