“So what exactly do I need to do?”

After a brief silence, Yoon Taehee resumed explaining the plan as though nothing had happened.

Unlike Jaegyeom, whose thoughts kept scattering in every direction, Yoon Taehee remained perfectly composed, laying everything out with cold precision. Jaegyeom forced down the turmoil in his chest and focused on Taehee’s words.

“Once you make it safely to Basement Level 3, contact me from the emergency stairwell.”

Yoon Taehee explained that because there was CCTV inside the elevator, Jaegyeom would have to use the emergency stairs to reach Basement Level 3 without being seen. Cameras had been installed throughout the main building and were monitored around the clock from the control room, so avoiding surveillance was essential.

“But there aren’t any cameras on Basement Level 3?”

“There are.”

“Then what’s the point of avoiding the elevator? You said they’re monitoring everything from upstairs. Even if I sneak down the stairs, I’ll still get caught on camera once I reach the floor.”

“Yes. You will.”

Yoon Taehee nodded calmly.

“There are cameras throughout every corridor on Basement Level 3. There are several near the registry room as well. Realistically, there’s no way to move around down there without appearing on camera. No matter what you do, your image will be recorded.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

“If we can’t avoid being recorded, then we move during the one moment no one is watching the monitors.”

Jaegyeom stared at him silently, asking what he meant with his eyes.

“Even if you appear on camera, someone still has to be watching the screen and recognize what’s happening. And anything handled by people inevitably leaves gaps.”

Yoon Taehee possessed a frightening talent for finding those gaps and exploiting them perfectly.

“The control room runs on a three-shift rotation. Eight-hour shifts. The Covert Division handles monitoring duty. Most of the people assigned there are Naja who’ve either retired from field operations or lost interest in promotion. Compared to fieldwork, it’s basically a dead-end assignment. Stable, though. Which means the personnel hasn’t changed much in years.”

At that moment, Yoon Taehee pulled out another document.

It was a detailed schedule listing every Naja assigned to the control room.

Jaegyeom found himself inwardly astonished yet again, wondering how Yoon Taehee had managed to obtain something like this.

“The last Saturday of the month. Two in the afternoon.”

As he scanned the schedule, Yoon Taehee circled one name heavily with his pen.

“The person monitoring Sector C at that time—the sector that includes Basement Level 3—is Jeong Hanseok. He’s been in the control room longer than anyone else. Work like that becomes repetitive. Monotonous. After enough years, people stop maintaining tension. He’s gotten complacent.”

In other words, the man was lazy.

“But why specifically two o’clock?”

“Because Jeong Hanseok always goes out for a cigarette after lunch.”

Yoon Taehee had gone as far as memorizing the personal habits and routines of the control room staff in preparation for this day.

“So we move while he’s briefly away from his station?”

“Exactly.”

“Then wouldn’t it be safer to move while he’s at lunch?”

“No.”

Yoon Taehee shook his head lightly.

“They rotate lunch breaks. If Jeong Hanseok leaves for an hour to eat, another Naja covers his sector.”

Then, lifting his eyes from the floor plan, he continued sharply,

“But going out for a smoke is different. Or the bathroom. People tend to overlook things like that. The smoking area closest to the control room is nearby. It takes less than ten minutes round trip.”

Unlike official meal rotations, nobody formally covered for someone stepping out for a cigarette. In principle, the monitors were supposed to be watched continuously without interruption, but Jeong Hanseok was both senior enough and shameless enough to slack off just within acceptable limits.

Yoon Taehee had personally observed that over the years.

“So remember this carefully. Everything has to be finished within the ten minutes Jeong Hanseok is gone.”

Having finished the explanation, Yoon Taehee straightened in his chair and looked directly at Jaegyeom.

“This is the only window we have to avoid surveillance. I’ll intercept Jeong Hanseok near the smoking area and stall him as long as possible. But even then, you should assume you’ll only have ten minutes.”

The plan itself was simple.

That day, Yoon Taehee would position himself near the control room. When Jeong Hanseok stepped out, Taehee would pretend they’d run into each other by chance and accompany him to the smoking area. At the same time, he would call Jaegyeom to give the signal.

Jaegyeom would already be waiting inside the emergency stairwell after changing clothes in advance. The moment he received the call, he would move toward the registry room.

“There could always be unexpected variables, so don’t move until you hear from me. Once I call, open the emergency exit door and head left. Reach the registry room, destroy the white tiger statue, and get inside. Find my wooden tag in the Exorcism Unit section «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» and replace it with the forgery.”

Summarizing the core of the operation, Yoon Taehee clicked his pen and marked the route across the floor plan.

He continued explaining the escape route afterward, including how Jaegyeom was supposed to leave Basement Level 3 once the exchange was complete. Jaegyeom followed the path Taehee traced with his eyes and nodded.

“We still have time, so memorize the route completely.”

Even now, standing before the first step of a plan he had spent years preparing, Yoon Taehee remained frighteningly calm. There wasn’t even the slightest trace of fear at the possibility of failure.

Watching him, Jaegyeom also focused seriously on the plan.

“Okay. I understand.”

The operation had already been constructed with contingencies and margins for error in mind. Ideally, they would have practiced it beforehand, but realistically that was impossible. The only thing they could do was rehearse it over and over in their heads.

There were now just over two weeks left until the final Saturday of the month.

“So. Any other questions?”

Yoon Taehee gathered the scattered documents together as he spoke.

His explanation had been thorough. There was nothing left to ask about stealing the wooden tag itself.

But after hesitating briefly, Jaegyeom finally asked,

“Did you talk to Seok Juryeon?”

Yoon Taehee’s hands paused for an instant as he organized the papers.

“About what?”

“Last time, I told you she was acting strange.”

“Ah. That.”

Yoon Taehee removed his glasses as he spoke.

“She’s sharp.”

Something in Jaegyeom’s expression hardened.

“I think she’s noticed something’s wrong.”

What?

The uneasy suspicion Jaegyeom had been carrying instantly became reality. If Seok Juryeon had truly noticed something, there was no way it would end quietly.

“Then isn’t that a serious problem? Is this really okay?”

“At first, I thought so too. But I think I’ll watch a little longer.”

Surprisingly, Yoon Taehee himself seemed almost unconcerned.

“Why?”

“It turns out she’s a much more pathetic person than I expected.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yoon Taehee fell silent for a moment.

Seok Juryeon suspected him.

At the same time, she desperately wanted those suspicions to be wrong.

So instead of digging deeper, she was unconsciously trying to cover everything up herself.

“She doesn’t seem willing to act immediately. She has suspicions, but no proof. It wouldn’t be easy for her to move recklessly.”

Yoon Taehee lowered his gaze slightly.

“Especially after all the years we’ve spent together.”

Jaegyeom’s eyes darkened.

Yoon Taehee understood exactly where Seok Juryeon’s hesitation came from.

And yet he still showed no hesitation himself.

The sheer coldness of it felt shocking.

Maybe it was because Jaegyeom knew how deeply Seok Juryeon cared about him.

Then Yoon Taehee said casually,

“If I’m lucky, she might even let me kill her myself.”

“......”

Jaegyeom froze at the coldness of those words and stared at him.

“In any case, you don’t need to worry about that.”

Yoon Taehee sounded completely devoid of feeling toward Seok Juryeon.

For some reason, a sharp ache pierced Jaegyeom’s chest.

It wasn’t because he pitied Seok Juryeon.

It was because Yoon Taehee’s entire life suddenly felt unbearably lonely to him—a life spent completely alone, never truly giving or receiving affection from anyone.

Without realizing it, Jaegyeom looked around the wide, empty living room.

It was far too large a house for one person.

He imagined Yoon Taehee sitting here alone.

He thought about the loneliness of someone who didn’t even realize he was lonely anymore.

Jaegyeom had Jeongju. He had Mesan.

But Yoon Taehee had no one.

That fact lodged painfully inside him like a thorn.

Yoon Taehee had said Seok Juryeon might willingly die by his hand.

If that was true, then Jaegyeom wanted to ask him something.

Are you really okay with that?

But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to say it.