CHAPTER 52: CHAPTER 52 - GHOST-6: LEADERSHIP TRIAL I

The elevator doors slid open with a low chime.

Seo Jun-ho stepped out. Every guard straightened without realizing it.

Plain black jacket. Duffel bag over one shoulder. No badge. No expression.

He didn’t look around or check if he was in the right place. He just walked straight in like he’d already memorized the layout and took the emptiest corner he could find.

Ha-rin watched him sit down, arms still crossed.

"...Alright. Quiet type," she muttered.

Jun-ho didn’t move.

She walked a little closer, gum clicking. "Hey. You with us?"

No answer.

She tried again anyway. "Name? Or do we guess?"

Nothing.

She waved a hand in front of him. "Hello—earth to statue guy?"

Jun-ho’s eyes shifted toward her for half a second.

Not annoyed.

Not interested.

Just... acknowledging she existed.

Then he looked away again.

Ha-rin squinted. "Wow. He really is a wall guy."

Dong-wook, half-asleep, snorted. "He’s always like that. I saw him once at a raid. Spoke three words the whole day."

Jun-ho shifted the duffel strap on his shoulder once, settling it into place, and then went quiet again.

He sat with the same steady posture — breathing even, back straight, face giving nothing.

He looked like someone who shut himself off the moment he sat down, leaving only the bare minimum needed to stay alive and upright.

Ha-rin gave up and leaned against the table.

"Fine. Be mysterious. See if I care."

Jun-ho didn’t respond.

He just kept watching the door...

waiting for the last person to arrive.

The automatic door slid open again.

Everyone turned instinctively.

Choi Do-hyun stepped inside, coat still on.

His eyes didn’t jump around or scan the place like a scene from a movie — they just settled, calm and steady, the way he always looked when his head was already working on something else.

He walked in with those plain, even steps.

Kim let out a small breath he didn’t know he was holding.

"Finally. Someone who won’t burn the place down," he muttered.

Ha-rin snorted.

"Yeah? Wait till you see him interrogate someone."

Dong-wook, pressing an ice pack to his cheek, peeked up.

With his other hand, he uncapped the tiny soju bottle he’d hidden in his jacket and took a quiet sip.

"...Oh. He made it," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

Seo Jun-ho didn’t react to any of it.

He shifted just enough to plant one foot behind the other — subtle, but any trained eye would know that was a fighting stance.

Ryu Min-seo lifted her head slowly, her smile creeping up way too naturally for a place like this.

"Detective Choi," she whispered. "I hope someone bleeds today. I brought a new pen for it."

Kim froze, hand hovering above the keyboard.

"...What does a pen have to do with bleeding?" he asked, voice cracking a little.

Min-seo blinked at him, almost offended he didn’t understand.

"For notes," she said softly. "Fresh blood makes notes clearer."

Kim dragged both hands down his face.

"I should’ve stayed in the basement..."

Choi walked to the front of the room and looked around once. Just once.

He had all their faces memorized already.

Then he spoke: "My name is Choi Do-hyun.

Starting today, you report to me.

I’m leading this unit."

No announcement tone. No speech. Just the truth, dropped into the air like a stone in water.

Ha-rin raised her eyebrows.

"He really said that like he’s ordering lunch."

Kim sighed.

"Yep. We’re doomed."

Dong-wook scratched his chin.

"He doesn’t look like a leader but... okay."

Then Seo Jun-ho stood up. The chair scraped the floor, and everything went still.

He walked forward, stopping right in front of Choi — close enough to feel each other’s breathing.

Min-seo nodded slowly, pupils sharpened.

"I want to see who dies first. Him or someone else."

Ha-rin whispered, "This is getting good."

Kim whispered back, "If Jun-ho punches him, I’m quitting."

Min-seo quietly opened her notebook.

She checked her pen.

Jun-ho stared straight into Choi’s eyes, voice low: "If you’re my leader," he said, "prove you can handle me."

Seo Jun-ho’s voice didn’t carry any threat or anger. Just a simple line from someone who didn’t bluff and didn’t waste breath.

It was the same way he talked to every squad leader he’d ever had — the reason he never lasted long in any unit.

Jun-ho had been transferred more times than most officers could count.

Not because he caused trouble.

Not because he broke rules.

But because no one could command him.

Every team he joined ended the same way:

a superior shouting orders,

Jun-ho refusing if the order made no tactical sense,

and someone filing a report that he was "unmanageable."

He never disobeyed out of ego.

He followed logic, not hierarchy.

And most leaders hated that.

So now, standing in front of Choi, this wasn’t rebellion.

This wasn’t ego.

This was Jun-ho’s only way of checking if someone was worth following —

the same test he gave every superior before Choi.

Choi didn’t step back. Didn’t blink. Didn’t react.

His hand curled slightly without meaning to — an old instinct.

A flash of his father’s voice passed through him: "Hold your stance. Don’t fight unless you must."

Another memory — his father lifting a trophy with one arm, telling a younger Choi: "Strength is quiet. If someone wants to test you... let them try first."

Choi let the tension in his fingers relax.

When he finally answered, his voice stayed calm: "I don’t need to prove anything."

Nobody said anything after that — the space between them just got closer.

Jun-ho stepped a little closer.

"You’re leading hunters," he said. "Don’t stand here like you’re waiting for permission."

Choi’s eyes sharpened — not angry, just awake in a way that made Jun-ho pause.

Min-seo wrote: "Possible cause of death: blunt hit to skull."

Seo Jun-ho shifted his stance, rolling his shoulders once before settling into that steady posture he always had.

No anger, no threat, just the calm of someone who had spent years learning where to hit and how fast.

He looked at Choi with an expression that didn’t move. "Last chance. Step back, or stand here and show me."

Choi didn’t back up. He didn’t even tighten his posture. He only loosened his wrist with a small shake, enough to show he was ready, and that was all Jun-ho needed as an answer.

He moved first, stepping in with a fast punch aimed straight at Choi’s jaw. It came fast enough to blur, the type of punch meant to test someone’s reaction and knock them out if they weren’t prepared.