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.