. The Eight O'Clock Lie
The Briefing Hour commenced at precisely 8:00 PM in the secure basement room that doubled as Chairman Kim Taehyung's war room. Ha-eun, now 'Eun-ji,' sat cross-legged on a leather couch, clutching a novelty stress ball shaped like a tiny corporate drone. Taehyung stood before a holographic display showing the financial fallout from Seok-jin's attack.
"So," Ha-eun began, her expression serious. "The elegant man, whom I feel I should dislike, is trying to assassinate me because... he hated my limericks?"
Taehyung sighed, minimizing the flickering Singapore financial data. "Not exactly. We need a detailed briefing."
He framed the entire Taewon saga in ludicrous terms:
"Eun-ji, your job as the Chief Lyrical Officer was powerful. You held control over the company's entire morale budget. Your primary rival was Kim Seok-jin. He, too, was a poet—but a pedantic, highly critical one. He believed poetry should be serious and tragic, focusing only on the existential dread of quarterly reports. You believed in humor and accessibility."
"A stylistic feud!" Ha-eun gasped, her eyes wide. "He sounds dreadfully pretentious."
"He was," Taehyung confirmed, leaning into the lie. "He orchestrated a massive, public betrayal—he stole your most profound limericks and claimed them as his own. When you confronted him, he caused the 'accident' that led to your memory loss."
"And now he's liquidating our subsidiaries?"
"Yes," Taehyung said grimly. "He is trying to prove his poetic style (Tragedy) is superior to yours (Comedy) by destroying the company's financial base. It's... high-stakes literary criticism."
Ha-eun tapped the stress ball against her chin. "I still want a kiss on the forehead. It would settle my brain for strategy."
"Rule 3, Eun-ji," Taehyung warned. "Pre-authorization required. Focus. We are under attack."
II. The Double Strategy
While Ha-eun processed the "Rival Poet" threat, Taehyung discreetly reopened the Singapore data on a secondary screen. He placed a quick, encrypted call to his legal counsel, keeping his voice low and his words coded.
"Counselor, initiate Operation 'Crimson Pledge' immediately. Liquidate the remaining holdings in the Lion City before the serpent can strike again. I need the assets secured in a shell company, title it 'The Temple Fund.'"
Ha-eun, distracted by the holograph, pointed at the screen. "Taehyung, why are you calling your strategy 'The Temple Fund'? Was I religious before my accident? Did I write hymns?"
Taehyung's hand froze over the mouse. The 'Temple Fund' was a name derived from the most painful, personal truth—the place of their original vow and the crimson cut. He had subconsciously named his defense strategy after the wound that bound them.
"No, Eun-ji," Taehyung lied quickly. "It's a new marketing term. It sounds… deeply profound. Now, your past. Tell me, do you feel any lingering connection to painting?"
Ha-eun immediately brightened. "Oh, yes! I feel like I must cover everything in paint! Was I a good painter, or did I only paint my poems onto the corporate walls?"
Taehyung smiled faintly, remembering the truth of her childhood ambition. "You were excellent. You were the only one who truly mastered the brush."
III. The Unsolvable Riddle
As the Briefing Hour concluded, Ha-eun seemed slightly satisfied, if thoroughly convinced she was an endangered genius of corporate verse.
"Okay, I understand. I am Eun-ji, the funny poet, and the tragic poet Jin is trying to destroy my funny kingdom. You are my handsome protector who dislikes forehead contact." She stood up. "I need more supplies. I must paint a portrait of the existential dread of a middle manager."
"You are not leaving," Taehyung repeated.
Ha-eun walked up to him, her amnesiac mind calculating. "If I am not allowed to leave to buy supplies, then you must come with me."
"Absolutely not! I am running a multi-billion dollar corporation from this room!"
"Then I will scream," she announced simply, her voice carrying a terrifying hint of the old Chairwoman's firmness. "I will scream and tell the security guards that you are an imposter who banned my poems. I need blue paint, Taehyung. Blue is the color of corporate melancholy."
Taehyung stared at her. He had defeated the most powerful financiers in Asia, yet he was utterly powerless against an amnesiac woman demanding art supplies. The cost of running his empire and protecting this secret was quickly becoming unbearable.
He finally conceded, his face a mask of cold resignation. "Fine. We will go, but we will use the utmost operational security. You will wear a hat, and you will not, under any circumstances, engage the cashier in a limerick battle."
Plot Hook for Part 12: Taehyung must now leave the security of his fortress for a high-risk errand, taking the highly erratic 'Eun-ji' into the public, where a single slip-up could expose the conspiracy, or worse, expose the fact that the ruthless Chairman is secretly babysitting his dead step-sister.