The news hit Hana the next morning like a physical blow. YERIN, the new darling of the tech world, was now splashed across the headlines for a devastating data breach. It made no sense. Why would a startup on the cusp of greatness risk everything?
Her mind, a frantic whirlwind, led her to Joo Won's office, the tablet in her hand feeling like a lead weight. "Have you seen this?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief. "It has to be a competitor. Someone who couldn't stand to see them succeed." She sighed, the sound heavy with misplaced pity. "Who would go this far?"
Then, the terrible, logical click. Her head snapped up, her eyes finding Joo Won across the room. He was preternaturally still, a statue amidst the storm of her panic.
Her voice was barely a whisper, yet it seemed to echo in the tense quiet. "Joo Won-ssi... JW Games wasn't responsible for this... right?"
His chair screeched as he shoved back from his desk. "What did you just say?" he barked, his voice suddenly too loud for the enclosed space; it echoed. He never raised his voice at anyone, let alone Hana. If it was the old Bae Hoon, she would have understood but it wasn't.
Startled, Hana took a step back, her voice timid yet assertive. "Well, obviously, because they were the only other finalist. And you said... you said the Chairman—"
"Enough!" he roared, striding across the room so forcefully a nearby chair rattled. He didn't just cover her mouth; he grabbed her arm, his grip uncomfortably tight. "Shut your mouth! You have no idea what you're talking about!"
He released her with a shove that wasn't quite violent but was far from gentle. "If you've got nothing better to do than spout nonsense in my office, then get out!" His words were a verbal slap, delivered with a force that made her flinch. "Now!" The moment the words left his mouth, Joo Won felt their bitter sting. He had to be this monster, to push her away with brute force. He didn't want her to be involved in the mess that his life was any more than she already was.
Hope is a disease that cured itself almost immediately after it affected him. He committed a terrible mistake in telling Hana about his fake life, about Ji Woo. Since the damage had already been done, all he could do is push her away so that she couldn't keep gnawing at something she shouldn't have.
Hana stood frozen, her arm stinging and the echo of his shout ringing in her ears. In all their years, he had never, ever spoken to her like that. Her vision started to blur from the bottom. She batted her eyes a few times in order to clear the blurry vision. Her ears were turning hot, and she hated herself for worrying for Joo Won. Not wanting to look immature, she slowly, like an adult, absorbed everything and retreated and went back to her own cabin.
—
Soon 27th of December came. She visited the lab to collect the reports herself, could not risk it to be mailed to the house. When she opened the report, she saw that the DNA did not match with that of the chairman.
Wait. But that does not mean that her father is involved. The chairman might have done it with someone else' help. Also keeping vigilance over a chaebol heir is not abnormal, so her father took on the task as the secretary but that does not mean that he was involved in kidnapping Joo Won or that he used his own daughter as a tool to keep watch on the poor child.
The decision solidified in Hana's mind: she needed to speak with Ji Woo. He was the only person who might hold a piece of the puzzle from Joo Won's past. With uncertainty in her mind due to the current misfortune that befell on YERIN, she reached out under the guise of discussing a potential business collaboration, and he agreed to meet at a quiet, modern cafe nestled in a less busy part of the city.
Ji Woo was already there when she arrived, seated at a corner table with a pair of sunglasses on and a tall glass of iced americano, scrolling through his phone. He looked every bit the successful, young CEO—casual but sharp, focused. Hana ordered the same drink and approached him, her posture professional but her mind racing.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Mr Kang," she said, offering a slight bow as she settled into the chair opposite him. "I know you have... a lot going on right now."
"No problem," he replied, his voice smooth as he set the phone down and removed the glasses. The gesture was meant to be open, but the shadows under his eyes betrayed a deep-seated exhaustion. Hana's resolve wavered for a second. Was she about to shatter this man? Hana took a breath. There was no gentle way to do this. She decided to be direct.
He asked, the friendly CEO persona firmly in place. "You mentioned a project?"
Hana took a steadying breath. There was no gentle way to detonate a life.
"There's no project. The need to meet you was a bit personal."
Ji Woo surprised, "Personal?"
She leaned forward slightly, "Yes. Do you know Good Hope Orphanage?"
The name was a physical blow.
The effect was instant. Ji Woo, who had been lifting his glass for another sip of his iced americano, choked slightly on the cold liquid. He coughed, setting the drink down hard enough to make the ice clink. Apart from Dong Geun, he knew no one from the orphanage in his adult life.
Assuming she would be someone from the orphanage or maybe she knew someone from there, he asked her to be certain, "How do you know that name?"
Hana had rehearsed this. Her hands were steady around her own cold glass, but her heart thrummed against her ribs. This was the point of no return.
Her voice dropping to a near-whisper that forced him to lean in to hear, "do you know Joo Won?"
The name hung between them, a lit match in a room full of gas.
Ji Woo's reaction was visceral. He didn't just look surprised; he looked struck. His breath caught audibly. All the color seemed to drain from his face before flooding to his ears. His eyes, wide and unblinking, locked onto hers with an intensity that was almost frightening.
"Y-yes," he breathed, the word barely audible. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a hushed, urgent tremor. "Joo Won and I were are from the same orphanage. He was like my brother. My best friend. But how do you know Joo Won? Do you know where he is?" he demanded, his voice still low but now laced with a protective edge.
"Yes, I do. And I need your help to find out whether he is telling the truth or needs professional help. In any case, he needs me. And I need your help in this"
"What do you mean?" Ji Woo's intense gaze searched hers.
"I think Bae Hoon is Joo Won." Hana kept her gaze steady at Ji Woo.
"What? I think I am going crazy. Either I am hearing things, or you just said Bae Hoon is Joo Won." Ji Woo said with utter confusion.
Ji Woo stared at her, his mind visibly reeling, trying to process a fact so monumental it shattered everything he thought he knew. The world outside the café window seemed to blur into insignificance. The only thing that was real was the bombshell that had just detonated between them.
After 2 hours of Hana explaining what happened to Hwang Bae Hoon since the "accident" as she knew it till now --the "accident," the cold transformation of the boy she knew, the Chairman's ruthless control, the psychological prison, Joo Won's devastating confession and finally she showed him the report. Ji Woo took everything in grim silence. He felt guilty that he had doubted his friend had forgotten him when he was in danger. He did nothing to protect his other half. While Ji Woo was busy blaming him, his other half was being broken down in a in the name of a family, and he had done nothing. From the ashes of that despair, a single, defiant flicker of hope ignited. A relief surfaced that his brother was alive. But before that hope could take hold, it had to pass one final, brutal test. He still needed to confirm the one thing that would make this nightmare undeniably real.
Ji Woo's voice cut through the silence, sharp and precise.
"The birthmark," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an almost frightening intensity. "On his left arm. Above the elbow. Is it there? A small, star-shaped mark." Hana's confidence faltered. She had seen Joo Won's arms when they were kids, but she had never specifically looked for this. The detail was too intimate, too precise for her to know, especially now that they were grownups.
"I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice softening with frustration. "I never noticed. I couldn't get a clear look. He always wears long sleeves."
"When we were kids," Ji Woo confided, his voice thick with memory, "I used to trace it with a marker. To make the star shape more prominent. He'd laugh... I have a photo of it. I'll find it and send it to you the moment I get home. If that mark is on his arm... then I'll believe it completely. That's him. That's Joo Won."
The plan was simple, but the risk was immense. "You must find out," Ji Woo urged, his voice low and intense. "You must get a look at his arm."
Hana nodded, the new mission crystallizing in her mind. "I will. But you must promise me—absolute silence. If the Chairman suspects anything and digs deeper, you, him, me, we all become a target. And you cannot contact Bae Hoon either. Not until I have all the evidence I need. Without evidence, the chairman can deny everything, and the plan will fail, with you, Joo Won and me and probably my whole family dead."
"I promise," Ji Woo agreed, his expression grave. "But the moment you know—the moment you see it—you tell me." Offering his help to gather evidence, he said, "I will help you. But we cannot move until we are certain."
The meeting ended not with resolution, but with a tense, shared purpose. Hana now held a key, but she didn't know if it fit the lock. The truth now hinged on a single, small star hidden on a man's arm—a detail she now had to find a way to see.
**
The energy on the office floor was electric, a palpable hum of excitement and disbelief. As Hana stepped out of the elevator, she was immediately swept into a wave of cheers. Colleagues were gathered around a large monitor, watching the view count on a famous streamer's video of their game climb into the millions.
"Sunbaenim!" a junior developer yelled, spotting her. "We did it! Over 100k downloads in five days!"
Before she could process it, she was pulled into the center of the group. Someone pressed a cold Oolong Milk Tea into her hand—their traditional celebration drink. A genuine, victorious smile broke across her face as she looked at their beaming, proud expressions. This was it. This was the dream.
But the lead programmer in her couldn't switch off. The milestone was incredible, but it was just the beginning.
"This is amazing, everyone! Truly!" she said, her voice cutting through the cheers. She raised her tea in a quick toast. "But let's not get comfortable. We have to keep this momentum. The next update needs to be flawless. Back to work!"
The celebration faltered. The bright smiles dimmed just a little. From the back of the group, one of her youngest juniors, emboldened by the group's high spirits, groaned playfully but with a hint of real disappointment.
"Oh my god... you're just like Bonbujang-nim," he muttered, nodding toward the closed glass door of Joo Won's office. "All work, no play. Ugh."
The comparison hung in the air, a casual remark that hit Hana with the force of a physical blow. Her gaze followed to where Joo Won sat, isolated and immovable behind the glass, a monument to relentless pressure and buried joy.
The smile vanished from her face. She remembered how he had treated her earlier. The celebratory tea suddenly felt heavy in her hand. The words weren't an insult meant by them, but to her, they felt like one.
The victory suddenly tasted bittersweet. She also recollected the Ji Woo's misfortune. It must have hurt Joo Won too, after all, Ji Woo was his best friend.
Behind the glass wall of his office, Joo Won sat working on the laptop. The light from his laptop screen washed over his face, etching his features in pale, cool light. Hana stopped at the threshold, the joyful noise fading into a distant hum as her world narrowed to that solitary figure.
In all those years, she never saw him celebrating anything or a genuine, warm smile after being able to achieve something which he often did. It struck her then, with the force of a physical blow. The weight he had been carrying. The immense, crushing mental pressure that had, for over two decades, extinguished any spark of spontaneous joy. He wasn't just dedicated; he was a prisoner. A perfectly programmed machine that never faltered, never required the fuel of celebration or rest, running on a endless loop of duty and fear. She had seen him at his desk at dawn and still there long after midnight, a constant, relentless force. His rude words slowly lost importance.
Hana knew the truth. She knew the kindness he showed when he thought no one was watching—helping an intern, his quiet respect for the cleaning staff, the way his eyes softened for a fraction of a second when he looked at her. She knew the sensitive, caring, warm man was buried alive under layers of concrete and coldness, trapped in a cage built by another boy.
His life had never been his own. It was a role, a performance to honor a ghost. He was living a debt, and the currency was his entire life. It was not his to begin with, neither was it Bae Hoon's. Joo Won's existence did not let Bae Hoon die. Neither of the boys could fully embrace their current existence. A wave of pity, sympathy for Joo Won washed over Hana. Without knowing, corner of her eyes glistened with tears. She looked at him not as Hwang Bae Hoon, the flawless heir, but as Joo Won—the lonely boy, the stolen orphan, the man who had forgotten how to smile—and her heart broke for him all over again.