Soo-jin's world narrowed to a pinpoint of disbelief and rage. The ambient chatter of the café, the clinking of expensive china, the soft classical music playing overhead—all of it faded away as Seo-yeon's words echoed in her mind.
"...wonder why her sister would suddenly transfer to the very same school where such a tragedy occurred."
They knew. Somehow, they knew.
Before she could process what she was doing, Soo-jin was on her feet, palms slammed against the pristine marble tabletop, her body leaning forward until her face was inches from Seo-yeon's. The coffee cup between them tipped precariously but didn't fall.
"How did you know that?" she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. "How could you possibly know that?"
The composed mask she'd worn so carefully since arriving at Hankuk had cracked wide open. Her eyes blazed with fury and suspicion, her knuckles white against the table's edge. Part of her the rational, trained part was screaming at her to regain control, to maintain her cover, to not show her hand. But another part, the part that still woke up crying for Min-ah in the middle of the night, couldn't stop the visceral reaction.
Seo-yeon's perfect composure faltered for the first time since Soo-jin had met her. Her eyes widened slightly, and she leaned back in her chair as if physically pushed by the intensity of Soo-jin's reaction.
Jun-ho, however, remained unnervingly calm. His expression didn't change, but his eyes flicked around the café, assessing.
"You should sit down," he said quietly, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of authority. "You're beginning to attract attention."
Soo-jin followed his gaze and noticed several patrons glancing their way, some with open curiosity, others whispering behind manicured hands. A server hovered uncertainly nearby, clearly debating whether to approach or not.
"Yeah, Soo-jin," Hee-chul chimed in cheerfully, apparently unbothered by the sudden tension. He twirled his parfait spoon between his fingers. "The chocolate soufflé here is amazing. You don't want to miss it because you got us kicked out." His tone was light, but when Soo-jin met his eyes, there was something unexpectedly steady in his gaze.
Soo-jin forced herself to take a deep breath. And another. She was better than this. She'd trained for this. Letting her emotions take over would only jeopardize her mission. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself back into her chair, though her muscles remained coiled tight, ready to spring.
Hee-chul reached out to pat her arm in what he probably thought was a comforting gesture. Soo-jin swatted his hand away with a glare that would have withered a lesser man.
Hee-chul immediately raised both hands in surrender, his expression comically apologetic. "Message received. No touching. I'll behave," he said with a mock salute. Which made Soo-jin roll her eyes at him still controlling her anger.
Across the table, Seo-yeon had recovered her pristine demeanor, though a hint of caution remained in her eyes. She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her skirt and straightened her already-perfect posture.
"I understand your reaction," she said softly, her voice pitched low enough that only their table could hear. "And I understand that you don't trust anyone here. You shouldn't." She held Soo-jin's gaze. "Hankuk Elite Academy isn't a place for trust."
"You still haven't answered my question," Soo-jin replied, keeping her voice controlled now but no less intense. "How do you know who I am?"
Jun-ho stirred his coffee methodically. "Information is one of the currencies at Hankuk," he said. "Some trade in money, others in favors. We trade in knowledge."
"That's not an answer," Soo-jin countered.
"It wasn't difficult to discover," Seo-yeon admitted. "You have the same surname. You bear a resemblance to her. And while the administration tried to erase all traces of Min-ah from the records, they couldn't erase her from people's memories." She hesitated. "Some of us... some of us noticed her absence more than others."
Something in Seo-yeon's tone made Soo-jin study her more carefully. There was genuine emotion there, carefully contained but visible if you knew how to look.
"Were you friends with Min-ah?" Soo-jin asked, still wary but genuinely curious now.
A shadow passed over Seo-yeon's perfect features. "Not exactly. But I admired her. She was brilliant in ways most students at Hankuk could never comprehend. Genuine brilliance, not the purchased kind. She would always welcome the day brightly no matter what comes in her way.."
"Min-ah helped me with calculus once, When I just got here. I was a lowly transfer student at 1-B at that time" Hee-chul interjected suddenly, his voice losing its usual buoyancy. "I was failing badly, and no one would help because..." he trailed off, then shrugged. "Well, because I'm me, I guess. But she stayed after school three days straight to tutor me.A person she doesn't even know" His expression grew uncharacteristically solemn. "When I tried to thank her with a gift, she refused it. Said knowledge shouldn't be commodified any more than it already is."
Soo-jin felt a pang of surprise and, oddly, gratitude. This sounded exactly like Min-ah principled, generous with her knowledge, unwilling to accept payment for what she considered a moral duty. It was a side of her sister she knew well, but hearing it from someone else's lips made it newly real.
"Jun-ho and I have been...collecting information," Seo-yeon continued. "About what really happens at Hankuk. About the incidents that get quietly buried, the students who suddenly 'transfer,' the teachers who resign mid-semester without explanation."
"You didn't answer my other question," Soo-jin said, not ready to let her guard down yet. "What do you gain from telling me this? From helping me, if that's actually what you're doing?"
Seo-yeon and Jun-ho exchanged another of their silent communications.
"That's a fair question," Jun-ho acknowledged. He set down his coffee cup with precision. "You have no reason to trust us. But we mean you no harm."
Seo-yeon reached into her designer handbag and withdrew a small black phone not the latest model, but sleek and clearly new. She placed it on the table and slid it toward Soo-jin.
"As an act of goodwill," she said. "It's a burner. Untraceable. If you ever need help, or if you find yourself in trouble, you can contact us. We can feed you information, help you gather evidence."
Soo-jin didn't touch the phone. "That doesn't answer my question. What do you get out of this?"
Hee-chul leaned forward, curiosity evident on his face. "Yeah, I'm wondering that too," he said, looking between Jun-ho and Seo-yeon. "You two don't need money or influence. Your families have plenty of both."
"Maybe we don't want anything," Seo-yeon said, her voice soft but firm. "Maybe we just want to help, for now."
Soo-jin scoffed. "In my experience, people always want something."
"Not always material things," Jun-ho countered. "Sometimes people want change. Sometimes they want justice."
"Honestly," Seo-yeon added, "getting rid of some of the dirt in the school would benefit all of us. The system at Hankuk isn't just cruel it's corrupt. And that corruption reaches far beyond the school walls."
Soo-jin considered this. It wasn't implausible. If their families were as influential as they claimed, perhaps Jun-ho and Seo-yeon had seen firsthand how systems of power could corrupt. Maybe they genuinely wanted change. Or maybe this was an elaborate trap.
She glanced at the phone on the table. Taking it would be a risk. Not taking it might be an even bigger one.
"There's something else," Jun-ho said, breaking into her thoughts. "Something you should know about. Consider it another act of goodwill from us."
Soo-jin raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"There's a location near this department store," Jun-ho continued, his voice lower now. "In an alley behind the east entrance. It's a hangout for students from the technical school in our district."
"What about them?" Soo-jin asked.
"They've established a racket of sorts," Seo-yeon explained. "They target Hankuk students mostly scholarship kids, but sometimes even wealthy students who lack...physical capabilities." She glanced meaningfully at Hee-chul, who suddenly became very interested in studying the dessert menu.
"They use their physical advantage to extort money," Jun-ho continued. "The administration knows but turns a blind eye. After all, it mostly affects students without powerful parents to complain."
Soo-jin's mind raced. Was this genuinely useful information, or were they trying to distract her from her mission? If these technical school students targeted scholarship students like Min-ah...
"How do you know about this?" she asked.
Jun-ho's expression darkened slightly. "I witnessed an incident last semester. Three of them cornering a first-year scholarship student. I intervened."
"Jun-ho has a black belt in Taekwondo," Hee-chul supplied helpfully, his eyes still fixed on the dessert menu. "His grandfather insisted on it. Said a man should know how to defend himself without fancy bodyguards."
Soo-jin filed this information away. A rich heir with actual fighting skills was an anomaly worth noting.
"The point is," Seo-yeon continued, "these incidents have been increasing. And the timing coincided with... with what happened to your sister."
Soo-jin's attention snapped fully back to Seo-yeon. "You think there's a connection?"
"We don't know," Jun-ho admitted. "But it struck us as a peculiar correlation. Especially since Min-ah took that route home sometimes."
A new possibility unfurled in Soo-jin's mind. Could Min-ah have been targeted by these technical school students? Could what happened to her have been triggered by an encounter with them? It didn't fully explain the circumstances of her fall from the roof, but it added a new dimension to consider.
She reached for the phone and slipped it into her pocket. "I'll think about what you've said."
Seo-yeon nodded, seeming satisfied. "That's all we ask."
"For now," Soo-jin added pointedly.
A small smile curved Jun-ho's lips. "For now," he agreed.
Hee-chul finally looked up from the dessert menu, beaming. "Great! Now that the heavy stuff is out of the way, can we order the chocolate soufflé? It takes twenty minutes to prepare, and I've been dying for one."
The sudden shift in tone was so absurd that Soo-jin almost laughed despite herself. Almost.
Instead, she used the moment to study her three companions more carefully. Jun-ho, with his calm demeanor and watchful eyes. Seo-yeon, perfect and poised but with unexpected depths. And Hee-chul, whose foolish façade might conceal more intelligence than he let on.
Allies? Enemies? Something in between?
As Hee-chul enthusiastically ordered his soufflé, Soo-jin made a decision. She would use whatever resources came her way in her quest for truth including these three, if necessary. But she would never fully trust them. She couldn't afford to.
Min-ah had trusted someone at Hankuk, and it had led to her destruction. Soo-jin wouldn't make the same mistake.
The phone in her pocket felt heavy, like a promise. Or a threat. Only time would tell which.