The clock's chime reverberated through Yoochan's skull.
Ting. Ting. Ting.
Six a.m. Sunlight sliced through the curtains, painting the bedroom gold. But Yoochan saw none of it.
A vision tore through him:
—Joonho at a conference table, signing a merger.
—A startup logo: a phoenix rising from binary code.
—Headlines: "Kang Group Acquires FutureTech!"
—Stock prices soaring. Joonho's smug grin.
The memory—future memory—faded, leaving Yoochan breathless. His fingers dug into the windowsill. This is how I'll break him.
---
Breakfast was a battlefield.
The Kang dining hall stretched like a cathedral, all marble and malice. Yoochan lingered in the doorway, cataloging faces from stolen memories:
Joonho at the head of the table, scrolling through stocks.
Soomin smirking into his coffee, a tabloid open to Chaebol Concubine's Secret Affair!
Seojun, chopsticks paused mid-air, glancing at Yoochan with something like pity.
"Late again, Maknae?" Joonho drawled without looking up.
Yoochan's jaw tightened. Maknae. Youngest. Weakest. Disposable.
He slid into the seat farthest from Joonho. Miyoung hovered behind him, hands trembling as she poured his tea.
"You look pale," Seojun murmured. "Still recovering?"
Before Yoochan could answer, Soomin snorted. "Recovering from what? His only talent is fainting at board meetings."
Laughter rippled. Yoochan sipped his tea, bitterness blooming on his tongue. Pathetic. All of them.
The patriarch's chair sat empty.
---
"Father's in Tokyo," Joonho said, answering the unspoken question. "Finalizing the FutureTech acquisition."
Yoochan's cup clinked against its saucer. FutureTech. The startup from his vision—the one Joonho wouldn't buy for another three weeks.
Unless I act first.
"A startup?" Yoochan feigned ignorance. "Why waste money on children's toys?"
Joonho's gaze sharpened. "A.I. drones. Military contracts. Not that you'd understand."
"Ah, guns." Yoochan smiled sweetly. "Compensating for something, Hyung-nim?"
Silence.
Miyoung's breath hitched. Soomin choked on his coffee.
Joonho set down his phone. Slowly. Deliberately. "You've grown bold, Maknae."
"Bored, more like." Yoochan stood, chair screeching. "I'm investing elsewhere."
He left before they saw his hands shake.
---
Seojun cornered him in the garden, cherry blossoms swirling around them.
"What the hell was that?"
Yoochan shrugged. "Truth hurts."
"Joonho's going to destroy you." Seojun raked a hand through his hair, idealism fraying into frustration. "You're a kid. A concubine's kid. You don't play games with him."
Kid. Yoochan's laugh was jagged. "And you're what? The family saint? You hack their servers at night. Don't think I haven't noticed."
Seojun blanched. "How—?"
"I know things." Yoochan plucked a blossom, crushed it in his palm. "Help me, and I'll make you heir."
"You're insane."
"Or the only one here who isn't."
Seojun stared at him, torn. Yoochan pressed closer, voice dropping.
"FutureTech's CEO is Park Minjae. His daughter goes to your university. Get me her number."
"Why?"
"So I can seduce her, obviously."
Seojun gaped. Yoochan laughed, tossing the crumpled petals.
"Relax. I just want to talk business."
---
Miyoung found him in the library that night, shadows pooling around ancient ledgers.
"You're reckless." She clutched a faded photo—Yoochan as a child, grinning on her lap. "You'll get us killed."
Yoochan didn't look up. "We're already dead here."
She flinched. "I didn't choose this life. But you… you can still leave."
"And go where?" He met her gaze, cold and steady. "Back to the orphanage? The gutter?"
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Better than becoming him."
Him. The patriarch. The monster in every mirror.
Yoochan stood, the FutureTech dossier burning his hands. "Too late."
---
Park Minjae's daughter answered on the first ring.
"Yena-ssi?" Yoochan leaned against his balcony, Seoul's skyline sprawled below. "This is Kang Yoochan. I'd like to buy your father's company."
Silence. Then a laugh, sharp as shattered glass. "You're sixteen."
"Seventeen. And you're losing 2 billion won a year."
A pause. "How do you—?"
"Sell to me, and I'll triple FutureTech's valuation in a year."
"Or what?"
"Or Joonho buys you for scraps and fires your entire team."
Wind howled across the line. Yoochan watched a drone streak the sky—Kang Tech's latest toy.
"Meet me tomorrow," Yena said. "And bring proof."
The call died. Yoochan exhaled, breath fogging the glass.
One down.
Behind him, the library door creaked.
He turned.
Joonho stood in the shadows, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his fingers.
"Clever little Maknae," he purred. "But secrets have a way of… burning."
He flicked the cigarette. It arced, glowing, and landed at Yoochan's feet.