Chapter 51
Ring-a-ding-ding! Ring-a-ding-ding!
A message notification chimed from the laptop shoved in the corner of the penthouse. This particular bell tone meant a join request. Under normal circumstances, it would've been time to get excited about a new toy. But he just gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
An unplanned variable had cropped up. For now, he'd have to make do with his existing playthings to stave off the boredom.
Just as his finger hovered over the delete button, his pupils trembled.
This wasn't your run-of-the-mill join request. Whoever sent this line actually understood the Oppenheimer quote on the homepage!
Gladness and disgust. Two emotions crashed over him at once. Relief that someone out there got him, clashing with the ego that screamed no one could possibly understand him.
His eyes shook wildly from side to side. His brain screamed the rational choice: ignore it. But this time, emotion won out.
There was that line in The Godfather. This is an offer he can't refuse!
His hand trembled with excitement as it reached for the mouse.
* * *
The sole employee of Universe Computer, Yeong-ran, let her head droop limply. She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, glanced around, then blushed when she caught my gaze and turned away.
Next to her, Park Jin-tae stared holes into the unresponsive monitor. It had been an hour already. Like a seasoned angler waiting for a big catch, his posture hadn't budged an inch.
Then his eyebrows twitched on his statue-still face, and he beckoned me over quietly, as if Oppenheimer himself were in the room.
"Hyungnim, the bastard took the bait. What now?"
[Meeting someone with the same interests is a tremendous pleasure. I'll help you with your join request. Please provide your resident registration number.]
"Do what he says."
"Got it."
Park Jin-tae took a deep breath, then sent the resident registration number of his fabricated identity, Park Pil-sang, to the bastard's message box.
Ring-a-ding! Ring-a-ding!
Barely a minute later, a low electronic beep came from the last of the three computers. Park Jin-tae's face hardened.
"Ha, would you look at this prick!"
"What happened?"
"He's querying the resident number I just sent!"
Strange symbols raced across the final monitor. After the number he'd sent—820911-1037XXX—new equations piled on.
"Hah! Catch me if you can. It's me, Park Jin-tae!"
He talked big, but sweat beaded on his forehead. His fist trembled faintly under the desk.
The suffocating wait dragged on.
"Phew!"
Park Jin-tae checked the monitor and exhaled deeply.
"We passed for now. This guy's no amateur. It's not the standard ID verification from banks or government offices. It's Apix 203—tricky to handle, but a beast of a tool if you know what you're doing."
"Went off without a hitch?"
"Yeah. And just in case, I planted a little something."
His eyes gleamed sharply.
"The second that resident number hits his security program, the hack kicks in. Normal security won't detect it—only high-end stuff like Apix or Watch. His paranoia and OCD just tripped him up!"
"Think he noticed?"
"Standard antivirus and firewalls evolve around known code analysis. But this is my original creation. No one—not him, not anybody—can spot it."
Confidence poured from every word now that we were in his wheelhouse.
"It's a cat-and-mouse between breakers and blockers. In the black hat vs. white hat war, black hats have the overwhelming edge. If I went full black hat, there'd be no one in Korea who could touch me!"
"I like the confidence. So how's the hack work?"
"Process is complicated, but bottom line: while he's on his computer, I can see everything he does. Haha!"
His hearty laugh cut short as his mouth gaped wide at the monitor. His eyes shook violently.
"Ha... fuck! Hey! Yeong-ran, get ready. You know the Park Pil-sang profile inside out, right?"
"Yes!"
His fingers flew across the second monitor.
"Please! Come on!"
"What's wrong?"
"This prick's querying Park Pil-sang's company right now! Trying to confirm if he even works there. What kind of max-level OCD freak is this?!"
Even as he spoke, his fingers didn't stop.
"Got it!"
He wiped sweat from his brow and sighed in relief.
Ring-a-ding-ding! Ring-a-ding-ding!
The landline at Universe Computer rang. Park Jin-tae and Yeong-ran exchanged glances. He nodded, and she hit speakerphone with a quiet sigh.
"We'll do our best. Samyoung Furniture, together with our customers. How may I help you?"
—Yes. May I speak to Deputy Manager Park Pil-sang in sales?
A pleasant tenor voice, early-to-mid twenties male. Yeong-ran's eyes flicked to Park Jin-tae. He jabbed at the window urgently.
"Deputy Manager Park Pil-sang is out on a sales call right now. If you leave your message, I'll pass it along."
—No, that's fine. I'll call back later.
As she caught her breath after hanging up—
Ding-ding!
Park Jin-tae's cell rang this time. He picked up with shaking hands, hitting record too.
"Hello."
—Hello. Is this Park Pil-sang? I'm calling to offer you our annuity product at 11% annual interest. Our product...
Our eyes met. It was a young woman's voice.
"Not interested."
He hung up, pupils quaking.
"A woman's voice? Hyungnim, lemme check."
He pulled up the recording without waiting for my go-ahead. Less than five minutes later, a low groan escaped him.
"Just as I thought. Voice modulation file. Look at this square wave expanded into Fourier series—the peaks and troughs match perfectly."
"Artificially generated voice?"
"Yep. I've scammed my way through every type of lowlife, but this guy's caution is next-level. If a bastard like this goes bad for real, no one's safe."
Park Jin-tae scratched his neck thoughtfully.
Then the computer chimed with a new message.
[Hello. This is the admin. Your membership verification is complete.]
It was him! The cursor blinked, and his message popped up.
[Most people say 'ordinary' means faithfully adhering to society's mainstream values. But we reject that—it's the founding principle of this site. Tell me: are you ordinary?]
Park Jin-tae looked at me. We switched seats. Every word on the screen felt like a sharpened dagger.
[No. I don't want to be ordinary.]
I replied to his question. The blinking cursor pulsed like his heartbeat.
[You qualify for membership on our site. I know nothing about you—only your age and gender. Anonymity is the true mirror for self-reflection.]
"What a joke! This guy's the one who called the company himself, and now he's spouting shiny bullshit."
Park Jin-tae snorted derisively from the sidelines.
[I have the right to destroy myself. —Françoise Sagan, French novelist. Reality is brutally harsh for those who dream of the extraordinary. Talents ahead of their time are rejected by the idiots of the era. That's why there are prophets but no leaders. It's why so many geniuses self-destruct.]
Absurd sophistry. Had he lured people in with this nonsense?
[Suicide is also the privilege of orchestrating one's own life. Why do you dream of death? And what kind? Painless death, quiet death, intense death. I'll open the path for you.]
He collected deaths. More precisely, death stories.
I closed my eyes, dredging up memories. In 2014, a thirty-something salaryman in Gyeonggi Province had self-immolated. It wasn't revealed at the time, but this bastard had orchestrated it. He'd left a note exposing workplace bullying and unethical sales practices, then set himself ablaze. Quitting would've solved it, but relentless gaslighting had robbed him of rational thought.
Park Pil-sang, age 31. What bait could this persona dangle?
My fingers flew over the keyboard.
[This job is hell for me. They're forcing insane sales targets, pushing worthless products. My incompetent boss steals my results and plays dumb. I couldn't take it anymore and exposed all the corruption on the intranet.]
I needed statements mirroring the self-immolation victim's.
[But all I got was backlash for 'internal shooting.' Even colleagues who cheered me on at first turned their backs. I want revenge on them. I want my death to be a wake-up call.]
About a minute passed. His reply appeared.
[I fully empathize, member. Geniuses are never recognized in their time. I recommend an intense death for you.]
"Death ain't a fucking package deal—what kind of psycho is this?!"
A thick vein throbbed on Park Jin-tae's forehead. The female employee covered her mouth, staring at the screen.
[Over 40 years ago, a laborer set himself ablaze. What was the result? He didn't die. He lives and breathes in every heart to this day. You can be the same. I'll grant you eternal life beyond mortality.]
Breathing felt hard. That noble death, bandied about on this snake's tongue.
Unlike my quickening breath, my hands rose to the keyboard.
[What do I need to do?]
[Set yourself on fire at your company. Show them your will. Prove you're a human, not a worm.]
[Yes. I will. Because I... I'm human.]
[Contact me when you're ready. I'll be with you.]
I closed the laptop. Like someone who'd been choked, I expelled the held breath all at once.
"Hyungnim, what's the plan now?"
"Can you trace the IP for his location or something?"
"Tried it while you were chatting. Triple-layered firewall. Brute-forcing it theoretically works, but even running 24/7, it'd take over 700 days."
He smacked his lips in regret. It was the expected outcome.
The probing was over. Time for the real gamble.