I. The Ghost in the Machine
Kim Taehyung leaned heavily on the desk in his 80th-floor office. The grainy, flickering footage from the old surveillance hub showed Min-soo's foyer, the crimson scarf painting dominating the wall. He was breathing heavily, not from exertion, but from the chilling realization: Kim Seok-jin was not far away; he was everywhere.
Jimin stood silent, waiting. Finally, Taehyung spoke, his voice low and ragged. "He's like water, Jimin. He flows into the cracks we forget to seal. That old system... he was testing us. Waiting for a symbol of the past to surface."
Seok-jin's escape wasn't an act of cowardice; it was a strategic retreat into the shadows, a move designed to keep his hands clean while still controlling the board and observing his targets. The old analog surveillance system was a perfect blend of nostalgia and high-tech deceit—a network only his father's inner circle would know existed.
Taehyung immediately deactivated the main feed, severing the visual connection. He then sent an encrypted text to his only completely trusted ally outside of his newly installed security detail—an aging, brilliant security consultant named Joon. The message was curt: "80F safe, old tech, deep clean now. Absolute priority: do not tamper with the external transmission equipment. Let it transmit silence."
"We have to give him an illusion of control," Taehyung explained, turning to his assistant. "He needs to believe his spy hole still works, otherwise he vanishes entirely. We let him watch an empty stage until the curtain rises on our terms."
Jimin's brows furrowed. "Chairman, that's incredibly risky. If he knows she is recovering her memory, he will prioritize removing her over any corporate play."
"Exactly," Taehyung countered, his eyes dark. "That is the one thing I can predict. The memory is the only thing that scares him. He fears the truth more than I fear his traps."
II. The Chairman's Trap
Taehyung knew a direct confrontation was impossible. Seok-jin was too calculated and too well-hidden. However, the Red Scarf painting provided the crucial vulnerability—the secret that meant more to Seok-jin than any corporate asset.
The painting proved two things: Ha-eun is alive, and Ha-eun is recovering the Vow memory. Seok-jin would not tolerate the memory returning, as Ha-eun was the sole, living witness to the original betrayal and the circumstances of his mother's death, which had fueled his lifelong greed.
Taehyung began to formulate the Poisoned Bait.
He returned to the boardroom that afternoon, a forced smile on his face, and called an impromptu press conference.
"The Taewon Group has undergone a necessary cleansing," he announced with chilling sincerity, looking directly into the cameras. "The tragic end of the Broken Vow—the end of my step-siblings' families—has been resolved. There are no remaining ghosts." He paused for dramatic effect. "However, to honor their memory, I have commissioned a final, definitive memorial."
He announced the launch of "The Crimson Vow Foundation"—a public arts initiative. The foundation's sole asset would be a single, newly acquired piece of art: the Red Scarf painting.
"This piece, which captures the sorrow and the necessary closure of that chapter, will be the focus of the foundation," Taehyung concluded. "The painting will be unveiled publicly at a black-tie gala next week. This is the true end of the crisis. I invite the world, and any remaining, lingering shadows, to witness this final closure."
III. The Inescapable Invitation
The gala was an invitation to the entire corporate and political elite, but for Taehyung, it was a direct, inescapable command issued to a single person: Kim Seok-jin.
The message was clear: The only proof you have that Ha-eun is alive is in my house, but I am moving that proof to a public, controlled location. If you want to stop her fragmented memory from becoming public (via the symbol), you must come out of hiding.
Taehyung knew Seok-jin was obsessed with maintaining his image as the "perfect gentleman." An attack on the Chairman in his private home was one thing; an attack on a memorial art piece in public would expose him as the chaotic murderer Taehyung knew he was.
Taehyung drove home, a chilling satisfaction settling over him. He had placed his life, and Ha-eun's memory, as the bait. Now, he just had to wait for the Architect to walk into his trap.
The Chairman entered his private quarters to find Min-soo staring blankly at the news footage of his press conference, her expression a mix of confusion and building dread.
"Why is my painting a memorial, Taehyung?" she asked, her voice quiet but piercing. "And why does that crimson colour feel like a wound? You're using my art to close a door I don't remember opening."
Taehyung approached her slowly, taking the remote from her hand. "The painting is a truth you forced me to acknowledge, Min-soo. I am simply guiding that truth to a place where I can protect it—and you."
"And what happens to the artist once the memorial is unveiled?" she pressed, her eyes full of genuine fear.