Missions (Part 6)

The Life of Aurelius Valemont:Missions (Part 6)

It was finally time for the exam results to be announced. The atmosphere in the classroom was tense, everyone glued to the leaderboard projected on the screen. When my name appeared at the very top, silence fell. All eyes turned to me in disbelief. The second name was Han Seojin's.

The Black Dog was dethroned.

His eyes twitched slightly as he stared at the screen. The usual calm expression he wore was replaced with one of quiet rage. I knew it. I knew this would get to him. It had always been Seojin at the top—until now.

Father's words echoed in my head. "Achievements. Dominate their system. Prove your worth with excellence. And do it with ease."

I leaned back in my chair casually, hiding the smirk that threatened to show. Note to everyone: Never underestimate someone who was homeschooled. Especially someone like me.

As soon as the final bell rang, I didn't waste another second. I grabbed my bag and headed straight for the underground parking where Shadow Jr. waited—a sleek black scooter motorcycle. I pulled on my helmet, revved the engine, and sped off through the streets of Seoul, the neon lights flashing past in a blur.

Within minutes, I reached the hotel. I took the elevator up to my suite, locked the door behind me, and immediately called Philip on the secure line.

He picked up in seconds.

"Guess what?" I said, tossing my bag onto the bed.

"You're finally confessing your undying love for me?" he deadpanned.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm joining Aether Studio."

The sound of him choking on his drink came through the phone, followed by explosive laughter.

"You? An idol? Oh my god—wait, wait, I need a moment to process this," Philip wheezed. "This is the best thing I've heard all week."

"It's for the mission," I said dryly, collapsing into the desk chair. "Minjun gave me an invitation and I forced him to accept me. I'm going to the audition interview tomorrow."

Philip was still laughing. "Do you even know how to sing or dance?"

"I'll figure it out. I've been trained in everything else. How hard can it be?"

Suddenly, a quiet voice spoke from behind me.

"You'll need rhythm. And stage presence." It was Matthew, standing by the minibar with his usual stoic expression, pouring tea like he hadn't just eavesdropped on everything. "Also... flexibility."

Even he smirked. That was rare. And annoying.

"Great. Now you're both laughing at me?" I muttered.

Matthew didn't laugh, but his smirk said enough.

"Listen," I said, turning back to Philip. "Valemont's intel is hidden somewhere in the Aether Studio. That's where Chan-woo Gong stored it. I have no choice but to go deeper. This isn't just about school anymore."

Philip sighed, calming down. "Okay, okay. I get it. Just... try not to humiliate yourself. Please. For all of us."

I exhaled and stood up, stretching my arms.

"Fine. I'll take the audition tomorrow. Send me beginner training videos and routines."

Philip replied with a grin I could hear through the phone. "Already uploading. Break a leg, Mr. Valemont."

I hung up.

Mission accepted.

Philip's voice crackled through the secure line.

"So let me get this straight… you're going to be a full-time student and pretend to be an idol trainee?"

I sat on the windowsill of my suite, legs dangling slightly, the city lights of Seoul glittering far below.

"That's the plan," I replied, scrolling through the trainee evaluation email Minjun forwarded to me.

Philip paused. I could almost hear his eyes squinting through the phone.

"...Right. Because that sounds healthy. You'll burn out in a week."

I didn't answer.

Then Philip caught himself. His voice softened. "Everything for the mission, huh…"

I remained silent, my fingers curling slightly at the edge of the sill.

Philip sighed. "You still haven't told me why you're going this far for your father. After what he—"

"Don't," I cut him off quietly. My voice was low, controlled. "Just… don't."

The line went quiet. He understood.

I couldn't tell him the real reason. I couldn't tell him that the man I call father—the monster named Victor Valemont—once threatened the lives of everyone I care about. Luciana. Yumi. Peter. And Philip himself.

He killed my mother in front of me when I was nine. Anastasia Valemont. The only warmth I ever knew. And now, obedience is the only currency I have to protect what remains.

Next Day

The morning sun gleamed off the glass panels of the Aether Studio building. It stood tall in the Gangnam district, modern and polished with bold gold letters spelling its name across the upper floors.

I stood before it, black hoodie pulled low over my face, one earbud in, and my backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Hmm," I muttered.

Not bad.

But my lips curled faintly in amusement.

Compared to the sprawling Valemont Estate—filled with underground labs, private airstrips, and high-security bunkers—this place looked like a department store.

Then came the sound of sneakers scuffing against concrete.

"LEE JAEWON!!" came Minjun's voice—way too loud for public decency.

I turned just as he skidded to a stop in front of me, wearing a bucket hat, oversized sunglasses, and a grin too bright for 8:00 a.m.

"You came!! I thought you'd ditch or something!"

"I don't ditch," I replied simply.

He beamed like an excited puppy. "Come on, the others are already inside. And—don't worry—I told them you're a 'mysterious transfer student with raw talent but no training.' Y'know, the K-drama kind."

"Helpful," I muttered dryly.

Minjun guided me through the glass doors, into the brightly lit lobby of Aether Studio. The walls were lined with posters of their top idol groups, all posing dramatically with piercing gazes and glowing skin.

We took the elevator to the 10th floor—Trainee Evaluation Hall.

Audition Time

The room was cold, too white, and filled with mirrors on all sides. There were ten other trainees inside, stretching, vocalizing, or checking their reflections nervously. An instructor with a clipboard glanced up and gave Minjun a brief nod.

"New applicant?" she asked, looking at me.

"Yeah. Special case," Minjun said smoothly. "He's raw, but... worth it."

The instructor's eyes skimmed over me like she was scanning for weakness.

"Name?"

"Lee Jaewon," I answered.

She scribbled something on her clipboard. "You'll go last. Show us both vocals and dance. That's standard."

As the other trainees went up one by one, I stood at the back, watching silently. I studied their footwork, timing, pitch control. I memorized every rhythm and step, calculating how to replicate them with military precision.

Minjun stood beside me, whispering under his breath, "You got this. Just follow your instincts."

I didn't have instincts for this. But I had something else: perfect memory, trained coordination, and the pressure of five lives depending on me.

When my name was called, I stepped into the center of the mirrored floor. The music started—an energetic pop track.

I moved.

Step. Pivot. Turn. Kick. Land.

It wasn't perfect. But it wasn't bad either. My body responded like it did in combat drills. Just a different kind of rhythm.

Then came the vocals.

I held the mic, heart steady.

I had picked a slower song—something stripped down. Raw. Vulnerable.

My voice wasn't trained, but I meant every word. And the room, surprisingly, went still.

When I finished, there was silence.

The instructor tapped her pen to her clipboard slowly. "Rough edges. Zero technique. But… something interesting." She glanced at Minjun. "You've got a weird eye for talent."

Minjun grinned.

"You're in," she added, then scribbled my name into the trainee list.

I exhaled quietly, stepping down.

Minjun slapped my back with a huge grin. "DUDE. You did it! You're officially a trainee!"

I didn't smile. But for a moment… I was relieved.

One step closer to the intel.

One step deeper into the fire.

Both Minjun and I stepped out of the audition room, our footsteps echoing in the hallway. He was still buzzing with energy, practically bouncing beside me.

"I can't believe you actually did it!" he beamed. "You're totally gonna be the next 'dark horse' trainee—people are already talking about you!"

I turned to him, expression unreadable. "You can leave me now."

Minjun blinked. "Huh?"

"I've got something to do. Alone."

He hesitated for a second, clearly curious but wise enough not to press. "Alright… just text me later, okay?"

I nodded once, then watched as he disappeared down the hallway.

With the building mostly quiet and the auditions wrapped up, I moved silently through the Aether Studio's halls. I wasn't here to chase dreams or win fans—I had a mission. I scanned each hallway with a trained eye, memorizing blind spots, cameras, and exits.

Then I saw it.

A small group of employees walking past—casual on the surface, but one man at the back caught my attention. His sleeve rode up slightly as he adjusted his ID lanyard, revealing a tattoo on his wrist. A curved fang wrapped in flames. I knew that symbol.

A variation of the Valemont sigil—only those involved in covert operations bore it.

I stalked him quietly, then made my move.

I grabbed him by the collar, dragged him silently down a service hallway, and forced open the door to a janitor's closet. It was cramped and dimly lit, the faint scent of bleach lingering in the air.

"Who exactly are you?" I asked coldly, slamming him against the shelf-lined wall.

I expected fear. Panic. Maybe stammering.

But instead, he smirked.

Too calm.

His eyes flicked to a mop handle nearby—and in one swift movement, he reached for a sharpened metal tool hidden inside it and lunged at my throat.

I dodged.

His attacks were quick, calculated—whoever trained him wasn't mediocre.

The janitor's closet was no longer a closet. It became a confined warzone. Bottles shattered. Mops snapped. Shelves rattled violently.

I could have taken him out quickly. But I wanted answers. Unfortunately, he wasn't cooperating.

I'm getting bored, I thought.

With one smooth motion, I pulled a small injector from my jacket and jammed it into his neck. The tranquilizer hissed softly.

His body tensed—then collapsed in seconds.

I exhaled and knelt beside him. "Should've just answered my question."

I stripped off his uniform—ID badge, clothes, earpiece. Then reached into my bag and retrieved something that looked deceptively innocent: a glittery pink purse.

Valemont's top-tier infiltration tech.

We called it: The Pink Purse.

Tap a person's face. Scan. Replicate. The purse would produce a perfectly textured silicon-polymer mask and matching wig in under 30 seconds.

Minutes later, I looked into the cracked mirror mounted on the closet door.

Flawless.

My voice even came out in his tone.

I tucked my real clothes inside a hidden compartment in the ceiling panel, then stepped out like nothing had happened.

I roamed the building under disguise, blending in effortlessly. I passed a few security cameras, nodding politely at coworkers. None suspected a thing.

Then I saw her.

The chairwoman.

She passed through the executive hallway, flanked by two assistants and four bodyguards.

Her heels echoed sharply on the polished floor, her expression unreadable. But what struck me wasn't her aura of power—it was her face.

She looked just like Minjun.

Of course. She was Minjun's mother.

And yet… there was something about her eyes. Cold. Focused. This wasn't a woman who climbed to the top with charm alone.

This was someone who made deals in blood and silence.

I lowered my gaze and walked past, careful not to draw attention.

But deep inside, I already knew.

She was hiding something.

And I was going to find out what.

I stood still, blending into the sea of employees as the Chairwoman of Aether Studio passed by. One by one, her staff bowed at a perfect ninety degrees—rehearsed, robotic. I did the same. After all, I was one of them now.

But then, something strange happened.

As she walked past, her eyes brushed over me. For a brief second, we locked gazes. Just a flicker—but it was there.

Sharp. Calculating.

Then, just as quickly, she looked away like nothing happened.

I felt the shift.

She knew.

Whether it was instinct or intel, I couldn't tell. But she definitely took notice.

Then I saw him—Minjun—emerging from the hallway.

She passed right by him.

No smile. No nod. No words.

He didn't react either.

The air between them was colder than anything I'd expected. I thought they'd at least acknowledge each other, even with a nod. But there was… nothing.

A mother and son, walking past like strangers.

I stared after them, frozen.

Wow. Family, I thought bitterly. Reminds me of how Father used to look at me—like I didn't exist—until I was "useful." Until he carved my childhood into obedience.

She disappeared around the corner, her entourage trailing behind like shadows.

But I wasn't done.

As her assistant trailed a few steps behind, I subtly pulled out the Pink Purse and snapped a photo of her profile. The purse quietly scanned, rendering her facial data. Later, I could replicate it—disguise myself and get closer to the Chairwoman's inner circle.

I tightened my grip on the small device.

If Chan-Woo Gong really hid Valemont's secret documents in this place, then his daughter-in-law—Minjun's mother—is guarding them well. Too well.

She may have married into the empire, but now she was the one pulling the strings. Her loyalty to the Valemont name… clearly ran deep.

Damn it. My jaw clenched.

I glanced back at the closet where I left the unconscious employee.

I should've questioned him.

I should've dug for leads before knocking him out. A rookie move, and I knew better.

Now I had to figure this out with zero intel, one disguise, and a building crawling with eyes.

Still—this was the mission.

And I never backed down from one.

I slipped into an empty locker room deep in the staff-only area, locked the door behind me, and pulled out the Pink Purse. With a soft mechanical hum, it activated.

Scan. Morph. Mold.

In less than thirty seconds, the transformation was complete.

I stared at my reflection in the metal locker. Gone was the face of Lee Jaewon. In its place stood Eunsoo Song—neatly tied hair, a sharp gaze, a mature face with lines of tired elegance, and a posture that screamed years of discipline.

Flawless. Again.

I skimmed through the Pink Purse's intel:

Eunsoo Song — 43 years old, married with one child. Used to work under Chan-Woo Gong himself during his VARAK days. Loyal. Sharp. Efficient. No wonder she earned the position as the Chairwoman's right hand.

And now... I am her.

My footsteps echoed down the corridor with confidence that wasn't mine—hers. I moved with the rhythm of someone who belonged here, greeted others with a polite nod she likely mastered over years of climbing the ladder.

It wasn't just disguise. It was infiltration at its finest.

I already knew the location of the Chairwoman's private office: top floor, end of the west wing, secured by biometric access and a rotating code that updated every three hours. Fortunately, I had Eunsoo's fingerprint scan now, and the Pink Purse recorded her recent retinal pattern during the scan.

I pressed the elevator button and stood still, hands clasped just like she would. An intern passed me and gave a hurried bow. I nodded in response. He didn't suspect a thing.

You better have hidden those Valemont documents well, Chairwoman, I thought grimly. Because I intend to find them—no matter who gets in my way.

The elevator dinged.

Showtime.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, I stepped out—composed, calm, Eunsoo Song in every inch of posture.

Except... the real Eunsoo Song was standing right there.

We locked eyes.

My steps froze mid-stride.

She was wearing my outfit—well, hers. Same black pencil skirt, same cream blouse, same clipped ID tag. Even our hair strands curled at the exact same spot above the right brow.

For five full minutes, we just... stared.

She blinked. I blinked. She narrowed her eyes. I lifted a brow. My brain scrambled for contingency plans while my body stood there like a mannequin in a corporate horror show.

Then it happened.

An employee rounded the corner, holding a hot coffee and a clipboard. He glanced at us—and stopped dead.

His mouth opened.

His coffee dropped in slow motion, splashing everywhere.

Then came the coughing. Violent, shocked choking. Another employee rushed over to help him, took one look at the two of us, and his soul visibly left his body.

Neither Eunsoo nor I said a word.

Shit. Think, Jaewon. You're a Valemont-trained operative. Years of conditioning. Psychological warfare. Deep infiltration. What's the protocol for... this?!

Ten minutes passed.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Calculating. Scanning. And then...

A smirk.

No. No, no, no—don't smirk.

She opened her mouth and—

"Aaahhhh!!!"

She screamed.

Like a normal human being just saw a walking, breathing doppelgänger.

So, I screamed too.

Because at this point, why the hell not?

"AaaaaAAAHHH!"

The guy who dropped the coffee screamed.

Now everyone in the hallway was screaming.

Within seconds, two security guards came storming through the west wing doors, tasers and batons at the ready. I was already calculating escape routes, pressure points, when—

"STOP!" the real Eunsoo snapped, dropping the act. "Don't touch her."

in I recognized it now. The way she moved, her stance, that aura.

She was ex-VARAK.

Oh no.

She turned to me slowly. "You've got thirty seconds to tell me who you are… before I drag your sorry shapeshifting self to the interrogation sublevel."

I ran.

Fast.

Faster than any of them could process. By the time the guards raised their batons, I was already five corridors away, weaving through confused employees and startled trainees.

Alarms hadn't gone off—yet. But footsteps thundered behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder. Two guards. Then three. Damn it.

As I turned the corner, I spotted her—a female idol trainee, standing near a vending machine, earphones in. Perfect. Without stopping, I flicked open the Pink Purse in my palm and scanned her in one smooth motion.

In seconds, I ducked into a narrow hallway with no cameras, pulled on the generated mask and wig, and emerged as her. High ponytail, glossy lips, nervous eyes. I walked out with a light bounce in my step—just another girl chasing a dream. One of the guards ran past me without a second glance.

Still too risky.

I scanned again, this time locking onto a male staff member turning into a room. New face. New voice. I ducked behind a utility door, peeled off the first disguise, slipped into the second. Within twenty seconds, I was a tall, slender guy with a clipboard and a schedule.

No one looked twice.

I strode straight into the men's bathroom. A few people passed by, too focused on their own business to notice.

Once inside a stall, I locked it behind me, sat on the lid, and slowly peeled off the face mask.

Finally.

Back to me—Lee Jaewon.

I exhaled sharply.

No one had caught me. Not really. But now Eunsoo Song knew there was an infiltrator with advanced disguise tech. Former VARAK agent? She was dangerous.

And I had to be ten steps ahead.

Time to rewrite the plan.

As I walked out of the bathroom—now just Lee Jaewon again, the newest idol trainee—I didn't look back. I slipped past the front desk, avoiding any eye contact, and pushed open the glass doors of Aether Studio.

The sun hit my face. Finally, freedom.

I let out a long, tired sigh as I hopped onto Shadow Jr., my loyal scooter-motorcycle, and sped down the road. Wind in my hair, heart still racing. My face might've been calm, but inside—I was screaming at myself.

Idiot. Idiot.

By the time I reached the hotel, I parked Shadow Jr., entered the lobby like a ghost, and headed straight to my room.

The moment the door clicked shut, I pulled out my phone and called Philip.

He answered through video call, holding a mug in one hand. "Yo—"

"Hey," I cut in, voice low. "Would you mind hacking into the security system of Aether Studio?"

His smile faded. "Why?"

"I almost got caught," I muttered, rubbing my temple.

He froze mid-sip. "Wait… What?! You?!"

I winced. "Yeah."

Philip blinked rapidly, disbelief written all over his face. "You?! Aurelius Valemont?! The son of the head of VARAK and heir of the Valemont estate?! You got sloppy?!"

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "Don't remind me. I know."

Philip burst out laughing for a second before catching himself. "Sorry. Sorry. I just… wow."

He spun to his other laptop and cracked his knuckles. "Alright, hang on. If anyone recorded you, I'll find it."

I waited in silence, pacing the room, tapping my foot.

A few minutes later, he looked back at me with a serious face. "Found it. They caught some footage of you transforming in the hallway near the restroom. One of the cameras caught the glitch in your Pink Purse rendering."

My heart dropped.

"But don't worry," he said. "I just scrubbed it from their servers. I also jammed their backup upload. It's gone."

I exhaled, finally relaxing. "Thanks."

Philip leaned back in his chair. "Just be careful next time. One more slip like that, and they won't just scream. They'll shoot."

"I know," I said, staring at my reflection on the dark screen. "I'll do better."

I leaned against the cold wall of my hotel room, still clutching the phone. My voice softened.

"So... how's it going there in the estate?" I asked quietly.

Philip's fingers paused above his keyboard. He glanced at me through the screen. "It's quiet. Like always."

I nodded slowly. "How's your grandfather? Is Peter still managing the library?"

Philip chuckled. "Of course he is. That old man practically lives between the shelves. I think he's memorized every book in that archive. He still refuses to go digital, says 'real power smells like ink and dust.'"

A faint smile tugged at my lips. "He's been there since I was born."

"Yeah," Philip said softly, "he still talks about the time you snuck in there as a kid, trying to steal that ancient book on pressure-point techniques."

"I didn't steal it," I muttered. "I was… borrowing."

Philip smirked. "You blacked out a guard using what you learned. Pretty effective borrowing."

I exhaled a soft laugh. "How's Luciana? My… last stepmother?"

Philip's smile faded. "She's fine. Quieter than usual though. You know how she is around this time of year."

"Right. It's her 21st birthday next week." I stared off at the window. "She always hated birthdays. Especially when you're not here."

Philip nodded. "She doesn't like being in the spotlight. But Yumi's planning something small for her. Just cake, flowers, and peace."

My chest tightened. "Yumi… is she doing well?"

Philip's expression softened. "She misses you. A lot. Still leaves your room untouched. Still folds your clothes like you'll walk in any second."

I swallowed hard.

"Sometimes she talks to your photo. Tells it to eat better, sleep longer. You know how she is."

I stayed quiet, staring at the dark screen, fists clenched.

"I'm doing all of this… for them," I murmured. "They're the only reason I keep obeying Father."

Philip didn't say anything for a moment.

"I know," he finally said. "And they know too. You'll bring them freedom someday."

I looked up at him. "No. I'll bring them a world where they'll never have to fear again."

Silence hung between us.

Then Philip gave me a small nod. "One mission at a time, Aurelius."

The next day, I dressed in my school uniform, headed to the hotel's parking lot, and rode Shadow Jr.—my scooter-motorcycle—all the way to school. Still the same as always. After parking, I pulled off my helmet. My fan club was already waiting, and they greeted me with excitement. I gave them a polite smile—for the sake of reputation.

I walked to my classroom and sat at my desk, next to Han Seojin—also known as "The Black Dog" of Chan-Woo Gong. My seatmate was "napping" again, or at least pretending to. I placed my bag down and started arranging my things. The classroom murmurs hadn't stopped—especially after the results revealed I was at the top of the rankings. They all whispered about me, but I didn't care. This was all for the sake of the mission.

Class wouldn't start for another 30 minutes, so I had time to spare. I poked Seojin's head playfully.

Without even opening his eyes, he grabbed my wrist in one fluid motion and turned his head toward me.

"Watch it, man," he muttered, glaring sharply.

I froze. His grip was firm, his gaze sharper than a blade. He wasn't sleeping at all.

Did he recognize me yesterday at the Aether building?

I swallowed hard as he slowly let go of my hand.

As expected of Chan-Woo Gong's Black Dog.

Suddenly, the classroom door slammed open so hard it nearly bounced off the hinges. I didn't even need to look.

Here we go again.

He noticed me and rushed over with the enthusiasm of a kid spotting candy, while the classroom murmurs tripled in volume. I sighed, gripping my forehead as he skidded to a stop beside me.

He grinned at me—beaming like a child, despite being Chan-Woo Gong's "White Lion."

He wasn't even in my class—he was from Class 1-B.

"Dude! Why didn't you text me yesterday before leaving? I thought Mother was going to kill me!" he pouted dramatically.

Ah. Right. I forgot to text him after… that.

"Now that you're officially an idol trainee, let's go to the studio together later!" he said, still smiling like we were back in middle school.

Before I could answer, another desk slam echoed like thunder.

Déjà vu.

It was the class president—and president of my fan club.

"LEE JAEWON BECAME THE NEW IDOL TRAINEE LIKE MINJUN!!!" she shouted like she won the lottery.

…Huh? What was that?

I turned to Seojin, expecting him to look stunned.

Instead, he glared at me. But this time, it wasn't the usual warning. No—it was something deeper. Sharper.

Hatred?

What did he know?

Before I could process it, one of my classmates gasped, staring at their phone.

"Guys, look! Breaking news—there was an intruder at Aether Studio yesterday!"

My heart stopped for a second.

Minjun tilted his head casually. "Ah, right. I was heading to practice when I heard about that. Something about an intruder running around."

I blinked. My body reacted before I could think. I grabbed my phone and excused myself, slipping into the bathroom. I locked myself in one of the stalls and pulled out my phone, dialing Philip.

The call connected.

"Phil," I whispered harshly, "I thought you erased all the recordings from yesterday?!"

Philip choked mid-coffee sip. "I did—but there was one I missed. Someone recorded you while you were disguised as Eunsoo. It was on their phone, and by the time I caught it, the video had already been posted to social media."

I gripped my phone so tightly it nearly cracked.

"Shit."

"I'm working on it," he said quickly. "I'll try to—"

"Don't try," I cut him off, my voice cold. "Do it."

Silence.

Then: "Understood."

End of Chapter 55.