Ji-hyun slowly opened his eyes, his thoughts drifting back to consciousness. A dull pain in his chest throbbed with each breath. He y in the same room as before, though nothing but the glow of city lights could be seen outside in the night sky. The room, dimly lit at this hour, showed Dr. Choi standing by the window, lost in thought.

  “Nghh…” Ji-hyun tried to sit up, the throbbing in his chest growing more intense.

  Is it over?

  The sound of his discomfort alerted Dr. Choi, who turned to face Ji-hyun. He looked wretched, lips uncharacteristically downcast, his eyes broken by sadness.

  “Ji-hyun…”

  Dr. Choi walked across the room—coming to Ji-hyun’s bedside. His voice sounded hoarser than usual.

  “I am so sorry.” Dr. Choi could barely meet Ji-hyun’s eyes.

  “Dr. Choi… what’s wrong? Did the operation go okay?” Ji-hyun tried to lift himself further, but his chest felt like it would explode. He grunted in pain as another heart palpitation tore through him again, his vision blurring from involuntary tears.

  “We didn’t operate, Ji-hyun. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t understand. I can feel the stitches…”

  Dr. Choi shook his head.

  “But how? Why? Why not?”

  Dr. Choi tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  Suddenly, a middle-aged, portly man in a well-dressed suit entered the room, his hair sleekly oiled back. The natural sneer on his brow and lips told you all you needed to know about a man like him.

  “Ah, good. You’re awake.” The man even sounded pompous, with a slight whining pitch to his voice. He walked over to Ji-hyun and extended his hand in greeting. He frowned at Ji-hyun when he didn’t shake it.

  “Hello, young man. I’m Mr. Wong. our hospital’s chairman.” He looked over, noticing Dr. Choi for the first time next to Ji-hyun. He frowned.

  “Ah, Dr. Choi, I wasn’t expecting you here.”

  Dr. Choi stood rigidly still as if bracing for a blow. Ji-hyun noticed his clenched, whitening knuckles.

  “I thought it best for Ji-hyun if I told him first, Sir.” Despite his evident dislike for the chairman, Dr. Choi kept his voice composed.

  “Yes, I see. So Mr. Jin, you understand why-”

  “Excuse me, Chairman Wong, but I haven’t had the chance to tell him yet. He only just woke up.” Dr. Choi gave a slightly irreverent bow as he cut Chairman Wong off.

  Chairman Wong huffed with exacerbation, clearly irritated by Dr. Choi’s interruption.

  “Fine, fine. Get on with it then, Dr. Choi.”

  Chairman Wong waved his ascent to Dr. Choi, taking a step back. Dr. Choi looked at Ji-hyun again—the boy seemed even frailer than before the surgery, his eyes sunken by the pain, thoroughly confused.

  “Ji-hyun… after we put you under, there was an emergency heli-vac. Someone was critically injured in a car crash and when they got here it was determined by doctors that the victim needed an immediate heart transpnt or they would have died.”

  “But… I don’t understand. The transpnt list… I waited years for my turn. How?” Ji-hyun’s voice sounded weak, the shock of his reality setting in.

  Dr. Choi looked incredibly ill-at-ease, giving Chairman Wong a venomous gnce, but the chairman was too busy looking through the blinds at the corridor, willfully ignoring this cruel exchange.

  “The recipient. He- he…” Dr. Choi choked.

  “What Dr. Choi is trying to say, young man—is that Haneul Hospital received a very generous donation from the new recipient’s family in exchange for putting him first on the list. Our board of directors convened and determined that the best course of action would be to suspend your surgery in favour of moving ahead with the recipient’s transpnt instead. Your case is a non-critical situation in the short term; additionally, we felt that there was still time for your transpnt at a ter date.”

  Chairman Wong, having feigned inattention before, now cut in—rolling his eyes at Dr. Choi’s inability to deliver the news. He spoke to Ji-hyun with total indifference, as if it were the simplest thing in the world and not the death sentence he was condemning Ji-hyun to.

  “The donation we received will allow us to build an entire new wing at the hospital, which will save thousands of lives. I know it’s not what you wanted, and I understand it might even be hard for you to accept, but what’s done is done and I’m sure you’d agree that we can do a lot of good here with that kind of money—we are in the business of saving lives, after all. Anyway, as I said, there will be another donor soon enough and you’ll still be at the top of our transpnt list, so don’t despair.”

  Ji-hyun looked stunned, whilst Dr. Choi’s face had taken on a shameful redness. Chairman Wong’s expression, however, was indifferent. He looked as though he’d merely overcome an obstinate piece of paperwork in the ceaseless bureaucracy of his hospital.

  “But… you can’t do that. I- I have rights. Legal rights.” Ji-hyun strained against his stitches as he tried to sit again, desperate to be heard.

  Chairman Wong bristled, his demeanour shifting like the wind.

  “I would advise you to think very carefully about what you choose to do next, young man. If you decide to take any kind of legal action in this matter, I can’t promise you’ll stay at the top of our transpnt list, not to mention the legal fees. Dr. Choi tells me you don’t have any family to rely upon. I can’t imagine covering those kinds of costs would be easy for someone with your condition. After all, time is of the essence for you.”

  Ji-hyun y there, lost for words - knowing full well just how powerless he was.

  “Now, I think that about does things here, I’ve said what I came here to say. Good day to you Mr. Jin. Dr. Choi.” Chairman Wong nodded to Dr. Choi as he walked back out of the room.

  “Ji-hyun… I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.” Dr. Choi finally found his words after an intolerably long silence.

  “You cut me open,” Ji-hyun whispered.

  “I believed in you.” The hurt welled up in Ji-hyun’s broken heart as he spoke the words.

  “I know.”

  “You’re just like everyone else.”

  “Ji-hyun, I-” Dr. Choi reached out to grab Ji-hyun’s hand but thought better of it.

  “Just get out.” Barely a whisper or a demand, Ji-hyun’s voice hung heavy with resignation and defeat. He turned away from Dr. Choi, curling into a foetal position, hand clutched at the stitches above his heart. Dr. Choi looked crestfallen and utterly ashamed. He walked towards the door like a man headed for the gallows, stopping at the entrance. He half-turned back to Ji-hyun one st time and spoke.

  “Take care of yourself, Ji-hyun.”

  And then he was gone, leaving Ji-hyun alone to face the pain and suffering they’d inflicted.

  ***

  A few hours ter, Ji-hyun made his way along the terrace of his apartment building, now fully dressed in a pin grey hoodie and a pair of old, torn denim jeans. He made his way slowly along the terrace, feeling each stitch in his chest strain at the exertion. The nurses had protested profusely when he tried to leave, concerned about his stitches ripping open, but Ji-hyun hadn’t cared, refusing to spend another minute in that miserable pce.

  I guess it could’ve been worse. At least they didn’t get around to cracking my chest wide open.

  There was that same fatalistic optimism again, the only thing that stopped Ji-hyun giving up, no matter how many times the world kicked him to the curb.

  Ji-hyun reached the door to his home and noticed the eviction notice pinned to it, prociming him three months past due on rent. He tore it off and read it closely. It notified him that he had forty-eight hours to vacate the property and given he’d been in the hospital for a sizable portion of that time…

  Ji-hyun quickly did the math in his head and realized he’d be on the streets come tomorrow morning. He crushed the notice in his fist, leaning against the front door with his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to scream.

  “F—,” he grunted between gritted teeth.

  How am I supposed to pay rent when I can’t even find another job?! What am I supposed to do?

  Ji-hyun took a deep, rattling breath, desperately trying to calm himself. He reached for his keys and unlocked the door, stepping inside.

  Inside was a small studio apartment: a bare mattress y on the floor, whilst unadorned pin egg-white walls and random piles of books and clothing everywhere, all spoke of a life more focused on the mind than that of the living. An old box TV sat on a stool near the only part of the apartment that showed any attention to detail, that of a fish tank, water-cooled computer system. It looked cobbled together from random parts, sitting on a cluttered desk. The machine hummed away contentedly as it processed some ineffable task. The monitor screen on the desk flickered with intent, some code-like program running at a frantic pace, carrying out its autonomous instructions.

  Ji-hyun entered the apartment's interior, depositing his keys on an empty shelf by the door. He turned on the old TV which came to life with a satisfying swoosh as it clicked on, a news program forming out of the static snow.

  “-son of Song Ha-joon, tech giant DAEWANG’s CEO, who was critically injured in a high-speed car crash earlier today,” a serious-looking woman announced from behind a news desk.

  Ji-hyun moved to the kitchen portion of the room—such as a fridge and counter with a hotpte and rice cooker on it could be called a kitchen—on a small patch of linoleum in the corner of the room. Washing dishes took pce in the cupboard-like bathroom, where Ji-hyun was forced to shower whilst standing over an old-fashioned squatting toilet. It might have looked like hell to some, but for Ji-hyun it was home, his home. After the orphanage, it had been the only home he’d ever known, but it was all his—and now he was about to lose it too. Ji-hyun opened the fridge, his stomach grumbling, hoping he still had some food left in there somewhere.

  “However, thanks to the quick actions of doctors at Haneul Hospital, the billionaire’s son was saved earlier today, after a lengthy and complex surgery.”

  Ji-hyun looked up at the name of the hospital he’d been in; he turned to face the TV.

  “Of course, Song Ha-joon has been no stranger to controversy surrounding his son of te, Song Min-jun, who was recently acquitted in court over a hit-and-run incident that killed a homeless man in Seoul st spring, with cims that Min-jun had been intoxicated at the time whilst driving at high speed. This second incident appears to have taken the life of a young woman and her daughter in the other car.

  Song Min-jun, who is widely expected to repce his father as CEO of DAEWANG in the coming years-”

  Ringing filled Ji-hyun’s ears, drowning out the woman’s voice as she continued with her news report, a sickening horror creeping into his stomach. He began to hyperventite.

  No… it’s not him. It can’t be him. Tell me I’m not going to die because of some billionaire’s piece-of-shit son!

  Ji-hyun rushed for the door to his balcony, a thin strip of terrace enough to stand on or hang washing from, nothing more. He tore the door open, desperate for air, his face ashen-grey. For a moment, he gripped the railing and tried to breathe, but it was no use, he leaned over the balcony edge and vomited.

  Ji-hyun wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie and just stood there for a long time, leaning hard against the railing as he stared down at the street lights below, from nine floors up.

  Suddenly, Ji-hyun climbed over the railing, his feet finding just enough purchase on the other side to take his weight as his arms gripped the railing. He hung there, one step suspended from death, his brow knitted in furious consternation, amidst red, tear-filled eyes, fighting some incomprehensible battle deep inside himself; his hands, white-knuckled, as he clutched the railing for dear life.

  I can’t do this anymore. I can’t… It’s not fair.

  Ji-hyun’s eyes grew resolved.

  They have to pay. No... Yes. I have to make them pay for what they’ve done, it’s the only way. They have to suffer like I have.

  For a long time, Ji-hyun’s thoughts waged war between decency and retribution. Until finally, he turned and hugged the railing tight, climbing back to safety. He panted from the exertion, the battle between his fury and his conscious hard-fought but won, a cold resolve suppnting both.

  Ji-hyun swore under his breath then headed back inside, sitting at the computer. The program automation he’d left running came to an end with the swift tap of a few keys on the keyboard. He began jumping through several directories, searching for something—stopping at a program file called 0ur0b0r05. A codescript appeared on the screen as Ji-hyun opened the file. He stared at it for several minutes before beginning to type with a ferocious intent.

  ***

  The sun had begun to rise by the time Ji-hyun finally stopped typing. Ji-hyun had been a grey-hat since he’d first learnt to program, a hacker who accessed systems without permission—but swore to do no harm in the process.

  Curiosity had always been Ji-hyun’s driving force, a hunger to learn and explore systems. Part of that had been developing tools to find system exploits like 0ur0b0r05. A machine learning, self-updating penetration utility-testing tool designed to scan networks for security vulnerabilities and then colte the exploit data—it had been his passion project since he’d been fired—not that he’d been building it for the profit. But now, Ji-hyun had modified the diagnostic tool into something much more insidious.

  Instead of colting exploit results, 0ur0b0r05 acted as an injection module, porting a host of viruses into the systems it compromised, all while scanning for more networks to replicate itself into. Ji-hyun had stripped away all the fail-safes he’d originally integrated into the program’s machine learning algorithm—another of his passion projects—giving it the core mandate of multiplying, exploiting and delivering its payload wherever it could. Ji-hyun had turned 0ur0b0r05 into a digital daisy-chaining nuke, ready for deployment.

  Next, Ji-hyun deployed 0ur0b0r05 against DAEWANG’s internal company systems, after trawling for an IP address through a basic hack on the company’s public-facing server. It took 0ur0b0r05 a matter of seconds to find a way in after that, which didn’t say much about the system security of one of South Korea’s top tech companies.

  Ji-hyun’s finger hovered over the enter key, ready to unleash 0ur0b0r05’s full potential on DAEWANG and the world; one st fuck you to everyone for all the pain and suffering they had caused him. His hand subconsciously reached towards his heart and he felt the stitches through his hoodie. Ji-hyun’s eyes darkened and he hit the key. The screen lit to life as 0ur0b0r05 attacked, a hound of war unleashed upon the world.

  After a few moments, Ji-hyun stood up, stretching his back after a long night in front of the computer and walked over to the only shelf in his little apartment with anything on it. It held a simple, wooden framed picture of Ji-hyun as a toddler and his sister, Yuna, a teenager when their parents died, raising him alone… until her murder.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Ji-hyun whispered fondly, gently holding the frame. He took one st look at the computer screen, DAEWONG’s internal servers alight with attack after attack, their mainframe being devoured from within. He could see the virus already looking for further systems to spread to, but Ji-hyun no longer cared. The hate had left him now, all of his malice poured into that little bit of code. He was free of it… free of them. He walked back towards the balcony, feeling lighter than he had in years.

  Outside, birds chirped joyfully, the sun feeling tender and warm on Ji-hyun’s skin. It was a perfect day. Somewhere, children were even ughing. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing for a long moment until he felt his heart beat one st time, weak but resolute… before suddenly throwing himself over the railing without a single moment’s hesitation.

  I’m coming, Yuna.