CHAPTER 53: CHAPTER 53 - GHOST-6: LEADERSHIP TRIAL II

Choi didn’t jump away.

He didn’t dodge like someone trained in flashy styles.He shifted his head a tiny inch, letting the punch passed so close it almost scraped him.

Jun-ho continued immediately—knee strike, elbow, low kick, palm strike—each hit came fast, like someone who trained this stuff forever until their bodies remembered the movement better than their minds.

But Choi moved way too clean for a guy who barely talks.

He stepped just enough to make space, turned his shoulder at the perfect angle, and leaned back whenever a strike passed the line of his nose.

He never widened his stance, never stepped far, and never lost balance. It looked like he was just walking around, not fighting.

Kim stared from his desk, whispering under his breath that Choi still hadn’t taken a single step back.

"...He’s not even stepping back," he whispered, voice tight. "Who the hell doesn’t step back...?"

Dong-wook narrowed his eyes, watching the footwork like he couldn’t decide if Choi was predicting Jun-ho’s movements or reading his muscles.

His brows pulled together as he watched Choi slip past each strike.

"That’s not guessing," he muttered. "He’s reading the guy. Shoulder, hips... he sees the hit before it comes."

There was a sharp note in his voice — frustration from a man who trained his whole life, watching someone react faster without even trying.

Even Min-seo paused her notes, smiling quietly to herself as she watched the way Choi’s weight shifted from one foot to the other.

"...Precise," she murmured. "Everything lines up. Spine, hips, balance... nothing wasted."

A small smile tugged at her lips, slow and unsettling.

She lowered her voice a little, almost like she was sharing a private thought with the corpse she wished she had.

"...If he keeps moving like that," she whispered, "I’ll know where to cut him first."

Kim choked on his own breath. "Wh—what?! Why would you say that?!"

Min-seo blinked at him calmly.

"I wasn’t talking about him."

Her eyes slid back to Jun-ho, studying the way his muscles tensed before each attack.

"Pretty sure," she whispered, "the soldier will end up on my table first."

Jun-ho stopped for a breath, then threw a heavier punch—one that wasn’t testing anything, a punch meant to end a fight quickly.

Choi raised his hand and caught it cleanly, fingers closing around Jun-ho’s wrist without struggle. Jun-ho’s eyes widened for a second before he covered it. Choi still caught it.

"Too slow," he said, voice steady.

He twisted Jun-ho’s wrist and stepped to the side, pushing against the elbow joint in a way that forced Jun-ho backward without injuring him.

Jun-ho recovered almost instantly and came at him again, faster this time, but Choi’s eyes sharpened.

His body shifted in a more focused way, like he finally decided this exchange counted as a real fight.

Jun-ho swung a kick, and Choi stepped inside the strike—right into the path of the kick, close enough to get hit, and countered with a quick knee to the thigh, forcing Jun-ho’s leg to buckle.

Before Jun-ho could reset, Choi tapped a point on the side of his neck, a pressure point that froze him for a heartbeat.

Half a second, but still enough. Choi placed a hand on Jun-ho’s shoulder, steady and firm.

"Fight’s done."

Jun-ho’s body obeyed again after a few seconds, and he straightened, breathing controlled even though his eyes showed the truth.

He knew he lost. But he also knew exactly what kind of man stood in front of him now. He lowered his head once, a simple gesture of acknowledgment. "...I’ll follow you."

The moment Jun-ho stepped back and lowered his head, everyone finally breathed again.

Ha-rin clapped like she’d just watched a live street show.

"Do it again! Seriously—just one more round!"

Dong-wook uncapped his bottle with a pop and took a long sip.

"...Yup. I’m sober now. Completely sober. What the hell did I just watch?"

Kim stared at Choi with pure betrayal written all over his face.

"You fought like that? In front of me, you never even lifted a chair! I feel lied to."

Min-seo scribbled in her notebook, not blinking once.

"Pressure point... delayed nerve response... hm. Perfect."

Then she sighed, an exhausted, disappointed sound.

"No body," she muttered. "Nobody fell. Nobody even bled. What a waste."

Kim whipped his head toward her. "Why would you want someone to bleed?!"

Min-seo didn’t answer him.

She just looked from Choi... to Jun-ho... to her empty hands.

"This isn’t fair," she whispered. "All that tension, and not even one corpse to study."

Ha-rin stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

"Unnie... you scare me more than the Judge."

Min-seo calmly closed her notebook.

"Then you’re paying attention."

Choi fixed his coat, walked to the center of the room, and spoke with the same steady tone he’d used since he stepped out of the elevator. "Now that we’re done, we can start the briefing."

Kim pushed his chair back so hard it screeched across the floor.

He marched straight up to Choi with his glasses slightly crooked and his eyebrows practically touching.

"What the hell was that?" he hissed, stabbing a finger at Choi’s chest. "No—actually—WHAT. THE. HELL. I sit in a basement all day doing your work like a cave rat, and this is what you’re hiding from me?"

Choi blinked once. "...Hiding?"

Kim grabbed his own hair. "YES, hiding! You just went hand-to-hand with a guy who could kill me by exhaling in my direction! And you didn’t even sweat! How?! Why?! Since WHEN?!"

He pointed at Jun-ho, who was still rubbing his arm.

"That dude is ex-military, ex-special-ops—whatever. One glare from him and I nearly died. And you—YOU fought him like he was a drunk uncle starting a barbecue fight!"

Dong-wook took a swig from his bottle.

Min-seo wrote "unexpected combat potential: Choi" like she’d discovered a new species.

Ha-rin leaned on the table, smirking.

"Oooh, look at you," she said. "Acting like he just broke your heart. Heartbroken? Or is this a daddy-issues meet bromance moment?"

Kim snapped his head toward her.

"Do you mind?! I’m having a crisis!"

She shrugged. "Yeah, you’re cute when you panic."

Kim groaned, turning back to Choi.

"This doesn’t make sense! Your record says ’calm,’ ’good at paperwork,’ ’boring detective who works overtime.’ NOTHING about ’secret martial-arts monster.’ I’m a programmer, not a soldier—this is emotional damage!"

He looked genuinely betrayed.

"Explain. Right now. Before my brain shuts down."

Choi let out a small breath, like he already regretted answering.

"...My father," he said quietly.

Kim rolled his eyes. "Of course it’s the father. It’s always the father."