SEOUL โ MID-DECEMBER 2021
The invitation was a slab of obsidian-colored cardstock, heavy enough to be a weapon. Embossed in silver: The Jincheon Foundation Annual Winter Gala. Benefiting Children's Hospitals. Venue: The Shilla Hotel, Grand Ballroom. Black Tie.
A philanthropy masquerade for predators.
Je-Hoon stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the penthouse suite Oh Soo-jae had secured for his "preparation." Alexander Lee's uniform was a Tom Ford tuxedo, tailored to within a millimeter of its life. He looked every inch the polished, enigmatic advisor. But beneath the silk and wool, Marco's nano-presence hummed, a silent engine of calculation.
๐ผ๐๐๐๐จ๐จ ๐ช๐ฅ๐๐๐ฉ๐: ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐ฃ๐๐ฉ-๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ฃ ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐ซ๐. ๐๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐ซ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐: ๐๐ข๐๐ง๐ฉ๐ฅ๐๐ค๐ฃ๐ (๐๐ ๐๐ค๐ค-๐๐๐'๐จ ๐จ๐๐๐ช๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐๐), ๐จ๐ข๐๐ง๐ฉ ๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐๐ (๐๐ค๐จ๐ฉ), ๐๐ค๐ฉ๐๐ก ๐ง๐ค๐ค๐ข ๐ฉ๐๐๐ก๐๐ฉ. ๐๐๐๐๐ช๐จ: 2 ๐ข๐๐ฉ๐๐ง๐จ. ๐ผ๐ก๐ก ๐๐ค๐ฃ๐ฃ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐. ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐ฃ๐๐ฉ ๐๐๐ฉ๐ ๐จ๐ฉ๐ง๐๐๐ข ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ก๐๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ค๐ง ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐๐ง๐๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ฃ ๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ฎ๐จ๐๐๐๐ก ๐ค๐๐จ๐๐ง๐ซ๐๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ฃ.
The upgrade was subtle, but profound. Marco could now pull from the global data oceanโnews, financial filings, social media trailsโas long as a connected device was within arm's reach. It wasn't omniscience; it was hyper-informed intuition, perfectly camouflaged.
The suite door opened without a knock. Oh Soo-jae entered, a vision in a gown of liquid gunmetal that seemed to drink the light. Her hair was swept up, revealing the sharp lines of her neck and the single diamond at her throat. Her eyes scanned him, a general inspecting her weapon.
"Ready?"
"Always."
She stepped closer, her perfume a cold, expensive scent. "Tonight isn't about deals. It's about theater. You will be seen with me. You will be polite, observant, and utterly inscrutable. Park Min-jun will be there, attached to the Jincheon heir like a remora. He will try to provoke you. You will not react."
"And if he tries more than provocation?"
A ghost of a smile. "Then we see how well your calculations hold up under fire." She reached out, adjusted his bow tie with a startlingly intimate gesture. "Remember, they know Alexander Lee. They don't know you. That is our advantage."
---
THE SHILLA HOTEL, GRAND BALLROOM
The gala was a cathedral of wealth. Crystal chandeliers blazed, casting diamonds of light over a sea of black tie and couture. The air vibrated with the murmur of a thousand strategically pitched conversations, the clink of champagne flutes, and the silent thrum of power transactions.
As Soo-jae entered on Je-Hoon's arm, a ripple of attention moved through the crowd. The Ice Queen, with a mysterious new consort. Whispers followed them like a wake.
๐ฟ๐๐ฉ๐ ๐จ๐ฉ๐ง๐๐๐ข ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐๐ง๐๐ฉ๐๐. ๐๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐จ๐๐๐ฃ: 147 ๐๐๐ซ๐๐๐๐จ ๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐๐๐ฃ 2-๐ข๐๐ฉ๐๐ง ๐ง๐๐๐๐ช๐จ. ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐ฃ๐๐ฉ ๐๐ง๐ค๐จ๐จ-๐ง๐๐๐๐ง๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ฃ๐ ๐จ๐ค๐๐๐๐ก ๐ข๐๐๐๐ ๐ฅ๐ค๐จ๐ฉ๐จ, ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ก ๐ฃ๐๐ฌ๐จ ๐๐ก๐๐ง๐ฉ๐จ, ๐ฅ๐ช๐๐ก๐๐ ๐๐๐ก๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ง๐จ. ๐๐๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐๐ฎ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ ๐๐ฎ ๐ฅ๐ก๐๐ฎ๐๐ง๐จ...
Names and probabilities floated at the edge of Je-Hoon's perception, a heads-up display only he could see. Choi Min-woo, Jincheon heir. Net worth: $450M. Stress markers: high. Gambling debts hidden in Macau. Currently arguing with mistress via encrypted app on phone 3 meters to your left.
They made their way to the receiving line. The Jincheon patriarch, a man in his seventies with eyes like river stones, stood beside his son. As Soo-jae approached, the old man's gaze slid past her to Je-Hoon, lingering with cold curiosity.
"Director Oh. Howโฆ charitable of you to attend." His voice was dry as dust.
"The cause is worthy," Soo-jae replied, her smile a razor cut. "May I introduce Alexander Lee, my Special Advisor on Strategic Risk."
"Lee-ssi." The patriarch offered a bone-crushing handshake. "A new face. We hear you are quite the calculator."
"Only of probabilities, sir," Je-Hoon said, his voice calm. "And the probability of children's health improving with proper funding is one I always bet on."
A flicker of surprise in the old man's eyes. Not the fawning sycophant he expected.
Before more could be said, a familiar, hated voice cut in. "Je-Hoon-ah? My god, is that you under all that tailoring?"
Park Min-jun materialized beside the Jincheon heir, a glass of champagne in hand, his smile a baring of teeth. He was thinner, sharper, his eyes burning with a frenetic energy. The remora had grown teeth.
Soo-jae went very still. This was the breach of protocol. The direct, personal attack.
Je-Hoon turned slowly. He let a beat of silence hang, long enough for the awkwardness to curdle. "Parkโฆ Min-jun-ssi. It's been a while. I see you've found new patrons." His tone was polite, devoid of any recognition of their past. He was Alexander Lee, meeting a vaguely familiar acquaintance.
Min-jun's smile faltered. He'd expected anger, fear, defensiveness. He got a wall of polite ice. "You've come up in the world. From a leaking officetel to the Oh family's arm. Quite theโฆ calculation."
"The market rewards precision," Je-Hoon said, his gaze holding Min-jun's. Marco was feeding him a stream of data, pulled from the dozens of phones around them. Min-jun's Horizon Capital performance: down 22% this quarter. Internal memos show pressure from Jincheon. He is desperate for a win. Probable tactic: public humiliation to destabilize you.
"You always were precise," Min-jun sneered, raising his voice slightly. "Precise about which data to steal, if I recall."
A gasp from a nearby socialite. The accusation, vague but damning, hung in the air.
Soo-jae's hand tightened imperceptibly on Je-Hoon's arm. A warning, or a signal.
Je-Hoon didn't blink. "Memory is a curious thing, Min-jun-ssi. It often rewrites itself to fit the present need. I prefer to deal in documented facts." He tapped his smartwatch subtlyโa signal for Marco.
๐ผ๐๐๐๐จ๐จ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฅ๐ช๐๐ก๐๐ ๐ง๐๐๐ค๐ง๐๐จ ๐ซ๐๐ ๐ก๐ค๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐ซ๐๐๐. ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ฃ๐: ๐๐๐ง๐ ๐๐๐ฃ-๐๐ช๐ฃ'๐จ ๐ฃ๐๐ข๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐๐ง๐จ ๐ค๐ฃ ๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ก ๐ก๐๐ฌ๐จ๐ช๐๐ฉ ๐๐๐ก๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ง๐ค๐ข ๐๐๐ฃ๐จ๐๐ค๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ฃ๐ซ๐๐จ๐ฉ๐ข๐๐ฃ๐ฉ ๐๐ค๐ง '๐ข๐๐จ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ง๐ค๐ฅ๐ง๐๐๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ฃ ๐ค๐ ๐ง๐๐จ๐๐๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ค๐ฃ๐จ๐ฅ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฎ.' ๐๐๐ก๐๐ ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐ ๐จ ๐๐๐ค. ๐๐ค๐ฉ ๐ฎ๐๐ฉ ๐ฅ๐ช๐๐ก๐๐, ๐๐ช๐ฉ ๐๐ซ๐๐๐ก๐๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ฃ ๐๐ค๐ช๐ง๐ฉ ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐๐๐จ๐.
Je-Hoon's lips curved into a faint, pitying smile. "For instance, documented facts suggest you have more pressing concerns than reminiscing about old colleagues. Legal concerns. I hope you have good counsel, Min-jun-ssi. The courts can be soโฆ impersonal with their calculations."
The color drained from Min-jun's face. He hadn't known the lawsuit was findable. His eyes darted to the Jincheon heir, who was now looking at him with open distaste.
The counterstrike was silent, bloodless, and lethal. Delivered with the casual ease of a man checking the time.
"Enjoy the gala," Je-Hoon said, and turned away, Soo-jae falling into step beside him.
They moved into the crowd, leaving Min-jun standing alone, publicly gutted.
"Well played," Soo-jae murmured, her voice low. "But you've made it personal for him now. Truly personal."
"He made it personal when he targeted my capital and tried to use my past. This was just clarifying the stakes."
---
THE BALCONY & THE PROPOSAL
Later, seeking a moment of quiet, Je-Hoon stepped onto a deserted balcony overlooking the hotel's illuminated gardens. The cold night air was a relief.
He didn't hear her approach, but he felt the shift in the atmosphere. Soo-jae joined him at the railing, her gown shimmering under the moonlight.
"You handled Min-jun better than I anticipated," she said, not looking at him. "You used information I didn't provide. How?"
The question was a trap, and a test. She was too observant not to notice the unnatural precision of his retaliation.
Je-Hoon's mind raced. He couldn't reveal Marco. But he could offer a version of the truth. "I have methods for accessing disparate data streams and synthesizing them quickly. A talent for pattern recognition, amplified by technology. I saw the lawsuit in a court database update I monitor. I connected it to the moment."
It was vague, but plausible for a "strategic risk" genius.
She was silent for a long moment, studying his profile. "These 'methods'โฆ they are why you are valuable. And why you are dangerous." She turned to face him fully. "I have a proposal. Not for Alexander Lee. For Lee Je-Hoon."
He went still.
"The board is pressuring me to finalize a marriage alliance. The candidate is the second son of a National Assembly heavyweight. A political merger to protect the group from regulators. It isโฆ repulsive."
Je-Hoon's heart hammered against his ribs. He said nothing.
"I will not be a pawn in their old-world game," she continued, her voice steel. "But I need a shield. A contract. A marriage on paper that gives them the alliance they crave, but puts my ally in the seat beside me. Not a politician's spoiled son. A calculator. A weapon I control."
The world narrowed to the space between them, the cold air, and her unwavering gaze.
"You are proposing a contract marriage. To me."
"To Alexander Lee, on paper. To the mind behind him, in reality. It would give you irrevocable access, protection under the Oh name, and a share of the empire. It would give me a partner who understands the battlefield, not a fool who will get us both killed." Her eyes searched his. "It is the ultimate strategic merger. Calculate the probabilities."
He didn't need to. Marco was already ahead of him.
๐๐๐ข๐ช๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ฃ: '๐พ๐ค๐ฃ๐ฉ๐ง๐๐๐ฉ ๐๐๐ง๐ง๐๐๐๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ฉ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ค๐ค-๐๐๐.'
๐๐๐ฉ๐ ๐ผ: ๐ผ๐๐๐๐ฅ๐ฉ. ๐๐ฉ๐ง๐๐ฉ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐จ๐๐๐ฃ๐จ๐๐ค๐ฃ ๐๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ง๐๐ฉ๐๐ ๐๐ฎ 300%. ๐๐ง๐ค๐ฉ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ฃ ๐๐ง๐ค๐ข ๐ง๐๐ซ๐๐ก๐จ. ๐ผ๐๐๐๐จ๐จ ๐ฉ๐ค ๐ช๐ฃ๐ฅ๐ง๐๐๐๐๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐ ๐ง๐๐จ๐ค๐ช๐ง๐๐๐จ. ๐๐๐จ๐ : ๐๐๐ง๐จ๐ค๐ฃ๐๐ก ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐ฃ๐๐ก๐๐ข๐๐ฃ๐ฉ, ๐ก๐ค๐จ๐จ ๐ค๐ ๐๐ช๐ฉ๐ค๐ฃ๐ค๐ข๐ฎ, ๐๐ญ๐๐จ๐ฉ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐๐ก ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐๐๐ฉ ๐๐ ๐๐ก๐ก๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐จ๐๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐จ.
๐๐๐ฉ๐ ๐ฝ: ๐ฟ๐๐๐ก๐๐ฃ๐. ๐๐๐ข๐๐๐ฃ ๐๐ฃ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐จ๐ค๐ง. ๐๐ง๐ค๐ฌ๐ฉ๐: ๐จ๐ฉ๐๐๐๐ฎ. ๐๐๐จ๐ : ๐๐จ๐ค๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ฃ, ๐๐ฃ๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ฉ๐๐ค๐ฃ ๐๐ฎ ๐๐ค๐๐ฃ๐ฉ ๐๐ค๐ง๐๐๐จ ๐ค๐ ๐ ๐๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ค๐ฃ, ๐๐ค๐ง๐๐ฏ๐ค๐ฃ, ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ฃ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐ฃ๐๐ก ๐๐ฃ๐๐ข๐๐๐จ.
๐๐ฅ๐ฉ๐๐ข๐๐ก ๐ฅ๐ง๐ค๐๐๐๐๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ฎ: ๐๐๐ฉ๐ ๐ผ. ๐๐ช๐ง๐ซ๐๐ซ๐๐ก/๐ผ๐จ๐๐๐ฃ๐จ๐๐ค๐ฃ ๐ง๐๐ฉ๐: 92%.
The numbers were clear. The path was set.
He looked at Oh Soo-jae, this formidable, isolated woman offering him a crown and a chain in the same breath. He saw not a romantic prospect, but the most logical, powerful alliance possible. A fusion of her legacy and his calculation.
"On three conditions," he said, his voice low. "One: The contract includes a clear, mutual exit clause after five years, or upon achieving specific, pre-defined strategic goals. Two: My existing assets and operations remain under my autonomous control. Three: You never ask me to reveal the full extent of my 'methods.'"
She didn't hesitate. "Agreed. On one condition of my own: Absolute loyalty for the duration. You stand with me against all enemies, internal and external. No hidden agendas."
"Then we have a deal," Je-Hoon said.
She offered her hand. Not for a romantic gesture, but a pact. He took it. Her grip was firm, cool, and final.
As they shook, a flash went off from a paparazzo hidden in the garden below. The picture would be in the society blogs by morning: Oh Soo-jae and her mysterious advisor, caught in a intimate moment.
The narrative was already being written.
They returned to the ballroom, side by side. The music swelled. The game had changed forever.
Across the room, Park Min-jun watched them, his face a mask of pure, undiluted hatred. He had seen the handshake. He understood what it meant.
The ghost from his past had not only risen. He had just been crowned prince of the kingdom Min-jun desperately wanted to burn.
And as Je-Hoon met Min-jun's gaze across the glittering crowd, he offered a small, cold smile.
The first move of the rest of their war had just been made.
---
[End of Episode 11]
[Status: Public Debut Successful. Min-jun Publicly Humiliated. Internet-Enhanced Marco Activated.]
[Key Development: Contract Marriage Proposal Accepted. Strategic Alliance Sealed.]
[Next Episode: The Contract]