The café's ambient music seemed to grow louder in the silence that settled after Soo-jin's decision. She drained the last of her coffee, the bitter liquid matching her mood. The burner phone felt heavy in her pocket a weight of obligation, of connection she hadn't planned for when she'd begun this mission.
"I should go," she said abruptly, rising from her chair. "Thank you for the coffee."
As she turned to leave, Hee-chul's hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was surprisingly firm for someone she'd mentally categorized as harmless.
"Are you going to the alley?" he asked, his usually playful eyes suddenly serious. "The one with the technical school students?"
Soo-jin met his gaze steadily. "Yes."
It wasn't a lie. She needed to investigate every lead, especially one that might connect to Min-ah's final days. If her sister had been harassed by these students, it could be a crucial piece of the puzzle. She could finally find some clues on who made her sister that way.
Hee-chul's fingers lingered on her wrist for a moment longer before he released her. "Be careful," he said, his voice lacking its characteristic lilt.
"Take care, Soo-jin," Seo-yeon added, her perfect posture unchanged but something in her eyes suggesting genuine concern.
Jun-ho merely nodded, his expression unreadable.
Soo-jin then adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and walked away without looking back. She could feel their eyes following her as she navigated between the expensive tables, past the curious glances of Seoul's elite enjoying their afternoon indulgences. Only when the elevator doors closed behind her did she allow herself to exhale fully.
The information they'd shared was valuable perhaps too valuable to be freely given. There had to be an angle she wasn't seeing. People like Jun-ho and Seo-yeon, born into privilege and power, didn't simply decide to help scholarship students out of the goodness of their hearts. And Hee-chul... there was more to him than met the eye. Much more than she could have initially thought.
As she descended in the glass elevator, watching the floors slide by, Soo-jin mentally mapped the route to the alley Jun-ho had mentioned. She would need to be careful, observant. These technical school students might simply be garden-variety bullies, or they might be connected to something more sinister.
Either way, she would be prepared.
Back in the café, the three chaebol students remained seated, watching Soo-jin's retreating figure until she disappeared into the elevator. Only then did their carefully maintained expressions shift.
"Do you think she'll be okay?" Seo-yeon asked, her perfect composure faltering slightly as she turned back to face the table. "Those thugs aren't exactly known for their restraint."
Hee-chul picked up his spoon and resumed attacking his parfait with enthusiasm, as if the serious moment had never happened. "Of course!" he chirped, scooping up a large bite. "She's not some delicate flower you know."
"You seem unconcerned about leaving her to deal with everything alone," Seo-yeon observed, a slight frown marring her flawless features.
"She can handle herself," Jun-ho interjected, his tone measured as always. He took a sip of his now-cooling coffee. "Did you see the way she moves? That's not the posture of someone unfamiliar with physical confrontation."
Seo-yeon sighed, tracing the rim of her cup with one manicured finger. "I agree, but still... I can't help but worry. She's still a lone woman fighting something she doesn't even know how deep and murky it goes." She shook her head slightly. "The academy's corruption reaches places even we don't fully understand."
"Let's talk about that next time," Jun-ho said quietly. "If she even manages to go that deep."
A silence fell over the table, heavy with unspoken thoughts. The café continued its elegant hum around them servers moving with practiced grace, the soft clink of expensive china, the murmured conversations of the wealthy and powerful. Their world, but not quite their home.
"I think," Seo-yeon said finally, straightening her shoulders, "we really need to address the elephant in the room."
As if by unspoken agreement, both she and Jun-ho turned to look at Hee-chul, who was currently attempting to scrape every last bit of cream from the bottom of his parfait glass, his tongue poking out in concentration. When he noticed their stares, he paused, spoon halfway to his still-full mouth.
"What?" he asked, blinking innocently, bits of food still visible as he spoke.
Seo-yeon couldn't suppress a sigh. She reached across the table and placed a hand on his forehead, as if checking for fever. "How can you still be so oblivious and childish at times? After everything?"
Something shifted in Hee-chul's demeanor then a change so sudden and complete that it seemed to alter the very air around him. His slouched posture straightened. His shoulders squared. The perpetual smile that seemed permanently affixed to his face vanished, replaced by a cool, assessing gaze. Even the way he held the spoon changed, his grip becoming precise and controlled rather than casual.
It was as if a different person now sat in Hee-chul's chair.
"Oblivious?, Childish?" he said, his voice several notes deeper, all trace of its usual cheerful lilt gone. "Or simply choosing which mask to wear in which company?"
Jun-ho leaned back in his chair, studying Hee-chul with newly calculating eyes. "It still amazes me," he said. "How can the person known as the most untouchable in the circle of elites act like... that?" He gestured vaguely at the now-empty parfait glass.
"Like what?" Hee-chul asked, his tone cool but with an edge that hadn't been there before. "Like someone who enjoys dessert? Like someone who doesn't continually perform the aristocratic theater the rest of you seem to find so essential?"
He set the glass down with a precision that spoke of perfect control. His fingers remained wrapped around it, gripping tight enough that the fine crystal began to emit a faint creaking sound.
"I don't care what people think of me," he continued, his voice dropping even lower. "I reached the lowest point in my life a long time ago. Everything after that is... performance."
The glass in his hand creaked more audibly as his grip tightened. Both Jun-ho and Seo-yeon heard the first hairline cracks forming in the expensive crystal.
"Hee-chul," Seo-yeon said softly, a warning in her tone. "The glass."
He glanced down, seeming almost surprised to find the parfait glass clutched in his white-knuckled grip. Deliberately, he relaxed his fingers one by one and set the glass down.
"My apologies," he said, the words formal and distant nothing like his usual effusive manner. "Old habits."
Jun-ho studied him for a long moment. "Will you ever show this side of yourself to her?" he asked finally.
Something flickered across Hee-chul's face an emotion too complex to name. "Maybe, who knows," he said after a pause. Then, as if the question had triggered a reset, his features rearranged themselves. The rigid posture softened. The cold eyes warmed. The tight line of his mouth curved back into its familiar easy smile.
Within seconds, he was once again the Hee-chul that Hankuk Academy knew cheerful, slightly foolish, harmlessly enthusiastic.
"Depends on if she sticks around long enough to be worth the effort," he added with a wink, his voice back to its usual playful cadence. "Not everyone deserves the real show, you know."
Seo-yeon and Jun-ho exchanged glances. They had known Hee-chul longer than most, had glimpsed beneath his carefully constructed façade more often than others. But even they sometimes forgot how much darkness lurked beneath his sunny exterior.
"She's not just investigating her sister's fall, is she?" Seo-yeon asked quietly. "She's looking for something more. Something bigger."
"Justice," Jun-ho said, the word hanging in the air between them. "Or revenge. Sometimes they look the same."
Hee-chul signaled for the check, his movements once again loose and casual. "Either way," he said, "Hankuk's little house of cards might finally start tumbling down." His smile widened, showing too many teeth. "And won't that be fun to watch?"
As the server approached with the bill, they fell silent. Three heirs to vast fortunes, sitting in a café worth more than most people's annual salaries, discussing the potential downfall of the very system that had elevated them to their positions.
The irony wasn't lost on any of them.
Outside the department store, Soo-jin walked purposefully toward the east entrance, her mind working through multiple scenarios. If these technical school students had targeted Min-ah, there might be witnesses, people who had seen something. If they had a regular operation, they would have patterns, habits she could exploit.
Her military-style training in mixed martial arts had given her more than just physical skills it had taught her strategy, how to analyze threats, how to use her environment to her advantage. The alley Jun-ho had described would have limited entry and exit points. It would be narrow, likely with poor lighting. Perfect for ambushes, but also perfect for controlling the space if you knew what you were doing.
As she rounded the corner of the massive department store, the gleaming façade gave way to a service area—loading docks, employee entrances, and narrow passages between buildings. The contrast between the opulent shopping center and this utilitarian space was stark, a physical manifestation of the division between those who shopped inside and those who worked to maintain the illusion of luxury.
Soo-jin slowed her pace, heightening her awareness of her surroundings. The sounds of traffic grew more distant as she ventured deeper into the service area. Ahead, she could see a narrow passage between the department store and the neighboring building almost certainly the alley Jun-ho had mentioned.
She paused at its entrance, assessing. The alley stretched about fifty meters before opening into what appeared to be a small courtyard used for waste disposal. Steel dumpsters lined one wall, while discarded wooden pallets were stacked against the other. The space was dim despite the afternoon sun, the tall buildings on either side casting long shadows.
Perfect territory for predators.
Soo-jin took a deep breath, centering herself. Then she stepped into the alley, her footsteps deliberate and unhurried. If the technical school students were here, she wanted them to notice her. She wanted them to approach.
Because unlike Min-ah, Soo-jin wasn't just looking for answers. She was looking for a fight.