After contacting the number on the business card, Yun-jae and Seo-yeon headed to the address. It wasn't in the glitzy heart of Gangnam, but an old, crumbling officetel in Guro-gu—a five-story building with no elevator.
"Is this the right place?" Seo-yeon asked, eyeing the peeling paint. "This is where A-12 told us to go."
They stopped in front of Unit 503 at the end of the hall. Before they could knock, a text arrived.
[Come in. It’s open. - B-07]
Yun-jae turned the handle.
As the door opened, a thick cloud of acrid cigarette smoke and stale coffee hit them. The windows were permanently shuttered, and the room was illuminated only by the harsh, flickering white of fluorescent lights.
Inside, five people were hunched over laptops. The air was filled with the frantic, rhythmic clacking of keyboards—tap-tap-tap. No one looked up. To them, even a second spent on a visitor was a second stolen from a deadline.
A man in his mid-thirties stood up, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was unshaven, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion.
"Han Yun-jae? A-12 mentioned you." He pointed toward two empty chairs. "Sit. I’m B-07."
Seo-yeon scanned the room. Her eyes were drawn to the large monitors mounted on the wall, displaying glowing red numbers that were counting down in real-time.
[3870-2891 Deadline: 14h 37m]
[3870-2903 Deadline: 41h 12m]
[3870-2917 Deadline: 68h 03m]
"What are those?" Seo-yeon asked. "Our lifelines," B-07 said with a hollow laugh. "If we don’t finish within 72 hours, we don’t get paid. The system locks us out automatically."
Yun-jae glanced at a nearby laptop. A woman was rapidly typing medical terminology while another man organized a list of citations. "Is this Stage 1?" "Yeah. Where the 'Writers' live," B-07 replied. "72 hours for 100 pages. The topic is handed down from above, and the raw data is provided. We just build it."
He turned his monitor toward them.
[Title: Methodology for Biocompatibility Evaluation of Medical Devices] [Progress: 98/100 Pages] [Time Remaining: 14h 21m]
"Do you write the whole thing alone?" Yun-jae asked. "No. It’s an assembly line." B-07 gestured to the others. "I write the main body, C-21 creates the data charts, and D-33 handles the bibliography. It's mass production." "What about Stage 2?" "That would be people like you, Mr. Han," B-07 said, ashing his cigarette. "The ones who polish the garbage we vomit out. If that process isn't done right, it doesn't look like a dissertation. It just looks like... well, garbage."
Seo-yeon interjected, her voice cold. "And why do you do this? You know it's a fraud." B-07’s hands paused. He took a sip of lukewarm canned coffee. "Why? For the money, obviously."
A short break was called. The writers finally pulled their eyes away from their screens to smoke or grab coffee. B-07 brought over two cans. "Drink up."
Yun-jae stared into the man’s eyes. "I have a question." "Shoot." "How can you do this? Knowing you're writing fake theses?" B-07 laughed. "Fake? The data is real enough. The research is sound. The only thing that's 'fake' is the name on the cover." "Isn't that the definition of fraud?" "I don't know." B-07 lit another cigarette. "I used to be a university lecturer. Five years on a temporary contract, renewed every year. Then, finally, they let me go."
He exhaled a long trail of smoke. "I have two kids. One in second grade, one in kindergarten. My wife can't work due to complications from diabetes. That’s why I’m here. One thesis gets me 5 million won. Four a month? That’s 20 million. It’s faster and better money than teaching ten classes a week."
Yun-jae thought of his own bank account. 15 million. 10 million. He, too, had started for the money. "Still..." Yun-jae said. "Isn't this a crime?" "A crime?" B-07 scoffed. "You were a prosecutor, weren't you? Tell me, legally, what’s the problem? Is ghostwriting illegal? Is writing a paper a crime? It’s a gray zone. Not quite illegal, not quite legal. That’s how we all survive here."
A woman introduced as C-21 approached. She was in her early forties, wearing thick glasses. "You’re Lee Seo-yeon, right?" Seo-yeon looked up. "Yes." "I heard you’re a journalist. What are you here to cover?" "I’m not here for a story..." Seo-yeon trailed off. "I’m looking for my brother." "Your brother?" "Have you heard the name Lee Seo-jun?"
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
C-21’s expression turned stone-cold. She crushed out her cigarette and sat down heavily. "...Where did you hear that name?" "He’s my brother," Seo-yeon replied softly.
After a heavy silence, B-07 shifted his gaze. "Lee Seo-jun..." C-21 began, her voice low. "I heard he almost ended up here."
Seo-yeon’s hand began to shake. "What do you mean?" "I’m not sure, but..." C-21 glanced around the room. "There was a rumor back in 2019. That AS made him an offer." "How do you know?" "Everyone here knows what happens when you refuse... the stories that get passed around." Yun-jae leaned forward. "What happens?" C-21 reached for another cigarette. "AS doesn't take 'no' for an answer. Once they pick you, they stick to you. They keep offering until you accept." "And if you don't?" "...Then you disappear."
Seo-yeon’s face went pale. "Your brother..." C-21 asked cautiously. "Did something happen?" "He died." "When?" "December 2019." C-21 nearly dropped her lighter. "...So the rumors were true."
Seo-yeon pulled out her laptop. "3870-09. Do you know this case?" C-21’s face hardened even further as she looked at the screen. "I know that case." "How?" "I was the one who wrote it."
Seo-yeon felt like she couldn't breathe. "You... wrote it?" "March 2019. AS sent over a request for a medical device trial report. They had the data, the structure was already laid out." C-21 inhaled deeply. "But it was weird. Usually, we start from scratch. But I heard there was an original version for this one." "An original?" "Yeah. Someone had already written it, but AS didn't like it." Yun-jae interjected. "And?" "So they told me to rewrite it. I didn't know the specifics of why, but..." C-21 looked at Seo-yeon. "The researcher’s name was on the original data. It was Lee Seo-jun."
The outlines were becoming clear to Yun-jae. AS didn't like Seo-jun's original report—likely because of the warning. So C-21 rewrote it. And the next stage... that’s where Yun-jae came in.
"Do you know where that thesis ended up?" Seo-yeon asked. "No idea. We just write them. Where they go, who uses them... only AS knows that." "Is there any way to verify it?" C-21 shook her head. "The files vanish once we submit them. They aren't even saved on our drives. That’s how the system works." "Then..." "But my first draft might still be on my personal drive," C-21 said tentatively. "They told me to delete everything, but I didn't. Just in case."
B-07 approached them. "What are you doing? Deadline is in 13 hours." "Wait." C-21 opened her laptop and dug through an old folder. "Here it is. March 2019."
A 100-page document. The title was [Safety Evaluation of Medical Devices]. Seo-yeon’s eyes locked onto the screen. The sentences were familiar, though the tone was slightly different from her brother’s. "This... this isn't my brother's writing." "Of course not. I wrote it," C-21 said. "I never saw the original. I just got instructions from AS to 'write it in this direction'." "What direction?" C-21 pointed to the top of the file.
[AS CORE DIRECTIVES]
Convert to positive evaluation.
"Unsuitable for use" → "Suitable for conditional use."
(Omitted)
Yun-jae stared at the note. He remembered the sentences he had polished. 'Satisfies academic value.' 'Utilizable as reference material.' "This..." Yun-jae muttered. "I might have been the one who reviewed this."
A silence fell over the room. D-33, the man handling the bibliography, spoke for the first time. "Jung Woo-jin... I think I’ve heard that name." Yun-jae snapped his head up. "Where?" "I just heard he used to be here. I'm not sure. Only the name remains." "When?" "Maybe 2019? I don't even know if he was a real person..." D-33 trailed off. "What happened to him?" D-33 bit his cigarette. "Who knows? When you refuse an AS offer... well, there are stories."
B-07 checked the clock. "Seriously, we need to get back to work." The writers returned to their seats, and the clattering of keys resumed. As Seo-yeon stood to leave, C-21 spoke softly. "Be careful." "...What?" "A-12 introduced you to us, didn't he?" C-21 exhaled a cloud of smoke. "There’s always a reason he opens a door. That’s how we all ended up here." Yun-jae thought of the business card. The one with just a phone number. "What do you mean?" "He’s the gatekeeper. He decides who goes where." C-21 looked Yun-jae in the eye. "And I’ve heard that whenever he opens a door, someone is always watching from behind."
They stepped outside. The sun was already setting. Yun-jae looked around the neighborhood—an ordinary residential area, an ordinary officetel. Yet, inside, a fake dissertation was being manufactured every 72 hours. "Oppa almost came here..." Seo-yeon whispered to herself. "But he refused." "And then..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
Yun-jae pulled out his phone. He searched for the name Jung Woo-jin. Nothing came up. "I have a feeling the rumors about Jung Woo-jin refusing are true." "We have to find him." "How? There are no traces." Yun-jae looked back at the building. The light in Unit 503 was still on. Inside, someone was still racing toward a deadline. And somewhere, A-12 was likely watching it all.
Yun-jae’s phone buzzed.
It was a text.
[How was Stage 1? - A-12]
Yun-jae looked at the screen but didn't reply. As he went to put the phone away, Seo-yeon asked, "Not going to answer?" "I have nothing to say to him." "He’s watching us." "I know," Yun-jae said, staring at Unit 503. "But we can't stop. And I need to verify something first." "What?" "That thesis C-21 wrote. I need to know if I was really the one who 'laundered' it."
Seo-yeon thought of her brother's original record. 'Additional verification required.' Someone had erased it. Someone had changed it. If Yun-jae was that person...
"Let’s go," Seo-yeon said. They walked away, the light from Unit 503 casting long shadows behind them.
[Next Chapter Preview] The thesis C-21 wrote. The sentences Yun-jae might have reviewed. And the warning Lee Seo-jun tried to keep alive. The records of three people converge into one. Yun-jae finally faces the traces he left behind.
"The thing I erased... it wasn't just a warning."
Question for the readers: C-21 mentioned that A-12 always has a reason for opening a door. Why do you think he let Yun-jae and Seo-yeon see the "factory floor"? Is it a threat, or is he testing them for a higher stage?
Coming up next: Yun-jae digs into his own archives to find the "red ink" he left on Seo-jun's rewritten work. The truth is about to get very personal.
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