The courtroom felt too small for the storm it was about to hold.
Rows of journalists filled the gallery, pens poised, cameras aimed like weapons. Behind them, murmuring lawyers, clerks, and spectators hummed with anticipation. The air was thick, humid almost, as if the entire room understood that today would not be about justice — it would be spectacle.
At the prosecution table, Black Wall's legal team sat in perfectly aligned rows, every suit immaculate, every expression smug. At their center was Attorney Kim Mun-Sik — sharp-boned, lacquer-voiced, and terrifyingly prepared. He arranged his documents with the calm certainty of someone who already knew the verdict.
And at the defense table sat Mr. Oh, jaw locked, hands clasped so tightly the knuckles had gone white. He wore a perfect suit, but the strain around his eyes betrayed what the tabloids would never stop replaying — NovaSec was on fire, and the flames had his name on them.
Beside him, NovaSec's legal representatives looked cornered. Files were stacked in frantic towers, hastily highlighted pages poked out like wounded limbs, and the lead attorney kept rubbing the bridge of her nose, muttering to herself.
But the seat where the true storm belonged —The chairman's seat —Jung Jae-Hyun's seat —was empty.
Because he wasn't here.
He was three floors above, in the executive wing of NovaSec HQ, sitting in his private office, illuminated only by the cold blue glow of multiple monitors and faint sunlight. A live broadcast of the courtroom flickered across the main screen.
And Jae-Hyun watched it with the faintest, almost lazy curl of amusement at the corner of his mouth.
"All rise."
The judge entered, robes sweeping like a shadow. The room fell into an instant hush.
Chairs scraped back in a rising wave. The tension snapped tight like a pulled wire.
As soon as introductions ended, Black Wall's lead attorney — a tall, silver-haired man with a voice like sharpened steel — stepped forward.
"Your Honor, we present Exhibit 14-C — internal financial transfers indicating gross negligence, hidden liabilities, and intentional misrepresentation by NovaSec's executive team."
He dropped a folder on the table with theatrical force.
NovaSec's head counsel, Attorney Seo, immediately stood.
"Objection, Your Honor — these documents were provided to us less than twelve hours ago. They are unverifiable and—"
"They are sourced directly from NovaSec's archived servers," Black Wall's attorney cut in smoothly. "Your Honor, we have time stamps, IP tracks, cross-referenced digital signatures—"
"That is impossible," Attorney Seo snapped. "Our archives were sealed—"
"Then perhaps," the silver-haired attorney said, turning with a predator's smile, "you should speak to your own employees. These signatures come from system administrators within NovaSec."
A murmur rippled across the room.
Mr. Oh's jaw flexed.
Attorney Seo's voice tightened. "Those signatures are forged. And your Honor, the timestamps—"
"—correlate exactly with the periods when NovaSec's defenses mysteriously dropped," Black Wall's attorney finished. "Almost as if someone internally triggered a collapse."
The judge's expression sharpened with interest.
Seo swallowed.
Black Wall's attorney continued, "Your Honor, NovaSec's systems were compromised from the inside. And the evidence is overwhelming. We request an immediate injunction blocking all NovaSec projects pending further investigation."
The judge turned to NovaSec.
"Attorney Seo? Your response?"
Seo stepped forward, inhaling slowly — knowing half the courtroom was already convinced of their guilt.
"Your Honor," she began, voice controlled, "NovaSec has experienced a targeted cyberattack of unprecedented sophistication. The so-called 'evidence' presented today was manufactured using a level of access and precision that no employee of ours possesses. These documents are part of an ongoing attack designed to cripple us—"
"Please provide proof," the judge said coolly.
Seo's throat constricted.
"We're working to retrieve it, Your Honor. Our systems—"
"So you have no proof at this time?"
"…Not yet."
Black Wall's attorney spread his arms lightly.
"Your Honor, their own counsel cannot verify their innocence. We request the injunction remain in full effect, halting all NovaSec operations until the investigation concludes."
The murmuring rose.
Journalists typed furiously. Reporters whispered, "This is catastrophic."
Judge Kwon tapped his gavel sharply.
"Enough. I will review the material. For now, temporary injunction granted."
The room exploded — in whispers, gasps, the frantic scribbling of pens.
Mr. Oh's eyes widened before he caught himself, expression snapping into a mask. But his chest rose and fell too quickly, betraying the burn underneath.
Black Wall's attorney smirked at him before taking his seat.
NovaSec was bleeding.
And Black Wall made sure the whole world saw it happen.
NovaSec's legal team looked as though someone had pulled the floor out from beneath them.
Upstairs, Jae-Hyun smiled.
- - -
The courtroom doors had barely opened before the flood hit — microphones, flashing lights, hands grabbing, voices overlapping like a storm.
"MR. OH! Did NovaSec falsify financial records?"
"Is it true you authorized covert operations without disclosure?"
"Do you deny insider sabotage?"
"Are you stepping down from your position?"
"Sir! Sir! A comment!"
Mr. Oh raised a hand, trying to step back, but they only pressed closer.
"You were described today as 'negligent' and 'reckless' by multiple panel analysts. How do you respond?"
"And what about the injunction? Doesn't this prove NovaSec has something to hide?"
"Sir—!"
Someone's mic nearly hit his chin.
Mr. Oh's face tightened. "We will respond officially. No comment for now."
"But the public says—"
"Black Wall claims—"
"NovaSec's stocks are plummeting—"
He pushed past them, jaw locked, shoulders stiff, eyes burning humiliation.
Every flash of the camera painted him as the villain.
Every question stabbed him in the ribs.
Every headline forming in those notebooks tied a noose tighter around his name.
None of them knew the truth.
None of them even knew the real chairman existed.
And yet he was the one crucified.
- - -
The moment Mr. Oh stepped inside NovaSec headquarters, chaos hit him like heat from a furnace.
Employees huddled in clusters — hushed voices, darting eyes, frantic whispers.
"Someone leaked our archive signatures—"
"There's no way this wasn't internal."
"What if there's a mole?"
"What if someone in upper management sold us out?"
"I heard the board wants to suspend all executives—"
"Even the chairman—"
"Shh! Do you want to get fired?"
The tension was suffocating.
People avoided eye contact. Meetings happened behind locked doors. Admins wiped data drives twice, sometimes thrice. Security questioned interns and team leads alike.
The company felt like a ship flooded with water — everyone plugging holes, no one knowing where the real breach was.
And through the corridor windows, high above, in his private office—
Jae-Hyun watched everything.
Calm. Unhurried. Hands clasped loosely behind his back.
A faint smile touching his lips.
- - -
By late afternoon, Mr. Oh had reached his limit.
He slammed Jae-Hyun's office door open, the crack echoing like a gunshot.
Jae-Hyun sat before five monitors, lines of live systems streaming across them — code, firewall reports, Black Wall signatures, financial movement trackers, press influence maps. Data flowed everywhere, like a silent orchestra only he could hear.
He didn't look up.
Mr. Oh's voice came out in a shaken roar.
"They're destroying our image — my image!"
"Mm."
"You're not fighting back! You're letting them win!"
Jae-Hyun typed something calmly.
Then, with infuriating nonchalance—
"Am I?"
Mr. Oh's pulse spiked. "You—" He stepped closer, fists trembling. "Do you not understand what's happening? My name is on every document! MY signature is all over the filings! They're crucifying ME out there while you sit here doing—"
He slammed a hand on the desk.
Nothing on Jae-Hyun's face moved.
"That's the point."
Mr. Oh froze.
His mouth parted in disbelief.
"…What?"
"You're easier to attack," Jae-Hyun said simply. "Less suspicious. More… believable."
The words hit like ice water.
"You think this is a game?" Mr. Oh hissed. "This is my life — my reputation — my career! I am being burned at the stake for a war you started!"
Jae-Hyun's eyes slid to another monitor, fingers still typing.
Silence.
He didn't answer.
Didn't even acknowledge the panic consuming the man in front of him.
Finally, he murmured:
"You'll thank me later. For now… let them believe you've lost control."
Mr. Oh stared at him — truly stared — as if seeing him for the first time.
"You've lost your mind," he whispered.
And he left — slamming the door behind him.
Jae-Hyun didn't look up.
His smirk only deepened by a fraction.
- - -
Meanwhile, in the engineering floor.
It began with a scream.
"Shut it down! Shut it down—!"
Multiple engineers jumped from their stations as alarms blared across the floor. Screens flashed red.
"Unauthorized outbound packet!"
"It's sending internal logs externally—"
"How? The node isn't connected—"
"Kill the route!"
"Which one?! It's spawning mirrors—!"
The floor erupted into frantic chaos.
Monitors displayed fragments of NovaSec's internal communication network — half-corrupted messages, system arguments, error logs.
"Is this a leak?"
"No—yes—I don't know—"
"Someone rerouted our sandbox network—"
"Who?!"
"We don't know!"
None of them noticed the slight smile Jae-Hyun wore as he watched quietly from the mezzanine floor high above.
The leak wasn't an accident.
And Black Wall intercepted it within minutes.
While NovaSec spiraled into chaos, Black Wall's operations hub roared with celebration.
"We got it!"
"They're collapsing! Look at this — their internal teams are fighting!"
"The media's eating it up!"
"Chairman's approval rating fell 27% in two hours!"
Champagne popped. People clapped shoulders, slapped desks, laughed at live sentiment dashboards tanking by the second.
Black Wall believed they'd won.
The project launch — a direct competitor to NovaSec's upcoming tech — was now the golden child of the market.
Eun-Seo read through the fragments, heart racing.
"It's too easy," she muttered under her breath. "Too clean."
But the others laughed at her concern.
"Let's enjoy the victory," her colleague said. "NovaSec is crumbling."
Yet the unease in her chest only grew stronger.
Their CEO smirked at the screens.
"Prepare Phase Three," he said smoothly.
But miles away, another screen displayed a different message entirely.
- - -
Inside NovaSec, the executives convened in the main boardroom.
The tension was suffocating.
Directors sat stiffly, voices strained, eyes filled with dread. Papers and tablets cluttered the table with plunging graphs and urgent emails.
Director Han slammed a folder down.
"We cannot let this continue! The company is collapsing by the hour!"
Director Moon added sharply:
"The chairman has become sloppy. Reckless. We can't depend on him."
Whispers rose:
"Maybe he's too young."
"Maybe this time he really miscalculated."
"Should we vote on temporary removal?"
The boardroom filled with raised voices even before the door shut.
"He's ruined us!"
"That injunction cost us billions!"
"We should have removed him months ago—!"
"He's not even here—again!"
"We're being humiliated—!"
The attacks aimed at the empty chairman's seat.
Mr. Oh pounded the table.
"That's enough!"
Silence rippled through the room.
One director sneered. "We move to vote on removing Jae-Hyun as chairman. At this point, he's a liability."
"Seconded."
"Thirded—"
"Sit down," Mr. Oh snapped, voice trembling with fury and fear.
"You don't know what he's doing," He said, chest rising hard. "You don't know how he works. He asked for forty-eight hours. It's not over."
The room balked at his tone.
A scoff. "He's done nothing but sit in his office."
"You don't understand," Mr. Oh shot back. "None of us do. But he does. And if I've learned anything over the years—he's never wrong."
"He's wrong this time." Another director barked.
Director Han's jaw tightened. "He promised forty-eight hours. It's almost over. And things have only worsened."
Director Lee leaned forward.His tone was low. Dangerous.
"Mr. Oh… are you protecting him out of loyalty? Or fear?"
Mr. Oh stiffened.
Then —
The doors opened.
Every head snapped toward the entrance.
Jae-Hyun walked in.
Calm.Expression unreadable.
He took his seat at the head of the table with the quiet authority of someone born to rule empires.
But today —He looked different.
Not composed.Not amused.
Almost… brittle.
A controlled kind of panic.
He reviewed the documents in front of him, fingers tapping once — a habit only seen when something was truly wrong.
Director Moon cleared her throat.
"Chairman Jung… we were discussing the company's future —"
"Panic," Jae-Hyun said.
Everyone froze.
"…Sorry?" Director Han whispered.
Jae-Hyun finally looked up. His eyes were sharp but strained.
"You should panic. All of you. Right now."
The room fell into stunned silence.
He continued, voice low:
"If you're not panicking, then you're not understanding the situation. We are drowning. And there is no guarantee we can surface. So panic. Let the world see it."
It sounded unstable.
Unhinged.
Utterly unlike him.
The directors exchanged horrified glances.
Mr. Oh stared, throat dry.
Was this an act… or was the boy actually falling apart?
When the motion to evict him resurfaced, Mr. Oh was the one who stepped in —
"Forty-eight hours," he said firmly. "He asked for forty-eight hours. Let him have them."
Reluctantly — painfully — the board backed down.
Meeting adjourned.
But not peacefully.
- - -
Hours later, Mr. Oh sat alone in his dark office.
Tie loosened.Sleeves rolled up. The city lights outside blurry through tired eyes.
A live news panel blared from the screen:
"—Mr. Oh's arrogance has finally caught up with him—"
"—a catastrophic display of negligence—"
"—NovaSec's so-called leadership—"
"—he should step down immediately—"
Every sentence struck like a knife.
"They don't even know who's really behind this…" he whispered, voice breaking. "And I'm the one burning for it."
He reached for his phone.
Paused.
What would he even say?
He put it down with shaking fingers.
- - -
Meanwhile, in another room, quiet, dark, untouched by chaos—
Jae-Hyun sat before his monitors.
Calm.
Analytical.
Almost amused.
Two secure terminals ran synchronized code execution sequences — elegant, sharp, merciless.
His eyes gleamed.
A message flickered briefly on the center screen:
Delta Node: Phase Two — ACTIVE
Jae-Hyun leaned back.
His reflection shimmered on the glass wall — serene, unreadable.
And terrifyingly in control.