The Concert
At the news from Han Hae-un that their ally Omega would be joining the operation, the agents nodded.
Support personnel rotating into an active op was common enough, and coming from Alpha-Beta, no one thought to question it. Besides, they had already received Omega's radio assistance once before — during the rescue of CEO Kim Ju-seong after the attack.
What actually held Lee Gyu-jin and Park Jung-hyeon's attention was Kim Su-hyeok.
"Team Leader, where did you go on leave?"
"Hawaii."
"Ohh, Hawaii."
Lee Gyu-jin's eyes lit up as he floated the next question with calculated casualness.
"So you just went to Hawaii for vacation, then?"
Kim Su-hyeok fell silent. Personal missions stayed classified until clearance came down.
Listening in on the agents' conversation, Han Hae-un cut in over the radio.
With Alpha-Beta's clearance granted, Kim Su-hyeok tapped a finger against the ear wearing his earpiece.
"You both heard that? I did take leave — but I ran a mission first. After Brazil wrapped, I went ahead and laid groundwork for the next operation on the schedule."
Park Jung-hyeon grinned wide.
"Knew I had it. Pay up, Lee Gyu-jin."
Apparently the two of them had bet on whether Kim Su-hyeok's absence was pure vacation or an actual assignment. At Park Jung-hyeon's demand, Lee Gyu-jin pulled a long face and opened his wallet — only to find nothing but Brazilian reais inside.
"Hey, I exchanged everything. No cash. I'll transfer it once we're back."
"Fine. Just make sure you do. That's forty bowls of gukbap."
Lee Gyu-jin's face twisted at that.
"You lunatic. Who measures money in bowls of soup? And if the bet was two hundred thousand won and that equals forty bowls, you're saying five thousand a bowl — what kind of place still charges that in this economy?"
Park Jung-hyeon puffed his chest out with pride.
"There is one. Best spot in Seoul, and only I know it. Five thousand a bowl."
"…Why are you so proud of that."
Lee Gyu-jin shook his head and sighed — then slid a sideways glance at Park Jung-hyeon.
"…Hey. Where is it. Tell me too."
"Top-tier classified."
Meanwhile, Yeon-woo had been down in the hotel lobby since early morning, nursing a coffee. He passed the time talking schedules with Kim Min-su and exchanging brief introductions with the other celebrities who had flown in on the same plane.
They had all been invited from different fields, but the core audience for a concert like this skewed young — so most of the booked celebrities were from the younger generation.
So far I've met a model, an actor, a comedian, and a YouTuber, more or less.
Even among them, Yeon-woo was by far the hottest name. Sitting in the lobby with Kim Min-su, he could see every person who walked through make a beeline for him, working overtime to strike up some kind of connection.
Not like having more acquaintances would hurt.
He was more easygoing than people expected, answering whoever spoke to him — and before long a crowd had gathered around him. Even while carrying on conversations with half a dozen people, Yeon-woo never took his eyes off the movement patterns of the security detail SL Electronics had dispatched.
First shift change at eight in the morning. No change at two in the afternoon — so it's not a four-shift rotation. They're running three.
If they had rotated at two, it would have meant four teams cycling every six hours. But someone had apparently judged the odds of a hotel raid or external breach low enough to run three teams on eight-hour intervals instead.
Yeon-woo nodded at Han Hae-un's reply just as Kim Min-su took a call and stood up.
"We're ready, sir. Time to head out. The camera crew's meeting us in the parking garage."
"Good. I was starting to get bored sitting around anyway."
The concert was that evening, so the plan was to visit early — catch the rehearsal stage and stop by Axis's waiting room, given the friendly rapport he already had with them.
Yeon-woo and Kim Min-su followed security to the car, a cameraman and a producer climbing in behind them. They wanted behind-the-scenes concert footage, and with Yeon-woo and Dong-ha both serving as faces for SL Electronics' smartphone line, the YouTube team had been attached to milk the content angle.
"Hello — as you were briefed, our crew will be following you naturally throughout the day, Mr. Ryu. No fixed script or format, so just do whatever feels comfortable."
"Got it."
Yeon-woo nodded. After enough making-of films and YouTube variety, cameras like this barely registered anymore. The moment the lens went live, he slipped into monologue without missing a beat.
"Today is the day of the São Paulo K-Pop World Festival, sponsored by SL Electronics. I've come all the way to São Paulo to support Dong-ha and a number of idol groups performing here."
No script, and he launched into it like it was second nature. Beside him, Kim Min-su shot him a look of pure reverence — which only put a mischievous glint in Yeon-woo's eye.
"Min-su hyung. Excited for a concert this big?"
"Y-yes? Ah — yes!"
Yeon-woo had noticed it back on Summer's Table: put Kim Min-su in front of a camera and the man turned into a wooden robot.
"When else are you going to get a chance to see a K-pop concert of this scale on the other side of the planet?"
"Th-that's true."
"Oh — and there's the venue. That's the stadium that hosted the 2014 Brazil World Cup opening ceremony. Arena de São Paulo, right outside the window."
Watching Yeon-woo rattle off commentary like a seasoned field reporter, Kim Min-su's eyes flooded with panic. He kept throwing in little interjections because it felt like he should be doing something — and every single one landed awkward.
Behind the camera, the PD's eyes sparkled.
Subtitles: "We didn't ask him to do any of this." "Not a reporter." This is not what I expected. Footage is going to come out better than I thought.
Honestly, he hadn't expected much. Yeon-woo was an actor — not just any actor, a top-tier one — so the PD had assumed the audio would be dead weight and planned to coast on visuals with a quiet, atmospheric edit. But if Yeon-woo was going to work this hard, the whole editorial direction needed a rethink.
A better rethink, naturally.
After thoroughly flustering Kim Min-su several more times and handing the PD a mountain of usable footage, Yeon-woo stepped out of the car and into the stadium. Walking the corridor lined with performer waiting rooms, he felt the heat of stares from every direction.
The idol teams had already seen the leaked schedule and the articles confirming Ryu Yeon-woo was among the attending celebrities. He wasn't the kind of actor you casually ran into on the entertainment circuit — some of the singers had been waiting since the day before, wondering when he'd show.
And of course, one person whose mouth was firmly turned down at the prospect of Yeon-woo's visit: Jae-yun of N-Boys.
Goddammit. Just looking at that bastard makes something throb.
Was this a kind of PTSD? The memory of the futsal match made something twinge in a place that had no business twinging, and Jae-yun carefully, discreetly, adjusted the area around his groin when no one was looking.
Others, though, came flying out barefoot to greet him — Dong-ha, thrilled that his successful hyung had come, and the rest of the Axis members with him.
"Yeon-woo hyung!"
Yeon-woo thought it was Dong-ha calling — but it was Do-jun, Axis's leader, standing right beside him.
"I keep telling you, we're the same age…"
Popular and handsome apparently equaled "hyung," because Do-jun had been calling him that nonstop. Yeon-woo scratched the back of his head and walked over to meet the approaching members of Axis.
"Everyone doing well? This stadium's enormous."
A full day of futsal together last time had forged a real sense of camaraderie. Even after months apart, nothing about the reunion felt stiff.
"Right? We've never done a concert this size either — a little nerve-wracking, honestly."
"Dong-ha, you've got a separate schedule with me after the show. You got the brief?"
"Yes, sir!"
Dong-ha nodded. As a fellow SL Electronics smartphone model, he was set to run promotional appearances alongside Yeon-woo.
"Dong-ha, give him that."
"Oh — right."
Prompted by a member, Dong-ha retrieved a light stick from the side of the waiting room. White handle, sky-blue ornamentation — shaped like a little magic wand. He held it out to Yeon-woo with a request.
"Yeon-woo hyung. Would you mind holding this while you watch? It's our light stick."
"A light stick? Sure, no problem."
Not that he had ever waved one before.
Looks exactly like a Stielhandgranate.
The light stick reminded him of the stick grenades German forces had used in the First and Second World Wars. Of course, Yeon-woo was probably the only person on earth who looked at an idol light stick and thought of that.
"Don't I need to know the fan chants if I'm going to cheer with this thing?"
"Nah, it's fine. Just holding it is an honor. The LED inside is centrally controlled anyway — it'll light up in pattern automatically."
"Hmm. Centrally controlled? That's some next-gen weaponry."
A device this small receiving central commands and cycling patterns on its own — he was going to have to upgrade his mental classification from World War relic to modern combat tech.
"Sorry — weaponry?"
"Ah. Never mind."
A staff member shouted from the corridor.
"Final rehearsal starting! Everyone get ready!"
From the VIP seating, Yeon-woo watched the massive World Cup stadium pack solid with spectators and clicked his tongue in genuine awe.
The K-pop industry really is something else.
Plus Ten, the agency they had just dismantled, primarily handled actors — just one of many entertainment companies under Baeksol's control. Baeksol moved wherever the money was. And for now, K-pop — already globalized — could pull in far more revenue on far less capital than film or drama production.
Somewhere in there is their cash cow and money-laundering machine, all in one management company.
Unlike production houses and distributors, where capital flows were relatively easy to track, idol agencies included plenty of unlisted companies with murky internal finances. They still hadn't fully mapped which ones Baeksol's tentacles had reached.
Once this operation's done, I need to dig properly. When they get desperate, they'll leave a trail.
LN, which Baeksol had worked so hard to seize, was failing to pull its weight. Plus Ten had ultimately been cut loose with blood on their own hands. And once the drug manufacturing facility in Okinawa went down, the consecutive hits would put real pressure on their finances. When the money got tight and they showed their tails — that was when he'd flush them out.
Boom—
A spectacular burst of fireworks opened the concert, and a dedicated camera had been positioned specifically to capture Yeon-woo's reactions.
Right — the light stick.
Yeon-woo pulled Axis's light stick from under his seat and began swinging it front to back with crisp, military precision.
Kim Min-su, seated beside him, quietly intervened.
"Sir — the way you're waving that looks exactly like a soldier at a troop entertainment show. And it's not Axis's turn yet."
"Ah. Fair point."
At Kim Min-su's correction, Yeon-woo sheepishly lowered the light stick.
Apparently, even watching an idol concert was going to take some practice.