Chapter 18: The Story Begins (1)

Surveillance Room.

Located in the deepest part of the Bureau, the Surveillance Room was a top-security facility accessible only to a select few authorized by Hojoon.

For years, Hojoon had meticulously recruited loyal agents to serve as his hands and feet.

Those who shared in his cause were granted access to this sanctum.

As a result, only Hojoon’s chosen operatives were currently inside.

Completely cut off from the outside world, Hojoon had turned the room’s inherent isolation into his own kingdom—crafted carefully so that the upper ranks wouldn’t notice.

Here were capable operatives who would die for Hojoon, loyal to him alone, and ready to act according to his will.

Han Hojoon, Deputy Director of the Bureau, planned to make full use of them.

The Bureau oversaw the production, management, deployment, and correction of magical girls worldwide.

Although outwardly united against unidentified entities, the truth was a hellscape of infighting and fractured factions.

From inner Bureau rivalries to battles over Director positions, even military disputes between different branches—the world was locked in a state of war.

Everyone pointed guns at each other, each with their own reason: to seize more titles, gain more power, receive more magical girls.

It was a fierce competition that could ignite at any moment.

No one could be trusted.

Hierarchies flipped overnight, and countless died.

It was no different from a slaughterhouse—filled with betrayal, accusations, schemes, and assassinations.

After the “Crusade of Magic,” the threat of the unidentified waned, but internal conflict only intensified.

Some even anticipated civil war.

The Bureau of Magical Girl Regulation, Oversight, and Correction—managing the Far East—was crumbling under the weight of its own internal strife.

That is, until Hojoon appeared.

Receiving support from the Bureau’s top echelon, the “Judgment Committee,” he swiftly consumed the Bureau from within, nearly putting an end to the chaos.

When his opposition was mysteriously wiped out in a series of suspicious accidents, Hojoon began to distance himself from the Committee—slowly, subtly, replacing key positions with his own people so they wouldn’t notice.

He had no intention of sitting among those vile, gluttonous pigs.

His ideals reached higher—toward the faint moonlight shining in the sky.

Toward Janwol.

The Committee grew increasingly distressed by Hojoon’s behavior.

The puppet they had propped up was now pulling away.

He hadn’t bared his fangs yet, but the wariness was warranted.

Realizing his ambitions too late, the Committee began placing “rats”—spies—into the Bureau, hoping to monitor and eventually neutralize him.

Hojoon laughed at the effort.

He regularly conducted “pest control” to ensure no rats would infiltrate his kingdom.

Just like now.

“You’ve made it far, little rat.”

“You think you’ll get away with this? Once the Committee finds out what you’re doing, you’ll die without a trace. Even your family—everyone will—”

“That’s not your concern. Besides, I don’t have a family.”

“You’d put your own daughter’s life in danger!?”

The agent, pale with fear, screamed as he spat accusations.

Hojoon merely smiled coldly.

Not even worth replying to.

“There’s still time. I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything if you just take thi—”

The rat reached for something in his coat.

Bang. Bang, bang!

Without hesitation, Hojoon pulled the trigger.

He used the standard-issue semi-automatic pistol adopted by the Bureau, manufactured by Germany’s M&K.

All Bureau agents were equipped with one, but only Hojoon’s inner circle had access to live rounds.

The gun’s low recoil and high accuracy made it ideal. In Hojoon’s hands, it rarely missed.

And with it, he had killed many rats.

The entire magazine emptied into the agent’s body.

Smoke curled from the barrel—gunpowder vapour.

Bullet holes riddled the man’s uniform.

The dull gray fabric was soaked in blood as his trembling body slowly stilled.

Hojoon approached the corpse.

He wanted to check what the rat had been reaching for.

An ID card.

Stamped with the NIS (National Intelligence Service) insignia.

“…Already.”

The Committee had joined hands with the NIS. They were putting black agents on the field. That meant they were now in the same boat. However fragile the alliance, their goals aligned.

“Dispose of it.”

“Understood.”

Hojoon snapped the ID in half and gestured to the body.

His operatives dragged it away—to a corpse disposal facility disguised as a biochemical waste plant.

The agent’s death would be recorded as an unofficial “line-of-duty” casualty within the Bureau.

He had seen too much.

Killing him was the only way to prevent the plan’s exposure.

‘Good thing he was tight-lipped…’

If the Committee ever uncovered his true plan, magical girls from around the world would descend upon the Bureau—not just the Far East branch, but every major division.

He hadn’t even shared the details with his own men.

Only he and…

‘…’

They could never find out.

He would become a public enemy—one worth uniting the fractured world against.

He couldn’t afford that risk.

He was walking a razor’s edge.

One misstep meant ruin.

“Agent Sorim, have you determined the rat’s point of entry?”

“…There was a traitor. The ventilation entrance was unlocked from the inside around 1700 hours.”

“As expected.”

Silence fell.

Infiltrating the Surveillance Room was nearly impossible.

It maintained the highest level of security at all times.

Only Hojoon’s chosen few were allowed in.

To enter meant to either be selected after years of loyalty—or to bypass security through stealth.

Here, they monitored everything magical girls did.

Even Janwol.

More than thirty micro-cameras were installed in her room.

Her beloved teddy bear contained a built-in mic.

By controlling the Surveillance Room, Hojoon could analyze each magical girl’s behaviour, personality, and weaknesses.

That’s why he’d made it his base.

“I will count to three. Step forward. I promise mercy.”

All eyes turned to Hojoon.

“One.”

Click.

He loaded his pistol again.

“Two.”

He aimed it at his own agents.

One of them turned deathly pale, sweating and trembling, staring at the barrel.

“Three.”

Bang!

The shot rang out.

“A-Aaaah!!!”

The agent screamed, collapsing—but he hadn’t been hit.

“How…”

“We’ve known since the end of last year. The ‘list of suborned agents’ we acquired from our mole in the Committee had your name.”

“…”

Spies weren’t exclusive to the Committee.

Hojoon had placed his own informants just as well.

The woman who’d been shot in the shoulder looked up, stunned.

Hojoon’s aides restrained her immediately.

“To the interrogation room.”

“Yes, sir!”

Hojoon sneered.

The interrogation room was not for extracting information.

With magical-girl-grade truth serum, anyone would confess everything eventually.

That room existed only to inflict pain.

The short-haired woman went quietly, as if resigned.

“Now then, back to work. We still have hours until shift end.”

Hojoon sipped his coffee and spoke quietly.

The room returned to silence.

Just then—

“D-Deputy Director!? Please check Janwol’s room!”

Sorim, a striking woman with flowing hair, shouted, visibly panicked.

All the monitors switched to Janwol’s room.

[One hit.]

Heosang’s voice.

Thud!

Heosang struck Ianna hard in the lower abdomen.

It was captured on screen.

“Deputy Director! She can’t withstand that kind of impact! If this continues, she’ll die!”

Janwol.

Ianna was no longer a magical girl.

Most still called her Janwol, but her powers were gone.

She wasn’t even human anymore—more like a walking corpse.

She couldn’t endure.

She would die.

Everyone knew it.

“…Stand down.”

“Deputy Director?”

Hojoon’s response was different.

He watched the screen, lips curled into a slight smile.

“The footage is being recorded. Let’s observe.”

“You’re saying we should just stand by while she suffers!?”

Sorim yelled, shocked.

“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

Hojoon whispered.

“D-Deputy Director… how could you—”

“Calm yourself. Look at the screen.”

At some point, the massive bruise on Janwol’s stomach had completely vanished.

Her body appeared uninjured.

“What…”

“Heosang is healing her. She doesn’t intend to kill her. Let’s… continue watching.”

Hojoon’s eyes sparkled as he stared at the monitor.

When he first heard the two magical girls had gone to Janwol’s room, he didn’t think much of it.

But now, he couldn’t look away.

Something was happening to Ianna.

Something was changing.

To Hojoon—who began each day recording her sleep murmurs—this was fascinating.

And it was an opportunity.

A golden one.

One that would never come again.

He couldn’t let it slip.

“If you truly won’t act, I’ll go myself! You always said protecting the Director came first!”

“…Sorim.”

When she stood up in fury, Hojoon pressed down on her shoulder.

“I admire that about you. But trust me—for now, nothing will happen to the Director.”

“But—”

“That’s an order.”

“…Understood.”

At the word “order,” Sorim sat back down.

Even in the Surveillance Room, where hierarchy was lax, Hojoon’s word was law.

No one dared defy him.

“Just in case… get Star Cluster on the line. She’s in solitary.”

It was a precaution.

If—by any chance—the two really planned to kill Janwol…

Then Star Cluster would be dispatched.

Only a magical girl could stop another.

Even if she couldn’t defeat them, she could stall them.

And they would rescue Janwol in the meantime.

If Hojoon knew anything, it was this: Star Cluster would fight to the death for innocent lives.

His eyes returned to the monitor.

To understand exactly what was happening in Janwol’s room.