The weekend sun broke through a sweep of clouds as the car rolled down a long, quiet road framed by manicured hedges and glassy gates. The ride was smooth and unhurried, the hum of the engine filling the gaps between soft laughter and playful chatter.
Eun-Ji sat by the window, face half-pressed to the glass. "Oppa," she said suddenly, frowning. "Why are there practically no neighbors? Everything's so spaced out. Are you sure this isn't the middle of nowhere?"
From the front passenger seat, Jae-Hyun's reflection smirked in the rearview mirror. "That's the point," he said simply. "Privacy."
"Privacy?" she scoffed. "Or are you secretly planning to build a robot army in the basement?"
"I don't build robots," he replied dryly.
Their mother chuckled softly beside her. "Eun-Ji, you've been pestering him since we left the gate. Let him breathe."
Eun-Ji folded her arms with a huff. "Still feels creepy. Imagine screaming for help and nobody hearing you."
"Why would you scream for help?" Jae-Hyun asked. "You've got a security system that could detect a fly's heartbeat three blocks away."
"That's not comforting!" she whined.
The car turned, and the conversation died for a moment as the mansion came into view.
It stood at the end of a curving driveway, sunlight flashing off tall windows and pale stone walls. The house wasn't just big — it was commanding. Wide terraces, lush gardens, and fountains that danced lightly under the autumn air.
Eun-Ji's mouth fell open. "Oh. My. Goodness."
Her mother's hand flew to her lips. "Jae-Hyun…"
He only smiled faintly as the car parked.
The car doors opened in unison, and the sound of gravel crunched beneath their shoes. Lined neatly before the grand entrance was a row of uniformed maids, all bowing politely. The head maid — elegant and calm — stepped forward.
"Welcome home, Sir, Madam, Young Miss," she said, bowing again.
Jae-Hyun returned the gesture slightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Go. You've done well preparing everything."
The maids straightened, their faces composed but their eyes curious.
"Before we go in," Jae-Hyun said, turning to his mother and sister, "come with me."
He led them to a side building — the garage. The door slid open with a soft hydraulic hiss, revealing a line of gleaming cars under diffused ceiling lights. The scent of polished leather and new metal filled the air.
Eun-Ji gasped. "You're kidding. You're kidding, right?"
Jae-Hyun gestured toward a sleek silver sedan. "That one's yours, Mom. It's comfortable, quiet, easy to handle. Mr. Lee here—" he nodded toward a man in a tailored suit— "is your personal driver. He'll take you wherever you want."
His mother blinked, utterly overwhelmed. "Jae-Hyun… this is too much."
"Not enough," he said simply.
Then he turned to Eun-Ji, pointing at a glossy white coupe. "That's for your rides to school. Mr. Park will be your driver."
Her eyes went wide. "Wait—wait—that is for me?!"
He gave her a look. "For school, not joyrides."
"I mean, I'll eventually need to joyride for educational purposes—"
"No."
"Ugh, you're impossible!"
He ignored her and added, "The remaining cars are for Mom and me. You—" he pointed at her— "are not allowed to touch them."
"What?! That's not fair!"
"Life isn't fair," he replied smoothly, walking past her.
She stomped after him. "You're the worst oppa!"
Their mother tried and failed to hide her laughter.
When they finally stepped through the mansion doors, even Eun-Ji fell quiet.
The foyer opened into a hall of soft gold and ivory. Sunlight streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting gentle patterns over marble floors. A grand chandelier glittered above them, refracting light like fragments of stars.
Their mother exhaled softly. "It's… beautiful."
"Wait till you see the kitchen," Jae-Hyun said, leading them deeper inside.
The kitchen was a marvel of warm wood and modern glass — sunlight spilling across counters of pale marble, state-of-the-art appliances gleaming quietly.
"Oh," his mother breathed. "This… this is like a dream."
Jae-Hyun smiled faintly. "You've got plenty of help here. You don't have to lift a finger anymore."
His mother chuckled, wiping at her eyes. "You think I'll let maids touch my recipes?"
Eun-Ji piped up, grinning. "Good luck stopping her, Oppa. She'll chase them out with a spoon!"
"Then I'll install a spoon detector," he replied dryly.
Eun-Ji snorted. "Please don't."
They moved on.
The grand staircase spiraled upward, elegant and wide, framed by light and art. His mother paused halfway up, shaking her head with a laugh. "This house is so big, I'll get lost."
"I don't even need a treadmill," Eun-Ji said brightly. "Just walking around here will keep me fit forever."
Their laughter echoed through the stairwell.
Eun-Ji's new room was like something out of a magazine — high ceilings, cream walls, and a flood of sunlight that kissed everything golden. A reading nook curved by the window, her walk-in closet stretched longer than her old bedroom, and the bathroom looked like a spa — complete with a free-standing tub and gold fixtures.
Eun-Ji spun in a circle. "This is insane! Oppa, look! And look! There's even a mirror that lights up!"
"Try not to blind yourself," he said.
She ignored him, racing toward the tub. "And this! I can literally swim in here!"
"You're not supposed to swim in bathtubs."
She grinned. "Rules are made to be—"
"Broken?" he interrupted. "You're transferring schools next year."
"What?" She froze. "No! My friends—"
"They'll visit," he said calmly. "You're going somewhere that matches our new status."
She sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if I'm being dragged into elite school life, I'm at least getting designer uniforms."
"Already arranged."
Her jaw dropped. "...I don't know if I want to hug you or fight you."
"Neither," he said, handing her a sleek black card. "Take Mom shopping. Can't have those closets empty."
Her eyes sparkled. "You're seriously giving me this?"
"Try not to bankrupt me."
She grinned like a cat. "You're the best brother in the world! I promise I'll be the perfect sister from now on—helpful, quiet, and obedient!"
He laughed, ruffling her hair. "I don't believe you. You'll be annoying again before dinner."
"Oppa!" she yelped, swatting his hand.
His own room was understated — clean lines, neutral tones, soft lighting.
Eun-Ji frowned. "Wait… this looks suspiciously normal. Where's all the tech? The cables? The glowing stuff?"
"I keep that somewhere else."
"Where—" she started, then froze as realization hit. "The basement."
She gasped dramatically and bolted for the stairs.
"Eun-Ji—!" Jae-Hyun followed instantly.
Their mother just shook her head, laughing softly to herself. "Same children, bigger house."
Downstairs, the basement door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a world that looked nothing like the house above.
Holographic tables pulsed with faint blue light. Rows of monitors stretched across the walls. Cooling systems hummed quietly beside sleek machines that projected complex networks in the air.
Eun-Ji stepped in, eyes wide. "Whoa. This is like—the NIS. No, like something out of a movie!"
"Don't touch anything."
She pointed. "What does that do?"
"Don't—"
She poked a console. "Ooh, this is stunning! And this one—"
"Eun-Ji."
"Relax! I'm just exploring—"
"Touch that and the security system will think you're an intruder."
She froze mid-motion. "…You're bluffing."
"Try it."
She pouted, then snatched a small sleek device from the table and held it up. "What's this? Looks expensive!"
"Put that down."
"Nope."
He took a step forward. "Eun-Ji."
"Catch me if you can, Oppa!" she squealed, darting between desks.
He sighed and gave chase, the sound of their laughter and mock threats bouncing off the walls.
When he finally cornered her, slightly out of breath, he said, "If you break anything, I'll move you to the smallest guest room."
She gasped. "You wouldn't."
"Try me."
She sighed, defeated, and set the device back down carefully.
"See? Annoying already and its not even evening yet," he said, pushing her gently toward the door.
She grinned. "You love me though."
He smirked. "Questionable."
He shut the door behind her, the soft click of the smart lock echoing through the quiet lab.
Upstairs, their mother's laughter drifted faintly down the hall. The house, filled with light and echoing voices, felt alive — a rare, fleeting warmth in the life of a boy who rarely let his guard down.
- - -
The next monday, the afternoon light spilled through the glass wall of Jae-Hyun's office, painting soft gold across the dark marble floor. The massive screen mounted opposite his desk flickered with the midday business report — polished anchors, scrolling tickers, flashing numbers.
"Black Wall Technologies just unveiled two new revolutionary systems today," the reporter announced, voice bright with awe. "One — an advanced AI platform that can optimize entire network infrastructures automatically, reducing latency, cutting down manpower costs, and practically eliminating downtime. The second — a decentralized trust-validation system that promises near-zero fraud and frictionless digital verification for financial institutions and hospitals."
Images of glowing servers and glimmering data visuals filled the screen. "Experts are calling this the start of a new digital era," the anchor continued. "Share prices of Black Wall Technologies have skyrocketed, with projections already crossing several billion dollars in estimated revenue for the next quarter."
The camera cut to footage of Black Wall's CEO shaking hands with government officials, all smiles and cameras flashing.
Behind his desk, Jae-Hyun leaned back in his chair, one arm resting casually on the armrest. He watched the screen with that faint, knowing smile — calm, controlled, almost satisfied.
Mr. Oh, standing beside him, stared at the TV like it was broadcasting the end of the world. "Wait… those systems," he muttered slowly, eyes narrowing. "Are these the bait you said you gave Black Wall?"
Jae-Hyun didn't look away from the screen. "Yes."
Mr. Oh blinked, as if he hadn't heard correctly. "I'm sorry— you what?"
Jae-Hyun finally turned, expression utterly serene. "You heard me."
Mr. Oh threw his hands up. "You did what?! You gave them something like this? Are you insane? Why would you hand them technology that helps them?"
"Relax," Jae-Hyun said smoothly, voice calm like silk over steel.
"How can I relax?" Mr. Oh snapped, pacing now. "Do you even hear yourself? You just armed the enemy with billions worth of innovation! What kind of bait is that?!"
Jae-Hyun's smile faded — just slightly. His gaze sharpened. "Do you doubt my judgment?"
Mr. Oh froze mid-stride, caught between fear and frustration. "No, I don't," he said finally. "But this— this feels reckless, even for you. Foolish, maybe. They could bury us with this!"
Jae-Hyun steepled his fingers, watching the bright flash of cameras on the screen. "Or," he said, voice soft but cutting, "they'll be too busy swimming in profit to bother with us. When a beast eats well, it stops hunting. This… buys peace."
Mr. Oh stared at him like he'd just spoken another language. "Peace? You think you can buy peace from Black Wall?"
"Not buy," Jae-Hyun corrected. "Distract. Let them chase gold while we move in silence."
"That's not a strategy, that's a gamble!"
Jae-Hyun tilted his head slightly. "And yet, it always pays off."
Mr. Oh exhaled sharply, hands gripping the back of a chair. "You're impossible," he muttered. "Even for a genius, this is borderline madness."
Jae-Hyun rose from his seat, the movement deliberate — unhurried. "Madness is relative," he said. "They'll be too busy enjoying the fruits of my generosity to bother with NovaSec."
Mr. Oh could only shake his head, disbelief still written across his face. "If this blows up, I'll say I warned you."
"It won't."
Jae-Hyun's tone was quiet, final.
The TV behind them replayed a highlight reel of Black Wall's new launch event. Smiling faces. Applause. Shimmering lights.
Mr. Oh sighed. "I still don't understand why you'd hand them something that could make them untouchable."
Jae-Hyun gave a soft, humorless chuckle. "Because it won't make them untouchable. It'll make them blind."
Before Mr. Oh could respond, a sharp, hurried knock rattled the office door. Both of them turned.
"Come in," Jae-Hyun said.
One of NovaSec's assistants burst in, breathless, clutching a tablet. "Sir— urgent update."
Jae-Hyun gestured for her to speak.
She swallowed. "We just received a court notice. A temporary injunction's been filed against both of our new security rollouts — the adaptive firewall system and the real-time audit platform. Effective immediately, all deployments are frozen pending investigation."
The room went dead still.
Mr. Oh blinked. "A… legal injunction?"
"Yes, sir," the assistant said quickly, words tumbling out. "Filed under corporate misconduct and competitive malpractice. It cites potential breaches of fair-trade law — the court approved it within the hour. The deploy pipeline's already locked by compliance protocol."
Jae-Hyun's gaze hardened, every trace of amusement gone.
Mr. Oh turned toward him, face pale. "You said they'd leave us alone."
The assistant hesitated, glancing between them. "Sir… the injunction came from Black Wall's legal division."
Silence — heavy, suffocating.
Then the glass walls seemed to tremble as the automated alert system flickered red across the screens: DEPLOYMENT HALTED — LEGAL LOCK ACTIVE.
Mr. Oh's voice cracked with disbelief. "You said they'd be too busy counting their money!"
Jae-Hyun's jaw tightened. The TV behind them now showed the same anchor, smiling as she wrapped up the broadcast.
"…and in a stunning show of dominance, Black Wall Technologies has filed multiple suits against competitors accused of patent interference, including NovaSec Systems—"
Mr. Oh's breath hitched. "They… they set you up."
Jae-Hyun's reflection in the glass remained still — expression unreadable — until suddenly, laughter broke free from him. It started low, then rose, sharp and startling, spilling into the tense air.
Outside, the first rumble of distant thunder rolled through the sky, the day suddenly darker.