I arrived home shortly after 2:00 PM.
The house was quiet, the only sound being the distant humming of the central air conditioning. I found my mother in the living room, reading a magazine.
"Mom,Grandfather is coming over," I said as I walked toward the stairs.
She froze, the magazine slowly lowering to her lap. Her face tightened, a flash of irritation crossing her features before she masked it with a practiced, neutral expression.
"Why?" she asked, her voice clipped. "He hasn't stepped foot in this house for Years."
"I'm planning to start my own business, Mom," I replied, stopping on the bottom step. "And I'm helping him with his election campaign."
She stood up, the magazine falling onto the sofa. "If you need money for a business, Choyun, you could have come to me. Why go to him? You know how complicated things are with your grandfather."
I looked at her, my expression flat. "The business I'm planning doesn't just require capital. It needs connections, strong political backing, and a certain kind of strength that money alone can't buy. He's the best bridge for that."
She stared at me for a long moment, searching my face for something. Eventually, she sighed, the tension leaving her shoulders as she gave up the argument.
"Fine. I won't stop you. But don't expect me to play hostess and Don't trust him much ."
I nodded and went to my room to wait. About thirty minutes later, Alfred informed me that Kim Rak-hun had arrived.
I headed down to the guest room. My grandfather was sitting on a high-backed leather chair, looking out of place in our modern home. My mother was standing by the window, her back turned. Neither of them spoke a word to the other. The silence was heavy, filled with years of unresolved friction.
I walked in and sat opposite him.
"Grandfather."
He nodded, his eyes moving to me. I reached into my pocket and placed the silver pendrive on the coffee table between us.
"Everything you need is in there," I said.
He picked up the drive, turning it over in his hand. His brow furrowed. "This is Myeong-soo's personal drive. I've seen him carry this for years. How did you get it? He's not the type to just hand over his life's work."
"I used a specialized compound," I said, providing the cover story I had prepared. "It's a concentrated form of Scopolamine—often called 'Devil's Breath.' In the right dosage, it induces a state of high suggestibility. The subject follows instructions without question and usually has no memory of the encounter afterward."
He looked at me with a mix of shock and wariness. "Where did you get something like that?"
"I synthesized it myself," I lied. "I've been spending a lot of time on chemistry and pharmacology lately. It proved to be more effective than I anticipated."
He looked at the drive again, then back at me. He didn't push further. He knew the world of politics was dirty, and he seemed to accept that I was willing to get my hands dirty to help him.
He pulled a small laptop from his briefcase and plugged in the drive. As the files loaded, his eyes widened. He scrolled through spreadsheets of slush funds, scanned copies of illegal land deeds, and audio files labeled with the names of local construction moguls.
"This is it," he whispered.
First, a faint smile touched his lips.
Then it widened.
A low, satisfied laugh.
"How wonderful," he murmured to himself. "With this… I can make him spend the rest of his life behind bars."
His eyes darkened.
"And as for his party—"
He let out a quiet chuckle.
"They'll never rise again."
"Do you know anyone in the media?" I asked. "Someone influential who isn't on Ma Tae-san's payroll. We need this made public in a way that he can't bury."
Rak-hun nodded, a grim smile finally appearing on his face. "I know a senior editor at the Seoul Daily. He's an old-school journalist who hates Ma Tae-san. If I give him this, he'll have it on the front page by tomorrow morning."
"Not tomorrow morning," I said calmly.
If he acted that fast, it would only give them time to react. A new party could be formed from the remaining members, and others would step in to fill the gap.
"That won't work," I continued. "You need to make it public one week before the elections."
He looked at me, confused.
"If you release it too early, people will forget. But if you release it too late, there won't be enough time for an investigation, and everyone will dismiss it as a baseless rumor. But one week before the vote?" I shook my head slowly. "That's when it will hurt the most."
By then, there would be no time to reorganize.
No time to shift blame or build a new front.
"The public outrage will do the rest," I finished. "That's the right moment."
We talked for a few more minutes about the logistics of the leak, keeping the conversation strictly professional. Once he was satisfied with the data, he stood up to leave. He gave my mother a brief, hesitant look, but she didn't turn around. Without another word, he walked out.
It was 3:00 PM.
"I'm going out for a while," I told my mother as I headed for the door. "I'm meeting some friends. I'll be back late."
"Be careful," she said, still looking out the window at the garden and lost in her thoughts.
I didn't have friends to meet but a schedule to keep.
I headed back into the deeper, narrower streets of Gangbuk. The political war was in motion, but my own personal growth couldn't stall. I needed more cards, more points, and more combat experience before the 15-day limit was up.
I found my first target in an alleyway behind a row of dilapidated bars—four thugs . I didn't waste time with words. I moved in, using the gap in their guard to strike.
I didn't feel the fatigue I usually felt. My movements were cleaner, more efficient. I took their cash—a few hundred thousand won—and moved to the next block.
Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, the purple windows flickered in the corner of my vision. Side quests appeared as I entered new territories and disappeared just as quickly as I neutralized the threats.
The streets of Gangbuk were loud, but my mind was focused. The clock was ticking.