codename: Seraphim

Beom-ki clenched his jaw, processing the weight of what lay ahead. If they failed, the consequences would be catastrophic.

"What's his endgame?" Beom-ki asked, his mind rapidly calculating strategies. "What does he want?"

The room fell silent for a moment, each leader carefully weighing their words. Finally, it was Beom-ki's boss who broke the silence.

"Control," he said simply. "Yaroslav Olegovich Vyshnevsky doesn't need to align himself with any country or organization. He has no allegiance to any ideology or higher purpose. His ambition is power—absolute, unyielding power. With Seraphim in his possession, he can dictate terms to anyone. Governments, corporations, military alliances—they'll all fall in line, or he'll obliterate their infrastructure with a single keystroke. The world, in essence, would be at his mercy."

The enormity of the threat struck Beom-ki like a physical blow. Vyshnevsky wasn't just a killer or a criminal. He was a global menace, a puppet master with strings tied to every corner of the world, capable of shifting the balance of power with the flick of his wrist.

The Russian ambassador continued, his voice steady but grim, each word laden with the gravity of Vyshnevsky's legacy. "We've tracked whispers of his whereabouts over the years, but he moves like a specter. Last intelligence suggested he was spotted in Odessa, but within days he vanished. Only weeks later, a high-profile political assassination in Hong Kong was traced back to him. He operates through an intricate web of proxies—teams of mercenaries, elite hackers, even other assassins, none of whom know the true identity of the man they serve. Vyshnevsky manipulates people like chess pieces, always five steps ahead, and never lingering in the same place twice."

Beom-ki clenched his fists under the table, feeling the weight of the impossible task before him. This mission would be unlike anything he had ever undertaken. He wasn't dealing with a conventional terrorist cell or a hostile nation-state. He was up against a man who had refined the art of invisibility to a science, whose reach extended far beyond the confines of ordinary intelligence.

The head of the agency leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto Beom-ki's with a look of unbreakable resolve. "You're the only one who can handle this, Shadow. We need to stop him before he can activate Seraphim, or worse, sell it to the highest bidder. The stakes are global, and you're our best chance."

Beom-ki felt the weight of responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders, each second ticking away with a chilling finality. There was no room for hesitation, no time for doubt.

Beom-ki stood at attention, his hands behind his back, his mind still processing the flood of information as his boss's voice carried through the dimly lit conference room.

"We've already set up everything for you," the head of the agency said, his tone crisp and efficient. "Nakwon will give you all the necessary intel and equipment before you leave for Moscow. As of now, the mission is under your command. We will coordinate the arrival of a Russian agent to assist you, but for the time being, you will begin this mission alone."

Beom-ki's sharp eyes flicked to Nakwon, who gave him a small, knowing nod. There was no hesitation from either of them. They had worked together long enough to understand each other without needing many words. Nakwon would have everything ready, down to the last detail.

"Understood," Beom-ki replied simply, his voice calm but laced with determination.

He was about to turn to leave the room when one of the Russian agents—a tall, stern-looking woman in a neatly pressed suit—approached him. Her sharp eyes softened only slightly as she held out a bouquet of flowers. The suddenness of the gesture caught him off guard.

"These are for you," she said, her thick Russian accent adding a weight to the otherwise soft words. "For capturing Yaroslav and stopping him. A tradition."

Beom-ki looked at her, puzzled, but he extended his hand and accepted the bouquet. It felt almost absurd—flowers, in the middle of a briefing for one of the most dangerous missions of his life? But he understood the symbolism behind it. In certain cultures, flowers were given as a sign of respect, a gesture of good fortune. Though the mission was still in its early stages, the flowers were meant as a symbol of confidence—a small wish for success on an impossible task.

"Thank you," Beom-ki said, his tone measured. He glanced down at the bouquet, noting the deep red roses, mixed with sprigs of white baby's breath and eucalyptus, the fragrance subtle yet grounding in the room's heavy atmosphere. He gave the Russian agent a curt nod, acknowledging the gesture without lingering too much on it. Without another word, he turned and headed for the door, where Nakwon was already waiting. The weight of the mission pressed down on him like a heavy shroud, but Beom-ki had long since learned to carry such burdens with an unyielding resolve.

Nakwon fell into step beside him as they made their way down the long corridors of the agency headquarters. The walls were lined with portraits of past operatives, men and women who had served their country in the shadows, their names known only to a select few. The corridors seemed endless, stretching before them in an eerie quiet.

Nakwon glanced at the flowers in Beom-ki's hands and smirked. "They give you flowers now for this kind of job?"

Beom-ki gave him a sideways glance, his lips twitching slightly in what could almost be considered a smile. "Apparently."

"Maybe they should've thrown in a bottle of vodka to go with it. You're heading to Russia, after all," Nakwon quipped, adjusting his glasses as they continued to walk.

Beom-ki didn't respond, but his mind was already ticking through the endless preparations he'd need to make. Nakwon, though always quick with a joke, knew when to fall into the rhythm of seriousness. The two of them walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as they approached the operations room.

Inside, agents were buzzing around, screens glowing with activity, tracking movements, gathering intel, and coordinating strategies. The operations room was a hive of covert activity, a nerve center that powered missions that the public would never hear about.

Nakwon stepped forward, motioning to one of the analysts at a desk. "Alright, Shadow. Here's what we've pulled together for you. You'll be leaving for Moscow tonight. Your flight's already booked under a false identity, and we've arranged safe houses in key locations around the city. The FSB will be keeping tabs on you, so we'll have to be careful about how much they know."

Beom-ki nodded as Nakwon handed him a sleek tablet, the screen glowing with mission details, dossiers, maps of Moscow, and profiles on key individuals he'd likely encounter. His eyes scanned the information with rapid precision, absorbing every detail in seconds.

"Your cover is solid, as always," Nakwon continued. "You'll be posing as a tech consultant for an international firm, working on a cybersecurity conference that's taking place in Moscow. This should give you access to the tech circles and the underworld contacts we've linked to Yaroslav's network."

Beom-ki flicked through the digital documents, scanning everything he would need. His mind was already running simulations, plotting his moves, preparing for the inevitable danger that would come.

Nakwon pointed to another section of the tablet. "This is your initial contact in Moscow. She'll help you get your bearings. She's ex-Russian intelligence, now freelancing for various private clients. A bit of a wild card, but she knows the city's underworld like the back of her hand."

Beom-ki raised an eyebrow slightly. A wild card in a mission this sensitive wasn't exactly ideal, but he'd worked with unpredictable assets before. It was just another layer of complication in a mission that was already threading the needle between success and disaster.

"Once you're on the ground, you'll have to move fast," Nakwon said, his voice serious now. "We don't have time to waste. Spectre's movements are always hard to trace, but we've narrowed down some locations where he might be operating. The clock's ticking."

Beom-ki nodded in agreement, already feeling the weight of time pressing down on him. He glanced at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, their delicate petals a sharp contrast to the grim mission ahead. Without another word, he handed them to Nakwon.

"Hold onto these for me," Beom-ki said with a straight face.

Nakwon took the flowers with a bemused expression. "You want me to start a flower shop while you're gone?"

"Just keep them safe," Beom-ki replied, already turning toward the exit.

As they walked toward the final set of doors, the air between them was heavy with unspoken understanding. The stakes were higher than ever before, and both men knew that failure wasn't an option.

"Good luck out there, Shadow," Nakwon said, his tone more serious now, though still layered with his usual sarcastic edge. "And don't let Yaroslav make a ghost out of you."

Beom-ki gave a short nod before stepping through the sliding doors, the cool night air outside hitting him like a wave. His car was waiting, the engine already running.

He climbed inside, closing the door behind him. Moscow awaited him. And so did Yaroslav.

Beom-ki stepped into the familiar warmth of his home, the smell of the cookies his mother had baked earlier still lingering in the air. He let out a quiet sigh, knowing the conversation ahead wasn't going to be easy. His mom and sister were sitting in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a cozy light around them. They both looked up as he entered, sensing the weight of what he was about to say even before he spoke.

"I need to talk to you guys," Beom-ki said, his voice steady but carrying a seriousness that immediately made his mom and sister sit up straighter.

His mother, with her nurturing eyes that always seemed to see through him, gave him a concerned look. "What's wrong, Beom-ah?"

He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been assigned to a mission... to Russia."

The words hit the room like a heavy stone. His mother's face drained of color, and Beom-sook, who had been lounging with a slight grin just moments ago, straightened up completely, her playful expression fading.

"Russia?" his mom repeated, her voice barely a whisper. "One of the most dangerous countries in the world. Are they out of their minds?"

Beom-sook stood up, her arms crossed, her eyebrows furrowed with disbelief. "Can't they send someone else for this? I mean, Russia? Come on, Beom, that's insane. You've heard the news about what's been happening there. It's not just any country; it's a literal battlefield."

Beom-ki could see the worry etched on both their faces, but he remained calm, though inside, the guilt of making them worry tugged at him. "It's my job, Sook. And it's an important mission. I've been chosen for a reason."

His mom stood up, walking towards him slowly. Her hands shook slightly as she reached out, placing them gently on his arms. "Beom-ah, you don't have to do this. Let someone else take this burden. You've done enough for your agency... they can't just send you off to a place like that. What if something happens to you? What if..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but the fear in her eyes said everything. Beom-ki gently took her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Eomma, I've trained for this. I know it sounds dangerous, and it is, but I've dealt with threats before. I know how to handle myself."