"The system isn't broken. It was built to keep people like me at the bottom."
The city didn't slow down for anyone.
Not for a poor student. Not for the betrayed. And definitely not for Jaeho.
But now, Jaeho had finally stopped trying to catch up.Now, he was studying the rhythm—to flip the beat entirely.
48 Hours After the Betrayal
It had been two days since Ha Yerin stole his code, his pitch, and his name.
Two days of silence from her.
Two days of staring at the same cracked ceiling in his mother's tiny apartment, watching her struggle to sit up for meds they could barely afford.
Enough was enough.
Jaeho needed money.
And not the kind of money you got handing out flyers or serving fried chicken after class.
He needed fast, dirty, smart money.
The Gangster in the Alley
Jaeho didn't look like much.
That's what saved him when he walked into the back alley near Seomyeon Station — the place everyone warned you to avoid.
Old neon signs buzzed. Smoke filled the air from food stalls, and shadows moved like whispers.
He stood outside a small rundown PC bang, where fights and illegal deals were common rumor.
He walked in anyway.
"Looking for someone?" a voice growled.
The man behind the counter was huge. Tattoos down his arms. Scar on his cheek.
Jaeho nodded. "I heard this is where smart kids come to make real money."
The man raised an eyebrow.
"You selling something?"
Jaeho reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny USB.
"I have a tool. Can be installed on any PC room. Doubles ad revenue. Hacks local systems to redirect traffic. I built it in three days."
The man scoffed—until Jaeho plugged it into the nearest PC and showed him.
Minutes passed.
Then the man smiled. Slowly.
"You got balls, kid."
Rule #1: Respect Isn't Given. It's Leased.
The man's name was Mr. Kang. A mid-level enforcer for one of Busan's lesser-known crime families.
Not the flashy kind. Not the gangster who drives Ferraris and posts on Instagram.
He was the quiet type, who ran ten PC bangs, six karaoke rooms, and a few gambling dens.
"You want in?" Kang asked. "You work like a ghost. You speak to no one. You solve problems."
"I don't want in your crew," Jaeho said. "I want to sell you results. You want more profit, I'll show you how. You want kids to stay longer in your shops, I'll build you a loyalty system. You want them addicted, I'll make the algorithms do it."
Mr. Kang stared.
Then he grinned.
"You're not a dog, huh?"
"No," Jaeho said, calm. "I'm the knife they tried to throw away."
The First Job: Hacking Addiction
Within a week, Jaeho had rewritten the backend code of five internet cafes, boosting customer retention through fake reward drops, silent competitions, and AI-timed sound effects.
Kang paid him 300,000 won up front.
A month's worth of part-time job money in two hours.
"Keep it coming," Kang said. "Don't get caught."
"I won't," Jaeho said. "And I'm not stopping here."
School Life: Mask Back On
At school, nothing changed.
Minho still smirked.
Ha Yerin still acted like Jaeho didn't exist.
But behind Jaeho's dull eyes, his mind was sprinting.
He coded during lunch.
He read financial books during breaks.
He studied human psychology, sales psychology, viral growth strategies.
He watched as his first 500,000 won turned into 1 million, then 2.
All while blending in.
Rule #2: Never Let Them Know You're Playing
At night, Jaeho visited pawn shops.
He bought broken laptops, repaired them, and sold them to neighborhood kids wanting to become streamers or crypto "gurus."
He flipped trending domain names.
He resold rare sneakers using a bot he coded from scratch.
Each win taught him something new:
"The rich don't hustle harder. They just buy the system."
And so Jaeho started building his own system.
The Turning Point
Late one night, Mr. Kang called.
"There's a debt problem. Kid owes us 5 million won. He's hiding. I want you to find him."
Jaeho froze.
"I don't do violence."
"I'm not asking you to break his legs," Kang said. "I'm asking you to find him using your brain."
Jaeho thought.
"Give me his name."
One Hour Later
Through online gaming history, food delivery data, school accounts, and social media breadcrumbs, Jaeho tracked the kid to a rented rooftop room in Nampo-dong.
He delivered the address. Kang handled the rest.
Next day, 200,000 won showed up in his account.
And a warning:
"You're useful. But don't forget what world you're stepping into."
The Mirror Scene
That night, Jaeho stood in front of the mirror in his tiny bathroom.
He wore the same cracked glasses. Same oversized school shirt.
But something had changed.
His eyes were colder. Clearer.
He smiled—not out of joy.But because for the first time in his life… he wasn't powerless.