The next morning, the penthouse dorm felt like a pressure cooker. Min-jun was still holed up in his studio, Ji-ho was avoiding eye contact, and even Si-woo, typically a whirlwind of energy, moved with subdued care. Ha-mi, fueled by three instant coffees and a single, burning purpose, sought out the youngest member in the dance practice room. He was perfecting a complex footwork sequence, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Si-woo-ya,” she called, leaning against the doorframe, trying for a conspiratorial tone that came out as a raspy croak. “I need your help.” He stopped mid-pirouette, swiveling to face her, a glint of his usual mischievousness returning to his eyes. “Noona needs my help? Is it another ‘cabbage prices’ lyric intervention? I’m ready.” Ha-mi shook her head. “Bigger. Much, much bigger. We need to go on an information heist.” She lowered her voice further. “The Starlight Nexus Entertainment mainframes. The deep, dark, secret ones.” Si-woo raised his brows, then narrowed them with a thrill of challenge. “The ones underground? The ones with retinal scanners and biometric locks? They say even Han-seol-noona can’t get past the third tier.” “Exactly those,” Ha-mi affirmed, forcing a bravado she didn’t feel. “Think of it as the ultimate puzzle room. Only, instead of breaking out, we’re breaking in. And the prize? Answers. Answers that could save all of us.” She paused, letting the phrase hang between them. “You’re the tech genius, the one who hacks the dorm’s Wi-Fi for better streaming. You’re the only one who can do this.” Si-woo considered her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “A secret mission with Noona? Sounds like a quest from one of my strategy games.” He clapped his hands together. “Count me in. But we’ll need the master badge. The one Han-seol-noona carries for emergencies.” Later that evening, after a tense dinner where plates clattered against stiff quiet, Ha-mi intercepted Han-seol on the way to her office. “Manager-nim, about tomorrow’s schedule…” she began, weaving a convoluted tale about a supposed 'energy alignment ritual' requiring specific moon phase calculations. Han-seol, already harried, absently placed her plastic pass on the reception desk to sign a delivery form, her attention diverted by Ha-mi’s nonsensical monologue. In a flash, Si-woo, who had been lingering nearby under the pretense of fetching a forgotten water bottle, scooped up the card with the practiced ease of a stage magician. He gave Ha-mi a subtle nod before disappearing down a hallway. The director, oblivious, dismissed Ha-mi with a weary sigh, still muttering about lunar energy. [ New Quest Alert! Decode the SNE Sublevels. Find the 'Project Harmony' folder. Reward: +50 Karma Points. ] Ha-mi’s phone buzzed with the familiar chime, a stark contrast to the real-world tension. Karma points for a high-stakes espionage mission? Her past self certainly had a twisted sense of humor. Around 2 AM, when the dorm was finally quiet, Ha-mi met Si-woo in the ground floor lobby. He was dressed in dark clothes, a backpack slung over one shoulder, looking less like an idol and more like a professional infiltrator. “The coast is clear,” he whispered, holding up the stolen plastic rectangle. “Let’s move.” They took the service stairs down three flights into the building’s concrete basement. The air grew cooler, smelling of ozone and disinfectant. Si-woo deftly tapped the badge against each sensor, bypasses glowing green. The deeper they went, the tighter the checkpoint hardware became, but Si-woo navigated it with unsettling ease, thumbs tapping across keypads, gaze hunting for infrared beams. “This way,” he murmured, pointing to an unmarked door tucked away behind a maintenance closet. It was thick, gray metal, humming with a low mechanical drone. A single, ominous red light glowed above it. Si-woo picked at a hidden panel beside the door. A soft latch clicked, and the red diode blinked green. They slipped inside, the heavy door hissing shut behind them. The data vault was a vast, cold cavern filled with the incessant whir of cooling fans. Rows upon rows of blinking lights glowed in the dimness, creating an alien, futuristic landscape. A draft raised goosebumps along Ha-mi’s forearms. “Okay, noona, I’m in,” Si-woo announced, already hunched over a terminal, his palms hovering as he tapped across the keys. “They’ve got some serious firewalls. This is like the final boss level.” Just as he spoke, Ha-mi’s phone vibrated, an incoming message from Yu-ri. *“Ha-mi! I found something HUGE on Mr. Kang! Check your email. It’s encrypted but you know my tricks. Your Muse situation… it’s happened before. And it ended badly.”* Ha-mi quickly opened her phone, her heart accelerating. Yu-ri’s attached file, once decrypted, detailed a scandal from two decades prior involving a boy band named ‘Cosmic Echo’ and their ‘Harmonic Muse,’ a woman named Seo-yeon. The group had been on the verge of superstardom when Seo-yeon vanished, and Cosmic Echo disintegrated, their careers ruined. The file contained a blurry photo of a young, intense Mr. Kang, then known as Kang Jin-woo, as the leader of Cosmic Echo. He had been utterly crushed by the incident. *“He blames the Muse for everything,”* Yu-ri’s message concluded. *“He lost his entire career. He’ll never let that happen to ASTRAL, or to himself, again.”* The screen's blue glare burned into Ha-mi’s retinas. Kang wasn’t just a ruthless executive; he was a scarred survivor, driven by a ghost of the past. Her past self’s prank suddenly felt even more cruel. “Noona, found it!” Si-woo's muttered call cut through her thoughts. He pointed at the screen. A directory entry bore the crisp label: ‘Project Harmony.’ He clicked it open. Inside were subfolders, each meticulously labeled: ‘ASTRAL – Baseline Readings,’ ‘Harmonic Muse – Subject Profiles,’ ‘Harmonic Theory – Historical Data.’ Si-woo navigated to ‘Harmonic Muse – Subject Profiles’ and selected the one labeled ‘Noh Ha-mi.’ A series of complex graphs, bio-scans, and data points filled the screen, most of it incomprehensible to Ha-mi. But one line, highlighted in stark red, jumped out at her, clear as a warning siren. **[Subject’s energy signature unstable. High risk of catastrophic failure.]** Ha-mi choked on her swallow. Catastrophic failure? Was this referring to her 'fading away'? Or something worse? The playful 'Muse' prophecy suddenly felt like a ticking bomb. “What is that?” she breathed, pointing a trembling finger at the screen. Before Si-woo could answer, a sudden, piercing *beep-beep-beep* echoed through the chamber. The red light above the door flashed rapidly. A stern, synthesized voice blared from hidden speakers: *“Unauthorized access detected. Security patrol dispatched to sublevel B3. All exits sealed.”* “Oh, *jeonjang*!” Si-woo hissed, abandoning the keyboard. “Security!” A distant clanking sound, growing louder, signaled their imminent discovery. They had seconds. Si-woo grabbed Ha-mi’s arm and dragged her towards a narrow gap between two colossal equipment towers. It opened into a cramped, dark maintenance closet, barely large enough for one person, let alone two. They squeezed in, pulling the flimsy metal door shut just as the clanking footsteps stopped directly outside the heavy entryway. Ha-mi could hear the heavy *thud* of boots, the low murmur of voices. Their bodies pressed together in the suffocating darkness, Ha-mi could feel Si-woo’s rapid heartbeat against her back. The air was thick with dust and the smell of old wiring. The voices outside grew louder, closer, followed by the jingle of keys. “They’re coming in,” Si-woo whispered, his voice tight with fear, but also a strange, quiet conviction. “Noona… about the prophecy. I think… I think it’s real.” He paused, his breath shallow. “When you’re around, the music… it changes. There’s a *feeling* to it, a vibration, an overtone that wasn’t there before. Like the notes actually sparkle. I can *feel* it, Noona. It’s like magic.” His confession, raw and honest, landed in the tense silence like a dropped stone. Ha-mi, crammed against him, felt a tremor run through her. He genuinely believed. He *felt* her demigod influence, even though she couldn’t. It made her past self’s elaborate prank feel even more real, even more terrifying. The security guards’ voices grew faint again, moving deeper into the computer rows. They had been momentarily safe. Minutes later, the guards’ footsteps receded, the outer door hissed shut, and the automated voice declared: *“Sublevel B3 clear. All systems normal.”* Si-woo pushed open the maintenance closet door, blinking in the dim light. They crept out, relief washing over Ha-mi like a cool wave. They hurried back through the maze of security, Si-woo carefully re-locking panels and swiping the plastic pass to ensure their exit left no trace. They made it back to the ground floor lobby, heartbeats slowly returning to normal. “We did it,” Ha-mi murmured, a triumphant, if shaky, smile on her face. But her smile vanished instantly. Standing by the elevator, arms crossed, a single silver badge held between two knuckles, was Choi Min-jun. His expression was utterly devoid of humor, his eyes like chips of obsidian. He held up the card, which Ha-mi recognized with a sickening drop in her gut: the supervisor's master pass, dropped during their scramble from the terminal room. Min-jun’s gaze shifted between Ha-mi and the pale-faced Si-woo, cold and utterly knowing. “Care to explain,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl, “why you two are sneaking out of the basement at 3 AM with *this*?”

Secrets in the Server Room