Chairman Hwang's insistence that Bae Hoon enter the Nebula Games Cup was non-negotiable; a victory would be the ultimate showcase of the Chairman's influence. Bae Hoon, formerly Joo Won, relented with a numb acquiescence. He never called the Chairman 'Father,' yet he obeyed his every command with the hollow compliance of an filial son whose spirit had long been broken. The part of him that could defy had died years ago, along with the real Bae Hoon. This numbness was his armor, the only way to survive in a gilded cage where even the thought of his only friend, Ji Woo, was a dangerous secret to be locked away, lest a stray word or glance give the Chairman and Secretary Baek a reason to snuff that last light out.
Assembling a team for the competition was a monumental task. His group, JW Games, was new and raw. He longed to instill in them true camaraderie and a strong work ethic, but the Chairman's deadline forced his hand. His one strategic advantage was Hana, Secretary Baek's daughter, a sharp computer science major. Drawing on the game design skills he'd cultivated in the US, he quickly rounded out the team with talented students specializing in animation and sound engineering, forging them into a weapon to fulfil his fake father's ambition.
Bae Hoon's competition entry is a high-stakes, multiplayer escape game titled "Aperture."
The game begins with each player waking up in a confined, ever-changing chamber. To escape, they must quickly identify and activate a magical portal which lies somewhere within the chamber - a different one each time. Failure is brutal: hesitate too long, and an army of assassins breaches the room, resulting in a swift and lethal game over.
Upon successfully escaping, the player is thrust into a vast magical world and granted a random supernatural ability, such as superhuman strength, invisibility, elemental control, or flight.
The core gameplay is a three-player online co-op experience. The twist? The portal didn't close behind them. The assassins have also crossed over and gained their own terrifying powers. The players must work together, combining their randomized abilities to hunt these empowered villains.
Their ultimate goal is to fight their way to the "Sanctuary Grove," a legendary garden filled with treasure. To claim their reward, players must solve puzzles based on in-game hints to increase their power. Success grants them points and in-game currency, which can be used to purchase other superpowers, adding a compelling layer of long-term progression to the chaotic, session-based gameplay.
The game has now been submitted on the portal. It is all about the end of week now.
Chairman Hwang, however, does not have faith in Bae Hoon. He knew that this damn bastard could not have his son's creativity. He resented this Bae Hoon who gives him a constant reminder that his real son is no longer, it's been twenty-two years. He drinks to excess, only to drown in thoughts of what a terrible father he is. He did not even avenge his son's death in fear of dipping shares.
Over the years, Mrs. Hwang had shed her clingy nature and the guilt over her son's accident. But she couldn't shed her growing suspicions. Her son, Bae Hoon, became withdrawn, thin, and fearfully obedient to a father he once joked with. The family dog barked at him, and old home videos elicited only a blank stare. "How long will you do this?" she'd cry in frustration.
Her breaking point came at dinner. The son she knew was deathly allergic to shrimp. This one ate it without a single reaction. She rushed him to the hospital for a treatment he didn't need.
The doctor said he was perfectly okay and expressed awe at the miracle that even an allergy is cured and that there is no need for any treatment. But Mrs. Hwang knew that the body does not forget what the mind can. How can he not have any allergies? She now knew. The boy living in her house might be an imposter.
To reconfirm her suspicion, she had secretly collected his husband's hair and the boy's hair sent for a DNA test. Once she saw the report, she sat down on the couch in shock.
The dam of her composure shattered. A raw, guttural sob escaped her lips just as the figure of Bae Hoon appeared at the bottom of the stairs. His face was pale in the dim light, a glass of water in his hand.
Seeing him, a desperate energy seized her. She lunged forward, her movements frantic, and grabbed his arm. His thin, frail limb felt shockingly delicate in her grasp, a stark reminder of the fragility of the lie she'd been living. She shook him, her voice a broken, hysterical whisper. "Where is he? What did you do with my boy? Where is my son?"
Her strength gave out as suddenly as it had come. The anguish overwhelmed her, and she collapsed to the cold marble floor, weeping uncontrollably.
Bae Hoon stood frozen, terrified by the violent unraveling of the woman who had, over time, become a source of confused comfort. Her love was a borrowed garment he'd learned to wear, never fitting quite right but desperately clinging to its warmth. In his deepest loneliness, he had even begun to crave it, wishing he could confess his true name- Joo Won and be loved for himself, not as a ghost. But the Chairman's threat was a chain he could not break.
His instinct to comfort warred with his fear. Hesitantly, he bent down, offering her the glass of water.
The gesture seemed to infuriate her. With a cry of fury, she lashed out, smacking the glass from his hand. It sailed across the drawing room and exploded against the wall, scattering shards like diamonds in the moonlight.
Bae Hoon stumbled backward, his heart hammering against his ribs. He braced for more - more yelling, more violence, more of the madness that had clouded her eyes.
But the storm passed as quickly as it had arrived. The frenzy drained from her, leaving a cold, terrifying resolve in its wake. She rose from the floor, wiped her tears, her expression grim. She grabbed his arm again, not with hysterical strength, but with an iron determination. Without a word, she half-dragged, half-pulled him up the stairs, shoved him into his room, and turned the key in the lock.
The click of the lock was deafening. She didn't need to ask him anymore. She knew. This was her husband's doing. This was the work of a man who cared more for his corporate empire than his own flesh and blood. And now, she would wait for him to come home. She would have her answers.
The oak door of the mansion clicked open and shut. Mr. Hwang stepped into the foyer. He shrugged off his coat, his voice a low, automatic rumble. "I'm home."
"You are home," Mrs. Hwang replied, her voice flat, sitting with her legs crossed sitting on the couch perfectly still in the center of the grand drawing-room.
He hummed in acknowledgement, his back to her as he moved to the sidebar, fingers deftly loosening his tie before reaching for the crystal decanter of whiskey. The clink of glass was the only sound.
"Honey," her voice cut through the silence, eerily calm. "Do you have anything to tell me?"
He paused, the bottle hovering over the glass. "No," he said, his tone dismissive, almost bored. "Why do you ask?"
The rustle of paper was his only warning. A crisp white document sailed through the air fluttering to the floor. He turned slowly, a frown etching onto his face. "What is this?"
"Why don't you read it yourself?" Her voice was no longer calm; it was a blade, sharp and cold. Her face carried the weight of loss, raw and unmistakable.
His eyes dropped to the paper. He bent, picked it up, and his world tilted. The heading 'DNA Analysis Report' was a sledgehammer. His eyes, previously dull with fatigue, snapped wide open, scanning the damning 0.00% percentages and conclusive statements. The color drained from his face. The game was over.
"How could you do this?" The question wasn't shouted; it was a raw, broken thing. "You only think about your company. Your own son didn't matter to you at all?" She advanced on him, her composure shattering. "You could go this far? You didn't tell me! Where is he? Where is my son?! You didn't even let me say goodbye to him!"
Her fists, weak with grief, beat against his chest. Then, the strength left her entirely, and she collapsed at his feet, a heap of silk and despair.
"Quiet!" he hissed, his own panic surfacing. He grabbed her arms, not to comfort, but to silence her, his eyes darting towards the doors, terrified a servant might hear. "Do you want the whole world to know?!"
He hauled her up, his voice dropping to a urgent, venomous whisper. "It was a business rival. They orchestrated the accident. If the news of our son's... condition... had gotten out, our stock would have plummeted. Everything I've built, every venture, would have collapsed. I couldn't afford that. Don't you understand? I had to protect us."
The confrontation bled into a hushed, brutal negotiation, all while the boy they called Bae Hoon remained a prisoner in his room. Under the weight of her relentless grief, Mr. Hwang's defenses crumbled. He confessed everything: the shadowy deal with the warden, the drugs, the boy delivered to Secretary Baek in the dead of night like contraband.
Each detail was a fresh wound. Mrs. Hwang's protests dissolved into weak, intermittent sobs - the final, crushing confirmation that her son was not lost, but truly gone. She did not dream the cruel reality, it really did happen. She had been lavishing her love on a ghost, while a stranger lived in his skin. She had been robbed of the chance to even say goodbye.
Exhausted by her tears and the grim reality, Mr. Hwang finally revealed the location of their son's grave. A morbid journey was planned for the next morning. They retreated to a silent, joyless dinner and then to bed, their pact sealed in shared complicity. He had convinced her: revealing either secret - their son's death or the kidnapped doppelgänger would shatter his empire's image irrevocably. And so, the two monsters agreed to continue the charade, using the boy for their own benefit.
Mrs. Hwang's heart turned to stone. She could no longer bear the sight of the imposter. His meals were sent up on a tray by a maid. Within days, he was on a plane to the United States, shipped away to study under the guise of an opportunity. The plan was simple: use his face to maintain their perfect family portrait for as long as necessary, then discard him.
The Hwangs became masters of the performance. In public, they were the doting, smiling parents. Behind closed doors, they treated the boy with a cruelty colder than hatred. He was ignored, excluded from meals, and met with a silence that was more punishing than any shout. He was less than a stray dog - he was a tool, a living prop.
Secretary Baek had been tragically right. The name 'Hwang Bae Hoon' was the only currency the boy possessed. Without it, he was nothing to them. Joo Won had vanished twice: first in body, and now in spirit, trapped in a cage where his only worth was a name that was never his. The photographs documented Joo Won's life, but they served as a permanent record of Bae Hoon's. His very image had been stolen to construct a life of a ghost.
The nameless headstone embodied a devastating reality: by erasing Bae Hoon's death, the Hwangs had also erased Joo Won's life. Neither boy could claim a true existence; one was a hidden corpse, the other a living ghost.