They met in the old tennis lounge that evening, after most of the building had emptied. The place still smelled faintly of rubber and cold water, the ghost of a thousand serves pressed into the walls.
Rihan arrived first, as if he’d been there all along. Taewoo came next, flipping a ball in his palm and catching it without looking, as if to remind the room that hands could be quicker than eyes. Harim slipped in with two bottles of water and set one in front of Mirae without a word. Joonseo leaned in the doorway a full minute before crossing the threshold, scanning the corners by reflex, then taking the chair at Mirae’s right as though there had never been another option.
Rihan opened with facts, not favors. “The payout went through a dummy account linked to Han Minjae’s uncle’s company.
