Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Before the Dark Winter Fall!

Hwanung stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and silver below. His reflection stared back—perfect features that belonged to magazine covers and concert stages, but his eyes held something ancient, weary.

Something that didn't belong to the idol the world knew.

He pulled out his phone, fingers hesitating over the screen. The number for NY Agency's emergency line glowed back at him, waiting.

This wasn't about jealousy. It couldn't be. He'd seen Yuna with Daegon at that upscale Gangnam apartment far opposite his, the way she leaned in when he spoke, the way her eyes never left his face.

Daegon was smooth, calculated—the kind of man who could extract secrets from someone without them even realizing they were talking. And Yuna, sweet, trusting Yuna who knew every detail about NY Agency's operations, every schedule, every security protocol... she was the perfect target.

The call connected on the second ring.

"NY Agency emergency contact room, how may I help you?"

"This is Hwanung. I need to speak with Director Kim immediately."

"Hwanung-sunbae, it's the middle of the night..."

"Right now, please."

The line clicked, went silent for thirty seconds, then crackled back to life with Director Kim's groggy but alert voice.

"Hwanung-ah, what's going on?"

"Yuna was with Daegon tonight," he said, switching to more formal speech out of respect for the seriousness. "There's a high possibility the company information has been leaked, Director-nim."

The silence stretched long enough for Hwanung to hear his own heartbeat.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, sir. I saw them together. Daegon-sunbae... it wasn't just a chance meeting. It looked very purposeful." He paused, thinking of Jaehee asleep in her apartment, vulnerable, trusting. "Manager Jaehee might be especially at risk."

"Daegon? That Daegon from Athenic?" Director Kim's voice sharpened with disbelief. "My god... This is serious corporate espionage. I'll need to call an emergency board meeting first thing in the morning. We'll have to change all our security codes, review every project Yuna had access to, and probably relocate some of our talent temporarily. Thank you for informing me, Hwanung-ah. This could have been catastrophic if we hadn't caught it early."

The call ended, leaving Hwanung alone with the city lights and the weight of what he'd just done.

He'd protected the agency that had given him a new life in this strange, familiar Korea. He'd protected Jaehee, who managed his career with such professional care that sometimes he forgot the distance between idol and manager was supposed to exist.

But reporting on Yuna—sweet, hardworking Yuna who brought everyone coffee and stayed late to help with schedules—felt like betrayal. Even if Daegon was playing some corporate espionage game, even if she was unknowingly feeding information to their biggest rival agency, she was still their colleague.

Still Jaehee's friend.

He slumped into the leather sofa, head falling back against the cushions. His phone felt heavy in his hands as he scrolled to another number—one he'd been calling for weeks without answer.

Seoryeon's number went straight to voicemail, as it had for the past month. Her cheerful recorded voice felt like a mockery now:

"Hello, this is Seoryeon! Sorry I can't take your call right now. Please leave a message and I'll definitely contact you back!"*

She never did.

He tried her office instead, the executive line that always had someone manning it, no matter the hour.

"Sophisticated Space executive support office, this is Park speaking."

"This is Hwanung. I'd like to speak with CEO Seoryeon, please."

"I'm sorry, Hwanung-nim. CEO Seoryeon is currently on a business trip to America. She's scheduled to return next month, but the exact date hasn't been determined yet."

Next month. Always next month, always traveling, always unreachable.

Hwanung ended the call and let the phone slip from his fingers onto the coffee table. He stared at the ceiling, at the recessed lights that cast everything in cold, clinical white.

What had happened to them?

To him and Seoryeon, who used to share everything? To the bond they'd built over shared memories and quiet conversations about the weight of carrying ancient souls in modern bodies?

When had she started pulling away? When had her smiles become performance instead of genuine warmth?

When had he started feeling so alone in a city full of people who loved an image of him that wasn't real?

The penthouse felt vast and empty around him, all expensive furniture and meaningless luxury. Outside, Seoul hummed with life—millions of people sleeping, dreaming, living their small human lives without knowing that gods and monsters walked among them.

And somewhere out there, his warning might be the only thing standing between Jaehee and whatever Daegon had turned Yuna into.

*

Jaehee slept unaware, tangled in soft sheets, breathing slow and steady in the glow of her bedside lamp. But the shadows in the far corner of her room began to ripple, thickening, bleeding into something darker than night itself.

Yuna stepped out of that darkness, silent, her feet barely touching the ground, her body wrapped in black mist, a dagger forged from pure shadow clenched in her hand.

Her movements were no longer human—not really—and the light caught her darkened eyes, empty, hollow, radiating nothing but obedience and death.

Far across the city, Daegon watched through their tether, smiling that cruel, thin smile he reserved only for moments like this.

"Kill her," he whispered, the words curling from his lips like a blade drawn slow and savoring.

And in the small apartment, the darkness leapt.

But before Yuna could take another step, she froze mid-motion, shadow dagger inches from Jaehee's throat.

Something slammed into her like a freight train—pure kinetic force that sent her crashing through the bedroom wall into the living room. Plaster exploded in white clouds as her body carved a human-shaped crater in the concrete.

Yuna rolled to her feet, shadow dagger reforming in her grip, and launched herself back through the hole with inhuman speed. Her blade swept in a deadly arc toward Jaehee's neck—only to meet an invisible barrier that rang like struck steel.

The impact sent shockwaves through the apartment. Windows cracked. The floor beneath them buckled.

"Persistent little puppet," came a voice from everywhere and nowhere.

Yuna's head whipped around, seeking the source, when the air itself seemed to grab her. She was yanked off her feet and hurled against the ceiling with bone-crushing force, then slammed down onto the floor hard enough to crater the concrete. She bounced once, twice, her body ragdolling like a broken toy.

But she stood again, because Daegon's corruption wouldn't let her stay down.