Consecutive Hits
One week later, Seoul had a new hero.
Min-jun sat in a makeup chair at KBS studios, watching a stylist dab powder on his face. Through the mirror, he could see the bright lights of the set beyond—a talk show desk, cameras, a live studio audience waiting.
"Detective Kang, we're ready for you in five minutes," a production assistant said, clipboard in hand.
Min-jun nodded. His phone sat face-down on the counter. He knew what was on the screen without looking.
T-72:18:42
Another case. The fourth in seven days.
It had become routine now—the countdown, the clues appearing in fragments, the careful tracking and intervention. Each success fed into the next, building momentum like a avalanche.
Case #2: Gangnam, Teheran-ro
The clues had been precise: Woman, red coat, subway exit 7. Wednesday evening, 6:45 PM.
Min-jun had staked out Gangnam Station's Exit 7 for three hours. At exactly 6:47 PM, she appeared—a woman in her early thirties, bright red coat, struggling with shopping bags as she emerged from the subway.
The app had updated in real-time:
[ALERT]
Abduction attempt imminent
Vehicle: Black van, license plate 37ㅎ4829
Distance: 50 meters
Min-jun had spotted the van immediately. It was idling at the curb, side door slightly open. Two men inside, watching the woman.
He'd called for backup and moved to intercept. When the van rolled forward and the door slid open, Min-jun was already there, badge out.
"Police! Step out of the vehicle!"
The driver had tried to flee. Min-jun had shot out the rear tire. The men were arrested within minutes—a kidnapping ring that had been targeting professional women in Gangnam for ransom.
The headline the next day: "He Did It Again! Detective Kang Stops Kidnapping in Progress"
Case #3: Seongsu-dong Industrial Area
The pattern continued. Each case came with tighter windows, more specific details.
[EVENT #3]
Location: Seongsu-dong, abandoned factory
T-68:00:00
Clue #1: "Arson. 00:00-03:00. Chemical accelerant."
Min-jun had coordinated with the fire department. They'd set up surveillance on three abandoned factories in the area. At 1:23 AM, thermal cameras picked up movement in the largest building.
The arsonist—a disgruntled former factory worker—was caught with five gallons of gasoline and a lighter, moments before igniting the blaze that would have spread to neighboring residential buildings.
The headline: "Three Strikes: 'The Future-Seeing Detective' Prevents Mass Arson"
Yoon Hae-jin had been there for that one too, camera rolling as Min-jun led the handcuffed suspect out of the factory. Her special report had gone viral—over two million views in 24 hours.
Case #4: Itaewon Club District
By the fourth case, Min-jun was working alone more often. So-young had been reassigned to other cases—officially to spread the workload, but Min-jun suspected Team Leader Bae wanted to give him room to operate.
The app had been cryptic:
[EVENT #4]
Location: Itaewon, Club Avenue
T-48:00:00
Clue #1: "Drug-facilitated assault. Male, late 20s. Armed."
Min-jun had gone undercover, posing as a patron. At 2:17 AM, he'd spotted the target—a man slipping something into a woman's drink at the bar. When the man tried to lead the semiconscious woman outside, Min-jun intervened.
The confrontation turned physical. The suspect had a knife. Min-jun took a shallow cut across his forearm before disarming him and making the arrest.
The wound was minor—seven stitches. But the media ran with it.
"Hero Detective Wounded Saving Assault Victim"
The photos of Min-jun with his arm bandaged, still in his bloodstained shirt, became iconic.
Now, sitting in the makeup chair, Min-jun's phone buzzed. He flipped it over.
A text from Prosecutor Yoo Ji-hoon:
[Yoo Ji-hoon]: Watching your interview tonight. You're making both of us look good. Let's meet tomorrow—I have a proposal.
Min-jun had met Yoo twice since the first case. Thirty-six, impeccably dressed, with the kind of smooth confidence that came from never losing. He'd been present at three of Min-jun's four arrests, always ready with a statement for the cameras.
Another text came through, this one from Team Leader Bae:
[Bae Sung-woo]: Commissioner wants you for the new Predictive Crime Task Force. Promotion to Team Leader track. We'll talk Monday.
Min-jun stared at the message. Team Leader. The position he'd thought lost forever after the failure three years ago.
"Detective Kang? We're ready."
He pocketed his phone and walked onto the set. The studio audience applauded. The host, a popular TV personality, stood to shake his hand.
"Detective Kang Min-jun, welcome! Seoul's most talked-about police officer!"
More applause. Min-jun sat down, the bright lights making it hard to see the audience faces.
"So, Detective, everyone wants to know—how do you do it? Four major crimes prevented in one week. It's unprecedented."
Min-jun had practiced this answer. "It's not magic. It's about understanding criminal psychology, recognizing patterns, and acting on reliable intelligence."
"But the timing—you seem to know exactly when and where crimes will occur."
"We follow up thoroughly on every threat, every report. When you pay attention to the details, patterns emerge."
"Some people online are calling you 'The Prophet.' How does that feel?"
Min-jun smiled—the humble smile he'd learned to deploy. "I'm just a detective doing his job. The real story is the victims we're able to protect."
The interview continued for twenty minutes. The host asked about his background, his training, his methods. Min-jun deflected, redirected, kept it vague but confident.
As he left the studio, his phone exploded with notifications. Social media mentions, news alerts, messages from colleagues.
One stood out—from So-young:
[So-young]: Senior, this is getting too big. We need to talk. Privately.
Min-jun didn't respond.
Instead, he opened DEADLINE.
His rank had climbed steadily:
[GUARDIAN PROFILE]
Rank: #34 (Gold Guardian)
Total Events: 4
Lives Saved: 4
Success Rate: 100%
Community Status: RISING STAR
A new notification appeared:
[TIER UPGRADE]
Congratulations! You have reached PLATINUM TIER.
New features unlocked:
- Real-time location tracking (enhanced)
- Victim/Perpetrator profile matching (70% accuracy)
- Community chat access
- Priority event notifications
Min-jun's finger hovered over the community chat icon. He'd avoided it until now, unsure what he'd find.
He tapped it.
The screen filled with messages:
NightHawk: Just got my third save. This app is insane.
SilentBlade: Anyone else worried about where this data comes from?
Prophet_7: Does it matter? We're saving lives.
NightHawk: Exactly. Results are what count.
ShadowKnight: @Prophet_7 Did you see Kang Min-jun on TV? One of us went fully public.
Prophet_7: Risky but smart. Now he's got institutional backing.
DarkGuardian: He's #34 on the leaderboard. Monster week.
NightHawk: #34 already? I've been using this for two months and I'm only #156.
SilentBlade: Some accounts get preferential treatment. The algorithm picks favorites.
Min-jun scrolled through the chat. There were 2,847 users total, but only about 200 were active in chat. Most seemed to be law enforcement, security professionals, or private investigators.
He typed his first message:
Guardian_0034: Is the tracking data always accurate?
Responses came immediately:
Prophet_7: Welcome, Kang. Yeah, it's scary accurate. 87% success rate overall.
NightHawk: Sometimes the timing is off by 10-15 minutes but the events always happen.
SilentBlade: That's what worries me. How does it KNOW?
Prophet_7: Big data, machine learning, behavioral prediction. It's the future.
DarkGuardian: Or it's manufacturing the events. Ever think of that?
NightHawk: Conspiracy theory bullshit. We're saving people.
Min-jun closed the chat. His hands felt cold despite the warm evening.
Manufacturing the events.
He pushed the thought away.
The next morning, Min-jun met Prosecutor Yoo Ji-hoon at an upscale cafe in Seocho-dong. Yoo was already there, espresso in hand, reading something on his tablet.
"Detective Kang. Sit, sit."
Min-jun ordered coffee and sat across from him.
Yoo put down his tablet. "You're the most valuable asset in Seoul law enforcement right now. Do you know that?"
"I'm just doing my job."
"Don't be modest. Four major cases in one week, 100% success rate. The commissioner is floating your name for the Predictive Crime Unit. But I want to make you a better offer."
"What kind of offer?"
Yoo leaned forward. "Partnership. You identify the cases with your... methods. I handle the prosecution and media strategy. Together, we build the highest-profile conviction record in the country."
"I already work with the prosecutor's office."
"Not like this. I'm talking about targeting high-value cases. Political corruption. Organized crime. Cases that make careers."
Min-jun sipped his coffee. "What's in it for you?"
Yoo smiled. "Same as you. Recognition. Advancement. Making a difference. I'll be completely honest—I want the Chief Prosecutor position within three years. You want redemption for that serial killer case. We both get what we need."
"And if a case doesn't fit your... profile?"
"Then we focus on the ones that do. You're solving four cases a week. We can afford to be selective."
Min-jun considered this. The logic was sound. The ambition was naked but not dishonest.
"I'll think about it."
"Don't think too long. Opportunities like this close quickly." Yoo stood, leaving a business card on the table. "Call me when you're ready to aim higher."
After Yoo left, Min-jun's phone buzzed.
So-young's name appeared.
[So-young]: Senior, I've been analyzing the cases. Can we meet? It's important.
Min-jun hesitated, then typed: I'm busy today. Tomorrow?
[So-young]: It can't wait. I found something strange about the victim patterns.
Min-jun felt a chill run down his spine.
What did you find?
[So-young]: Not over text. Meet me at the office. 6 PM. Come alone.
At 6 PM, the Major Crimes office was mostly empty. So-young sat at her desk, her laptop open, surrounded by printouts.
Min-jun approached cautiously. "What's this about?"
So-young looked up. Her eyes were tired, dark circles beneath them. "I've been going over all four cases. Looking for connections."
"And?"
"Every single victim had an active social media presence. Every single one had location services enabled on their phones. Every single one posted their daily routines publicly."
Min-jun felt his pulse quicken. "That's... not unusual. Lots of people do that."
"True. But here's what is unusual." She turned her laptop toward him. On the screen was a data visualization—social media accounts connected by lines. "All four victims used the same fitness tracking app. All four shopped at stores with loyalty card programs that track purchases. All four had smart home devices."
"So they're tech-savvy. What's your point?"
So-young's voice dropped. "My point is that someone with access to that data could predict their movements. Their vulnerabilities. Their likelihood of being targeted."
"You're saying someone is collecting data and—"
"And feeding it to you. Yes." She held his gaze. "Senior, how are you really getting this information?"
Min-jun's mind raced. He could lie. He could deflect. He could walk away.
Instead, he said, "Confidential informant."
"Bullshit."
The word hung between them.
"So-young—"
"I'm your partner. I've been your partner for two years. And you're lying to me." Her voice cracked slightly. "Whatever you're doing, whatever source you're using... it's not normal police work. And I'm scared it's going to blow up in your face."
Min-jun sat down heavily. "I'm saving lives."
"Are you? Or are you just getting to the crime scene first?" She clicked to another screen. "Senior, I cross-referenced dates. Every single one of these crimes was... predicted. By someone. Somewhere. Before it happened."
"That's what good intelligence work is."
"No." She shook her head. "Good intelligence work gives you leads. It gives you possibilities. What you're getting is certainties. Exact times. Exact locations. That's not intelligence. That's..."
She trailed off, staring at her screen.
"That's what?" Min-jun asked quietly.
So-young looked at him. "That's surveillance so comprehensive it might be illegal."
Before Min-jun could respond, his phone buzzed insistently. He pulled it out.
DEADLINE was flashing a priority alert:
[URGENT EVENT]
Location: Multiple sites across Seoul
T-12:00:00
Clue #1: "Coordinated attacks. High casualties. Immediate action required."
Min-jun stared at the screen. Twelve hours.
"Senior? What is it?"
He looked up at So-young. At her concerned face, her suspicious eyes, her laptop full of data that was leading her toward the truth.
And he made a choice.
"Nothing. Just... I have to go."
"Senior—"
But he was already walking toward the door.
Min-jun sat in his car in the parking garage, hands shaking as he opened the full notification:
[URGENT EVENT - PRIORITY ALPHA]
Threat Level: EXTREME
Estimated Casualties: 20+
Time Window: T-11:47:33
Clue #2: "Rush hour. Subway system. Explosives."
Clue #3: "Three stations. Lines 2, 4, and 9."
This is a test of your capabilities, Guardian.
Your response will determine your future access level.
Min-jun's blood ran cold.
A terrorist attack. Multiple stations. Rush hour.
His phone rang. Team Leader Bae.
"Min-jun, we just got a threat assessment from National Intelligence. Possible subway attack tomorrow morning. All hands on deck. Get to the situation room now."
Min-jun stared at his phone.
The intelligence services knew. But they didn't know which stations. They didn't know when.
He did.
He started his car and headed not to the situation room, but home. He needed to think. To plan.
At home, he opened DEADLINE again. The chat was exploding:
NightHawk: Anyone else get the Priority Alpha alert?
Prophet_7: Subway attack. This is big.
SilentBlade: How does the app know about a terrorist plot?
DarkGuardian: Maybe because it CREATED the terrorist plot.
NightHawk: Or maybe it just has really good intel. Stop being paranoid.
Prophet_7: @Guardian_0034 You there? You're in Seoul. This is your territory.
Min-jun typed: How reliable is Priority Alpha?
Prophet_7: 100% so far. But they're rare. I've only seen two in six months.
NightHawk: Both came true. One in Tokyo, one in London. Multiple casualties before intervention.
SilentBlade: This is insane. We should report this to authorities.
Prophet_7: And tell them what? We have a magic app? They'll laugh us out.
NightHawk: @Guardian_0034 has authority connections. He can pass it off as intelligence.
Min-jun closed the chat.
His other phone—his personal one—buzzed. A text from his younger brother, Kang Se-yoon:
[Se-yoon]: Hyung! I saw you on TV! Dad would be so proud. Mom called crying happy tears. You're amazing!
Min-jun stared at the message. His brother. His family. They thought he was a hero.
He opened DEADLINE one more time.
T-11:22:15
Eleven hours to stop a terrorist attack.
Eleven hours to save dozens of lives.
Eleven hours to become not just a hero, but a legend.
Or eleven hours to discover whether So-young was right—whether he was being used, manipulated, fed information by someone with their own agenda.
His finger hovered over the screen.
Then he made a call.
"Team Leader Bae? It's Kang. I have intelligence on the subway threat. Lines 2, 4, and 9. Three specific stations. Rush hour tomorrow morning."
A pause. "How solid is this intel?"
Min-jun closed his eyes. "Solid enough to bet lives on."
"Get to the situation room. Now."
Min-jun grabbed his jacket and headed out.
As he drove through Seoul's nighttime streets, his phone displayed the countdown:
T-11:15:47
And below it, a new message:
Your commitment is noted, Guardian.
Rewards will be substantial.
Your place in history begins tomorrow.
Min-jun's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
He was committed now. There was no turning back.
T-11:15:47