Lee Min-jae didn't sleep that night.
Ji-hoon knew this because at 3:47 AM, his burner phone... the cheap one he'd bought with cash, lit up with an incoming call.
"Tell me I'm not crazy," Min-jae's voice was hoarse, caffeinated, vibrating with the kind of manic energy that came from stumbling onto something big. "Tell me you see what I'm seeing in these documents."
Ji-hoon sat up in bed, instantly alert. Outside his window, Seoul glittered in its sleepless nocturnal beauty. "What did you find?"
"Everything. Nothing. Both." Papers rustled on Min-jae's end. "Inspector Kim Dong-hyun has approved forty-seven buildings in the last three years. Forty-seven. Do you know what the average inspector handles? Maybe fifteen, twenty max. This guy is either superhuman or..."
"Or he's signing off without actually inspecting."
"Exactly. And get this, I cross-referenced his approval dates with weather records. On June 15th, 2024, when he supposedly conducted a seven-hour mid-construction inspection of Hannam Tower, there was a typhoon. The entire Busan region was under emergency lockdown."
Ji-hoon felt a cold satisfaction settle in his chest. "He couldn't have been on-site."
"Impossible. But his report is dated and signed from that exact day." Min-jae laughed, slightly unhinged. "Ji-hoon-ssi, this isn't just one bad building. This is systematic fraud. And Hannam Construction has seventeen other projects with the same inspector, same pattern, same suspicious subcontractors."
Seventeen buildings.
In the original timeline, only Hannam Tower had collapsed. The investigation had focused solely on that one incident. But if Min-jae dug deeper, if the authorities actually looked...
"What are you going to do?" Ji-hoon asked quietly.
Silence. Then: "I don't know. If I take this to my senior analyst, he'll bury it. If I go over his head..." Min-jae exhaled shakily. "I could lose my job. Daehan Securities does business with Kang Group. Your brother just made them a fortune in advisory fees on the Hannam deal."
"I know."
"But if I don't do anything, and something happens..." Min-jae's voice cracked slightly. "I have a sister. She just bought an apartment in Busan. New construction. What if her building has the same problems? What if someone's sister, someone's mother, someone's kid is living in one of these death traps right now?"
Three people die on April 2nd, Ji-hoon thought. A grandmother is celebrating her birthday. Her daughter. A seven-year-old boy.
He'd read their names in the news articles, back when he was Han Joon-woo. Had felt the distant, helpless sympathy of someone watching tragedy from behind a screen.
But now he could stop it.
"There's another option," Ji-hoon said carefully. "You have a friend at the Financial Supervisory Service, right?"
"How did you..." Min-jae stopped. "Right. You remember from school. Yeah, Park Ji-sung. We were in the same study group."
"What if this information found its way to him? Anonymously. Just the documentation, no source. Let the FSS investigate Hannam's safety compliance as part of their standard post-acquisition review."
Min-jae was quiet, thinking. "That... could work. The FSS has jurisdiction over corporate due diligence failures. If they found evidence of fraudulent safety certifications in a company that just got acquired for 3.2 trillion won..."
"It becomes their problem, not yours. You're just a concerned citizen providing a tip."
"A concerned citizen with access to non-public construction records?"
"You're a securities analyst. Research is literally your job." Ji-hoon kept his voice calm, steady. "You had concerns about an acquisition your firm advised on. You did due diligence. You found problems. You reported them to the appropriate regulatory body. That's not whistleblowing...that's responsible corporate citizenship."
Another pause. Then Min-jae laughed, this time with genuine humor. "When did you get so good at this?"
When I died and came back with nothing to lose, Ji-hoon thought.
"I've been paying attention," he said instead.
"Okay. Okay." Min-jae sounded steadier now, decided. "I'll package the evidence and send it to Ji-sung tonight. Anonymous drop. If the FSS investigates and finds nothing, fine. But if I'm right..."
"Then you'll have saved lives."
"And destroyed your brother's flagship acquisition."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
"Min-jae," Ji-hoon said quietly. "I'd rather my brother lose money than watch people die. Wouldn't you?"
"Yeah." A long exhale. "Yeah, I would."
After they hung up, Ji-hoon sat in the darkness of his room, listening to the silence of the Kang family mansion. Somewhere down the hall, his father slept. In the east wing, his brother probably wasn't sleeping. Ji-won never slept much, always working, always pushing, always proving he deserved to be the heir.
In less than a week, maybe less, the Financial Supervisory Service would receive an anonymous package of evidence that would unravel his brother's greatest achievement.
And Ji-hoon felt nothing but cold determination.
The next morning brought unexpected complications.
Ji-hoon was in the gym. a private facility on the mansion's lower level that the original Ji-hoon had never used, attempting to rebuild a body that had been weakened by depression and a near-successful suicide attempt. Twenty minutes on the treadmill had him gasping. His reflection in the mirror showed someone beautiful and useless.
He needed to change that.
The door opened. Ji-hoon looked up, expecting Ajumma Lee or maybe one of the housekeeping staff.
Instead, his brother walked in.
Kang Ji-won was everything Ji-hoon wasn't taller by three inches, broader in the shoulders, with the kind of commanding presence that made people instinctively straighten up when he entered a room. He wore designer athletic wear that probably cost more than a car, and even at seven in the morning, he looked like he'd already conquered several small countries.
"Well," Ji-won said, stopping at the doorway. "This is new."
Ji-hoon grabbed a towel, wiping sweat from his face, buying time to choose his approach. In the original timeline, the brothers barely spoke. Every interaction had been layered with Ji-won's casual cruelty and Ji-hoon's desperate attempts to disappear.
But that dynamic had been built on Ji-hoon's weakness.
"Good morning, hyung." Ji-hoon kept his voice neutral. "Didn't know you used the gym this early."
"I don't. Usually." Ji-won moved to the weight rack, selecting dumbbells with practiced ease. "I heard you were up and moving around. Wanted to see for myself."
"See what? That I'm alive?"
The words came out sharper than intended. Ji-won's eyebrow rose fractionally.
"That you're functional," he corrected. "Father mentioned you came to his study yesterday. Asked about business." He started his workout, bicep curls executed with perfect form. "That's a first."
"People change."
"Do they?" Ji-won's smile was pleasant and utterly cold. "Or do they just pretend to, for a little while, before sliding back into their usual patterns?"
There it was. The casual dismissal. The assumption that Ji-hoon would always be the family failure, the disappointment, the ghost.
In the original timeline, Ji-hoon would have flinched. Retreated. Proved his brother right.
But Han Joon-woo had spent twenty-nine years being dismissed by people who underestimated him. And he'd learned something valuable: being underestimated was an advantage, if you were smart enough to use it.
"You're probably right," Ji-hoon said, returning to the treadmill. "Old habits are hard to break. I'll probably be back to hiding in my room within a month."
He started walking, casual pace, as if the conversation was already boring him.
Ji-won paused mid-curl. "That's it? No protests? No declarations about turning over a new leaf?"
"Would you believe me if I made them?"
"No."
"Then why waste the breath?" Ji-hoon increased the treadmill speed slightly. "Congratulations on the Hannam deal, by the way. Father seems very pleased."
"He should be. It's going to revolutionize our construction division." Ji-won set down the weights, studying his younger brother with new interest. "What do you know about it?"
"Nothing. Just what I've read in the news." Ji-hoon kept his eyes forward, focused on the treadmill console. "Big acquisition. Good price. Solid company with impressive safety record."
"Exactly." Ji-won's voice held a note of satisfaction. "The due diligence was flawless. Hannam's one of the cleanest construction firms in Korea. That's why I moved fast...companies like that don't stay available long."
Companies like that don't exist, Ji-hoon thought. Clean construction firms are unicorns. The only question is how well they hide the dirt.
But he just nodded. "Makes sense. You've always been good at spotting opportunities."
The compliment seemed to catch Ji-won off guard. He'd been expecting defensiveness, jealousy, something to confirm his low opinion of his younger brother.
Instead, Ji-hoon was being... agreeable.
"Well," Ji-won said, his tone slightly less sharp. "Maybe you are changing. Or maybe you're just medicated better." He grabbed his water bottle, heading for the door. "Either way, try not to embarrass the family at the Youth Foundation gala. Sera mentioned you're actually attending."
"I'll do my best."
Ji-won paused at the door. "You know she's just being polite, right? Inviting you. She's like that, feels sorry for strays."
The comment was designed to sting. And it did, slightly, because Ji-hoon remembered Sera's real smile yesterday, the genuine curiosity in her eyes.
She noticed me, he thought. Not out of pity. Out of interest.
But he didn't defend himself. Didn't argue. Just shrugged.
"Probably. But a pity invitation is better than no invitation."
Ji-won studied him for a moment longer, clearly trying to figure out what had changed. Then he left without another word.
Ji-hoon increased the treadmill speed to a run, his heart pounding, legs burning.
His brother had no idea what was coming.
And Ji-hoon intended to keep it that way.
Three days later, the first domino fell.
Ji-hoon was in a café in Gangnam... not one of the trendy spots where chaebols and celebrities gathered, but a quiet place frequented by office workers and students. He'd chosen a corner table, laptop open, pretending to work on a paper while actually monitoring news feeds and financial websites.
His phone buzzed. A message from Min-jae:
It's started. FSS launched a preliminary investigation into Hannam Construction's safety compliance this morning. My friend says they received "credible evidence of systematic documentation fraud." Markets are already reacting.
Ji-hoon pulled up the stock ticker.
Hannam Construction: -12% and falling.
Kang Group: -3% in sympathy.
He opened a financial news site. The headlines were already forming:
"FSS Investigates Hannam Construction Safety Records"
"Kang Group's Major Acquisition Under Regulatory Scrutiny"
"Questions Raised Over Due Diligence in 3.2T Won Deal"
His phone rang. Unknown number, but he recognized the pattern, internal Kang Group line.
"Yes?"
"Ji-hoon." His father's voice, tight with controlled anger. "Come home. Now."
The line went dead.
Ji-hoon closed his laptop slowly, his hands perfectly steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Here we go.
The chairman's study felt different this time. Colder. Darker, despite the afternoon sun streaming through the windows.
His father stood at the window, back turned, shoulders rigid. His brother sat in one of the leather chairs, face thunderous. And behind the desk, Minister Yoon and Sera's father occupied the chairman's usual seat with the casual authority of someone used to power.
Ji-hoon stopped in the doorway. "You wanted to see me?"
"Close the door," the chairman said without turning.
Ji-hoon obeyed, his mind racing. Minister Yoon's presence was unexpected. He was on the Kang Group board, yes, but this felt less like a board meeting and more like a tribunal.
"Do you know why you're here?" Ji-won asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"No."
"Don't lie." His brother stood, moving with the coiled tension of someone barely holding back rage. "The FSS investigation. You knew about it."
Ji-hoon kept his face carefully neutral. "I saw the news."
"Before the news. You asked Father about Hannam's safety compliance three days ago." Ji-won stepped closer. "Out of nowhere. After years of not giving a damn about the family business. You just happened to ask about the exact thing that's now under investigation?"
The chairman turned from the window, and Ji-hoon saw something in his father's eyes he'd never seen before: disappointment laced with suspicion.
"Ji-hoon," the chairman said slowly. "Did you have anything to do with this?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication.
Ji-hoon could deny it. Play the fool. Pretend to be the useless second son who couldn't possibly orchestrate something this sophisticated.
Or he could own it, partially, carefully...and reshape the narrative.
"I had concerns," he said quietly.
The room went silent.
"What?" Ji-won's voice was barely above a whisper.
"I had concerns about the Hannam acquisition. So I did some research." Ji-hoon met his father's eyes. "Public records. Construction safety databases. Things anyone could access. And I found irregularities in their inspection documentation."
"And you went to the FSS?" The chairman's voice was dangerously calm.
"No. I mentioned my concerns to a friend who works in securities analysis. He did his own research. He made his own decision about what to do with that information." Ji-hoon's heart hammered, but his voice stayed level. "I didn't go behind the family's back. I tried to warn you, Father. Three days ago. You said the due diligence team was thorough."
"They were thorough!" Ji-won exploded. "We spent months on this acquisition. Hired the best consultants. Reviewed every document..."
"Did you review the original inspection records? Or just the summary reports Hannam provided?"
Ji-won's silence was answer enough.
Minister Yoon spoke for the first time, his voice carrying the weight of political experience. "The boy raises a valid point. Summary reports can be... curated. If Hannam was hiding systematic fraud, they'd know exactly which documents to provide in due diligence."
"Whose side are you on?" Ji-won snapped.
"The family's side. Always." Minister Yoon's gaze moved to Ji-hoon, assessing. "Which is why I'm curious about young Ji-hoon's motivations here. You've never shown interest in protecting the family before. Why start now?"
It was a test. A trap, maybe.
Ji-hoon chose his words carefully. "Because I'm tired of being useless. Because I wanted to prove I could contribute something." He looked at his brother. "And because if I'm right, and Hannam's buildings are dangerous, people could die. I couldn't just ignore that."
"How noble," Ji-won said acidly. "My baby brother, suddenly developing a conscience."
"Ji-won." The chairman's voice cut through the tension. "Enough."
He moved to his desk, Minister Yoon vacating the chair with a slight nod. The chairman sat heavily, suddenly looking older than his fifty-eight years.
"The FSS investigation will take two weeks minimum," he said. "If they find nothing, this is just a temporary disruption. Stock prices will recover. If they find what you're suggesting..."
"Then we were about to acquire a company built on fraud," Ji-hoon finished. "And you'll have avoided a disaster that could have cost billions in lawsuits, destroyed the company's reputation, and possibly led to criminal charges for negligence."
The logic was sound. Undeniable.
But Ji-won wasn't looking at logic. He was looking at his younger brother as if seeing a stranger.
"You're different," he said softly. "Since the accident. You're... different."
"People change when they almost die," Ji-hoon replied. "Apparently."
Minister Yoon chuckled. "The boy has a point. And frankly, Chairman, if his concerns prove accurate, you should be thanking him, not interrogating him."
"If they prove accurate," the chairman emphasized. "If this is just paranoid speculation that tanks our stock price and embarrasses the family..."
He didn't finish the threat. He didn't need to.
"Understood," Ji-hoon said.
"You're dismissed." The chairman's attention was already shifting to damage control strategies. "All of you. I need to call the board."
Ji-hoon turned to leave, but Ji-won caught his arm, grip tight enough to bruise.
"I don't know what game you're playing," his brother whispered. "But stay in your lane. You don't have the skill for this world."
Ji-hoon met his eyes and smiled, small, cold, utterly unlike the old Ji-hoon.
"Maybe I'm learning."
He pulled free and left, feeling three sets of eyes on his back.
In the hallway, his hands finally started to shake.
He'd done it. Planted the evidence, triggered the investigation, survived the interrogation.
But he'd also revealed himself...shown that he was capable of analysis, of action, of strategic thinking.
The invisible son was becoming visible.
And in this family, visibility was dangerous.
His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number:
That was interesting. My father just called me. Said you might be worth paying attention to after all.
Coffee tomorrow? I'm curious about this new version of Kang Ji-hoon.
Sera
Ji-hoon stared at the message, his mind racing with implications and possibilities.
The future was changing faster than he'd anticipated.
And he was starting to wonder if he could control where it was going.