The basement office was quiet except for the soft hum of computers.
Several monitors cast a cool blue glow across the room, rows of market data, research papers and lines of code filling their screens. One monitor displayed architectural drawings. Another showed financial statements. A third was compiling data in the background, its progress bar inching steadily forward. Seated at the center desk, Jae-Hyun rested one hand on the mouse, his attention fixed on a report as he made a few final edits.
A knock came from the door.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Mr. Oh stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. His gaze swept across the room for a brief moment before settling on Jae-Hyun. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes." Jae-Hyun finished typing a final sentence before saving the document. Only then did he turn his chair slightly. "Please, have a seat."
Mr. Oh crossed the room without another question and settled into the chair opposite the desk.
Jae-Hyun reached for the remote beside his keyboard. One of the wall-mounted displays lit up, though it remained blank for the moment.
Mr. Oh watched him. "I take it this isn't about NovaSec."
"No."
"Equinox?"
"No."
That narrowed it down considerably.
Jae-Hyun leaned back in his chair. "It's about Shinseong."
Mr. Oh's expression shifted ever so slightly. "Your school?"
Jae-Hyun nodded once. "I think something is happening there."
Mr. Oh didn't respond immediately. Instead, he folded his hands loosely in his lap. "What kind of something?"
"I'm not certain yet."
That answer surprised him. It wasn't like Jae-Hyun to call a meeting over a suspicion alone.
Jae-Hyun continued before he could ask another question. "Have you heard about the Prestige Curriculum?"
Mr. Oh gave a small nod. "Jae-Suk mentioned it a few weeks ago."
He thought back for a moment. "If I remember correctly, it was supposed to be a new academic program. More resources. Smaller classes. Better opportunities for outstanding students."
"That was the announcement." Jae-Hyun's voice remained calm. "And that's precisely why it bothers me."
Mr. Oh's brows lifted slightly. "You think the curriculum itself is the problem?"
"No."
Jae-Hyun shook his head. "I think it's a distraction."
Silence settled between them.
Mr. Oh considered the words for a moment before leaning forward slightly. "A distraction from what?"
"If I knew that," Jae-Hyun replied, "I wouldn't have asked you to come."
That earned the faintest smile from Mr. Oh.
Jae-Hyun reached for the keyboard, and the blank display came to life. A timeline stretched across the screen, each date accompanied by a student's name and a concise summary of the incident that had ultimately led to their transfer.
Mr. Oh's attention shifted immediately. "These are..."
"Students who have been transferred since the Prestige Curriculum was announced." Jae-Hyun explained.
Mr. Oh studied the list. "There are more than I expected."
"So did I." Jae-Hyun stood and walked toward the display. "I started paying attention after noticing how frequently transfer notices were appearing."
He stopped beside the screen. "At first I assumed it was coincidence."
Another panel slid open beside the timeline, expanding each student's profile into a concise overview. Family background, scholarship status, academic ranking and disciplinary records were arranged in neat columns, allowing the entire group to be compared at a glance.
Mr. Oh's eyes narrowed. "You investigated every one of them?"
"As many as I could." Jae-Hyun looked at the screen rather than at him. "Most of them are scholarship students."
Another name became highlighted. "Students from lower-income households."
Another. "Students with consistently poor grades."
Another. "And students whose families don't have much influence."
Mr. Oh slowly nodded. "So the administration is quietly removing students they believe don't fit the school's image."
"That's what I thought."
He clicked again. The highlighted names disappeared. Only one remained.
Han Ri-Na.
Mr. Oh read the profile for several seconds before looking back at Jae-Hyun. "This student doesn't belong with the others."
One by one, the highlighted names disappeared until only a single profile remained.
Han Ri-Na.
Mr. Oh studied the information in silence. His eyes moved from one line to the next before slowing. "This doesn't fit the pattern."
Jae-Hyun remained where he was, giving him time to reach the same conclusion.
"It says here she's one of the top students in her year," Mr. Oh continued, almost to himself. "No scholarship. No financial hardship. Her disciplinary record is practically spotless."
He looked up. "Then why is she here?"
Jae-Hyun walked back toward the desk and rested a hand lightly against its edge. "Because she received a transfer notice today."
The room became noticeably quieter.
Mr. Oh looked back at Ri-Na's file. "...What was the reason?"
"That's the question that made me investigate further. Officially?" Jae-Hyun's expression remained unreadable. "Conduct unbecoming of a Shinseong student."
Mr. Oh frowned. "What did she do?"
"She disagreed with an upperclassman during club activities."
Mr. Oh blinked. "...That's it?"
"According to the school." Jae-Hyun stated blankly.
Mr. Oh frowned. "That hardly justifies a transfer."
"I thought the same." Jae-Hyun's gaze settled briefly on Ri-Na's profile before continuing. "So I looked into her family."
He tapped another file. A familiar corporate profile appeared beside the student record.
Han Do-Kyung.
Chief Executive Officer — Hwaseong Dynamics.
Recognition flashed across Mr. Oh's face almost immediately.
"Hwaseong Dynamics..." he murmured. "We upgraded their cybersecurity infrastructure."
Jae-Hyun expression didn't change. "Han Ri-Na is his daughter."
Mr. Oh looked up, surprise briefly breaking his composure. "The same Han Do-Kyung?"
Jae-Hyun nodded.
Mr. Oh looked back at the display, his expression growing more thoughtful. "A CEO of that standing shouldn't be powerless in a matter like this."
"Exactly." Jae-Hyun folded his arms. "If the transfer was justified, someone with Mr. Han's influence would have accepted it. But if it wasn't..."
He let the thought hang for a moment. "Then the school was willing to challenge a family capable of pushing back."
Mr. Oh's eyes narrowed. "Which means removing her was important enough to risk the consequences."
Jae-Hyun gave a small nod. "Exactly. That's where the pattern stopped making sense."
Jae-Hyun was quiet for a moment before reaching for his phone. "I thought Ri-Na was where the trail ended."
Mr. Oh looked at him expectantly.
"But something happened at school today." A faint smile touched the corner of Jae-Hyun's mouth, more at the irony than anything else. "Tae-Ho spent half the afternoon insisting I edit one of his photographs."
Mr. Oh couldn't help smiling. "That sounds like him."
"I agreed mostly because he refused to stop asking." He unlocked his phone and placed it on the desk. "I didn't realize until later that his persistence had handed me something far more valuable than a photography exercise."
He turned the screen toward Mr. Oh. "Take a look."
Mr. Oh picked it up.
At first glance, it looked ordinary enough—a photograph of a school corridor taken in broad daylight. Lockers lined one side of the hallway, classroom doors the other. Students passed in the distance, too blurred to distinguish.
Mr. Oh studied the photograph for several seconds. "I'm missing something."
Jae-Hyun stepped behind him and rested a hand lightly on the back of the chair. "Zoom into the far end of the corridor."
Mr. Oh pinched the screen. The image enlarged.
"Further."
Another zoom. The resolution began to soften. Then...
Mr. Oh's eyes narrowed.
Near the edge of the frame, almost hidden by the corner of a wall, half of a man's body had been captured mid-step. Only his side profile was visible. One hand held a thick file against his chest as he disappeared through a doorway.
Mr. Oh looked back over his shoulder. "...Someone entered that room."
Jae-Hyun turned. "Do you know which room it is?"
Mr. Oh studied the doorway again before shaking his head. "No."
"The computer club."
He frowned. Isn't that the room affiliated with the school ghost rumor? Jae-Suk wouldn't let me hear the last of it."
Jae-Hyun returned to his chair. "The school announced months ago that the room was no longer in use."
Mr. Oh glanced back at the photograph. "But someone is clearly using it."
"Not only that." Jae-Hyun opened another folder on his computer. "They recently installed a digital lock on the door to that room."
Mr. Oh's brows drew together. "Why would they need that for an abandoned room?"
"Exactly."
Jae-Hyun continued. "Teachers also rotate hallway patrols every day."
Mr. Oh nodded. "That's normal."
"It would be." Jae-Hyun brought up a floor plan of Shinseong. "If they patrolled every floor."
A section of the building became highlighted.
Mr. Oh leaned forward. "Only this floor."
"Only this floor." Jae-Hyun repeated, "Every day."
Mr. Oh's expression slowly hardened. "To stop students from getting close."
Jae-Hyun continued. "And whenever students become curious..."
Another document appeared on the monitor, this one filled with screenshots from the school's anonymous forum. Thread after thread told the same story in different ways. Students claimed they had seen ghostly figures near the old computer club, heard strange noises echoing through the hallway after dark, or warned others to stay away from the floor altogether. They painted a narrative that had quietly spread through the entire campus.
Mr. Oh looked from one post to the next before letting out a quiet breath. "So they're feeding the rumors."
"Whether they started them or simply encourage them doesn't matter." Jae-Hyun's fingers rested lightly on the desk. "The result is the same. Students avoid that club room."
Mr. Oh slowly placed the phone back onto the desk. "So they may be hiding something."
"I believe so."
After a few moments, Jae-Hyun spoke. "I noticed something else today."
Mr. Oh looked at him.
"I was reviewing the Seo Group's ownership structure with Mr. Nam."
"I heard."
"While tracing the network, another pattern appeared."
He pulled up a simplified transaction graph. Several thin lines connected organizations whose names meant little on their own.
Shinseong Foundation.
Hanseong Education Trust.
Cheong him Cultural Foundation.
Mr. Oh studied them for a while. "...School funding?"
"I don't know."
"You think money is disappearing?"
"I think money is moving." Jae-Hyun's answer came without hesitation. "The question is why."
He enlarged several transactions. "None of these amounts are large enough to attract attention individually. But together..."
Mr. Oh murmured. "They become significant."
Jae-Hyun leaned back on his chair. "I don't know where the money is going. I don't know who's moving it. I don't know what it ultimately pays for." His gaze settled on the glowing lines. "But I don't believe it's unrelated."
He looked back toward Mr. Oh. "Students are being transferred for reasons that don't justify expulsion. A room that supposedly isn't used is protected more carefully than classrooms. The administration is content to let ghost stories spread. And now there are financial movements I can't yet explain."
He let the silence linger. "I don't believe those are four separate problems."
Mr. Oh leaned back slowly. "You think they're pieces of the same puzzle."
"I do." He folded his arms. "The only thing I'm missing... is the picture on the box."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Mr. Oh asked quietly, "So where do I come in?"
Jae-Hyun didn't answer immediately. He reached for the keyboard, and a new document filled the monitor. It was a profile of the Shinseong Foundation. The first page listed its board of directors, followed by its major donors, corporate sponsors, and the organizations that held influence over the foundation's decisions.
His finger rested on the final heading. "The people making decisions aren't teachers."
Mr. Oh followed his gaze.
"They're the foundation. And the people with access to the foundation."
Realization dawned across Mr. Oh's face. "...Major donors."
Jae-Hyun nodded. "You aren't just the CEO of NovaSec." He met Mr. Oh's eyes. "You're also the parent of a Shinseong student. If the foundation wants influential allies... you're exactly the kind of person they'll approach."
Mr. Oh considered that for a moment. "The largest donation I've ever made was around fifteen million won."
Jae-Hyun shook his head. "That won't move you beyond a thank-you letter."
Mr. Oh smiled faintly. "I assumed as much."
"You'll donate again."
"How much?"
"Eighty million won."
Mr. Oh raised an eyebrow. "That would certainly attract attention."
"It would." Jae-Hyun's voice remained even. "But not the attention we need."
Mr. Oh frowned. "Then what are you suggesting?"
Jae-Hyun turned the monitor toward him. "The school and the foundation aren't the same organization."
Understanding began to form.
"The eighty million goes to Shinseong High itself. And a donation of one billion won to the foundation separately."
Mr. Oh stared at him. "...One billion?"
"Directly to the Shinseong Foundation."
Mr. Oh was silent for a moment, turning the number over in his mind before looking back at Jae-Hyun. "That's an extraordinary amount."
"It needs to be." Jae-Hyun clasped his hands loosely in front of him. "Eighty million makes you a generous parent."
He paused.
"A billion makes you someone they want to know."
Mr. Oh looked again at the list of directors. "...You want them to invite me in."
"I want them to stop seeing you as a donor and start seeing you as one of them."
Mr. Oh studied the list in silence, his gaze moving from one name to the next.
Jae-Hyun folded his hands on the desk. "The donations are only the first step."
Mr. Oh looked up.
"Once you've established yourself, I want you to deepen your involvement with the foundation. Acquire voting shares if the opportunity presents itself, and secure a seat on its board."
Mr. Oh's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're asking me to become part of the foundation itself."
"Yes." Jae-Hyun rose from his chair and walked toward the projection screen, where the foundation's organizational structure was still displayed. "Right now, we're looking at Shinseong from the outside. Every conclusion we've reached has been based on observation and inference."
He rested a hand lightly against the edge of the screen. "That's no longer enough. The core decisions are being made inside the foundation."
Silence settled between them.
Jae-Hyun finally turned back. "I need a pair of eyes." He held Mr. Oh's gaze. "From the inside."
Jae-Hyun looked once more at the names on the foundation's board. Somewhere among them was the person who knew exactly what Shinseong was hiding.
He intended to find them.