Roori
Min-Jun's breath is warm against my neck, but the chill I feel inside doesn't go away. Not completely. And yet, something's different.
The thrill isn't just fear anymore: it's adrenaline.
"Roori, let's get out of here," he whispers, squeezing my shoulders. "This place is falling apart, and Seo-Yun won't be long in climbing through that door."
"No," I say, and my voice sounds firm, almost foreign to my ears. "He was looking for the legacy. But the Kims' legacy isn't in bank accounts, Min. It's in what they've hidden under other people's feet."
I pull away from him and start walking toward the center of the room.
I remember his footsteps.
One, two, three... I stop in front of an old, rusty metal desk.
"My father said that fish thrive in water, but water needs to be deep to hide secrets. He wasn't talking about ponds, Min. He was talking about this building."
"What do you mean?" he asks, reaching out to me.
I see confusion in his eyes, but also a newfound respect.
"Look at the floor."
I point to the worn linoleum tiles. If you look closely, the geometric pattern forms concentric circles that expand. Like waves.
At the center of these circles is not a random desk, but a load-bearing pillar.
"Dad used to bring me here when he wanted to escape Grandpa's screams," I continue, touching the cold surface of the pillar. "He used to say, 'Rori, if you ever get lost, look for the center of the wave.' I thought it was a fairy tale. But look here."
I find a small crack, almost invisible under years of dust. It's not a keyhole. It's a thin groove. I remove the chain around my neck: a small silver carp that Dad gave me before he disappeared.
"Roori, wait... it could be dangerous," Min-Jun intervenes, stepping forward to protect me.
"This time I'll protect you, Min," I reply with a bitter smile. "Keep an eye on the door. If Seo-Yun comes in, stop him. No matter how."
I insert the silver carp's tail into the slot.
A heavy, ancient hydraulic noise vibrates beneath our feet. It's not a wall opening, but a section of the floor sliding aside, revealing a spiral staircase descending into the darkness.
The smell rising isn't mold. It's air conditioning.
Electricity.
There's power down there.
"Dad's fish," I murmur, looking at Min-Jun. "They weren't in the pond. They were in the underground vault at Kim Industries. The one that officially never existed."
Min-Jun takes out his phone and turns on the flashlight, illuminating the first few steps. His face is a mask of tension.
"Did your father build a shelter under Grandpa's house? Roori, if Uncle or Grandpa find out we know..."
"Grandpa already knows we're here," I reply, thinking of the message Ava must have received as well. "He pushed us here.
It's his way of telling us the past isn't buried yet."
We descend the first step.
Min-Jun takes my hand, but this time it's not me who holds on tightly to keep from falling. It's he who leans against me as we delve into the heart of the Kims' secret.
The air in the vault is still, cold, filled with that electrical hum that only large servers emit. It's not a tomb, it's a control room. Min-Jun shines a light on the walls: there are no shelves of documents, but flat screens that light up as we pass, activated by motion sensors.
"Look," Min-Jun whispers, pointing the flashlight at a central console.
I approach.
On the main monitor, a file with the icon of a stylized carp stands out.
The same symbol as my necklace.
I place my hand on the console and, almost as if the system recognizes my touch, a video begins to play.
The images are grainy, ten years old.
I see my father. He's sitting in a study I recognize: his grandfather's.
But he's not alone.
In front of him is Uncle Jong-Dong.
"I won't do it, Jong-Dong," says my father's voice, firm and calm. "The Kim Group must not become a weapon of control. I want Roori and Ava to grow up free, not prisoners of this empire."
The image shakes. I see my uncle stand up, his face distorted with anger. "You're the favorite, Tae-Hyun. But you're weak. If you don't sign the rights transfer, Grandpa will erase you. And I'll make sure not even a memory of you remains."
The video cuts to an exterior shot. A nighttime road. A car skidding.
I stifle a scream and cover my mouth with my hands.
Min-Jun holds me close, but his eyes are glued to the screen. It wasn't an accident.
We clearly see another car push my father's car over the guardrail.
"They faked it all," Min-Jun growls. "Uncle orchestrated the accident, but it was grandfather who gave the silent order... to protect the family honor."
But the video doesn't end there.
Another window opens on the monitor.
It's a real-time feed.
My eyes widen: "Ava?"