The return to Ganguk High was for Kim-Do (the dyad, the composite entity) like entering a theater after rehearsing a radically different play behind the scenes. The air smelled of chalk, ink and adolescence, simple and distant perfumes compared to the smell of ozone and fear of the Convent. Here, the war was made up of corner looks, whispered rumors, and symbolic territories. After the behind-the-scenes revelation of the system, this seemed almost paltry. Almost.
Lee Min-Ji watched him as soon as he entered the school. She took him aside in a side corridor, her expression a mixture of administrative vigilance and personal curiosity.
"The truce holds, for now," she said without preamble. "But your faction is nervous. Yu-Ra does a good job of maintaining order, but they don't see you anymore. They begin to doubt. An invisible leader is a weak leader."
Do felt Kai's analysis activate, cold and practical. She's right. Presence is a weapon. You have to show up. But not hard. In strategist.
"The leaders who must constantly show their strength are those who doubt themselves," Do replied, modeling his tone on the cold assurance that Kai projected. "I work behind the scenes to stabilize things that go beyond sports field quarrels."
Min-Ji squinted. "Things like Kang Seong? He has not been found for two days. Rumors have it that you've become interested in him."
The alert was sharp in the shared spirit. She makes the connection. We need to muddy the waters.
"Kang Seong is an observer," said Do with a feigned shrug. "He may be observing something else. Who knows what he's interested in? That's not my problem. My problem is that the Eastern Wolves respect our agreement and do not take advantage of what they perceive as an absence."
He cleverly diverted the conversation to the immediate and credible threat of Kang-Dae. Min-Ji took the bait, his practical mind refocusing on tangible crisis management. "Kang-Dae stands still. For now. But he feeds his men rumors about your... distance."
"Then he must be fed something else," replied Do, an idea emerging from the internal dialogue with Kai. Official. To take stock of the truce. Invite the wolves. Not as full participants, but as observers. Make them feel like they're in the yard, not at the door. And I'll be there. Impeccable, in control."
It was playing with fire. To stage oneself under the gaze of one's potential enemy. But it was also a masterstroke: proving its strength not by violence, but by political mastery, under the patronage of the Council.
Min-Ji studied her, visibly impressed by the maneuver. I will call a meeting for Friday. Be prepared."
The first battle was fought: maintaining the facade.
The second battle, the real one, was taking place in the shadows. In the Convent, Kang Seong was an information-processing machine. His files on the police chief warrant officer turned out to be a gold mine: gambling debts, a hidden mistress, and above all, the certainty that his son's disappearance felt like an official slap in the face. Lyra developed a multi-step approach: anonymous contact with partial evidence, showing that they knew, and then offered veiled information on "how" in exchange for future services. It was tricky, but it was a lever.
At the same time, Cassiopeia and Orion, using surveillance schemes provided by Kang Seong, were modeling Dr. Aris's residence. It was a discreet, high-tech villa, nestled in a quiet residential area. The defenses were subtle: hidden biometric sensors, analysis of surrounding Wi-Fi networks, random private security patrols that Kang Seong's files actually used to be agents of the system.
"We cannot enter by force, nor by traditional cunning," Cassiopeia summed up during a briefing. We need a social approach. An authorized intrusion."
The idea came from Vega, the mechanically voiced regulator. "Dr. Aris receives a weekly delivery of special drugs, for a chronic condition. The pharmacy is under contract with a subcontractor. A subcontractor whose boss has problems with the tax authorities... problems that Kang Seong documented a year ago."
The plan took shape, complex as a watchmaking movement. Pressure the subcontractor to deliver a "special" package instead of the real one. Inside, a short-range jamming device and a message. Not a threat, but a revelation. Proof that the system that keeps him prisoner is being attacked from within. The hope was that Aris's scientific curiosity and resentment outweighed his fear, and that he would agree to meet the parcel carriers.
That would be the role of the dyad. Do and Kai, with Joon in remote support, would pose as the new delivery drivers. They would have a ten-minute window inside the security perimeter.
"This is your most dangerous mission," Lyra told them on the eve of D-Day. "If Aris panics and gives the alert, the system will locate you and send Hunters. Not guards. Maximum level Hunters. You won't survive."
Do felt fear pierce his bowels. But next door, he felt Kai's presence, hard as rock, mentally preparing for combat, assessing the villa's vanishing angles, objects that could be used as weapons.
We won't have to fight, Kai thought, specifically addressing Do. We will have to convince. That's your domain. Empathy. The word. Show him the sunset.
The sunset. The image of the virus, of stolen peace. Perhaps this was the key to touching a man who had helped build a peaceless machine.
On the eve of the double ordeal - the Council meeting in the morning, the infiltration of Aris's house in the afternoon - Do did not sleep. He sat in the darkness of his room, feeling the whirlwind of Kai's thoughts, Kang Seong's plans, Lyra's warnings. He was a knot where all the strings of the rebellion met, and he felt the rope stretch.
"You are afraid," thought Kai, "not in accusation, but in observation.
Yes, admitted Do. How about you?
A mental silence. Then: I experienced fear. The real one. That of erasure. That of watching my mother die without being able to do anything. This mission... it's a calculated risk. It's not fear. It's the tension before the fight. A sensation I know. That I'm in control.
There was almost comfort in this cold familiarity. Do was no longer alone in the face of vertigo. He had in him a veteran of the abyss.
On Friday morning, he showed up at the Council meeting, dressed in his uniform, impeccable. Kang-Dae of the Wolves was there, sitting on a chair along the wall, observing as Kang Seong had been, but with the frustrated greed of a dog on a leash. Do greeted him with a simple nod, then took his seat, dominating the table by his quiet presence alone.
The meeting was a formality. Min-Ji listed the terms of the truce, the territories. Do confirmed, made slight adjustments, always reasonable, always in the interest of stability. He spoke little, but every word carried. Kang-Dae could not help but notice, disappointed, that Kim-Do was neither weakened nor distracted. He was just... above. Busy with more important things.
When the meeting ended, Min-Ji held him back for a moment. "You played your part perfectly," she whispered. "Too perfect, almost. It looks like you're repeating a script."
Do gave him a thin smile, Kai's first real smile that he let filter through. "All life is a script, Lee Min-Ji. The important thing is to know when to write new ones."
He left, leaving her puzzled, but unable to find the fault. The first battle was won.
A few hours later, dressed in a stolen delivery uniform, his heart was pounding, and he was ringing the doorbell of Dr. Aris's villa. In his bag, a forged pack of medicines, and basically, the tenuous hope of winning the real war. The second battle, the only one that really mattered, had just begun.