Yu-jin’s eyes were bloodshot; she hadn't slept a wink, replaying the events at 'Song-won' over and over in her head. The only sound breaking the silence was the rhythmic hum of the photocopier until the Professor's door creaked open.
"Yu-jin, would you step into my office for a moment? Let's have some tea."
Professor Han’s voice was as benevolent as ever, but the weight of the command pressed down on Yu-jin’s shoulders. As she entered, he closed the door behind her and turned the deadbolt.
Click.
To Yu-jin, that small metallic sound echoed like the blade of a guillotine.
"You worked so hard on Saturday. My mother was very pleased," he said, pouring hot water into a tea set with practiced elegance. "Most students are smart, but few have the character and respect for their elders that you do, Yu-jin."
He peered at her through the rising steam. His gaze wasn't that of a caring mentor; it was that of a predator monitoring the heart rate of its prey.
"Now, Yu-jin. About that night." He set the teacup down and leaned in close. "When you were in the room, Professor Choi and Dr. Park might have made some jokes under the influence of alcohol. Things that a student who doesn't know the ways of the world might... misunderstand. Talk of investments, stakes, things like that."
He stood up slowly and walked behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed, just enough to be felt. Yu-jin suppressed the urge to scream.
"Forget everything you saw that night. It’s for your own good, and for the future of this lab. If baseless rumors spread, it would tarnish their reputations, but more importantly... I’m worried about your future."
He paused, letting the silence hang. "In this tiny academic world, once you’re branded as a 'loudmouth,' there is nowhere for you to go. You understand, don't you?"
It was an explicit threat—using the absolute power of faculty rights to hold a student's career hostage. Yu-jin clenched her fists until her palms were slick with sweat.
"I was so busy moving dishes... I truly didn't hear anything, Professor," she managed to stammer.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Han remained silent for a long time, as if savoring the tremor in her voice. Finally, he removed his hands, seemingly satisfied. "Good. You’ve always been a wise girl. Go finish your experiments."
[Same Day, 2:00 PM / Lab Photocopier]
Yu-jin stood at the copier, pretending to process lab results. After checking her surroundings, she pulled her notebook from her bag. Min-ah’s words echoed in her head: “Records must exist in two places. If there’s only one, it can disappear.”
Her hands shook as she placed each page on the glass.
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The Investor List.
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The Amounts.
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Professor Han’s specific quotes.
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The figure: 0.5% equity per 100 million won.
She tucked the copies into an envelope hidden deep in her bag. Professor Han seemed to suspect nothing—or rather, he didn't realize exactly how much she had recorded.
[Same Day, 8:00 PM / Behind the City Library]
After fleeing the lab, Yu-jin had broken down in a bathroom stall, sobbing until she couldn't breathe. Now, standing in the biting wind behind the library, she saw Min-ah waving at her. Yu-jin handed over the envelope.
"Senior... I think he knows. He called me in and told me to watch my mouth." Yu-jin’s voice was still brittle. "This is the copy. I kept the original."
Min-ah squeezed Yu-jin’s hand. "You did so well, Yu-jin. Truly."
Min-ah opened the envelope and began flipping through the pages. As she reached the investor list, her face went deathly pale.
"Professor Choi In-seok... he really said he would invest?" Min-ah’s voice trembled violently as she stared at the words: ‘Severance pay, 100 million won.’
"Yu-jin, this man..." Min-ah closed her eyes. "He’s been my father’s friend since elementary school. When my father collapsed, he lent us the surgery money. He still helps pay for our living expenses and hospital bills every month."
Yu-jin watched, speechless.
"He’s a man who saved on his own children's tuition to help our family," Min-ah whispered, a single tear falling onto the photocopy. It wasn't just sadness; it was a cold, sharp hatred directed at the monster, Han Do-yoon.
Min-ah wiped her eyes and forced herself to focus on the numbers.
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Prof. Choi – 100m won
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Dr. Park – 150m won
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CEO Lee – 300m won
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Total: 550m won.
And then, the fine print: '0.5% equity per 100 million won.'
Min-ah read the number again. And again. Something felt wrong, though she couldn't put her finger on it. Venture capital wasn't her world.
"Yu-jin," Min-ah said. "This equity rate... do you think Professor Han actually offered them a good deal?"
Yu-jin shook her head. "I don't know. The startup world is a mystery to me."
Min-ah nodded. Admitting what they didn't know was the most important thing right now. She pulled Investigator Kim Jae-hyuk’s card from her pocket, stared at it, and then put it back.
"Not yet." Min-ah tucked the papers back into the envelope. "Not until I know exactly what these numbers mean. Only then will I call the Investigator."
She stood up, her eyes no longer wet, but filled with a hard, unwavering resolve. "If I can't figure out the trap in these numbers... I can't save him."
post-money valuation of:
Valuation = Investment / Equity = 100,000,000 / 0.005 = 20,000,000,000 KRW
20 billion won ($20 million USD) valuation is insane. It's a classic trap.
Discussion Point: Have you ever had a mentor who turned out to be a "predator"? Or perhaps you've seen a "too good to be true" investment trap in real life?
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Rate and Review – it helps the "good guys" win!
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Follow the story to see how Min-ah breaks the dilution trap.