'Next time, it won't be a file. It will be you.' The surveillance had officially crossed the screen and entered reality.
[March 21, 2019. 5:02 AM] [Gosiwon, Room 206]
At 4:45 AM, Yun-jae had pressed the 'Submit' button with trembling fingers. The 72-hour countdown had ended.
In that moment, the vibration in his hand was a signal—a warning that he had reached the point of no return.
Seventeen minutes later—
The note that had slipped under his door swayed gently, even though there wasn't a breath of wind in the room. Yun-jae moved slowly, trying to hide his racing heart, and picked it up.
The paper still held a faint warmth. Someone was standing right outside my door just seconds ago.
'Do not open 3870 again. Next time, it won't be the file that's deleted. It will be you.'
The sentence was short, but its intent was crystal clear.
"You’ve come this far?"
The shadow from the USB was no longer confined to his laptop. It had stepped out into the real world. Or perhaps it had been in the real world all along, and he was just now realizing it.
[05:14 AM]
Yun-jae cracked the door open.
The corridor was as silent as any other dawn. But on the floor, in the thin layer of dust that lined the hallway, there were faint traces of footsteps.
It was real.
Someone had walked through this cramped, damp gosiwon corridor. They had stopped at his door. They had watched him.
Who the hell are they?
They were truly anonymous. No face. No name. No affiliation. But one thing was certain.
This organization knew exactly where A-73 lived.
Yun-jae slammed the door shut, his hand shaking as he fumbled to turn the deadbolt.
[07:00 AM] Sleep was an impossible luxury.
He had submitted the thesis, but the USB and the encrypted file were now secondary problems.
Ping— A single message appeared on his screen.
[Submission Complete] [Payment scheduled within 24 hours after review]
"24 hours..."
15 million won. The deposit for his father’s surgery. But what crushed Yun-jae now wasn't the weight of the debt—it was the weight of his own fear.
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[March 22, Saturday. 2:00 PM] [Seoul Central Hospital, 8th Floor]
"Yun-jae."
His father called to him from the bed with a weary smile.
"You look exhausted, son." "I'm fine, Dad. Just a little busy with a project."
Yun-jae checked his bank app.
[Deposit: 15,000,000 KRW] [Balance: 15,340,000 KRW ($11,400 USD)]
It had been wired exactly as promised.
"Dad, I can pay the surgery deposit now." "Really?"
His father turned his head away, but Yun-jae could feel it—the mixture of relief and the silent tears of a man who hated being a burden.
"You’ve worked too hard, son."
Yun-jae couldn't meet his eyes. This money, built on a foundation of lies, felt like it was stained with something foul.
"The surgery is set for April 5th." "Good. That's good. Just hold on until then, okay?" "Yun-jae... I don't want you overworking yourself for me." "I'm fine, Dad."
It was a lie.
[8:10 PM] [On the bus back to the Gosiwon]
Yun-jae had just paid the 15 million won at the administration office. When he held that receipt in his hand, it felt as heavy as a contract for his soul. It was his father’s life-price.
He was one step closer to saving his father. But out of the total 82.3 million won, he had only covered 15 million.
He had to keep manufacturing lies.
The moment he opened his gosiwon door— Ping.
His laptop screen flickered.
[Anonymous Sender: Task Update Notification]
"What now?" A new file began downloading automatically.
[Second_Request]
A green bar filled up. Download complete.
[CAUTION: Submit within 48 hours]
"A second request... already?" Yun-jae cautiously opened the file.
[Second Request – Overview]
-
Category: Promotion / Career Management
-
Field: Law / Case Analysis
-
Length: 70 pages
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Requirements: Reconstruct precedents, reinforce logical framework, design conclusion.
-
Client Info: Confidential
-
Deadline: 48 hours
-
Fee: 10,000,000 KRW ($7,500 USD)
Yun-jae felt the air leave his lungs. "The legal field? Now they want me to fabricate lies in my own profession?"
The fingers that once defined justice were now being forced to twist the law for someone’s promotion. He felt a wave of nausea.
The first was medical. The second was legal.
The scope was too broad. This organization wasn't limited to one industry. And the term "Confidential Client" was no longer just a rule.
It was a mask for something that must stay hidden. Something dangerous.
[20:22] Yun-jae scrolled rapidly through the file.
List of precedents, judicial compositions, case backgrounds, previous ruling summaries... and sections highlighted as 'Logical Flaws.'
And then—a small string of text at the bottom caught his eye.
Reference Code: AS-3870-12/B-Law
His heart froze once again.
"That number again."
It had appeared in a legal file this time.
Medical, Legal... what the hell did '3870' actually mean?
A government agency? An industrial sector? A demographic distribution? He didn't have a conclusion yet. But his gut told him it was a total.
"Is it 3,870 requests?" Or 3,870 connections? 3,870 fabrications? 3,870 permits, approvals, and rulings?
The sheer scale of the thought made his blood run cold.
[10:35 PM] His phone rang. No caller ID.
Yun-jae hesitated for a long time before answering.
"Hello? Who is this?" Silence. "I said, who is this?"
He expected a voice, but there was only a hollow, void-like silence on the other end. Then, a sound—faint, rhythmic breathing.
"... ..."
The breathing stopped. For ten seconds, the silence was as deep as a grave. Then, a low, dry voice whispered directly into the microphone.
"Did you get the note?" "Next time, it won't be paper. Look forward to it, A-73."
The caller didn't wait for a response.
Click. The line went dead. Yun-jae’s fingers went numb, and the phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
Now he knew for certain.
The surveillance in the file was a hunt in reality. And the hunter was closing in. Right in its path stood A-73—Han Yun-jae himself.
[Next Chapter Preview]
The second assignment begins. But in the 'reconstruction of precedents,' a familiar name appears.
The name— The central figure of 'that case' Yun-jae had personally prosecuted during his time as a prosecutor.
The records return like a curse. The moment A-73’s past and present collide in a single sentence, Yun-jae realizes...
"This organization... they know everything about my past."
a turning point for A-73, and for the entire Protocol 3870 system.
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