Chapter Text
FADE IN:
EXT. SEOUL CITY HALL – MID-DAY
We OPEN on the iconic SEOUL CITY HALL and PAN DOWN. The afternoon sun reflects off its curved glass walls. It sparkles where it stands behind the OLD CITY HALL.
A steady stream of people enter and exit the building, the NOISE OF THEIR CHATTER and DISTANT SIRENS populating the COURTYARD in front of it.
CUT TO:
INT. SEOUL CITY HALL – BREAK ROOM – MID-DAY
TWO PEOPLE clad in BLUE JACKETS sit at a circular table in a WELL-LIT room in SILENCE -- a WOMAN, mid-20s, with a BROWN BOB -- and a MAN, also mid-20s, with SHORT BLACK HAIR and GLASSES.
The SURFACE of the table holds a pile of SPLINTERED WOOD—its purpose cannot be discerned. In the DISTANCE, faint YELLING can be heard.
The SILENCE is broken when the Woman attempts to split a pair of WOODEN CHOPSTICKS; they SNAP in half, the NOISE ECHOING through the break room.
WOMAN
(softly)
Argh, you have to be kidding me...
She stares down at the chopsticks MOURNFULLY and SIGHS.
A RUSTLE can be heard as the Man procures another pack of chopsticks. He’s smiling, but the FURROW in his BROW betrays his CONCERN.
MAN
Tenth time’s the charm, Agent Mint.
Agent Mint SHAKES HER HEAD, then WAVES AWAY the offering. She DROPS the sticks in her hands onto the TABLE.
AGENT MINT
No, no. Thank you, Agent Grapes... I think we have enough proof now.
TOGETHER, they GAZE at the PILE.
FOOTSTEPS APPROACH. Neither of the two look up as the DOOR CREAKS OPEN and a HEAD pops into the room through the new gap.
The HEAD belongs to ANOTHER MAN -- 30s, thick eyebrows, a severe frown. He CLEARS HIS THROAT pointedly.
Agent Grapes turns to GLANCE OVER his shoulder.
AGENT GRAPES
Ah. Hello, Agent Bronze.
He NODS HIS HEAD; Agent Mint follows suit.
Agent Bronze RETURNS THE GREETING, stepping forward LOUDLY until he stands before the TABLE. He, too, PEERS DOWN at the mess.
AGENT BRONZE
(flatly)
What.
He stares DELIBERATELY at AGENT GRAPES, searching for an explanation. Agent Grapes SHRUGS—the COLLAR of his jacket remains UNCOMFORTABLY RAISED even after his SHOULDERS FALL. It’s a NEW jacket, STIFF with starch.
We TURN to Agent Mint to see her jacket in a SIMILAR STATE. They BOTH AWKWARDLY adjust their COLLARS.
AGENT GRAPES
After careful experimentation, it seems that Agent Mint may need to file an incident report.
Agent Mint BLUSHES bright red. Agent Bronze crosses his ARMS—we see the FABRIC of his SLEEVES TIGHTEN and hear a FAINT GULP.
AGENT MINT
I got a splinter from disposable chopsticks last week --
We FOCUS on the PILE once again: there are many dangerous-looking BREAKS in the WOOD.
We HEAR PLASTIC RUSTLING. A TRASH BIN ENTERS the frame—Agent Grapes’ hands SWEEP the mess into the BIN.
AGENT MINT
(meekly)
And I haven’t been able to split another pair without making them totally unusable...
Agent Mint gazes SADLY at her LAP, where a CONVENIENCE STORE LABEL is plastered on top of a PLASTIC CONTAINER. Colourful SUSHI is visible.
Agent Grapes sets the bin DOWN with a huff.
Agent Bronze CLICKS HIS TONGUE. He STEPS FORWARD, REACHES into the UTENSIL DRAWER, and PULLS OUT a PAIR OF METAL CHOPSTICKS. He HANDS them to Agent Mint, who PEERS DOWN at them with FEAR.
AGENT MINT
Um --
AGENT GRAPES (O.S.)
I don’t know if that’s a good idea --
The METAL CHOPSTICKS SHATTER in Agent Mint’s hands—CHUNKS of STAINLESS STEEL embed themselves in VARIOUS SURFACES of the room.
GROANS escape ALL THREE AGENTS. They GRIMACE at one another, now COVERED in SMALL WOUNDS and BLEEDING freely.
We ZOOM IN on Agent Mint’s DEADPAN EXPRESSION, then PAN to Agent Grapes’ TEARY EYES.
Agent Bronze is the most injured of them all—he PRESSES a hand to the WOUND ON HIS CHEEK.
AGENT BRONZE
...Please accept my humble apology.
CUT TO BLACK
—END OF PREVIEW—