(ONE WEEK BEFORE STORM)
LOCATION: Black Panther Base
There was something sacred about stillness, not the calm, gentle kind that wrapped around a quiet sunrise or whispered through peaceful woods.
No, this stillness was dense and alive.
It didn't rest, it waited.
And that kind of stillness hung heavy over the Black Panther Base, like a breath being held under water, like the hush before lightning strikes.
To the world outside, there was nothing suspicious about the amusement park nestled on the edge of Seoul. Laughter echoed from its roller coasters. Children tugged on their parents' sleeves, pointing to cotton candy stalls. Teenagers posed in front of neon signs with wide smiles, posting pictures under the popular hashtag: #SongGroupWonderWorld.
But no one knew what lay beneath.
Beneath the Ferris wheel, beneath the painted cobblestones, beneath the vibrant chaos of joy and lights...
Waited for the new heart of a secret syndicate.
Hidden in plain sight, in a grassy patch not far from the carousel, was a trapdoor. It was invisible to the naked eye and camouflaged so perfectly with the earth that even a careful glance wouldn't catch the difference between the trimmed blades of grass. Only those with a very specific wristband-a sleek black band with a faint, engraved emblem: a panther curled into a circle-knew how to activate it.
But even that band wasn't enough.
The BP emblem had to be pressed against one exact, seemingly random spot in the grass. It was a spot only the most trusted members of the Black Panthers knew-members of the inner circle-the six women-and the elite guards assigned to the Seoul division.
The trapdoor once triggered perfectly would be followed by the ground giving a quiet hiss-barely audible over the amusement park's noise.
Then the earth would shift and slide.
And then, a passage would open.
A narrow staircase stretched down into the earth, cool air breathing up from the shadows like the underground had a life of its own.
Some guards worked solely below-living within the fortress-like structure underground, out of sight, off the grid. While some others blended into the world above, disguised as amusement park staff-ticket collectors, janitors, food vendors. They swapped shifts every few days: one week in the sunlit world, the next in the shadows.
To outsiders-even to all Black Panther members-it seemed as though Helena, the enigmatic leader of the Black Panthers, had somehow struck a powerful deal with the elusive heiress of the Song Group, granting her full access to one of the company's most profitable properties.
No one ever questioned how, no one dared.
They simply accepted it as another display of Helena's uncanny influence.
But the truth?
Helena-the masked queen feared by rivals, obeyed without hesitation by her people-was the Song Group's heiress.
Song Haseul.
The daughter of Chairman Song.
The secret no one, even the five members of the Inner Circle knew.
And her father? Still remained blissfully unaware that beneath his sparkling amusement park was a war fortress.
Five years ago, when Helena was still in New York with her five women, she'd told her father that urgent infrastructure repairs were needed in the amusement park. And with that she'd closed the park for a week, "just maintenance," she'd said, her tone sweet and firm.
In that single week, the entire base had been constructed.
And now, hidden beneath layers of steel, earth, and concrete, lived as Asia's underworld's new kingdom's heart ruled not by law-but by loyalty and blood shed.
When the trap door opened and the last metal step was descended, a sleek black scanner awaited. The moment the wristband met its surface, the final door slid open with a whisper. The wristband had to be pressed once to the trapdoor and then to the scanner.
A system created by Hana and her department.
And what lay beyond...
Was a masterpiece of design.
Smooth, dark grey walls, floors that gleamed like polished obsidian, lights embedded in the ceiling like constellations, casting soft white glows down the narrow corridors.
Not a single wasted space, no clutter. Everything was precise and every inch of it reeked of order, power, and quiet menace.
This was not a base for foot soldiers. This was not for chaos. This was for masked leaders of the syndicate.
Six private offices-each belonging to one of the Inner Circle women-lined one wing of the base. Each of the office had soundproof glass walls and shaded by default, but capable of turning transparent at the touch of a button. Each space was customized, but all maintained the signature aesthetic: sleek, modern, efficient.
At the heart of the base stood the Meeting Room-a circular space with a single long wooden table, lit from above by a ring of soft white light. This was where plans were made, secrets were spoken and fates were sealed.
They had gathered there just a week ago, when Helena returned to Seoul. It had been their first meeting since the five women had been sent to Seoul three months ago. Since they had had their last meeting in New York three months ago, the five women were given a silent 'see you soon' with just a nod from Helena.
Down another corridor was the weapons room-cold, sterile, efficient. Racks of firearms, blades, tasers, and prototype tech lined the walls like a twisted museum. But there were dozens of hidden weapon caches scattered across the city, this base wasn't about storage.
This base, buried beneath laughter and flashing lights, wasn't a safe house. It was a nerve center. It now became a place where the six most dangerous women in Asia gathered when shadows began to move. This was the base which would soon become the main base of not just Seoul division but entire Aisan operations of Black Panther. And the New York main base would become another ordinary base of Black Panther.
This base in Seoul was the new spine of the Black Panthers' operations all over the world and it would remain buried, silent, and sacred.
Until it was time to strike.
And now inside the base, the air was heavy, not with noise but with absence.
One chair sat at the head of the table, vacant but not empty. It carried a presence like a scent, like smoke clinging to fabric long after the fire had gone.
The walls hummed faintly, cold digital screens flickering with blue light, surveillance feeds, heat signatures, motion sensors and heart rates.
But none of it felt alive except them.
Lee Areum sat beside the head chair with her back so straight it looked painful. Her palms rested flat against her knees like they were calming something far more violent beneath. Her breath was steady, but her eyes weren't still. They flickered, scanning every inch of the feeds, every pulse that glitched, every heartbeat that looked even a little too calm.
She looked composed, human.
But only someone who hadn't met Areum during negotiations would mistake her for calm.
Her voice broke the silence like a dagger across rose.
"Why the hell did she go alone."
It wasn't loud, didn't need to be.
Her words hit harder when they were soft-sweeter, even. Poison always did taste better in honey.
Across the room, Hana sat cross-legged on her swivel chair, surrounded by seven glowing monitors like she was orchestrating a symphony no one else could hear. The coffee on her desk had gone cold hours ago, untouched. She didn't blink much, didn't shift in her seat. Her fingers moved fast-too fast-but her voice was gentle, like an afterthought breathed into a storm.
Her voice was almost careless like youth dropping in café buzz.
"Because to hack them, we had to bleed something of ours into their circuits."
Her eyes didn't leave the screen, as she answered.
"SH's system isn't soft, Areum. It's an iron fortress held together by paranoia and brilliance. Their codes don't break unless you slip a Panther-coded virus directly into the Red Dragon's system. Inside their walls."
(SH-Seungho)
Areum's lips barely moved. But there was something odd in the way she said, like she already knew th whole reaosn which the other didn't knew.
"Still. We could've sent a spy."
That made Hana pause for the first time in hours, not in confusion. In... understanding.
"Helena is the spy."
"She's the Queen." Minji interrupted.
"And queens don't walk into enemy castles." Hana whispered, her eyes still following the red dot on the screen.
They weren't tracking the car, they were tracking her heartbeat.
Minji paced in slow circles behind them, arms folded, boots clicking softly against the marble. Her expression was unreadable, her mouth a thin line pulled taut. Everything about her posture screamed fury that had nowhere to land.
"She doesn't get to do that anymore," Minji muttered. "She doesn't get to walk into danger alone. Not after what happened eight years ago-"
"That's exactly why she went," Areum cut in, voice sharp but laced with something far deeper. Grief, maybe. Or guilt with a sharper tongue.
Minji looked up. Her eyes narrowed.
"Then tell me, Areum. What the fuck is the point of this circle-of all of us-if she's going to martyr herself on her own terms?"
Areum didn't look offended. She didn't even blink, instead, she stood up and the room stilled.
Her voice dropped into something venom-laced, honey-dipped.
"To create fear, Minji."
She stepped closer to the screen now. The footage flicked between camera feeds-Junseoin the driver's seat, hands clenched, eyes too steady. Hyunjae , sly as sin, Taeyang looked half-asleep with eyes that missed nothing.
And between them? Helena was shackled in cable ties.
"To let them believe they're in control. That they have the upper hand. That they're the ones playing god."
Areum continued, her fingers grazed the edge of the table.
"And then remind them exactly why they should've never looked her in the eye."
Minji stopped moving at that, as something clicked.
"You knew?" she asked quietly as she stood behind her designated chair and put her arms on the chair.
Areum nodded once, her sleek blond hair fell just below her shoulder blades.
"She took the pill before she walked into the bar," Areum murmured. "Antidote in case of sedation. She predicted everything-right down to the cable ties."
Hana's voice came in like a heartbeat, as she looked up from the screen for the first time.
"So she planned this."
A hush spread across the room like frostbite at that.
Minji exhaled, long and slow in realisation as she spoke,
"She's... not out?"
Hana's gaze was glassy with something no one dared call emotion. Her cropped jet-black bob was hidden under hoodie that engulfed her pear shaped body.
"No," Hana whispered. "She's wide awake."
Minji's mouth parted slightly, her hand moved to the holster at her thigh-not to draw, but to ground herself. She ran a hand through her short pixie hair, dyed always in platinum silver. It was always tousled, she could never handle her short hair, and to give time to grow them out was something she dreaded the most. The reason why she would never let them grow... atleast for now.
"And the act? That was for them?" Minji inquired, her voice like a slow seductive.
Areum's eyes didn't move from the screen as she spoke softly "It was a message."
"To who?" Hana's always playful tone was sharp.
It was followed with a long pause.
"To the culprit behind the late Mrs Song's death eight years ago."
Areum for once answered not like a diplomat, for once she gave a straight answer.