The boardroom was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of an expensive clock on the wall.
After Mr. Oh left, the CEO of Inno Trade Corp. sat unmoving in his leather chair, fingers drumming softly on the polished table. Around him, senior executives and technical directors waited, each gauging the weight of the conversation that had just ended.
"Who exactly are these people?" the CEO finally asked, voice low but sharp. His gaze swept the room. "Do we have any information on them?"
A technical director cleared his throat, hesitant. "Sir, not much. Their representative—Mr. Oh—claimed their team handled the entire security diagnosis and solution proposal. But the method they used to find the breach…" He trailed off, glancing at his notes. "It was unlike anything I've seen. If their data is accurate, they're far more competent than our entire internal security division combined."
The CEO leaned back, brows knitting together. "And yet we know nothing about them."
"No, sir," the director admitted. "All the metadata from their reports was scrubbed clean. No traces—no IP signatures, no identifiable markers. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."
The CEO exhaled through his nose, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. Then, quietly: "Find out everything you can. And if they're legitimate, I want them with us. Offer contracts, incentives—whatever it takes. I don't care if they're ghosts. I want them on our side before someone else finds them first."
"Yes, sir," the director replied.
The CEO looked around the table, his tone calm but final. "No mistakes. Handle it discreetly."
And with that, the meeting dissolved. The men left one by one, leaving behind only the faint echo of unease—a feeling that somewhere, beyond their reach, someone far smarter was pulling the strings.
- - -
That evening, the sun dipped low behind the Seoul skyline, painting the glass towers in molten orange.
At the quiet end of a suburban neighborhood, a black sedan rolled into the driveway of Jae-Suk's family home. Three teenagers stepped out—Jae-Suk, Tae-Ho, and Jae-Hyun.
"Man, today dragged. I'm just glad your driver picked us up," Tae-Ho groaned, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Because you slept through half of it," Jae-Suk shot back, unlocking the door.
"Hey, those lectures are sleep potions."Jae-Hyun's lips twitched at their banter, silent as always, following them into the house.
In the living room, Mr. Oh was seated on the couch, reading through printed reports—the same ones from Inno Trade. He looked up as they entered.
"Ah, you're back," he greeted warmly. "How was school?"
"Good," Jae-Suk said, smiling. "We had a fun day. And, well, Jae-Hyun helped us out a lot—again."
Mr. Oh's eyes softened. "Of course he did."
"It was nothing," Jae-Hyun replied simply.
Mr. Oh chuckled. "You're too modest. Go on, boys, get settled. I'll call you when dinner's ready."
As Jae-Suk and Tae-Ho started up the stairs, Mr. Oh's voice stopped Jae-Hyun. "Ah—Jae-Hyun, a moment please?"
The boy paused, then nodded. "Sure. You guys go ahead."
The others continued upstairs. Mr. Oh gestured toward his study. "Let's talk privately."
Inside the study, the air was thick with the faint scent of paper and wood polish. Bookshelves lined the walls, and a single desk lamp illuminated the documents between them.
Mr. Oh took his seat opposite Jae-Hyun. "I had the meeting with Inno Trade Corp this morning," he began.
Jae-Hyun leaned forward slightly, expression calm but alert. "How did it go?"
Mr. Oh slid a folder across the desk. "The meeting went better than expected. They were impressed — cautious, but clearly impressed. The CEO didn't say much, but you could tell he was already thinking ahead. They'll reach out again soon."
Jae-Hyun flipped open the folder, scanning the summary. Each line of feedback seemed to confirm what he already knew. "As predicted," he murmured.
Mr. Oh watched him carefully. "You always seem to know how they'll react. It's unnerving sometimes."
Jae-Hyun smiled faintly. "Patterns, Mr. Oh. People follow them. Corporations even more blindly."
Mr. Oh leaned back, studying him for a moment. "You're comfortable staying in the shadows like this? Most people your age would want recognition. Fame. Credit."
Jae-Hyun looked up from the folder, his expression unreadable. "It's not the right time."
"You mean because of your age?"
"In part," he said. "I'm sixteen, Mr. Oh. No one would take me seriously yet. The moment my name appears anywhere near these operations, everything we've built collapses under scrutiny. I'd rather they underestimate me — it makes things easier."
Mr. Oh nodded slowly. "Smart. But what about later? When you're older?"
Jae-Hyun's gaze sharpened. "Then I'll step forward. When I have enough power that no one can question how I got there."
Mr. Oh exhaled, half a laugh, half disbelief. "You talk like someone twice your age."
"I've lived twice as fast," Jae-Hyun said quietly, leaning back. "By the way—Hanil Group and NovaSec. The paperwork and documents, are they ready?"
"Yes," Mr. Oh said immediately. "Everything's in place. All corporate identities, registration papers, and cover contracts are properly documented. They can withstand any verification."
"Good," Jae-Hyun said, closing the folder with a soft thud.
Mr. Oh leaned back, folding his hands. "You understand, of course, this will draw attention. You've built something extraordinary—but the more we move, the more people will start looking for who's really behind all this."
"That's fine," Jae-Hyun said, voice steady. "They can look. They'll only find what I want them to."
His tone wasn't arrogant—it was matter-of-fact, the quiet confidence of someone who had already calculated every possible outcome.
Mr. Oh nodded slowly. "And if they dig deeper?"
"Then they'll learn the limits of their own systems," Jae-Hyun replied. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small flash drive, sliding it across the table. "This is the operational plan for the next phase. Send it to them tomorrow. The files are masked. On the surface, it'll look like team collaboration."
Mr. Oh picked it up, studying the sleek piece of metal as though it were something far more dangerous. "You've even planned the public narrative?"
"Down to the smallest detail," Jae-Hyun said. "Every document, every signature, every time-stamp. They won't find a single inconsistency."
Mr. Oh exhaled, both impressed and slightly unnerved. "Sometimes I forget you're sixteen."
"I don't," Jae-Hyun said with a small, tired smile. "My mother reminds me every morning."
Mr. Oh chuckled, then sobered. "She's lucky to have you."
Jae-Hyun looked down briefly, his expression unreadable. "I'm lucky to have her."
Jae-Hyun stood, signaling the end of the conversation. "I'll handle the backend tonight. You just manage the front. All communication goes through you—no one else."
"Understood."
Jae-Hyun turned to leave, but paused at the door. A glint of quiet amusement touched his lips. "And when this is done… you work for me."
Mr. Oh laughed softly. "I already do."
Later that night, Jae-Suk's mother brought in snacks for the boys upstairs. The room buzzed with quiet energy—textbooks open, laptops glowing. Tae-Ho complained about formulas; Jae-Suk laughed. Jae-Hyun listened, amused, adding an occasional correction so sharp it almost sounded effortless.
By the time Jae-Hyun returned home that evening, the comforting aroma of kimchi jjigae greeted him at the door, mingling with the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
"You're home," his mother called from the kitchen, her voice soft but bright.
"Yeah," he said, setting down his bag. "Long day."
Steam rose from the table, bowls of soup and rice lined neatly beside dishes of stir-fried anchovies and pickled radish. Eun-Ji sat cross-legged, scrolling through her phone, earbuds in.
"Dinner's ready," his mother said, ladling soup into bowls. "Eat before it gets cold."
Jae-Hyun slid into his seat. "It smells great, Mom."
His mother smiled. "You say that every day."
"Well, it's true every day," he said, picking up his chopsticks.
Eun-Ji snorted without looking up. "You're just buttering her up so she won't yell at you for staying out late again."
He reached over and ruffled her hair. "Jealous much?"
She jerked back instantly, swatting his hand away. "Yah! Oppa, stop that! You're ruining my hair!"
He laughed under his breath, and his mother chuckled, shaking her head. "You two never change."
For a while, the table was filled only with the quiet clinking of spoons, the soft hum of the refrigerator, and the warm, steady rhythm of a family that had weathered too much together.
When they finished, his mother gathered the dishes, and Eun-Ji trudged off to her room, muttering about how annoying her brother was.
Later, the apartment fell silent except for the low hum of the computer in Jae-Hyun's room. The glow from his laptop lit his face, sharp and focused. His fingers danced over the keyboard, code streaming like rainfall across the screen.
He was repairing Inno Trade Corp.'s systems—patching the gaps he'd uncovered earlier, hardening their digital defenses beyond industry standard. The company didn't know who their savior was, and they never would.
A soft knock sounded. His mother peeked in. "Jae-Hyun, it's late. Why aren't you asleep yet? What are you doing on your laptop?"
He turned, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll sleep soon. Just some work to do."
Her brow arched. "Work? Homework?"
"No," he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. "I'm taking care of an operation."
She stepped further inside, crossing her arms with that mix of curiosity and half-serious concern. "An operation? Again? Don't tell me you're hacking another company."
"Not hacking this time," he said lightly. "I recruited Mr. Oh, created a company and a subsidiary, and secured a contract. Everything's under control."
Her eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief. "You did all that?"
"Yes, Mom," he said softly, smiling. "Once this operation is done, Hanil Group's reputation will grow. We won't live in a small building anymore. I'll take care of you and Eun-Ji. You'll have a life of comfort—no more worrying about bills, no more long nights like before."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she placed a trembling hand over her mouth. "I can't believe all this… I'm so proud of you, my son. Just… don't overwork yourself, okay? You still have school."
He looked up at her, his voice gentle but sure. "I'm fine, Mom. And I'll still go to university, even though I'm already a chairman. I'll do it for you."
She smiled through her tears, brushing them away. "My son…" she whispered, voice full of awe and love. "You've grown so much."
He reached out, squeezing her hand. "None of this would be possible without you."
She lingered for a moment, memorizing his face in the soft glow of the screen—the same boy who once stayed up late learning code from old computers, now on the verge of changing everything.
Finally, she sighed and smiled. "Alright, Mr. Chairman. Don't stay up too late."
"I won't," he promised, eyes glinting with quiet resolve.
He smiled at her, warmth flickering in his gaze. But behind that warmth, something sharper burned—a glint of certainty, of hunger. He wasn't doing this just for comfort.
He wanted to rise. To be known. To shape the world with the brilliance they once said was impossible for someone like him.
When she left, closing the door quietly behind her, he leaned back in his chair. On the screen, strings of code reflected in his eyes, infinite and alive. Somewhere in the city, powerful men were already whispering about an unnamed genius rewriting their systems overnight.
Jae-Hyun smiled faintly, resting his chin on his hand as the hum of the laptop filled the room.
Power was a language, he thought. And tonight, he was learning to speak it fluently.