The next morning, the skies over Iseul were unusually gray, as though mirroring the weight of Yun-ji's thoughts. Despite the whispers and stares that greeted her at the school gates, Yun-ji's posture was unshaken. Her steps were steady, her gaze sharp. The rebirth had hardened her, sharpening every edge of her once naïve soul.
As she walked through the crowded corridors, her presence commanded attention. Students murmured as she passed, their voices like the hum of angry bees—irritating yet insignificant.
"She has the audacity to show up after everything," one voice hissed.
"I heard she even tried to cause trouble for Choi Bora," another replied.
Yun-ji paid no attention. Words that would have once pierced her like daggers now fell uselessly at her feet. Her only goal was vengeance, and she had no time for their petty opinions.
She entered her classroom and scanned the space instinctively, always wary. The seat at the back, by the window, called to her. It was her old spot, where the breeze whispered secrets to her younger self. Yun-ji moved toward it, her school shoes clicking against the floor, loud enough to silence some of the chatter.
The quiet, however, didn't last.
Choi Bora entered moments later, a bright smile plastered across her face, as if the venom she carried inside had no weight. Behind her trailed Mi-Cha and a group of friends, their voices unnaturally loud, clearly intended for Yun-ji to hear.
"Honestly, some people just don't know when to quit," Mi-Cha announced theatrically as she dropped her bag onto her desk. "After causing such an embarrassment, who even shows up to school?"
Laughter erupted around her like the crackling of a fire. Mi-Cha's eyes glinted as they flickered toward Yun-ji. She wanted a reaction.
Yun-ji remained still, her back straight, her face an unreadable mask. Through the window, sunlight briefly broke through the clouds, casting a glow over her calm expression—one that contrasted sharply with the storm brewing in the room.
Seeing Yun-ji's lack of response, Mi-Cha's voice grew louder, her tone dripping with mockery.
"I almost feel bad for her, you know?" Mi-Cha continued, pressing a hand to her chest in fake sympathy. "It's like she doesn't realize how pathetic she looks. Desperate, lonely—"
"Mi-Cha," Yun-ji interrupted, her voice soft but piercing.
The entire class froze. Yun-ji rarely spoke, and when she did, her words carried an unexpected weight. Her sharp gaze met Mi-Cha's startled eyes.
"Didn't anyone teach you how to whisper? You're embarrassingly loud for someone with so little to say."
Gasps echoed throughout the classroom. Mi-Cha's face turned crimson as snickers broke out among a few students.
Choi Bora, standing near Mi-Cha's desk, forced a light laugh to dispel the tension. "Yun-ji, there's no need to be so cold. Mi-Cha's just concerned about you. Isn't that right, Mi-Cha?"
Yun-ji's eyes shifted to Bora, her lips curling into a faint, sardonic smile. "Concern? That's rich coming from you, Bora. Don't overstep—you might trip over your own lies."
Choi Bora's expression faltered for just a second, her carefully constructed mask of kindness cracking ever so slightly. But she recovered quickly, her soft voice laced with forced sweetness. "I don't know what you're talking about. Yun-ji, we're just trying to help. Maybe you should take a break, for your own good."
Yun-ji stood slowly, each movement deliberate, her chair scraping against the floor. The room felt stifling now, the tension tangible. She stepped toward Bora, closing the distance between them.
"Help?" Yun-ji said, her tone dropping, almost icy. "I don't need help from people like you. If you want to play innocent, at least be better at it."
Choi Bora's smile faded completely, her composure finally slipping. Mi-Cha stood beside her, stunned into silence. The entire class watched, holding their breath. Yun-ji's words were like needles, precise and painful, aimed directly where it hurt.
Without waiting for a response, Yun-ji turned and returned to her seat, the room still as a graveyard. Outside, the clouds began to shift again, blocking the light.
At FORTUNE,
Kim Won-Shik enters his office and focuses on his job when his assistant, Secretary Han, hurriedly enters with a folder of financial updates and a baffled expression.
"Mr. Kim," Han stammers, placing the report on the desk. "The stock market just closed. Nanotechs... released an unexpected announcement regarding a revolutionary bio-chip patent. Their stock value exploded by 800% in a single hour."
Won-Shik stops writing. He glances down at the transaction logs from the card he gave Yun-ji. She didn't just buy a few shares—she bought out the entire floating stock when it was at its lowest point. She has just amassed a fortune overnight under an anonymous shell company. A low, fascinated laugh escapes his lips. Who are you really, Choi Yun-ji?
Won-Shik tossed the report onto his desk, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his leather chair, tapping a finger against his cheek as he contemplated the sheer audacity of the girl. "Keep a close eye on Miss Choi's account, Secretary Han," he said, his voice smooth and untroubled. "I have a feeling she's just getting started."
Meanwhile, the morning sun broke over the high school campus, but the atmosphere inside the hallways was anything but bright. Yun-ji's phone vibrated in her blazer pocket just as she reached her locker. She pulled it out, screen lighting up with a sharp stock alert: Nanotechs hits record high (+800%) following patent announcement.
A subtle, satisfied smile crossed her face. The money was officially hers. With that kind of capital, she could finally secure the property next to the Choi residence and launch her organic cosmetic line without having to answer to anyone. For the first time since her rebirth, the suffocating weight in her chest lifted. She was no longer just a ghost seeking vengeance; she was building an empire from the ground up. Every stock share bought in secret, every late-night formula calculated down to the last drop, had led to this exact moment. The Chois still believed they held the reins of her life, completely oblivious that the quiet, dutiful daughter they tried to exploit was already steps ahead, holding all the financial leverage.