The morning after Li Na's salt heist, Seoul woke up to chaos.
I knew something was wrong when Dae-ho burst into the kitchen, still in his pajamas, his phone clutched in one hand and a half-eaten Blizzard Bun in the other.
"Turn on the news," he gasped, spraying crumbs everywhere.
Li Na, who was elbow-deep in dough, didn't even look up. "If it's about Moon & Son's salty croissants, I already know."
"No—worse."
On screen, a frazzled reporter stood outside Moon & Son's flagship bakery, where a crowd of angry customers waved pastries like torches.
"—unprecedented recall after customers report all baked goods taste 'like the ocean'—"
Mom dropped her rolling pin.
Li Na's grin could have powered Seoul for a week.
The Fallout
By noon, #SaltyCroissant was trending.
By 3 PM, Moon & Son's stock had dropped 12%.
And by dinner?
Their CEO held a press conference, his face the color of overproofed sourdough.
"This was clearly sabotage," he seethed, waving a croissant like a weapon. "And we know who did it."
Grandfather, watching from his study, sipped his tea. "Prove it."
The Apricot Tree's Warning
The tree was acting up again.
Not just fruit-in-March weird—this was next-level. Overnight, its branches had grown unnaturally long, twisting toward the house like grasping fingers. And the single apricot from yesterday?
Now there were three.
Li Na eyed them suspiciously. "Either Jeong's messing with us, or this tree is possessed."
I reached for one—
Snap.
A branch swiped at me, missing my fingers by inches.
We stared at each other. Then at the tree.
"...Okay," Li Na said slowly. "What the hell, Jeong?"
Dae-ho's Mistake
Dae-ho was never allowed to handle technology again.
It started innocently enough—a livestream of him "testing" Moon & Son's recalled pastries ("Tastes like regret and poor life choices—"). But then his phone conveniently panned to the study, where Grandfather—
—was singing.
Badly.
To ABBA.
The internet exploded.
#ChaebolBop trended in 14 countries.
Grandfather only found out when his golf buddies sent him the memes.
The Ghost's Message
That night, I found a note in the flour bin:
"Check the roots."
Jeong's handwriting.
I grabbed a shovel.
Beneath the tree, buried in a rusty biscuit tin:
Seong-ho's missing will
And a single vial labeled "Strain Antidote"
The last one glowed.