Lumina Arcana (4)

Park Seo-yoon, who had leaked the resources and locked herself in her room without eating, spent all day staring at the internet in a dark room with not even the lights on.

"This isn't right... This shouldn't be happening..."

Ever since her resource leak, the situation had been spiraling rapidly. The brief sense of liberation she'd felt after the leak had vanished, replaced by the crushing realization of what she'd actually done. Now she was trapped in extreme anxiety, unable to even function normally.

Brrrng— Brrrng—

Half-slouched in her chair, staring at her monitor, her phone rang with an unknown number.

"...Who's this?"

For a second, she flinched, thinking it might be the police. But she'd definitely used a VPN. Even if the cops tried to catch her, it'd take forever — they probably couldn't even find her.

"Hello?"

She answered with a trembling voice. A gruff man's voice came through the phone.

"Is this Park Seo-yoon?"

"Yes... but who is this...?"

"This is the Cyber Investigation Division of the Seoul Gangnam Police Station."

The moment she heard it was the police calling, her heart felt like it dropped to the floor. Her heart pounded like crazy, cold sweat pouring, but she'd definitely used a VPN.

'They said VPN makes you untraceable... that you won't get caught...!'

Cursing out every anonymous community user in her head, she answered in a shaking voice.

"Could I ask what this is about...?"

Her voice trembling, she asked. The man on the other end replied in a flat, emotionless tone.

"A complaint has been filed against you regarding the IP address you used, on suspicion of violating the Unfair Competition Prevention ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and Trade Secret Protection Act and obstruction of business. Can you appear by tomorrow afternoon?"

Hearing the investigator's calm, businesslike voice, her racing heart felt like it stopped.

"Uh... um... I'm, I'm a little busy, so tomorrow's hard... Could we do next week or the week after...?"

Stammering, she somehow recalled the tips for handling legal complaints she'd seen on YouTube a few days ago and managed to push back the investigation date.

The call ended. Park Seo-yoon sat blankly in her chair for a moment, then rushed out to the living room.

"Dad... what do I do? The police... the police called."

Her voice cracking, she delivered the terrible news to her father, who was already scrambling around trying to figure out how to resolve the situation she'd created.

"What? Police? Why would the police call you? What did you do now?"

For the first time in her life, her father looked at her like she was worse than a stranger. Seeing that expression, Park Seo-yoon held back the tears threatening to spill and told him the truth.

"No, it's not that... I was just so angry... I just uploaded some of our studio's files. But they're saying it's some kind of law violation. Dad, I don't want to go to jail! Get me a lawyer, okay? You have a friend who's a lawyer!"

She grabbed her father's pants and burst into tears, throwing a tantrum just like when she was a kid begging for a toy she wanted.

"A lawyer? And where's the money for a lawyer coming from? I don't even know if selling this house will cover that 2.5 billion won, and now you're talking about going to jail? What the hell... what the hell have you done to us?!"

With that, her father grabbed a cigarette and stormed out of the house. Her mother just sat there crying endlessly. Park Seo-yoon stared blankly at her when her phone vibrated again.

Brrrng—

The caller was Kim Ji-young, the CEO of her studio. She'd already called several times, and Park Seo-yoon had ignored every one. But this time, she felt like she couldn't ignore it.

"H-hello?"

She answered with a trembling voice. The voice on the other end was completely different from the friendly "unnie" CEO she knew — it was agitated and harsh.

"Park Seo-yoon. You leaked the resources, didn't you? You've finally lost it. I never told you to do that. You did this on your own, so our studio is going to sue you too. It's the only way we can survive. That's how it is."

"Unnie, what are you talking about? You said if I did what you told me, nothing would happen... You said everything would be fine! We were supposed to fight this together to the end!"

She screamed like she was pleading. Kim Ji-young sighed on the other end.

"Seo-yoon, don't you understand the situation? Because of what you did, we're about to get sued too. Maybe we've already been sued. You and I — we're done. Got it? Don't contact me again."

Click—

The sound of the call ending filled the silent living room.

"What... what do I do? What the hell do I do?!"

"...No. This can't be solved by cutting off the tail."

At a law firm office in Gangnam. Kim Ji-young glared resentfully at the lawyer who pushed back the draft of her "Lawsuit Against Park Seo-yoon" that she'd confidently presented.

"Why not? She did it on her own, and I have evidence and will even testify. So why won't it work?"

"CEO. The law isn't that sloppy. In this case, it's hard for both your studio and you personally to avoid responsibility."

The lawyer explained various laws to her, laying out from A to Z exactly why she bore responsibility in this situation.

The conclusion was simple: she too bore legal liability in this case.

"The materials your employee leaked have a 99% chance of falling under the Unfair Competition Prevention and Trade Secret Protection Act. You'll also bear responsibility for failing to supervise your employee. The other party will absolutely go for damages — and when they do, not only the studio's assets but your personal assets will be subject to seizure."

Kim Ji-young, who had believed this would be her way out, felt like her world was collapsing. With both journalists and lawyers telling her she was screwed, there was only one thing she could do.

Beg Neo Gate.

"Guess she's finally realizing it's her turn?"

"Yeah. Let's see what she had to say."

The email, titled "A Letter of Apology to CEO Kang Hyeok-jun," began with flowery, groveling language.

"...Doesn't seem like she's come to her senses yet."

Groveling wouldn't even be enough, and here she was at the end asking for the lawsuit to be dropped or the settlement reduced.

"That's seriously infuriating. You set someone's house on fire and then say 'pretty please let it slide this once'? Nah, this bitch is done."

"Yeah. Don't let up at all. Chase them to the end and take everything."

I've got time anyway. The Lumina Arcana summer update is being handled through another studio, so gutting these guys won't cause any problems.

Kim Ji-young had fired Park Seo-yoon and sent her a notice of damages lawsuit to save herself. She was rifling through her inbox to see if there was a reply to her email when an ominous sound came from outside her door.

BANG—!

The door burst open, nearly breaking off its hinges. Men in dark suits and others in blue vests stormed in.

"Who are you? We're in the middle of work...!"

Kim Ji-young shouted in panic, but the man leading the group didn't answer. Instead, he held out his ID badge and a thick stack of documents.

"We're from the Seoul Central District Court. Based on the creditor Neo Gate Corporation's application for provisional seizure, we will now begin the asset seizure procedure."

The man's voice, sounding slightly tired, was as emotionless as a machine's.

"Wait a moment! What is this... we're still in negotiations!"

Kim Ji-young's scream echoed through the air, but the bailiff didn't even look at her as he started writing something in his notebook.

"Let's start with that one over there."

SLAP—!

With a crisp sound, vivid red stickers began to cover the office.

"Ma'am, if you remove these, you'll face criminal charges for tampering with official seals. Don't take them off — leave them as they are."

His words hung in the air as the people in blue vests moved in perfect synchronization, embroidering the office with red tags. The expensive Italian leather chair Kim Ji-young had been sitting in, the large monitors, even the air purifier and water dispenser — all meticulously tagged with red stickers.

When the commotion finally died down, the employees still in the office stared at their employer with frightened expressions.

"CEO... what do we do? What about our paychecks?"

Kim Ji-young couldn't answer the employee's question. In front of her, instead of a reply email from Neo Gate, only a stack ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of documents bearing the astronomical claim of "18.5 billion won" lay scattered about.

Among the countless communities in the world, there's one where office workers gather. And today, one post was drawing the most attention — the title alone was pretty violent.

"This is the good stuff... This reaction is what makes doing this kind of work worth it."

Doing things I didn't even have to do, and seeing people's reactions every time — it feels amazing. Watching the community responses plastered across my monitor makes all the hard work of the past few days feel rewarded.

"Oh yeah? That's unexpected."

I wasn't expecting an apology at all, so since they offered one, I'll let it slide this time. Not that I was particularly angry anyway — my expectations were already at zero.