The Gaebon Department Store's top-floor café was a testament to luxury that Soo-jin had only seen in magazines. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Seoul's skyline, and the pristine white marble tables were spaced far enough apart to ensure privacy a commodity clearly as valuable as the designer handbags adorning the café's patrons.
Seo-yeon led them to a corner table with plush velvet chairs. A server appeared immediately, bowing deeply.
"The usual for Jun-ho and me," Seo-yeon said without looking at the menu. She turned to Soo-jin and Hee-chul. "What would you like? They make excellent coffee here."
Soo-jin scanned the menu and nearly choked at the prices. A single Americano cost more than what she'd spend on groceries for three days.
"Just an Americano, please," she said, keeping her voice neutral.
Hee-chul, however, pointed enthusiastically to a photograph of an elaborate parfait towering with fresh berries, gold leaf, and artisanal ice cream. "I'll have this!"
Soo-jin shot him an annoyed glance. How could he order something so expensive when someone else was treating? It seemed inconsiderate at best, presumptuous at worst.
Seo-yeon caught Soo-jin's expression and smiled. "It's perfectly fine. Please, if there's anything else you'd like, don't hesitate. I invited you here, after all."
"The Americano is more than enough, thank you," Soo-jin replied, mentally cataloging this interaction. Was Seo-yeon's generosity genuine, or was it just another display of wealth a way for her to establish dominance?
Jun-ho took a sip of his coffee when it arrived. "Don't mind Hee-chul. He's known in our circle for having particularly thick skin." A small smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "I've seen him order the most expensive items on menus when others are paying without so much as a blink."
Hee-chul pouted, a spoonful of parfait halfway to his mouth. "That's not fair! I always remember who treated me to what. I keep a detailed list in my phone for repayment."
"Which you conveniently forget to consult," Jun-ho countered.
Seo-yeon laughed softly, and even Soo-jin couldn't suppress a small smile at Hee-chul's theatrical sulking. There was something disarming about his complete lack of pretense. He dug into his parfait with childlike enthusiasm, cream dotting the corner of his mouth.
The momentary lightness felt strange to Soo-jin. She hadn't smiled truly smiled since Min-ah's "accident." It felt like a betrayal of her purpose. She straightened in her chair, refocusing on why she was here.
"Why did you invite us?" Soo-jin asked directly, cutting through the pleasantries. The abruptness of her question seemed to startle Seo-yeon, whose smile faltered slightly.
Jun-ho and Seo-yeon exchanged a glance that spoke of years of silent communication.
Seo-yeon sighed, setting down her cup with deliberate care. "We never really liked the school we enrolled in." She traced the rim of her cup with a manicured finger. "Hankuk was our parents' choice, not ours."
Hee-chul nodded vigorously. "These two are enigmas in our social circle," he added, gesturing with his spoon. "I've seen them talking more to servers than to other heirs. They barely attend any of the social gatherings that matter."
Seo-yeon shot him an annoyed look. "Is that how people see us?"
"Pretty much," Hee-chul confirmed cheerfully, oblivious to her discomfort.
"We just never really fitted in," Jun-ho said, his voice lower, more measured than before. He looked out at the cityscape, eyes distant. "My grandfather was a fisherman from birth. He lost three fingers to fishing nets and worked until his back permanently curved." He flexed his own perfect hands as if imagining a different life. "Even after my father made his fortune, Grandfather insisted I spend summers with him on his boat. He'd say, 'The sea doesn't care how much money is in your pocket.'"
Soo-jin studied him. This didn't match the image of the perfect heir she'd observed in class.
"My parents complained endlessly," Jun-ho continued. "They said he was ruining my chances at proper connections, that the sun was damaging my skin, that the work was beneath our family's new status." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "But those summers were the only times I felt real."
Seo-yeon nodded. "Our upbringings were... different. My mother spent three days a week working at a community center in one of Seoul's poorest districts. She insisted I come along. 'Wealth without compassion is poverty of the worst kind,' she always said. My father was the only one who thinks that money and connections are power."
Soo-jin's investigator instincts flared. Were they feeding her calculated stories to gain her trust? Or were they genuinely different from the other elite students? Either way, she needed to play along to gather more information.
"So you approached us because...?" she prompted.
"Because people still look up to them no matter what," Hee-chul interjected, his mouth full of parfait. "While I'm just the black sheep."
Jun-ho shook his head. "That's not entirely accurate. We approached you because you're different, Soo-jin. You don't try to fit in. You don't seem impressed by any of it." He gestured vaguely at their surroundings. "Most scholarship students either try to blend in or stand out. You just... observe. Too much at that sometimes"
Soo-jin felt a chill. Had she been that transparent?
"And Hee-chul," Seo-yeon added, "is indeed a black sheep, but not in the way most think. His family has old money, but he refuses to play by the unwritten rules. He talks to everyone regardless of status, wears whatever he likes, and says what he thinks.That's only the list of things he does"
Hee-chul preened slightly at this assessment, scraping the last of his parfait from the glass.
"The four of us," Jun-ho said, leaning forward slightly, "we're all outliers in different ways."
Soo-jin kept her expression neutral. "And that's reason enough to form some kind of alliance?"
"Alliance is a strong word," Seo-yeon said with a small smile. "Let's call it... mutual curiosity."
A server approached with a fresh pot of coffee, and conversation paused as their cups were refilled. Soo-jin used the moment to observe her companions more closely. Jun-ho's hands, despite his story, were perfectly manicured—no signs of ever having worked on a fishing boat. Seo-yeon's designer watch probably cost more than most people in those "poor districts" made in a year. And Hee-chul, for all his apparent guilelessness, had eyes that missed nothing.
"There's something else," Seo-yeon said once the server had left. Her voice dropped lower. "Hankuk isn't what it appears to be on the surface."
Soo-jin's pulse quickened, but she kept her face impassive. "What do you mean?"
"The administration presents an image of academic excellence and proper conduct," Jun-ho explained, "but the reality is more complex. It's a carefully constructed playground for the elite."
"A playground with very specific rules," Seo-yeon added. "Rules that aren't written in any handbook."
Hee-chul suddenly seemed less cheerful. He pushed his empty parfait glass away and looked uncharacteristically serious. "There's a hierarchy. And it's not just about money."
"Then what is it about?" Soo-jin asked, careful to sound merely curious rather than urgent.
Jun-ho glanced around before answering, confirming they wouldn't be overheard. "Power. Influence. The kind that comes from having parents who can make or break careers, who sit on boards that determine national policies, who have the ear of people who shape the country's future."
"There are layers," Seo-yeon continued. "The untouchables at the top children of major politicians and business moguls like us. Then the enforcers are either middle class rich kids or scholarship students who do their dirty work for them. And at the bottom..."
"The targets," Hee-chul finished, his usual animated expression subdued. "Scholarship students and middle-class kids."
Soo-jin thought of Min-ah brilliant, hardworking Min-ah who had earned her place at Hankuk through academic excellence alone. A target.
"And where do you two fit in this hierarchy?" Soo-jin asked, looking between Jun-ho and Seo-yeon.
"Technically near the top," Jun-ho admitted. "My father's company has government contracts and a plethora of national and international dealings. Seo-yeon's family owns major media outlets and this is not including that her father just became an assemblyman ."
"But we don't participate," Seo-yeon clarified. "Which makes us... suspicious to some."
"And potentially valuable allies to others," Jun-ho added meaningfully.
Soo-jin took a sip of her coffee to hide her expression. This was exactly the kind of information she needed, but she couldn't appear too eager. "And you're telling me this because...?"
"Because last semester, something happened," Seo-yeon said, her voice barely above a whisper now. "A scholarship student brilliant girl, always at the top of her class supposedly transferred out suddenly."
Soo-jin's grip tightened on her cup. Min-ah.
"But the rumors..." Seo-yeon trailed off, looking to Jun-ho.
"The rumors suggest she didn't transfer at all," Jun-ho said gravely. "There was talk about an incident on the roof. The administration shut down all discussion very quickly, but some say she was driven to... extreme measures."
Soo-jin forced herself to breathe normally, to maintain her mask of mild interest when every fiber of her being wanted to demand answers. "What was her name?" she asked, her voice mercifully steady.
"Song Min-ah," Hee-chul said softly. "She was kind to everyone even to me when no one else was. She was helpful to me especially I just recently returned to seoul"
Soo-jin felt as if the floor had dropped away beneath her. They knew. They knew about Min-ah. Were they testing her? Toying with her? Or did they genuinely have information that could help her investigation?
She needed to be careful. Very careful.
"That's terrible," she said, injecting just the right amount of concern into her voice. "Did any of you know her well?"
The three exchanged glances again, and something in their expressions made Soo-jin think they were deciding how much to reveal.
"Not well," Jun-ho finally said. "But enough to know she didn't deserve what happened to her."
"And enough," Seo-yeon added, her eyes meeting Soo-jin's directly, "to wonder why her sister would suddenly transfer to the very same school where such a tragedy occurred."
The café seemed to freeze around Soo-jin. Her cover was blown. They knew exactly who she was and why she was at Hankuk.
The question now was: were they allies or enemies in her quest for truth and justice?