The conference room was unusually quiet.
The only sound came from the projector humming softly as the company’s security team prepared a presentation.
Minji sat beside Hana while the other members of LUNA5 waited anxiously.
Joon had also been invited by his company’s management after the recent security incidents.
He sat across the table, offering Minji a reassuring smile before the lights dimmed.
A security investigator stepped forward.
“Yesterday,” he began, “we searched public archives, old newspaper records, and scholarship databases connected to the article Minji found.”
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It was the same newspaper clipping from ten years earlier.
LOCAL CHILD WINS NATIONAL DANCE SCHOLARSHIP
Below it, another document appeared.
Unlike the newspaper, this one looked official.
Across the top were the words:
PROJECT STARLIGHT
Minji’s eyes widened.
“So it was real…”
The investigator nodded.
“Very real.”
He clicked to the next slide.
“Project Starlight was founded nearly fifteen years ago by a group of music educators, retired performers, and private donors.”
Its purpose had been simple.
To help exceptionally talented children whose families could not always afford expensive training, travel, or competition fees.
“They never wanted publicity,” the investigator explained.
“So every donation was anonymous.”
Parents often never learned who had helped them.
Children certainly didn’t.
Minji slowly remembered something.
A conversation she’d overheard years ago.
Her mother quietly telling her father that they somehow had enough money to travel to a national dance competition.
She had never questioned it.
She had simply been happy she could compete.
“So…
someone from Project Starlight helped my family?” she asked.
“According to these records…”
The investigator paused.
“…yes.”
The room fell silent.
For years, Minji had believed she reached every milestone completely on her own.
Now she realized that, long before becoming a trainee, someone had quietly opened a door she didn’t even know was locked.
The investigator continued.
“Most of the project’s records were destroyed when the organization closed.”
“Why did it close?” Yuri asked.
“No one knows.”
“Officially, the program ended because funding ran out.”
“But several important files disappeared shortly before it shut down.”
He switched slides again. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
This time only five names appeared.
Five children selected for the final year of the program.
Four names had a gray line through them.
Only one remained highlighted.
KANG MINJI
Everyone stared at the screen.
“What does that mean?” Hana whispered.
“We’re still investigating.”
The investigator looked uneasy.
“But whoever has been sending these messages clearly knows about Project Starlight.”
After the meeting ended, Minji stepped onto the rooftop terrace outside the building.
The evening sky glowed orange as the sun slowly disappeared behind Seoul’s skyline.
She leaned against the railing.
“So much of my life…”
“…and I never knew.”
The rooftop door opened quietly.
Joon joined her.
Neither spoke immediately.
Finally he handed her a small paper cup of hot chocolate.
“You always forget to eat after meetings.”
Minji smiled.
“You remember everything.”
“I try.”
She took a sip.
The warm drink helped calm her racing thoughts.
“What if everything happened because of that project?”
Joon looked toward the city.
“I don’t think Project Starlight created your dream.”
“It simply helped you reach it.”
“You still practiced.”
“You still worked harder than everyone else.”
“You still earned your place.”
Minji looked down.
“I know.”
“But it feels strange.”
“It is.”
He smiled gently.
“But it doesn’t change who you are.”
For the first time all day…
She believed him.
That same night, across the city, an elderly man unlocked the door to a small music academy that had closed years ago.
Dust covered the piano.
Old recital posters still decorated the walls.
He walked slowly into a storage room and opened a metal filing cabinet.
Inside sat a single folder marked:
He removed it carefully.
The folder was old.
The edges had faded with time.
As he opened it, dozens of application forms appeared.
Photographs.
Recommendation letters.
Competition results.
At the very bottom…
One handwritten letter.
Addressed to him.
“If anything happens to the project, protect the children.”
His hands trembled.
“So…”
“You finally came back.”
He looked toward an old framed photograph hanging on the wall.
It showed five smiling children standing beside their dance instructor after winning a regional competition.
A young Minji stood in the front row.
But she wasn’t alone.
Standing beside her was another child.
A boy with a bright smile.
His face had been carefully torn out of the photograph years ago.
The old man’s expression darkened.
“No…”
He whispered.
“It couldn’t be.”
Meanwhile, Minji returned to the dorm.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the damaged photograph.
A missing child.
A forgotten project.
Anonymous donors.
Someone watching her for years.
The pieces were beginning to fit together.
But one piece was still missing.
Who was the boy?
And why had someone erased him from every record?
Somewhere else in Seoul, a phone vibrated.
The mysterious figure looked at the screen and smiled.
A message had arrived.
Subject located.
The reply was immediate.
Then Phase Four begins tomorrow.
Outside, thunder rolled across the city.
For Minji, the mystery was no longer about protecting her career.
It had become a journey into a forgotten chapter of her own childhood.
And buried in that forgotten chapter…
Was someone she had once promised never to forget.