The private lounge on the 88th floor of the C Group Tower was dark.
I sat alone at the head of the obsidian table, the city sprawled behind me like a battlefield of glass and neon. As usual, I wore no jewelry. No title badge.
Only black—like mourning.
When Ji-Ah entered, her steps were slow. Controlled.
Like a lioness walking into a cage she once ruled.
"I thought you'd send security," Ji-Ah said, standing at the far end.
"I wanted to see if you had the guts to come in person," I replied, without looking.
I could feel Ji-Ah smirking. "You always liked control."
"I learned from the best."
A silence. Tense. Fragile.
"I didn't come to fight," Ji-Ah said, stepping closer. "I came to talk."
"Funny," I said coldly, "that's not what you came for last time."
Ji-Ah flinched. "You were still bleeding over three years ago?"
I finally looked at her. Eyes sharp. But not cold.
Wounded.
"I'm bleeding," I said softly, "because I stitched myself shut around a lie."
Ji-Ah didn't respond.
"You sold my father's code," I continued, rising to my feet, voice shaking. "You broke into the part of me no one was ever supposed to touch—and you did it with a kiss."
"It was survival."
I slammed my fist onto the table.
"No. I was the survival. I gave you a reason to stay human, and you chose greed."
Ji-Ah stepped closer.
"I chose not to die poor in an alley."
"You chose to betray the only person who trusted you."
Our eyes locked.
She leaned closer and suddenly grabbed me by my waist. Her breath was… heavy as if she was trying to hold her rage, not letting it affect my bleeding wound even though the scar was real on her face. My shimmered, wide-eyed wandering on her greedy face.
"I loved you," Ji-Ah whispered.
"I loved you," I said, "and that's why this hurts more than any goddamn boardroom or scandal."
I pushed her away.
Silence.
And then My voice fell, soft but sharp.
"I should've killed the fire in me when you left. But I didn't."
Ji-Ah looked down.
"You gave me this scar," She said, pointing to her brow. "But you also gave me a name in this world. I came here tonight to see…"
She paused.
"…if there's anything left."
I stepped around the table, now face to face with the woman who once held my heart like a code to crack.
"There is," I said.
Ji-Ah's eyes lit up—until I leaned in, close to her ear.
"There's a storm," I whispered. "And it has your name on it."
Ji-Ah staggered back.
I didn't flinch.
"I'm not your Firefly anymore," I said. "I'm the storm that'll black out your skies."
Ji-Ah opened her mouth. But I had already turned my back.
"This building will let you leave. This time."
The guards stepped in.
Ji-Ah hesitated, then walked past me. Slow. Shaking.
She stopped at the door.
"You're more dangerous now," she said, voice low. "But you're still hurt."
I didn't turn around.
"I weaponized that hurt," I said. "You'll see soon enough."
—
"What do you mean she let Ji-Ah go?"
Taeng slammed her phone onto the glass desk in her penthouse. Kylan lounged on the couch, spinning a whiskey glass lazily.
"She saw her," Taeng hissed. "Spoke to her. And let her walk. That wasn't part of the deal."
"She's not playing our game," Kylan said, eyes narrowed. "She's playing hers."
"She's bluffing."
"No," He said, sitting up. "She's baiting. And Ji-Ah fell for it."
Taeng ran a hand through her blonde hair, jaw clenched.
"She's too composed. It's like… she knows something we don't."
Kylan tossed the glass, shattering it against the wall.
"She does. She always did. That's why Chakan chose her. Not because she was born to this—but because she burned for it."
Taeng turned toward the window, watching the C Group tower in the distance.
"It's not over," She whispered. "Ji-Ah failed. So we'll bring in someone who won't."
Kylan raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
Taeng's lips curled.
"Someone who knows Moon's real weakness."
Kylan's eyes narrowed.
"Not Tangwen."
"No," She said slowly. "Worse."
—--
They were shouting my name.
No—chanting it.
The corridor just outside the boardroom pulsed with bodies: reporters, analysts, shareholders, vultures with badges. Cameras blinded. Microphones jabbed toward my chest like bayonets.
"CEO Moon! Is it true your own cousins tried to hijack your Father's legacy?"
"Do you believe family has no place in corporate leadership?"
"How long have you known about Dr. Ethan Kwon's return?"
"What makes you qualified, Moon Fowler?"
I stood under the spotlight I didn't ask for, a spine like iron beneath my ivory suit.
I could still hear Juliet's voice echoing in my bones.
They wanted to erase your name. Your Father's. Your bloodline.
And I—I had chosen not to disappear quietly.
I raised my hand. The reporters snapped silent, their desperation feeding on a single pause.
"My name is Chao-Fa Chirapaisarnsakul," I said, voice steady. "Daughter of Kawin & Lily. I'm also proud to be the daughter of Ren Kiyoko. Granddaughter of Chakan. Heiress of the legacy that built this empire."
A murmur cut through them.
"I was not raised in boardrooms. I was not raised in silk. I was raised in survival—in exile. Not because I lacked value, but because I threatened those who feared the change my Father foresaw."
I walked toward the steps outside C Group tower. Below, the plaza was packed—journalists, protestors, camera drones floating like mechanical vultures.
"But now I am here. I've reclaimed what was stolen. And I didn't do it for vengeance."
I paused, then looked directly into the cameras.
"I did it because the future my Father imagined wasn't meant to be bought, sold, or butchered. It was meant to heal. To connect."
"To those of you watching who think legacy is something you inherit—I say no. Legacy is something you protect. With everything you have."
"And to my Father…" I looked up toward the skyline, swallowing a knot in my throat.
"…we're finally home."
I turned away before they could see the tears burn at the corner of my eyes.
---
The sun had dipped below the skyline by the time I reached his lab.
Not the corporate one.
Hims.
The one he built under a false name, hidden in a warehouse near the river, untouched for years. The key was a retinal scan. Mine.
When the doors opened, dust greeted me like old memories. Shelves lined with blueprints. Faded holograms of equations no one had cracked.
In the center—his mainframe.
I stepped closer, fingers tracing the console.
A faint hum stirred. Juliet's voice woke like it had been waiting for me.
> "Welcome back, Chao-Fa."
My throat ached. "I did it, Papa. I brought you back to the world."
> "He knew you would."
The screen shifted.
A new message appeared. One I hadn't seen before.
> Jasmine Memory Archive — Final Lock
To be opened only if Chao-Fa ascends.
I pressed play.
My Father appeared—hair tidy and gelled, lab coat streaked with ink, dark eyes smiling. The ghost of the man I remembered.
> "My baby girl… if you're watching this, it means you've made it. It means… the fire didn't take you. That the world couldn't break you."
He laughed softly.
> "You probably hate me a little. For disappearing. For hiding Juliet. For not being there. I don't blame you. But I need you to know—I didn't build this empire for me. I built it for you."
> "So that one day, when the shadows came… you'd have light."
His voice cracked near the end.
> "I saw it in you, even when you were five. That fire. That sharp mind. That… that refusal to be erased."
> "You deserve a rich life, Chao-Fa. Not just in money. But on purpose. In voice. In power."
He paused, a tear slipping from one eye.
> "Take the crown. Make it mean something. Make them never forget your name."
And then he was gone.
The room was silent, but my soul screamed.
I sank into the old chair beside the console, curling in on myself as the tears finally came—ripping from a place I didn't know still ached.
"I miss you," I whispered with trembling lips.
The AI lights pulsed softly, like a heartbeat answering mine.
> "He never left, Chao-Fa. He's in the code. In the walls. In you."
I smiled through the ache.
"Then let them come. The world. The vultures. The war."
I stood again, taller somehow.
"Because I am not just his daughter. I am his echo. And I'll roar until the world remembers."