Secrets in Black & White

POV: Kang Ha‑young

The early morning sunlight had barely crept over the Han River when Kang Ha‑young slipped into the MiraWell–LJW joint conference room on the twentieth floor. The glass walls bore the first smudged fingerprints of the day's early birds—assistant managers clutching thermoses, junior analysts tapping at their tablets. She set her leather portfolio on the sleek table, then withdrew a slim dossier wrapped in plain brown paper. The label, written in neat block letters, read: "CONFIDENTIAL: SEUNG‑WOO FILES."

Her pulse quickened. She'd recovered this file last night in the gala's VIP lounge—an envelope slipped under a potted orchid by an anonymous maid. In it lay internal LJW Foods documents: charts showing planned ingredient price hikes, maps of strategic plant closures, and memos instructing provincial managers to delay community kitchen shipments. All signed by Han Seung‑woo, NovaTech's CEO and longtime rival to Chairman Lee—proof of deliberate sabotage.

She flipped open the dossier and skimmed the first page: a high‑resolution photograph of a warehouse in Jeolla Province, its doors chained shut. The photo was timestamped May 12, 2025, 03:14 AM. Beneath it, a memo: "Effective immediately—suspend all MiraWell‑sourced kimchi deliveries. Advise provincial office to retract February's subsidy request." Had dozens of families in that region gone without fresh provisions because of this? The very communities they vowed to serve?

Her stomach knotted. She closed the folder and tucked it beneath her arm. Today was the Phase 2 kickoff: the schematic mapping of kitchen locations, volunteer schedules, marketing roll‑outs. If NovaTech's interference had succeeded in delaying shipments, hundreds of meals would be late—and investors might balk at the program's reliability.

"Morning, Ha‑young‑ssi," called a cheerful voice. Lee Min‑joon strode in, tie loosened, coffee in hand. "You look… early."

She offered him a small, tense smile. "Couldn't sleep." She glanced around, ensuring no one overheard. Lowering her voice, she slipped the sealed dossier into her bag. "Min‑joon‑ssi, have you noticed any irregularities in our Jeolla Province deliveries?"

He frowned, setting down his latte. "Now that you mention it—yes. The provincial manager called last night frantic. They'd scheduled the kimchi shipment for May 10, but the truck never arrived. They didn't know why until they rechecked the invoice—deliveries had been canceled without explanation."

Her heart pounded. "Do you know who authorized that?"

He shook his head. "I called Phillip at LJW Foods. He said there was a 'logistics hold' initiated by Seung‑woo's office—he claimed it was a clerical error. He's supposed to clarify today."

Ha‑young nodded, tension coiling in her chest. "Thank you, Min‑joon‑ssi. Keep an eye on any other gaps in the supply chain."

He offered a sympathetic smile. "You should let Jae‑woon know. He'll want to handle this himself."

She hesitated. Would revealing the dossier now jeopardize the merger's fragile trust? Yet if she went straight to Jae‑woon—bypassing Phillip—she threatened internal protocol. But protocol meant nothing when lives were at stake.

"Thanks, but I'm handling it," she said softly. "Let's meet after the kickoff to compare notes."

He inclined his head. "Understood." He patted her shoulder and left, leaving Ha‑young alone beside the glowing conference table.

Thirty Minutes Later—Kickoff Presentation

The room had filled with twenty‑five faces: MiraWell's lead marketers, LJW's regional directors, logistics heads, and volunteer‑program coordinators. At the head of the table, Jae‑woon stood by the large screen. A simplified world map glowed behind him, with red pins marking the first twenty Community Kitchen sites.

"Welcome to Phase 2," he said, voice precise. "Today, we finalize site selection, onboarding schedules, and resource allocations. Our aim: launch the next stage of Fusion Flavors community kitchens by July 1."

He gestured to Ha‑young. "Ms. Kang will lead us through the supply‑chain integration plan."

She rose, smoothing her skirt and mentally compartmentalizing the dossier in her bag. Professionally, she would present the expected timeline: ingredient sourcing, volunteer training, distribution nodes. Ethically, she needed to expose Sabotage, Inc.—Han Seung‑woo's plot to derail everything. But first, they had to secure the meeting's confidence.

Clearing her throat, she clicked the remote. The first slide appeared: "Phase 2 Timeline & Key Milestones." She guided them through each milestone—contract sign‑offs, warehouse readiness checks, diplomatic meetings with provincial officials. The room nodded, eyes attentive. She moved to Slide 5: "Risk Mitigation Protocols."

"Given recent events," she said without revealing her knowledge, "we've bolstered our risk‑monitoring dashboard. Real‑time alerts for missed shipments, price‑variance anomalies, and delivery‑window breaches will trigger immediate escalation to both corporate and field teams."

Jae‑woon watched her closely. When she finished, he tapped the intercom. "Please have the logistics team confirm that all Jeolla Province routes are active and vendors have received override codes. In parallel, our PR team will issue a localized statement acknowledging shipping delays in the region—maintaining transparency with stakeholders."

A logistics director stood, voice calm. "Chairman, I can confirm our system shows all reverse‑logistics holds have been lifted as of five minutes ago. Vendors have new passcodes for site entry."

Ha‑young exhaled inwardly. Somehow, Seung‑woo's hold had been reversed—likely flagged by the same system she'd prompted. Now, there was only one thing left to do: confront Phillip directly.

"Thank you," she said, voice steady. "I propose a follow‑up investigation to trace each canceled shipment's authorization chain. I'll head to the LJW Foods office to review audit logs with CFO Phillip. May I?"

Jae‑woon inclined his head. "Proceed, Ha‑young. I'll cover the remainder of the kickoff. Please brief me on your findings by noon."

She nodded, quietly slipping from her seat. As she crossed the room, volunteers and directors greeted her with nods of respect—some with encouraging smiles. Outside, the skyline beckoned: modern architecture and traditional tiled roofs interwoven, a testament to Korea's ever‑shifting identity. She took a measured breath and exited into the hallway.

LJW Foods—CFO Office

Ten minutes later, she arrived at Phillip's office suite on the nineteenth floor. His door was open; he stood behind his desk, reviewing a tablet. Seeing her, he offered a polite, somewhat uneasy smile.

"Ms. Kang," he said, voice smooth. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

She closed the door behind her. "I have questions about the Jeolla shipments. I understand the holds have been lifted—but who authorized the original cancellation?"

He tapped his tablet, swiping to a list of transaction logs. "Let me see." He called up the audit trail: an entry on May 9, 11:47 PM—"Logistics hold: by user han.seungwoo@novatech.com."

Ha‑young's eyes narrowed. "That's his NovaTech address."

Phillip hesitated. "It appears so. But my override request was approved by Chairman Lee at 7:05 AM this morning. I wasn't the initiator."

"So why didn't you notify the merger team immediately?" she pressed.

He gave a weary sigh. "I assumed it was a security intervention—perhaps a regional glitch flagged by our AI oversight. I didn't think to trace it to Seung‑woo personally until now."

Her jaw clenched. If Phillip had overlooked—or worse, concealed—direct sabotage that risked people's well‑being, trust between partners would fracture. But she needed absolute clarity before going public.

She reached into her bag and lifted the sealed dossier. "I have proof that Seung‑woo orchestrated these holds—not as a system error, but as deliberate sabotage. There are memos, photos, and signed directives." She placed the folder on his desk.

He blinked, recognition—and fear—flitting across his features. "Where did you get this?"

"An anonymous source," she said. "But I've confirmed the timestamps. I need your cooperation to compile a full report for Chairman Lee—and to identify any other regions affected."

Phillip stared at the folder, the weight of its contents pressing in. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "You're right. This is beyond a simple glitch. If Seung‑woo's behind it, he's violating both corporate law and ethical norms. I'll grant you full audit access."

Relief and tension warred within her chest. "Thank you. I'll need the original database exports and vendor communications—everything related to the May shipments."

He nodded, tapping his system. "You'll have it in five minutes. I'll also inform Security and Legal teams to prepare for escalation."

Ha‑young closed the dossier. "I'll notify Jae‑woon after I've collated the report. And Phillip—thank you for your transparency."

He exhaled slowly. "I should have noticed sooner. I apologize for the delay."

She offered a small, professional smile. "Today is about fixing it. Let's get to work."

Back in the Hallway

Folder and data drives in hand, Ha‑young stepped out of Phillip's office. Her phone vibrated with a text from Jae‑woon:

Status update?

She paused in the deserted corridor and typed back:

Hold authorized by Seung‑woo confirmed. Database exports acquired. Preparing full report for you—ETA: 11:45 AM.

Moments later, his reply blinked on screen:

Proceed cautiously. Thank you.

She pocketed her phone and headed for the nearest conference room—a small glass‑walled chamber where she could sift through logs in privacy. As she walked, she reflected on everything they'd built together: trust forged in boardrooms and banquet halls, victories snatched from protest lines and technical glitches. Now, the real test began.

She pressed the door code and entered, the soft click echoing behind her. Inside, a single table awaited, flanked by two chairs. She set her laptop, plugged in the drive, and navigated the audit logs. One by one, she compiled:

Seung‑woo's Unauthorized Holds across three provinces.

Cancelled Deliveries: 14,000 meals delayed, 2,000 volunteer‑hours lost.

Signed Memos instructing regional managers to delay shipments.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard, organizing evidence into a narrative that would expose NovaTech's treachery without jeopardizing ongoing operations.

At 11:30 AM, she reviewed the report, ensuring every fact was corroborated. She saved the final PDF: "Merger_Sabotage_Report_KH_20250619.pdf"—a document that would change the stakes of the entire joint initiative.

Her phone buzzed again: a calendar reminder—"Meeting with Chairman: 12:00 PM, Office 703." She exhaled, gathering her files. It was time to confront the storm head‑on—and to prove that, with Jae‑woon at her side, no secret would remain hidden.

With steady resolve, she stepped out of the conference room and strode toward the elevator, dossier in hand, ready to bring the evidence to light.