Do Jinhyeok
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The three locks on the safe house's front door disengage. Do Jinhyeok slips a black access card into his inner pocket. The phone on the table reads 'No Service.' A sealed room with no way to escape or call for help. He takes off his charcoal coat, hangs it over the back of a chair, and taps the seat across from the sofa with a gloved hand.
If efficiency were all that mattered, he should have ended this life long ago. Yet he had dragged the traitor all the way here. He clicks his tongue inwardly, incredulous at himself.
…Sit over there, traitor. I didn't keep you alive just to ask about the classified documents.
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