The Last Fallen Star, Graci Kim [books to read in your 20s .TXT] 📗

he said Elder Pyo is here for a board meeting today. I say we go in there now and strike while the iron’s hot.”

“That’s all good and well,” Eomma says, “but how are we going to get past security? They won’t let us through unless we have an appointment.”

“Already ahead of you.” Taeyo holds up a slim laptop that he brought from campus. “On the ride over, I hacked into Mr. Pyo’s calendar and added an appointment with his relatives from out of town. His assistant won’t know any better.”

I slap him on the back. “Great work, Taeyo!”

Emmett crosses his arms and mumbles under his breath, “Guess the dude’s got some skills.”

I can tell my parents are anxious, but they dutifully follow Auntie Okja to the entrance. The three scholars, on the other hand, are so ready they’ve already walked through the revolving doors. Emmett and I exchange a determined look and follow them inside.

When we get to the reception desk, Sora tells the security guards about our appointment with Mr. Pyo. We glaze on the cheesy smiles, and Taeyo puts on a class act, telling one guard how excited he is about visiting his “favorite uncle, Pyo.” That earns him a compliment about his colorful attire and bow tie, at which he grins sincerely.

The guard calls Mr. Pyo’s assistant to let him know we’ve arrived, and if the muffled voice on the other line is anything to go by, he seems surprised by the last-minute appointment. Taeyo must have done a convincing job, though, because before we know it, we are handed visitor passes and directed to the top floor.

Once we’re upstairs, Mr. Pyo’s assistant meets us at the elevator, and his eyes widen as all eight of us file out, one by one. “Oh wow! There are so many of you….”

He leads us to a reception area that’s furnished with fancy leather couches. Hardcover copies of the bank’s annual strategic report have been artfully arranged on the glass coffee table. “His board meeting should be wrapping up soon. Can I get you some coffee, tea, or water while you wait?” He takes our drink orders and hurries off.

Emmett waits until the assistant has disappeared around the corner and then leaps to his feet. “Okay, let’s make our move.”

We sneak through the doors to the inner offices and pass row upon row of impersonal cubicles just big enough to fit a laptop surface and a chair. We file past the cramped kitchenette, where people are making bowls of instant ramyeon, and enter the client-meeting area with a series of small conference rooms separated by glass walls. As we make our way down the hallway, we spot Mr. Pyo running a meeting in the biggest boardroom. He is lounging in his black leather chair at the head of the table, nodding absently as young executives in tidy suits go through stacks of papers. I’m pretty sure he’s starting to doze off.

“There he is!” I say, pointing.

Pyo must get that weird feeling of having eyes on him, because he suddenly sits up straight. We probably look like quite a sight just standing there in the hallway, staring at him.

At first he quirks his head to the side, as if trying to figure out who we are and why we’re here. But once he sees Auntie Okja, then me, then Sora, his eyes widen. And before we can register what’s happening, he has leaped out of his chair and made for an exit on the far side of the room. His employees stare at his retreating back, practically scratching their heads.

“He’s getting away!” Emmett screams. “Everyone, after him!”

We chase him down the hallway as Mr. Pyo stumbles ahead and shoves anything within his reach into our path. Flower vases full of lilies, decorative statues of semi-clad ladies, and perfectly groomed bonsai plants fall to the floor as if an earthquake just struck, and we jump over them like we’re in a hurdle race. If I was in any doubt before, I know for sure now. This is one guilty man.

He makes it to a window and tries to budge it open, which would have been bad luck for him if it did, since we’re on the top floor. But it doesn’t, which is also bad luck for him, because we’re quickly closing the gap. He panics, searches for any escape route, and then, in a moment of inspiration, jerks open the fire-exit door and flees down the stairwell.

We chase after him and, even though the emergency siren is blaring in my ears, I can hear the man wheezing like an accordion all the way down the stairs. Still he somehow manages to get to the ground floor and out into the fresh air before we do.

By the time we all file out of the exit, Mr. Pyo is by a car parked out front.

“What do you want from me?” he shouts, sweat dripping down his face. Auntie Okja and Sora both take a step forward.

“We need to talk,” Auntie Okja says.

Sora nods. “We definitely need to talk.”

“I have nothing to say. I’m innocent. Leave me alone!”

“A bit hot under the collar for an innocent man…” Emmett comments.

Appa nods. “Definitely looks like he needs to cool off.”

Austin smirks and rubs his wrists together. Instantly, the water hydrant next to the parked car unscrews itself, and water shoots into the sky. Taeyo cups his hands and animates the water to snake around and dive straight for Mr. Pyo’s head in one big flow. The water pressure is so great, the man’s body thumps to the ground under its impact.

“That should do the trick,” Taeyo says, grinning.

Mr. Pyo gags on the water and gets drenched from head to toe before Austin shuts off the stream and allows him to get back up.

Mr. Pyo glances down at Austin and Taeyo’s empty wrists. “How did you do that?” he asks, fear clouding his face. Then his eyes light up as if he’s suddenly remembered something. He scrambles