The private lounge at the Signiel Hotel was a masterpiece of opulent, understated power. Situated on one of the highest floors of the Lotte World Tower, its panoramic windows offered a breathtaking, god-like view of Seoul sprawling beneath it like a carpet of glittering jewels. It was a place designed for quiet, consequential conversations, a room where fortunes were made and careers were broken over the soft clinking of ice in crystal tumblers.
Han Ji-young sat in a plush velvet armchair, her back ramrod straight, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. She felt a profound and dizzying sense of vertigo, though it had nothing to do with the altitude. Beneath the simple, elegant fabric of her blouse, taped securely to her skin, was a state-of-the-art, wafer-thin digital recorder designed by Min-ji. It was a cold, alien presence against her skin, a constant reminder of the insane, high-wire act she was about to perform.
She was terrified. A deep, primal fear, cold and sharp, was coiling in her stomach. But beneath the fear, there was another, unfamiliar emotion flickering to life: a faint, rusty, but undeniably exhilarating spark of the old, ambitious fire she had thought long extinguished. For the first time in a decade, she was not a forgotten manager shuffling papers in a corporate backwater. She was a player in a high-stakes game. This was the most important, and most dangerous, performance of her life.
The door to the private room opened, and Mr. Sterling, the charming, silver-tongued executive from Quantum Music, entered. He moved with the easy, predatory grace of a man who was accustomed to owning every room he walked into. He smiled, a warm, disarming expression that did not reach his cold, calculating eyes.
"Ms. Han," he said, his voice as smooth as the expensive whiskey he immediately began to pour for them from a decanter on the bar. "A pleasure to see you again. I was so intrigued by your call."
Ji-young forced herself to return his smile, hoping it didn't look as brittle as it felt. "Mr. Sterling. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."
They exchanged a few moments of professional pleasantries, a verbal dance of feigned respect. Ji-young played her part perfectly, just as her brother had coached her. She was nervous, slightly deferential, but with an undercurrent of greedy desperation. She was a woman who had found a winning lottery ticket and was terrified of someone taking it from her.
"As I mentioned," she began, her voice a carefully calibrated mixture of excitement and caution, "in my final days of clearing out my office at Stellar, I came across something. In the deep archives. Something explosive related to the Oh Se-young incident from all those years ago."
Sterling took a slow sip of his whiskey, his eyes appraising her over the rim of his glass. "More rumors? We have a wealth of those already, Ms. Han. We are at a stage where we require something concrete. Something… undeniable."
This was her cue. "This is concrete," she said, reaching into her handbag. She pulled out a slim file folder. Inside was the document Min-ji had spent two days creating—a flawless, artificially aged fake of a signed affidavit from the film's original on-set safety inspector, the man who had been fired and had subsequently disappeared after the accident. The document detailed a supposed history of formal, written safety warnings that Director Oh had personally ignored. It was the "smoking gun."
She didn't give it to him. She held it in her lap, a poker player protecting her hand.
Sterling's eyes flickered with a new, genuine interest. "An interesting piece of paper," he said, his voice a silky whisper. "And what, may I ask, is your price for such a valuable document?"
Ji-young took a deep breath. This was the most critical part of the performance. She had to be credible. "My price is not just money, Mr. Sterling," she said, injecting a note of hardened ambition into her voice. "Money is temporary. I've learned that. I want a future. I want a permanent position. A senior role in your new media division. And," she added, "a significant signing bonus, of course. This document… this is my audition to join your team. It's proof of my value, and my loyalty."
She was appealing to his transactional nature, framing her betrayal not as a simple sale, but as an application for a job in his world of ruthless puppeteers.
Sterling stared at her for a long, unnerving moment. Then, he smiled. A genuine, predatory smile of a king who recognizes a fellow killer. He was pleased. She had ambition. She was one of them.
"I admire your vision, Ms. Han," he said. He reached into his own briefcase and pulled out a thick, unmarked bank envelope. He slid it slowly across the polished table. It made a soft, satisfying rasp. "A sign of good faith," he said. "Fifty million won. The position, of course, will be discussed in detail once we have had our experts verify the document's authenticity. But I think I can say with confidence… I believe we can come to an arrangement."
Ji-young's heart hammered against her ribs. He had said it. The offer. The bribe. The confession. It was all there, captured in perfect, high-fidelity audio. She had done it. She had won. She reached for the envelope, her hand trembling slightly.
But just as her fingers brushed against the paper, Sterling leaned forward, his charming smile never wavering. His eyes, however, had turned as cold and hard as diamonds.
"Tell me, Ms. Han," he said, his voice dropping to a confidential, silken whisper that was more menacing than any shout. "Just one last thing I'm curious about. Your brother. Han Yoo-jin."
Ji-young's blood ran cold. Her hand froze just inches from the envelope.
"He is proving to be quite a formidable and irritating nuisance," Sterling continued, his gaze intense, searching. "A true believer, it seems. Have you spoken to him recently?"
The question was a test. A final, brilliant, psychological probe designed to detect any hint of betrayal, any flicker of doubt. It was a perfectly aimed shot in the dark.
The silence in the opulent room stretched, becoming a vast, terrifying void. Ji-young's entire mission, the future of her brother's masterpiece, and quite possibly her own safety, now hung on her ability to answer this one, simple question convincingly.