Flashback – Two Months Earlier
Yoon Tae-Kyung's office was sleek and dimly lit, the blue light from multiple monitors reflecting off his glasses. He leaned back in his chair, calm and calculating, as Park Jin-Ho paced across the floor.
"Tae-Kyung," Jin-Ho said, lowering his voice, "this is insane. You're talking about sabotaging our own systems. If anyone finds out—"
"They won't," Tae-Kyung interrupted smoothly. "That's the point. The breach will look external. Controlled chaos. While everyone scrambles to fix it, we move funds out slowly—small amounts. Nobody will notice until it's too late."
Jin-Ho frowned, rubbing his temple. "You're too confident."
Tae-Kyung smiled faintly, though irritation flickered behind his calm eyes. This fool… If I didn't need his signature on the finance authorizations, I wouldn't waste a breath explaining any of this.
"Confidence isn't the same as recklessness, Jin-Ho." He said aloud, voice even. "I have people. Competent ones. They can simulate the infiltration without a trace."
"And if the system collapses?" Jin-Ho asked. "If the CEO finds out?"
"Do-Kyung will be the one blamed," Tae-Kyung said, his tone quiet but firm. "The Board already doubts him. One major scandal, and they'll push him out for someone more… reliable."
"You" Jin-Ho muttered.
Tae-Kyung's smile widened. "Exactly.
"And what about me?" Jin-Ho asked quietly.
Tae-Kyung's lips curved into a faint smile. "You'll be promoted. More power. More money. All you have to do is sign off the transfers and keep quiet."
Jin-Ho's hesitation wavered. Greed flickered behind his eyes. "You really think no one will find out?"
Tae-Kyung's gaze hardened, voice turning colder. "They won't. You're looking at the future CEO of Hwaseong Dynamics. No one suspects the ones fixing the problem."
Jin-Ho's greed finally overpowered his fear. "Fine," he said. "I'll do it."
Tae-Kyung's smile barely reached his eyes. "Good. I knew you'd come around."
- - - Back toPresent
Do-Kyung stood by the desk, his reflection clear in the glass walls. "Where are they now?"
"Park Jin-Ho clocked in thirty minutes ago," Min-Soo said. "Tae-Kyung arrived not long after. Both are in their respective departments. I've already contacted internal security to prepare quietly."
"Good," Do-Kyung said. "Bring them up here separately. No scene in front of the staff."
Min-Soo nodded and left.
Do-Kyung walked back to the window. His cousin's voice echoed faintly in his mind—laughter from family dinners, easy smiles, trust. All of it rotted now.
When the door opened again, Park Jin-Ho was the first to enter. His usual polished confidence was gone; his hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his tie.
"Mr. Park," Do-Kyung said, his voice cool as he handed him a cup of coffee. "Take a seat."
"Of course, sir," Jin-Ho said, forcing a smile. "Is this about the audit results? I heard there was some confusion—"
"Stop," Do-Kyung cut in, tone sharp enough to freeze the air. "We know everything."
Jin-Ho's color drained. "I—I don't understand."
Do-Kyung gestured toward the monitor. "You and Tae-Kyung rerouted system protocols. You moved company funds to private accounts. You staged a false breach."
Jin-Ho stared, jaw tight. "He said no one would ever—"
He stopped himself, realizing too late what he'd said.
Do-Kyung's eyes narrowed. "He?"
Jin-Ho swallowed hard. "Sir, please. I was dragged into this. He said it was safe—that it was just temporary—"
Min-Soo re-entered quietly. "Security is in position."
Do-Kyung gave a single nod. "Take him."
The door opened with a soft hiss, and two uniformed men stepped in, followed by Min-Soo.
"Director Park Jin-Ho," one of the officers said formally, his tone devoid of emotion. "You're under investigation for internal sabotage, data manipulation, and financial misconduct. Please cooperate."
Jin-Ho's hand froze mid-air. His cup clattered against the desk, spilling across scattered documents "W–wait, what are you talking about? There must be a mistake—"
"This isn't a mistake." Min-Soo gestured to one of the officers, who produced a warrant. "You can either walk out quietly or make this harder than it needs to be."
Jin-Ho's breathing quickened. His eyes darted to the corridor — employees were gathering, whispering. The humiliation burned deeper than fear. "I didn't— It was Tae-Kyung's idea! He—he said it would be harmless!"
Min-Soo's voice didn't waver. "You can explain that to the police."
Jin-Ho was handcuffed as cameras flickered in the hallway, phones discreetly recording behind lowered screens. His protests echoed briefly — then faded into silence.
Do-Kyung watched from the monitor feed in his office, expression unreadable. When Min-Soo returned, he gave a small nod. "Bring him in."
Moments later, they the door opened again. Yoon Tae-Kyung strode in, crisp suit, composed face.
"Cousin," he said with a polite nod. "You called for me?"
Do-Kyung didn't look up immediately. When he finally did, his voice was ice."I told you not to call me that at work."
Tae-Kyung's lips twitched slightly, a trace of mock amusement as he took a seat and crossed one leg over the other. "Right. My apologies, sir."
Min-Soo stood off to the side, silent. The screen still displayed the evidence, the messages, the transactions. Tae-Kyung's name glowed bright at the top.
Do-Kyung turned toward him. "You've been busy, haven't you?"
Tae-Kyung's gaze flicked to the monitor—and stayed there. His expression didn't change, but the pause was all it took.
"I see," he said quietly. "You found it."
Do-Kyung's jaw tightened. "You planned to destroy this company. My company. Our family's name."
Tae-Kyung exhaled slowly. "Our family's name?" He gave a small, humorless laugh. "You mean your name. You were handed everything. I built the system that runs this place, but you get the credit. You always have."
"You think betrayal fixes that?" Do-Kyung shot back.
"I think balance fixes that," Tae-Kyung said, voice rising. "Do you know how many times the Board asked me to take your position quietly? I turned them down out of respect. But when I saw how weak your leadership had become, I decided to help the company myself."
"By embezzling funds?"
"By removing a liability," Tae-Kyung said. "You."
Do-Kyung stared at him for a long moment, the silence heavier than any shout. Finally, he said, "You disappointed me, Tae-Kyung."
Tae-Kyung smiled faintly. "You sound like your father."
"Then you know what comes next."
Do-Kyung nodded toward the door.
Two security officers entered quietly. Min-Soo gestured toward them. "Head of IT Security, Yoon Tae-Kyung, you're under arrest for corporate sabotage and conspiracy."
Tae-Kyung didn't move. He just stared at his cousin — eyes cold, calculating, but stripped of their usual smugness. "So that's it? Family means nothing?"
"Family means loyalty," Do-Kyung said. "You gave that up."
The officers stepped forward. Tae-Kyung stood without resistance, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth — pride refusing to die, even in defeat. "You can remove me, cousin, but remember this—the Board doesn't forgive weakness. Without me, you'll be eaten alive." He said.
Do-Kyung didn't respond. He simply turned away as they led him out, the sound of the door closing behind them echoing like a full stop.
Silence.
Min-Soo stepped forward. "What should I do with the reports?"
"Lock them," Do-Kyung said. "Every copy, encrypted and off-site. I'll brief the legal team in private."
"Yes, sir."
Do-Kyung walked back to the window. The morning light had shifted, brighter now, harsh across the skyline.
Below, security cars pulled out of the parking lot—one holding Park Jin-Ho, the other Yoon Tae-Kyung.
Min-Soo paused at the doorway. "Sir… I'm sorry."
Do-Kyung didn't turn. "Don't be. Betrayal always starts close to home."
For a moment, he stood motionless, his reflection merging with the city beyond the glass. Then he spoke, voice almost a whisper:
"Family or not, betrayal has its consequences, cousin."
And with that, the Han Do-Kyung straightened his tie, exhaled once, and stepped away from the window—back into the calm, silent war that was corporate survival.
Later That Afternoon
The boardroom hummed with uneasy whispers long before the meeting began.
When Han Do-Kyung walked in, every conversation died instantly. The CEO's expression was unreadable as he took his seat at the head of the table, flanked by Choi Min-Soo.
Stacks of reports sat untouched in front of each director. On the large screen behind Do-Kyung, the paused footage from the USB still glowed faintly.
One of the older board members, Director Kang, finally broke the silence."CEO Han Do-Kyung," he said carefully, "I want to confirm what we've all heard. Your cousin, Yoon Tae-Kyung, led this sabotage?"
"That's correct," Do-Kyung replied flatly. "He worked with Park Jin-Ho from Finance. Both are in custody."
A murmur rippled across the table. Director Han, one of the younger members, frowned.
"Your own cousin, though? That's… not entirely suprising, but surely there must be more to the story."
"There isn't," Do-Kyung said. "The evidence speaks for itself."
Director Kang leaned back, steepling his fingers. "And how long were you aware of his activities before deciding to act?"
Do-Kyung's eyes met his. "Long enough to confirm them."
"So you knew," Kang pressed, voice gaining edge, "and you didn't inform this board immediately?"
Min-Soo straightened slightly. "With respect, sir, informing the board too early could have compromised the investigation. The leak could have gone wider."
The room went still. A few directors exchanged glances, the unspoken accusation hanging heavy.
Director Seo, a sharp-voiced woman who handled corporate relations, spoke next. "You realize the implications, CEO Han. If the media catches wind of this — a family member caught in fraud and espionage — the company's reputation—"
Do-Kyung cut her off quietly. "—will remain intact. This matter stays internal."
"That's unrealistic," she snapped. "Things like this don't stay buried. People talk."
Do-Kyung leaned forward, his calm voice carrying more weight than a shout. "Then make sure our people don't."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Director Kang exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tension. "We're not questioning your competence, CEO Han. But the board has to ensure stability. Investors will ask questions."
"They'll get answers," Do-Kyung said evenly. "Numbers. Results. Not rumors."
Min-Soo tapped the screen, bringing up financial projections. "All compromised accounts have been frozen. Transfers reversed. The audit logs are clean. There's no remaining vulnerability."
Seo folded her arms. "You're acting like this was just another day at work. Two of your top executives tried to gut the company, and one of them was family."
Do-Kyung's gaze shifted to her — calm, cutting. "And that's exactly why I can't afford to act like it's personal."
No one spoke after that. The weight of his words settled over them — quiet authority backed by steel resolve.
Finally, Kang nodded slowly. "Very well. The board supports your decisions. For now."
Do-Kyung inclined his head in acknowledgment, though his eyes said otherwise.
As the directors began gathering their papers, Seo paused at the door, glancing back at him. "You're lucky, Do-Kyung. If this had leaked before you handled it, the Board might've voted you out this morning."
Then she left without another word.
Min-Soo remained, standing beside the table as the last footsteps faded. "You handled them," he said quietly.
Do-Kyung looked toward the glass wall where the city stretched beneath the sunset. "For now," he murmured. "But they're right about one thing. Family scandals don't stay buried for long."
The city outside glittered, silent and cold. Inside, the boardroom lights dimmed one by one, leaving only the screen still flickering faintly with the frozen image of Yoon Tae-Kyung.
Now he was just another name in a report—crossed out and forgotten.