QUEEN OF SHADOWS
The city had changed little in a year. Neon lights still bathed the streets in a blur of color. The markets thrived. And in the criminal underworld, Ji-Yeon ruled it all.
She sat at the head of a long, lacquered table in a private room of The Lotus Court, a high-end club where the city's most dangerous figures gathered under a veil of polished elegance.
The air smelled of expensive cigars and rare jasmine incense. The men around her — gang leaders, weapons traffickers, drug lords — spoke in hushed voices, careful not to draw her sharp gaze.
Ji-Yeon was stunning. Raven-black hair tied in a sleek knot, crimson lips, and cold, calculating eyes that gleamed like polished obsidian. She wore a tailored black suit, simple yet commanding, a small dagger pendant hanging from her throat.
Power didn't scream in her presence.
It whispered.
"We have a deal."
Her voice was low, precise, with no room for debate.
A middle-aged Russian smuggler sitting opposite her hesitated. "This quantity of arms, it's… risky. The coast patrol—"
Ji-Yeon didn't blink.
She leaned forward, her eyes like ice slicing through flesh.
"Do you value your tongue, Alexei?"
The room fell silent.
Alexei swallowed hard. "No problem. I'll handle it."
She smiled — a predator's grin, devoid of warmth.
"That's what I thought."
Without another word, she signed the deal, a shipment of high-grade automatic weapons set to arrive through rogue ports in Incheon. With that stroke of a pen, Ji-Yeon secured her hold over South Korea's eastern territories.
Her lieutenants exchanged wary glances. No one challenged Ji-Yeon. Not after what happened last year in the Gukje Market.
A market square turned slaughterhouse.
The day a foreign woman died, caught in crossfire.
The day Ji-Yeon personally put a bullet into a man's chest and left him bleeding in the street.
To Ji-Yeon, it had been another loose end.
She hadn't spared a thought for the pregnant woman since.
A Ruthless Order
Later that evening, in her private suite, a message arrived. A lieutenant entered with a brief bow, handing over a file.
"Another informer in Yeongdo district, boss," he reported. "He's leaking to the police."
Ji-Yeon flipped through the file without interest.
A young man. Low-level courier. Nothing significant.
"Make an example," she ordered, voice bored. "Publicly. I want his body found in the harbor. Missing hands."
The lieutenant nodded and left.
Ji-Yeon sipped her soju, watching the city lights through the glass. Below, Busan pulsed with life — a city that belonged to her.
Her empire.
Her rules.
And anyone who crossed her vanished like smoke.
As she turned away from the window, she paused, a flicker of memory — a pair of brown eyes, a flash of dark hair, the echo of a woman's scream.
Then it was gone.
Replaced by the cold, ruthless emptiness she wore like armor.