People won't stab you in the back... unless you let them close enough to touch it."
The next morning came colder than the last.
Busan's wind cut through Jaeho's thin school blazer like knives. He didn't bother zipping it up. The numbness inside was thicker than the chill outside.
He hadn't slept. Not really. After the sabotage at the contest, his body had laid still… but his mind had been sprinting.
His hands trembled—not from fear, but from restraint. Every part of him wanted to storm into school and punch Minho in the face, scream, burn it all down. But rage was loud—and the world ignored loud poor boys.
Strategy, Jaeho reminded himself. Not emotion.
He needed allies. Money. Power. And knowledge.
So he sat in class like always. Quiet. Focused. Observing. Every smirk, every whisper, every fake handshake was noted.
And then… someone unexpected sat next to him.
Ha Yerin.
Ha Yerin: The Perfect Mask
Top of the class. Daughter of a minor politician. Polite, quiet, untouchable. Jaeho barely exchanged words with her before.
"Hey," she said, sliding into the seat beside him.
He looked up slowly.
"I saw what happened yesterday," she added in a whisper. "What Minho did."
His heart skipped. No one had spoken to him like this in months.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It wasn't fair."
Jaeho gave her a tight smile. "Life isn't fair. It's just… leveraged."
That made her blink. Then smile faintly.
"Do you still have the app idea? The one you were going to present?"
He hesitated.
"Don't worry. I'm not trying to steal it," she laughed. "I'm working on my own startup. Small. But I think your system could be useful."
His mind shifted gears. Carefully.
"Maybe," he said. "What do you have in mind?"
"A partnership," she replied. "You help me upgrade my system. I'll introduce you to my brother. He runs a tech incubator for young developers. Quietly."
Jaeho looked into her eyes. They seemed honest. Gentle. But so had others before.
Still… this was a crack in the wall.
He nodded.
Two Weeks Later
They met in secret, every afternoon. After school, before scrapyard shifts, after his mom's meds.
Yerin wasn't just smart. She was sharp. They shared books, coded features, argued over UI design, and even laughed sometimes. The app—once a prototype—began to take shape.
For the first time in years, Jaeho let himself believe.
Maybe this was real. Maybe someone actually saw his worth.
The Pitch Day
It was a private event. No school. No Minho.
Yerin had arranged everything. They wore borrowed blazers and stepped into the modern glass building like they belonged.
Inside the incubator conference room sat three investors—men in suits, sipping coffee, eyes like hawks. Yerin's brother, Ha Jisung, nodded at them.
"Pitch well," he said.
Jaeho stepped forward. Voice calm. Slides crisp. Code clean. By the end, even the coldest investor was nodding.
Jisung smiled.
"I'll be in touch."
Three Days Later
Nothing.
Then came the article.
[Startup Wonder: Ha Yerin's App Revolutionizes Small Business Logistics]
Jaeho's heart stopped.
He scrolled faster.
His design. His features. Even his core slogan — word for word.
No mention of him.
No credit.
No face.
Just Ha Yerin, solo founder.
The Confrontation
He waited after school. Cornered her behind the gym.
She jumped when she saw him. Guilt flickered across her face like lightning.
"You used me," he said, voice low.
"It wasn't supposed to be like that—" she began.
He took a step closer. "You promised. You said we'd build it together."
"I needed this, Jaeho," she whispered. "My father was cutting me off. My brother only agreed to help if I had something polished. You don't get it—people like me don't get second chances either."
He laughed bitterly.
"No. You just don't want to lose your first chance to someone beneath you."
She said nothing.
"You knew," he said. "You were just like them."
Yerin looked away. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Jaeho said coldly. "Be afraid."
Back to Zero
That night, Jaeho didn't go home. He sat in the subway station, staring at the blinking lights, the screaming advertisements of luxury watches, penthouses, and foreign cars.
He had nothing.
No money. No friends. No name.
Just betrayal after betrayal.
And yet—he wasn't broken.
No. Not anymore.
He took out his notebook.
Crossed out "Freedom Manual."
Wrote something new.
PROJECT: DOMINANCE
Not just escape. Not just survival.
He would take it all.
And when he did… he would never trust a smiling face again.