codename: Seraphim

Beom-sook scoffed, pacing the room now. "Yeah, but this is different, Beom. It's not just some local mission or intel gathering. You're walking straight into one of the most volatile places in the world. Have you thought about how serious this is?"

Beom-ki nodded. "I have, believe me. But that's why I have to go. It's not just a random mission. This is bigger than anything we've ever dealt with before. There's a real threat, and if we don't stop it now... things could get much worse."

His mom, still holding his hands, bit her lip as her eyes filled with unshed tears. "When do you have to leave?"

Beom-ki hesitated before answering, knowing this was the part they wouldn't take well. "Tonight."

"WHAT?!" Both his mom and sister exclaimed at the same time, their shock palpable.

"Tonight?" his mom whispered, her voice cracking. "But... but that's so soon. You didn't even get a chance to rest or—"

"I know, Eomma," Beom-ki interrupted gently, trying to calm her. "But the situation is urgent. I have to go now if I'm going to make it in time."

Beom-sook threw her hands up in frustration. "This is insane. You just got back! And now you're leaving again, to Russia of all places? They can't do this to you, Beom. It's not fair."

"I don't have a choice, Sook," Beom-ki replied softly. "This is the life I chose. And right now, people are counting on me. I can't turn my back on that."

His mom looked down, her hands trembling as she held onto his arms tighter. "I just don't want to lose you, Beom-ah."

"You won't, Eomma," he said, his voice firm but tender. "I promise. I'll be careful. I'll come back to you and Sook, just like I always do."

The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound being the ticking of the wall clock. Beom-sook leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression softening but still laced with concern. "You better keep that promise, Beom. Or I'm coming to Russia myself to drag your ass back home."

Beom-ki smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Deal."

His mom finally let go, wiping her tears and straightening her shoulders, trying to be strong. "I'll pack you some food for the road. You shouldn't go on an empty stomach."

Beom-sook shook her head, still frustrated but understanding that nothing she said would change his mind. "Just... don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"I won't," Beom-ki said, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair.

As his mom hurried off to the kitchen, Beom-sook stood in front of him, blocking his way for a moment. "You know... I really hate how much you love this job sometimes."

Beom-ki chuckled softly. "Yeah, me too."

She pulled him into a tight hug, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Just come back in one piece, okay?"

"I will," he whispered back, hugging her just as tightly before pulling away.

Beom-ki moved swiftly to his room, his mind already running through the list of things he needed. He grabbed a small suitcase from the closet, throwing in essentials with practiced efficiency. A couple of thick jackets, his gloves, boots, a few changes of clothes—everything he'd need for the cold Russian winter. His mind stayed on the mission, the weight of responsibility heavy on his chest. Yet in the back of his mind, the thought of leaving his family so suddenly gnawed at him.

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he zipped up his bag. This wasn't the first dangerous mission he had been on, but something about this one felt different. More personal. More urgent. Maybe it was the stakes, the Seraphim Code being activated, or maybe it was just the sheer unpredictability of the Russian underworld. Whatever it was, it sat heavy in his gut.

As he finished packing, his mom appeared in the doorway, holding a packed container of food. She stepped into the room, her eyes still filled with worry, but she tried to offer him a comforting smile. "Here, take this. I know you won't get a chance to eat properly."

Beom-ki took the container, the warmth from it seeping into his hands. It was something so small, yet it grounded him. He looked at his mom, seeing the exhaustion and concern in her face. She had always been his rock, even when she worried, even when she was scared. "Thanks, Eomma. I'll be careful, I promise."

She nodded, but her eyes told him that words alone couldn't ease the worry she felt. She touched his arm gently, her voice quiet. "We'll be waiting for you. Just... just come back, okay?"

"I will," Beom-ki assured her, though he knew nothing in his world was ever guaranteed. But for her sake, he made the promise.

He gave his packed suitcase one last glance before heading toward the door, meeting Beom-sook's gaze. She stood by the entrance, arms crossed, trying to mask her fear with her usual tough exterior. "You better come back, Beom. If not, I'm coming to drag you out of Russia myself."

Beom-ki smiled at her. "I'd expect nothing less."

With that, he stepped out the door and into the night. The cold air hit him, a reminder of the winter he was about to face in a country far more dangerous than any he'd ever known. He tossed his suitcase in the trunk and slid into the driver's seat. The engine hummed to life, and as he pulled out of the driveway, the house disappeared in his rearview mirror. His family's worried faces faded into the distance, but their voices lingered in his mind.

As the city lights blurred past him, his thoughts refocused on the mission. The Seraphim Code. A killer on the loose. Russia's unpredictable underworld. It was a deadly game, and he was being sent to play. But no matter what awaited him in Moscow, one thing remained clear: he had to come back. For his family. For himself.

With that resolve burning in his chest, Beom-ki drove into the dark streets, knowing that the path ahead would be fraught with danger. But he wouldn't let it deter him. Not now. Not ever.

Beom-ki pulled into the airport parking lot under the low-hanging moon. His car rolled to a stop, the engine humming softly before he switched it off. As soon as he stepped out, an agent in a black suit appeared from the shadows. They didn't exchange words; they didn't need to. The agent nodded, took the keys from Beom-ki's hand, and swiftly slid into the driver's seat. He would take the car back to Beom-ki's home, as planned, ensuring that no loose ends or visible traces of Beom-ki's real identity would be left behind.

For a brief moment, Beom-ki stood in the still night, the airport lights glowing in the distance. The wind was cool, brushing against his face as he adjusted the grip on his suitcase and headed towards the bustling terminal. His footsteps echoed on the pavement as he approached the sliding glass doors, which opened automatically, welcoming him into the chaos of the airport.

The air inside was warm and filled with the energy of travelers—some excited, others weary from long flights, and many rushing to catch their next connection. People moved in all directions, dragging suitcases, clutching passports, or chatting on their phones. The sounds of conversations, announcements, and the rhythmic rolling of suitcases on tiled floors filled the space, but Beom-ki moved through it all with quiet purpose.

He wasn't here as Agent Shadow, the skilled operative that struck fear into the hearts of his enemies. Tonight, he was just another face in the crowd, blending in with the sea of travelers. His fake identity was solid, crafted with care by the agency, complete with a flawless passport, backstory, and travel itinerary. He was now a businessman, a mid-level executive headed to Moscow for meetings—a persona so mundane it wouldn't raise an eyebrow.

As he joined the regular check-in line, the faint scent of perfume, coffee, and freshly baked goods lingered in the air, mixing with the antiseptic cleanliness typical of airports. The line moved slowly, with impatient passengers glancing at their watches or phones. Beom-ki stood there, his face unreadable, scanning his surroundings out of habit. Every detail mattered: the nervous man with too many bags, the family with restless children, the older couple arguing softly in front of him. He took it all in, his mind always working, always ready.

When it was finally his turn, he stepped up to the counter, the overhead lights casting a soft glow on his features. The airline attendant barely looked up as she took his fake passport and scanned it, her fingers tapping rapidly on the keyboard.

"Headed to Moscow?" she asked, her voice flat with the monotony of repetition.

"Yes," Beom-ki replied simply, his tone neutral, polite.

The attendant handed him his boarding pass with a brief smile. "Safe travels," she said, already moving on to the next passenger.

Beom-ki slid the boarding pass into his jacket pocket and continued walking toward the security area. The hustle and bustle of the airport continued around him, but his focus never wavered. The mission ahead loomed large in his mind.

Beom-ki passed through security with practiced ease, placing his suitcase and duffel bag on the conveyor belt. The airport personnel barely spared him a second glance as he stepped through the metal detector. His movements were calm and deliberate, just another traveler heading out on an ordinary business trip. Once through, he collected his belongings and continued toward his gate, his steps steady and his mind focused.

The terminal was alive with movement and sound. People filled every seat, some eating hastily purchased snacks, others scrolling through their phones or reading books to pass the time. A group of teenagers laughed loudly at a nearby café, their conversation a stark contrast to the weight of what Beom-ki carried with him. He glanced at the flight information on the screen overhead—everything was on schedule.

He found an empty seat near the boarding gate and sat down, his suitcase by his side. The glowing numbers of the gate sign flickered slightly, casting a warm light over the rows of passengers. Beom-ki took out his phone, checking for any last-minute updates from the agency. His inbox was empty, but he knew that could change at any moment.

As the boarding announcement rang out over the loudspeakers, people began to gather their belongings, moving toward the gate. Beom-ki stood up, smoothing the front of his jacket, and picked up his suitcase. His heart rate remained steady, his breathing calm. This was familiar—this controlled chaos before stepping into something dangerous.

He joined the line, handing his boarding pass to the attendant at the gate. She scanned it quickly, offering him a smile before letting him through.

As he walked down the jetway, the cool air from the plane met his face. He stepped inside the aircraft, found his seat, and placed his suitcase in the overhead compartment. Settling into his seat, Beom-ki leaned back, closing his eyes for a brief moment. His mind sharpened, preparing for the flight to Moscow. He would face whatever awaited him there.

This was no ordinary trip. But he was no ordinary man.

The mission had begun.

Beom-ki pulled his phone from his pocket just as the last boarding announcement echoed through the plane. The faint buzz of conversations surrounded him, but he tuned it out, focusing on his screen. His fingers moved quickly over the keys, typing out a message to his sister, Beom-sook, knowing this was his last chance to reach out before all devices had to be switched to airplane mode.

Beom-ki: "Just boarded. Heading out now. Don't worry too much, I'll text you when I land in Moscow. Take care of mom for me, okay?"

He paused for a moment, staring at the message, then added a quick smiley face at the end before hitting send. Almost immediately, his phone buzzed with Beom-sook's reply:

Beom-sook: "You better come back in one piece, or I'm coming to drag your butt out of Russia. Be safe, Beom-ah. Love you."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Beom-ki's lips as he read the message. Despite her tough exterior, Beom-sook had always been fiercely protective of him, in her own way. He quickly turned his phone to airplane mode, sliding it back into his pocket, and leaned back into his seat. The soft hum of the plane's engines had begun, signaling that it was almost time to take off.

He let out a long, slow sigh, sinking deeper into the chair, feeling the weight of the mission settle around him again. The air hostess, moving with practiced efficiency, made her way down the aisle, checking that all passengers were settled and the overhead bins were secure. The cabin lights dimmed slightly as the last of the doors clicked shut, sealing the plane off from the terminal and the world below. They were officially on their way.

Beom-ki glanced out the window as the plane began to taxi toward the runway, the airport lights casting a warm glow on the tarmac. Soon, the familiar jolt of the plane picking up speed made his body tense for a moment, but he quickly relaxed as they lifted off the ground. The world outside the window became a blur of lights, and within minutes, they were breaking through the clouds, climbing higher into the night sky.

He reached into his bag and pulled out his earpiece, fitting it comfortably into his ears. Music had always been his way of disconnecting from the noise in his mind, from the endless strategies, risks, and dangers that came with his job. Phonk, with its deep bass and hypnotic rhythm, was his current go-to. He scrolled through his playlist, selecting a track that immediately filled his ears with heavy beats. The familiar, pulsing rhythm helped him detach from the weight of reality, if only for a little while.

The plane was now gliding smoothly through the sky, the clouds beneath them glowing faintly in the moonlight. Beom-ki closed his eyes for a moment, letting the music flow through him. Nine hours in the air. Nine long hours until he landed in Moscow, where a new kind of darkness awaited. He wasn't one to waste time worrying about what-ifs, but even for him, there was a tension in the air—a sense that this mission would be unlike any before.

With the steady beat of the music in his ears, he tried to relax, but his mind wandered, back to the briefing and the faces of his family. He thought about his mom's worried expression, Beom-sook's teasing but concerned words. The weight of responsibility pulled at him, not just for his mission, but for them, for the promise he had made to come back.