After some time do-dohee came back from restroom and agreed for our collaboration .
We tried to work together, but it was a disaster. Every day was a new argument, a new power struggle. We were supposed to be building a theme park and launching a survival shooting game, but we spent more time arguing than planning.
One day , I was in my cabin staring at my computer . The monitors didn't just show numbers; they showed a massacre.
I sat in the darkness of my study, the only light provided by the rhythmic, taunting glow of the crimson lines on the screen. Kim Corp was hemorrhaging value. 15%. 20%. 22.5%. With every tick of the clock, the empire I had spent a decade fortifying was being stripped of its skin. This wasn't a clumsy hack or a random act of corporate espionage. It was a surgical dismemberment of my AI division's source code—the very crown jewel of the New York project.
I leaned back, my fingers interlaced beneath my chin, my breathing shallow and cold. I had been betrayed before. In the underworld, betrayal was a currency; I dealt in it daily. But this? This was different. This was intimate.
The phone on my desk vibrated, a harsh, grating sound that broke the tomb-like silence of the room. I picked it up. I didn't say hello. I didn't have to.
"It's confirmed, Sir," Min-hyuk's voice was devoid of its usual steady professional tone. He sounded like a man who had just watched a ghost walk through a wall. "We tracked the packet injection back through the triple-layer encryption. It didn't come from a remote server. It wasn't a VPN. The command was executed physically from within the Do Group's headquarters."
I felt my jaw tighten, a hairline fracture in my mask of calm. "Go on."
"The terminal ID is verified. Log-in credentials: Director Do-dohee. Biometric override: Approved. Time stamp: 3:12 AM. Sir... there is no doubt. The source code was dragged into a localized drive from her private office. She didn't even try to hide the digital footprint. It was a statement."
I hung up without a word. I didn't need to hear anything else.
Do-dohee. The name tasted like copper and bile. I had known she hated this partnership. She had spent every board meeting for the last three months making her disdain clear. She had called me a "tyrant," a "thug in a three-piece suit," and a "stain on her family's legacy." I had assumed it was just the petulant whining of a woman who couldn't handle sharing power. I had underestimated her. I had seen her as a rival, but she was a viper.
She hadn't just sabotaged a business deal; she had tried to end me. She knew that the New York project was my personal obsession. She knew that if it failed, the board would have the ammunition they needed to challenge my leadership. She wasn't just playing for the Do Group; she was playing for my head on a platter.
The heavy oak doors of my study were thrown open with a violence that matched my internal state. There was no knock. There was no request for entry.
I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The sharp, rhythmic click-clack of high heels on the marble floor was a sound I knew by heart. Usually, it was the sound of an annoyance. Now, it was the sound of a criminal returning to the scene of the crime.
I didn't turn my chair. I watched the red lines on my screen. I watched my net worth vanish in real-time.
"Hoseok, we need to discuss the delay in the theme park logistics," she began, her voice as sharp and arrogant as ever. "My father is furious about the—"
I spun the chair around.
The movement was so sudden, so predatory, that she actually stopped mid-sentence. She stood there in a pristine ivory suit, looking every bit the "Ice Queen" the public adored. To anyone else, she looked confused. To me, she looked like a murderer holding a smoking gun and pretending it was a hairdryer.
"The theme park?" I asked. My voice was a low, terrifying growl that seemed to vibrate the very air between us. "You're still talking about the theme park?"
Do-dohee narrowed her eyes, her lips thinning into a line of irritation. "What is wrong with you? If you're having another one of your temper tantrums because the market is down—"
"The market isn't down, Do-dohee," I stood up, my chair rolling back and hitting the wall with a dull thud. I walked around the desk, my shadow lengthening until it swallowed her whole. "My source code is gone. My AI division is dead in the water. And the trail leads directly to your desk."
She didn't flinch. She didn't gasp. She just stood there, her chin tilted up in that same insufferable, defiant pose. "What are you talking about? If there's a leak, find the IT department. Don't come at me with your paranoid underworld delusions."
"It's not a delusion." I stopped inches from her, my height towering over her, my presence designed to crush the breath from her lungs. "3:12 AM. Your office. Your terminal. Your personal biometrics. You didn't just leak the data; you practically signed your name to the theft. Was it worth it? Just to see me fail? Just to break a contract your father forced you into?"
"I didn't do it, Hoseok," she snapped, her voice rising to match my intensity. "I haven't even been in my office since yesterday afternoon. If your security is so incompetent that they can't tell the difference between a hack and a physical breach, that's your problem, not mine."
I stared into her eyes. I looked for the crack. I looked for the flicker of guilt that every human being hides when they are caught. But I saw nothing but that jagged, raw honesty she used as a shield.
And that was when I realized how dangerous she truly was. She wasn't just a saboteur; she was a master. She could look me in the eye, knowing she had just cost me billions, and play the victim with such conviction that a lesser man might actually believe her.
She wasn't lying. She was performing.
"If I were going to destroy you, I'd look you in the eye while I did it. I'd watch the light leave your eyes as I took everything you loved, piece by piece, in broad daylight. I'm many things—I'm a bitch, I'm your rival, and I'm the biggest thorn in your side—but I am not a coward. I don't do 'accidents,' and I certainly don't hide." She snapped
"You're good," I whispered, my voice thick with a venom I had never felt for another human being. I reached out, my hand gripping the edge of the table behind her, pinning her in place. "The 'I'm many things but I'm not a coward' speech? The 'look you in the eye' line? It's perfect. It's exactly what a woman like you would say to keep her hands clean while the world burns around her."
"Hoseok, move," she hissed, her face flush with what looked like rage, but I knew better. It was the heat of someone who had been cornered and was looking for an exit.
"You wanted to ruin the one thing keeping us tied together," I continued, ignoring her. "You thought if you burned Kim Corp, you'd be free. You thought I'd be too busy dealing with the fallout to notice who held the match. But you forgot one thing, Do-dohee."
I leaned in, my lips inches from her ear, my breath cold against her skin.
"I don't play by corporate rules. If you burn my house down, I don't call the police. I make sure you're still inside when the roof collapses."
She shivered. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but I felt it. For the first time, the "Ice Queen" looked like she realized she wasn't dealing with a businessman. She was dealing with a monster who had just found his target.
"I. Didn't. Do. It," she repeated, her voice trembling with the sheer force of her denial.
"Liar," I barked. The word was a physical blow.
I couldn't stand the sight of her anymore. The ivory suit, the defiant eyes, the scent of her perfume—it all felt like a mockery of my intelligence. I felt an impulse to grab her, to shake the truth out of her, but I knew it was useless. A woman this committed to her own lie wouldn't break under pressure. She would only enjoy the spectacle.
"Get out," I said. It was a low, dangerous command.
"Hoseok, listen to me—"
"GET OUT!" I roared.
The sound was explosive, a release of all the cold, sharpening focus that had been building since I saw the red lines on the screen. I slammed my fist onto the mahogany desk. The sound of the impact echoed like a gunshot in the cavernous room.
Do-dohee flinched violently, her eyes widening in genuine shock. She looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time—not as a partner she hated, but as a predator she couldn't control. Her jaw tightened, her pride struggling to keep her upright.
She didn't say another word. She couldn't. She turned on her heel and marched toward the door. The click of her heels was no longer aggressive; it was frantic, a hurried retreat from a room that had become a cage.
I watched the door slam shut behind her, the vibration rattling the frames on the wall. I turned back to the monitors. The stock was still falling. 24%. 25%.
I didn't care about the money anymore. I didn't care about the New York project. There was only one thing left to do. The evidence was absolute. The culprit was clear. Do-dohee had declared war, and she had used a coward's weapon to do it.
Fine. She wanted to play in the dark? I was born in the dark.
She could give all the speeches she wanted. She could claim she wasn't a coward until her voice gave out. But the digital blood was on her hands, and I was going to make sure she drowned in it.
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