The Devil Wears a Smile

"When doors finally open, be careful who's waiting on the other side."

Two Days After the Innovation Fair

The news didn't just spread inside Donghae High.

It leaked online.

A few students had posted Jaeho's pitch clip on TikTok and Twitter, where it quietly caught fire. Not viral. Not millions.

But enough.

Enough for one man to notice.

The Unexpected Call

It was raining when the email came in.

Jaeho was on his laptop in the corner of a local café, coding silently while his $2 Americano cooled beside him.

Then he saw the subject line:

Re: SITTLiNE – Let's Talk.From: han.seojin@seojingroup.kr

He blinked. Sat up.

Seo Jin Group?

They were a massive investment firm based in Seoul, known for early-stage startups and cold-blooded takeovers.

He opened the email:

"I saw your pitch. Efficient, gritty, and market-ready. My name is Han Seojin. I invest in solutions that scale. I'll be in Busan tomorrow. Meet me at 3 PM. Gwangalli Shore, Room 2708. Don't be late."

Jaeho stared at the screen.

His hands trembled.

Then slowly, he smiled.

The Decision

He told no one. Not even his mother.

Instead, he ironed his only button-down shirt, cleaned his old sneakers, and loaded his code backup onto two USBs—one hidden inside his sock.

By 2:45 PM the next day, he was already standing outside the high-rise hotel near Gwangalli beach, heart pounding.

He took the elevator up to Room 2708.

Knocked twice.

The door opened with a soft hiss.

And Jaeho stepped into a world he had only seen in K-dramas.

Han Seojin

The suite looked more like a gallery than a hotel room.

Polished floors. Modern art. A wall made entirely of glass, showing the endless ocean beyond.

Standing near the window was a tall man in a gray turtleneck and sharp blazer.

Hair slicked back. Hands in his pockets. Cool, elegant, dangerous.

"You're earlier than I expected," the man said.

"Time is expensive," Jaeho replied quietly.

Han Seojin turned, smiled. "I like you already."

The Offer

They sat. Tea was served by a silent assistant. No small talk.

"I reviewed your code," Seojin began, sliding a tablet toward him. "Your app isn't just functional. It's predatory. It adapts to user fatigue. Exploits micro-habits. You built it for survival—but it has the bones of a killer product."

Jaeho sat still. "It works."

"Yes, it does," Seojin said. "And I want it."

He slid a folder across the table.

Inside was a contract.

₩200 million won investment.20% equity.5-year advisory clause.And a non-compete agreement that read like a spider's web.

Jaeho stared at the numbers.

₩200 million.

He could move his mom into a better place. Get her real treatment. Pay off debts.

It was more money than he'd ever imagined.

But…

He flipped to the back page.

Clause 14.4:

"The company retains the right to commercial pivot, technical override, or partner merger without founder approval."

In other words…

He'd be rich. But no longer free.

The Smile Behind the Mask

"You're hesitating," Seojin said calmly.

Jaeho looked up.

"You want the app. But you don't want me."

"You're brilliant, Mr. Kwon. But you're untrained. Emotional. A loose thread. The idea is pure gold. But gold doesn't shape itself."

"And if I say no?"

Han Seojin didn't blink.

"I walk away. And SITTLiNE stays a student project. Eventually, someone with more hunger and less pride will copy it. Improve it. And you'll be a footnote."

The room was silent.

Outside, the ocean crashed softly against the shore.

Then Seojin leaned forward, voice low:

"Let me give you one piece of advice, Jaeho."

"You don't rise by fighting the system head-on. You infiltrate it. Then rewrite the rules from the inside."

The Choice

Jaeho didn't sign.

Not yet.

Instead, he stood.

"Thank you for your time," he said. "But if I can build it once, I can build it again. Better."

Seojin raised an eyebrow, amused. "Pride is expensive, Mr. Kwon."

Jaeho turned to leave.

"It's not pride," he said, hand on the doorknob.

"It's ownership."

Back in the Streets

Jaeho walked alone that evening.

Through wet alleys and neon streets. His mind raced.

Had he just blown his only shot?

He thought about his mom.The overdue bills.The empty fridge.

But then he thought of his vision—the world he wanted to build. Not just money. Not just apps.

A system for the forgotten. The kids with nothing. The hustlers with no voice.

To do that…

He needed power.

Not a shortcut.

Real power.

And power required patience.