A Nervous Vigil

The morning light barely filtered through the narrow windows of the Main Building as Joon-ho stepped onto the campus grounds. The air was still cool, the early hour casting long shadows across the quiet pathways. He had woken up before dawn, his mind too restless to allow for more sleep. There was a sense of urgency in his steps as he made his way to Director Hye-su's office, his heart pounding.

When he reached the building, he found it almost entirely deserted. The corridors were dim, with only a few lights flickering intermittently as he walked through them. The emptiness added to the weight of what was to come, each footstep echoing eerily off the walls. Joon-ho couldn't help but feel the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. Today was the day that could change everything—for him, for his team, and perhaps even for Jin-ho.

He reached the director's office, a grand wooden door with a brass nameplate that gleamed faintly in the low light. The door was, of course, locked, and the small reception area outside the office was empty. Not even the secretary had arrived yet. Joon-ho glanced at the clock on the wall—it was still too early. But he had needed to be here, to gather his thoughts and calm his nerves before the inevitable confrontation.

He chose a chair near the door and sat down, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. His leg bounced restlessly, and he found himself staring at the darkened corridor, waiting. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional sound of footsteps in the distance. Every time he heard someone approaching, his heart would leap into his throat, only to sink back down when he realized it wasn't her.

Minutes felt like hours as he sat there, each tick of the clock amplifying his nervousness. What would she say? Would she listen to him? Could he even manage to articulate his thoughts under her scrutinizing gaze?

He shook his head, trying to dispel the doubts creeping in. He had made it this far, hadn't he? All that was left was to see it through. The corridor remained empty, and Joon-ho's thoughts wandered as he waited. He replayed his conversation with Jin-ho in his mind, hoping he hadn't made a mistake by pushing this forward. He tried to imagine how the meeting would go, but every scenario he conjured up only made his anxiety worse.

Then, more footsteps echoed down the hall. Joon-ho's breath caught as the sound grew louder, and closer until it stopped just outside the director's office. His heart raced, his pulse pounding in his ears as he turned to look.

But once again, it wasn't her. Another faculty member walked by, barely glancing in his direction, and continued down the corridor, leaving Joon-ho alone once more. He exhaled shakily, rubbing his hands together to try and dispel some of the nervous energy coursing through him.

The wait was becoming unbearable, each minute stretching longer than the last. But Joon-ho knew he had to stay composed. This was too important to let his nerves get the better of him. So he kept his gaze on the door, willing himself to be ready when the moment finally arrived.

The echo of heels clicking against the polished floor broke the silence, snapping Joon-ho out of his anxious reverie. His eyes shot up to see the imposing figure of Director Hye-su striding down the corridor, her presence commanding the space around her. Behind her, the ever-dutiful secretary, Hae-won, followed closely, a ring of keys jangling softly in her hand. The moment they appeared, the atmosphere seemed to thicken, a palpable tension settling in the air.

As they approached, Joon-ho felt a chill run down his spine. Hae-won's sharp gaze landed on him first, her eyes narrowing slightly. The disapproval was clear, a silent reminder of his precarious position. He was, after all, the one who had stumbled into this mess, and his actions had not gone unnoticed.

Hae-won wasted no time, stepping forward to unlock the office door with a swift motion. The keys jingled as she inserted one into the lock, the sound oddly loud in the otherwise quiet corridor. Meanwhile, Director Hye-su stopped just in front of Joon-ho, her expression unreadable but her eyes piercing right through him.

"Joon-ho," she began, her voice cool and measured, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "If you think that withholding information about the mysterious man you encountered is going to give you leverage to ask for something in return, let me make one thing very clear—you're dead wrong."

The words hit him like a slap. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, fear gripped him tightly. How had she seen through him so easily? She hadn't even heard what he had to say yet, and already she had anticipated his intentions. The sharpness of her mind, her ability to read him like an open book, was terrifying. It felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him, his carefully constructed plan teetering on the edge of collapse.

But Joon-ho steeled himself, forcing his breathing to remain steady. He couldn't back down now. He couldn't let fear or doubt undermine his resolve. There was too much at stake—his team, his friends, everything they had worked for. He had to make this work, no matter what.

As Hae-won pushed the door open, Director Hye-su finally turned away from Joon-ho, entering the office with the same briskness she had approached him with. Hae-won gave him one last scrutinizing look before following her inside. Joon-ho hesitated for a fraction of a second, feeling the weight of the moment bearing down on him. Then, he straightened his posture, clenching his fists to keep his hands from trembling, and stepped forward.

He was going to face this head-on. No matter how sharp her wit, no matter how ruthless her strategy, he would find a way to make his proposal work in his favour. The resolve in his heart burned brighter than ever as he crossed the threshold into the office, ready to face whatever came next.

The tension in the room was palpable as Joon-ho sat down, facing Director Hye-su across the imposing wooden desk. Hae-won took her place beside the director, her expression still unreadable, though her eyes never left Joon-ho. The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning, and Joon-ho could feel the weight of their scrutiny bearing down on him.

Director Hye-su didn't waste any time. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sharp and penetrating.

"You've already been interviewed, Joon-ho. You told us everything you knew then, and frankly, it wasn't much. So, what's the point of this meeting? What else do you know? Have you been keeping secrets from us?" Her tone was measured but laced with an undercurrent of accusation as if daring him to admit his deceit.

Joon-ho's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm. This was the moment he had been dreading, but also the one he had prepared for.

"I didn't keep anything from you before," he began, his voice steady despite the nerves gnawing at him. "I told you everything I knew back then. But things have changed. I've come across new information—because I met the man again."

The reaction was immediate. Both Director Hye-su and Hae-won's eyes widened in surprise, their previously stoic expressions faltering for a moment. Director Hye-su recovered quickly, though, her face hardening as she turned to Hae-won.

"Hae-won," she commanded, her voice sharp. "Run the system. Check the records of his gameplay." There was no hesitation in her words; she moved with the decisiveness of someone used to having control over every situation.

Hae-won nodded, swiftly turning to her console. As she began typing, the room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rapid clicks of the keyboard. Joon-ho's mind raced as he watched, his anxiety mounting. He knew that every second counted, that the evidence—or lack thereof—would make or break this meeting.

It didn't take long for Hae-won to complete her task. She looked up from the screen, her expression unreadable as she turned to Director Hye-su.

"There's no record of any such encounter. His gameplay logs show activity, but there's nothing that matches what he's describing."

Director Hye-su's eyes narrowed, and she turned her gaze back to Joon-ho, suspicion etched into her features.

"Are you lying to me, Joon-ho? Do you think you can play games with me?"

Joon-ho shook his head, his voice urgent as he tried to explain.

"No, I'm not lying. There should be something—a missing file or a cut-off in the footage. Please, check my log again. You'll see that I played, but something's been tampered with. The man I met… he's able to hack the system, alter the records so that the game doesn't notice his presence."

Hae-won hesitated for a moment, then turned back to her console, her fingers flying across the keyboard. A few more moments of tense silence passed before she nodded slowly.

"He's right. There's a discrepancy in the log—a period where there should be footage, but there's nothing. It's as if someone erased it."

Director Hye-su's eyes flickered with realization, and she leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she absorbed the information.

"So, it's true. He's found a way to hide himself from our systems."

Joon-ho let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Part one of his plan had succeeded; he had convinced them that he wasn't lying. But he knew this was only the beginning. The real challenge was still ahead—convincing Director Hye-su to listen to what he had to say next.

For now, though, he allowed himself a small moment of relief. He had made it this far, and he wasn't about to stop now. The room remained tense, but Joon-ho could sense a shift, a crack in the previously impenetrable wall of scepticism that had surrounded him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to give him hope.