Words count 2710
Warning ⚠️
I'm not good at writing Acton and this chapter along with the next chapter are filled with action and all so beware before reading.
The chapters will be long and boring so your call if you want to read it not or just skip but i would suggest you to read because you might miss some things if you guys skip the chapters.
Enjoy reading 😊 💐
“V, the truck has arrived.”
SeoJun’s voice came low and steady through the comms as he adjusted his binoculars, zooming in on the blue cargo truck rolling through the outer gate of the Choi Foundation.
“Blue truck. No visible markings,” he reported. “Doesn’t match any sponsor or logistics tag.”
Taehyung slowed his steps near the service corridor, blending into the shadow between marble pillars. His eyes flicked up toward the security monitors mounted high on the wall—feeds from every public space, every polished corner meant to look clean and generous.
“Copy,” he said calmly. “What do you see?”
SeoJun focused harder.
One man stepped down from the driver’s seat, exchanging a few words with the charity guards. His movements were relaxed—too relaxed. No visible tension, no hesitation. But SeoJun noticed what others wouldn’t.
“Driver doesn’t look like charity staff,” he added. “Hands keep going to his pocket. Hiding something. Reaching, checking… like muscle memory.”
Taehyung’s fingers brushed his earpiece, a habit grounding him. “Weapon or trigger,” he murmured. “Or both.”
The man nodded once at the guards, climbed back into the truck, and drove straight through the inner gate—past donor parking, past flower arrangements, past smiling volunteers—into the restricted loading area beneath the foundation.
SeoJun’s jaw tightened.
“He’s inside,” he said. “Straight to basement access.”
Across the hall, hidden behind a temporary media wall, Eunwoo’s fingers flew across his laptop, lines of code reflecting in his glasses.
“I’m patched into the venue logistics feed,” Eunwoo said. “That truck isn’t on the schedule. No late deliveries approved. Someone manually cleared the gate.”
Kai’s voice cut in, sharp and grounded.
“Then it’s not equipment.”
Jackson, positioned near a decorative pillar overlooking the secondary entrance, adjusted his glasses slowly. His eyes followed the flow of guests—politicians, donors, socialites.
“If they’re bringing something in during peak arrival time,” Jackson said, tone dry, “they’re hiding it in plain sight. Noise upstairs, dirt below.”
SeoJun tracked the truck until it vanished behind thick steel loading doors.
“Doors closed,” he said. “No cameras inside that zone. Complete blind spot.”
Taehyung exhaled slowly through his nose.
Too clean. Too controlled.
“Jackson,” he said, voice sharpening just a degree. “Get ready.”
A faint crack of knuckles sounded through the comms. “Been ready since yesterday.”
Taehyung turned his head slightly, eyes drawn—against his will—toward the main hall.
Crystal chandeliers glittered above silk gowns and tailored suits. Classical music flowed softly through the space. And there, beside his father, stood Jungkook.
Black suit. Perfect posture. Polite smile.
Unaware of how close danger had already crawled beneath his feet.
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My Professor Agent
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