"I don't lose people. I erase them when they stop being useful."
— Min-Joon, when he found the rat in his own throne room.
It started with silence.
Then blood.
Not the kind that spills on tile, but the kind that shows up in the cracks of loyalty. Red flags. Slips of the tongue. Mistimed messages.
And Min-Joon was a god of rhythm.
He noticed everything.
It took 48 hours to confirm the breach.
The girl's name: Ha-Eun.
Lower-tier recruit. Pretty. Smart. Recruited during the Cafe Trials. Promoted too quickly.
And now?
A spy.
For Arata.
He didn't rage.
Didn't yell.
Didn't warn.
He simply summoned the entire harem to the East Wing ballroom — dressed in black silk, shirt open, gloves on.
And Ha-Eun stood in the center of the room, unaware she'd been marked for death.
Lady Mae watched from the shadows.
So did two Society observers.
But no one stopped him.
Because power had rules here — and Min-Joon had just rewritten them.
He stepped onto the central dais.
Looked around the circle of girls.
Paused.
Then said, "One of you gave my secrets to a man who hasn't mattered since Chapter 12."
Gasps.
Eyes darted.
Tension cracked.
Ha-Eun took a step back.
But it was too late.
The System flared:
✅ Target Confirmed: Ha-Eun
⚠️ Loyalty Breach Detected
🎯 Objective: Public Correction
Reward: Fear Aura (Passive) – Low-tier rivals now hesitate to engage with your harem
Min-Joon raised a hand.
Two guards dragged her forward.
She screamed.
Once.
That was all.
"I gave you silk," he said, stepping closer. "And you sold me for cotton."
She cried.
"Please, I didn't mean to—"
"You meant to," he cut in. "You just didn't think you'd get caught."
Then he leaned forward, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not like other kings, Ha-Eun. I don't exile traitors."
A pause.
"I erase them."
And with one flick of his fingers—
The guards dragged her out.
Her profile vanished from the System.
Her name deleted from every record.
She no longer existed in his domain.
The girls were silent.
Seo-Rin looked shaken.
Yuna looked grateful.
Mirae smiled.
Min-Joon stood above them all.
Untouched.
Unchallenged.
God.
The System chimed:
✅ Ha-Eun: Expunged
💥 Bonus Trait Gained: Loyalty Pressure – Girls now bond 15% faster under public discipline
🏆 Tower Fear Rating: +42%
🛡 Influence Multiplier: x3
He didn't gloat.
Didn't smile.
Just looked around the room and said:
"If anyone else is thinking about switching sides — now would be the moment to kneel."
No one moved.
Except Mirae.
She knelt.
And whispered: "You scare me."
He touched her cheek.
"And yet you stay."
They said the System doesn't make mistakes.
But no one ever said what happens to the pieces it discards.
Ha-Eun sat alone in a concrete room somewhere beneath the Tower's lowest
levels — her wrists still raw, not from chains, but from the cold that never
left her skin after Min-Joon's eyes looked through her.
That was what hurt the most.
Not the punishment.
Not the banishment.
Not even the erasure.
It was the moment she realized he didn't hate her.
He had already forgotten her.
I thought I mattered. I thought I had value. He told me I had potential.
He let me kneel beside the other girls. I even dreamed of what his voice might
sound like if it ever softened.
But he was never going to soften.
Not for me.
The world above was still spinning — fast, brutal, seductive.
The Tower danced with the heat of ambition.
And here?
Down here?
She was ice.
She remembered every second leading up to her final moment.
The message from Arata.
The hesitation.
The tiny breach — just a location pin, one late-night whisper in a data
tunnel she thought was secure.
She'd even cried while doing it.
But that didn't matter.
Because Min-Joon didn't need explanations.
He didn't deal in reasons.
Only results.
And now?
She was the result of failure.
Does anyone even remember my name anymore?
She stood in front of the mirror in the room they dumped her in.
The one the Society used for deleted girls — forgotten test units, abandoned
beauties who'd bet wrong.
Her face looked the same.
But something had changed.
The warmth in her eyes was gone.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the one time Min-Joon had
spoken her name with something close to interest.
Back at the Café Trials.
He'd said:
"Ha-Eun… You listen like a girl who wants to sin but hasn't decided on
the crime yet."
She had decided.
And she'd paid.
Then… something flickered.
A pulse across the mirror.
A faint blue outline.
A whisper.
Not from the System.
From below it.
"Rejection is not the end. It's the beginning of vengeance."
She blinked.
The mirror dimmed again.
Gone.
But the words lingered like ash.
And for the first time since being erased… she smiled.
Maybe I'm not out of the game.
Maybe I'm just starting mine.
He forgot me.
That's going to be his first mistake.