The first name appeared by accident.
Ji-hoon was thirteen when he found it, buried inside a financial article no one cared about, the headline spoke about infrastructure expansion, foreign investments and economic optimism. The kind of article adults skimmed while drinking coffee.
Ji-hoon read every line.
At the bottom of the page, in small print, was a list of consortium members involved in the project. Most were corporations. A few were individuals.
One name made his hand still.
Kang Dae-seok.
It was not unfamiliar.
He had heard it once before, spoken in a whisper, followed by silence. It was a name that had no face, no image attached to it. Yet the moment Ji-hoon read it, something in his chest tightened with recognition.
He searched for it again.
And again.
The name appeared everywhere once he knew how to look. Not loudly, never at the center, always on the edges,advisory boards, silent partners, charitable foundations, shell companies registered overseas.
Kang Dae-seok did not lead, he influenced.
Ji-hoon created a second notebook.
This one had no title.
Inside, he began mapping connections. Companies linked to companies. People tied to foundations. Donations that followed scandals. Scandals that disappeared without explanation.
The lines always circled back.
Kang Dae-seok was not famous. He was protected by irrelevance.
Ji-hoon understood then why his parents' case had never moved forward.They were not killed by emotion, they were removed by necessity.
That night, Ji-hoon dreamed of his father for the first time in years. Not his face, his voice.
Power does not announce itself.
He woke before dawn and added a sentence beneath Kang Dae-seok's name.
Do not confront, observe.
At school, Ji-hoon changed his habits.
He joined no clubs but volunteered to help teachers organize materials. He sat near students whose parents worked in banks, law firms, or government offices. He listened when they complained, laughed when they bragged, remembered when they forgot.
Information flowed naturally to those who asked nothing.
By fifteen, Ji-hoon knew how influence traveled,not through force, but through favors. A recommendation here. A delayed inspection there. A signature that arrived too late to matter.
He learned that the most powerful people never dirtied their hands.
They used systems.
One evening, his guardian found him studying international business law.
"Why this?" the man asked casually.
Ji-hoon smiled, small and polite. "I heard it's useful if you want to work abroad."
The guardian nodded, satisfied.
Ji-hoon returned to his book.
Working abroad was not the goal.
Disappearing was.
At sixteen, Ji-hoon applied for a scholarship under a different spelling of his name. It was a minor change. A harmless one. No alarms were triggered. No records overlapped.
By the time the acceptance letter arrived, Ji-hoon had already chosen his second name.
A name that did not exist in Korea.
A name that would one day sit across powerful men at polished tables.
As he folded the letter and slipped it into his bag, Ji-hoon felt no excitement.
Only certainty.
Kang Dae-seok did not know him.
That was the greatest advantage of all.