The sensation of being watched by Lee Min-Ji had become a constant presence, a thorn in Kim-Do's side. His "Tactical Intuition," though weak, vibrated gently in his presence, a buzzing warning that he could not ignore. She did not openly challenge him, did not provoke him. She studied him.
Over the next few days, he met her more often. In the library, while he pretended to read a book about military strategies. In the cafeteria, where she sometimes sat at an adjacent table, listening without sounding like the conversations of her faction. She was taking notes, not in an ostentatious notebook like Kang Seong, but on a discreet tablet.
The threat posed by Min-Ji was different. She was not motivated by a thirst for power or just unhealthy curiosity. She was guided by a strong sense of justice and order. And her intuition seemed as sharp as hers.
VZZT.
"'
[QUEST: NEUTRALY THE INVESTIGATION]
Background: An insightful and influential person is investigating you.
Objective: To divert Lee Min-Ji's attention or provide a credible explanation for your behavioral changes.
Reward: "Successful Their Reward" - The target will suspend investigations for a while.
• Failure: Increased risk of exposure. Increased attention from the Student Council.
"'
Kim-Do felt a shiver of apprehension. The system required him to directly deceive the smartest and most determined person in the school. Confronting him was impossible. Threatening it, counterproductive. He must have been smarter.
He remembered a detail in the real Kim-Do's memoir: an ancient and personal rivalry between Min-Ji's family and Park Jin-Ho's family. Jin-Ho's father had ruined a business owned by Min-Ji's uncle. The resentment was tenacious, though Min-Ji herself was too honest to act out of sheer revenge.
A plan began to form in his mind. A risky plan, based on Min-Ji's perception of him.
He waited for the right moment. One afternoon, when he knew she was working on a project in an empty study room, he approached. He dropped his "Emotional Camouflage," allowing a glow of fatigue and weariness - authentic - to appear on his face.
"Lee Min-Ji," he said, knocking softly on the open door.
She looked up, surprised. "Kim-Do. What is this visit worth to me?"
"I need to talk to someone... who is not in my faction."
His gaze immediately became more piercing, but also intrigued. She pointed to the chair in front of her. "Sit down."
He complied, nervously playing with the bracelet he was wearing on his wrist - an accessory he had added recently to strengthen his character.
"Lately... things are getting complicated," he began, avoiding his gaze. "Jin-Ho's threats, betrayals... I'm tired of always having to show the fangs."
Min-Ji says nothing, simply encouraging him with a nod to continue.
"You may have noticed... I've changed my approach," he confessed, seeming uncomfortable. "The training, the way I've settled Tae-min's story... It's not just strength anymore."
"I actually noticed him," she admitted, her neutral voice. "That's why you're here? Justify you?"
"No," he answered, shaking his head. He finally looked up at her, looking down at her deliberately vulnerable. "It's to ask you for advice."
Pure stupor on Min-Ji's face. Kim-Do, the tyrant of Ganguk High, asked him for advice. It was new.
"Council?"
"Jin-Ho is preparing something sneaky. I know that. But playing his game, going down to his level..." He paused, as if he was struggling internally. "I don't want that anymore. I want to beat him, but without becoming a monster like him. Without using the same methods that my... that I used before."
He had almost let my father escape, changing his mind just in time. But the hesitation was calculated. She would suggest a heavy family history, a plausible reason for her sudden change.
Min-Ji studied it, his analytical mind visibly overheated. She was looking for the deception, the trap.
"Why me?" she asked suspiciously.
"Because you're the only one who doesn't bend," he said with feigned sincerity. "You're not afraid of me. You believe in order, in justice. Not in the law of the strongest. I have... I need this. From another point of view."
He saw the conflict in her. His duty to watch over a disruptive element was opposed to his deep desire to see school become a better place. If Kim-Do was really looking to change, to become civilized, wasn't that an opportunity to be seized?
"You're lying," she finally said, but her voice was less confident.
"Maybe on some details," he admitted, playing the card of partial honesty. "But not on the essentials. I'm tired of war. And I think you do too."
He stood up, letting his words take effect. "Think about it. I don't need an answer now."
As he reached the door, his voice stopped him.
"Kim-Do."
He turned around.
The story of the theft in the director's office... It was you, wasn't it? Who foiled Jin-Ho's plan?"
He held out his gaze. "I protect my people. But I don't dirty the innocent to do it. No more."
He went out, leaving her with his thoughts. The trap was set. He had not provided a simple explanation, but a complex and credible motivation: weariness, a desire for change, a heavy family past. It was a much more sophisticated decoy than a simple lie.
VZZT.
"'
[Question accomplished: NEUTRALING THE INVESTIGATION]
+ Successfully enabled lure.
Lee Min-Ji will suspend his direct investigation for 7 days. She will observe you with a new objective: to evaluate the sincerity of your "redemption."
"'
It was a respite. Not a victory. He had exchanged the threat of an investigation against the weight of expectations. Min-Ji would now look at him, hoping to see a better man emerge. If he deviated from this trajectory, his suspicions would return tenfold.
Walking down the hallway, he felt Joon's gaze on him, far away, from the other end of the hall. The regulator had seen it all again. This time, there was no approving nod. Just an impenetrable look, as if Joon was evaluating a new variable in his equation.
Kim-Do had saved time. But he also increased the burden of his role. He now had to play not only the hero, but also the hero in repentance. Every gesture, every decision, would be scrutinized through this new prism.
Survival, he understood, was no longer a matter of strength or cunning. It was a perpetual artistic performance, and the stage was getting narrower and narrower.