#application security testing certification

By the time college application season arrived, Heeseung knew he needed to get as far from home as possible. His parents’ impossibly high standards left him feeling suffocated, trapped between two unbearable options: become a doctor or be labeled a failure. As soon as the leaves started to turn in early autumn, he applied for early admission to his dream school. With his high GPA and perfect attendance record, it didn’t take long for him to be accepted.

High school almost deterred his love of learning. Classes were less about exploration and more about test scores, a system that drained the joy out of education. But despite the pressure, Heeseung graduated with flying colors and secured a spot at a university far from his overbearing family. Even as a broke undergrad living in a foreign country, he was content. He felt freedom for the first time in his life. 

It wasn’t until his third year of college that cracks began to form in his confidence. He didn’t mind learning English—something he had to do with his school being in the United States—but the career path he’d once envisioned started to feel blurry, like a curved line instead of the straight road he’d imagined.

Do I really want to cook for the rest of my life?

He pondered this question every day. Academically, he was doing well, and he’d even grown close to his roommate, who was also a culinary arts major. But homesickness began to creep in, and the thought of graduating and facing the real world filled him with dread. Who would hire him? He wasn’t anyone special. These doubts dragged Heeseung into a depressive episode, and for weeks, he felt like he was treading water, unsure of his direction.

It wasn’t until one fateful night that things began to shift.

The night had started unremarkably. It was a party, thrown by the frat seniors to celebrate the end of the semester, and somehow, Heeseung had gotten an invitation. Normally, he wasn’t the type to loosen up and crack open a cheap beer at a rave, but his roommate had received an invite for two, and Heeseung figured he could use the distraction.

Socializing wasn’t exactly his strongest suit. He wasn’t awkward, per se, but growing up with his nose in books rather than attending get-togethers had left him lacking in conversational finesse. He often wondered how he’d managed to make any friends at all.

So, when they arrived, Heeseung gravitated toward the corner of the living room, red solo cup in hand, content to observe. He sipped his drink slowly, watching his peers lose themselves in the blaring music and flashing lights. Some were dancing like their lives depended on it, while others slurred half-coherent conversations over the booming bass.

The chaos didn’t bother him. In fact, it was almost comforting. He’d been cramming for his certification exams for weeks, and the constant pressure had drained every ounce of his energy. Now, amidst the noise and the mindless revelry, he felt his stress start to ebb away.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“I’ve never seen you around here before.”

In a flashback, Heeseung was jolted out of his thoughts by the unfamiliar voice. His head shot up, maroon bangs flopping against his forehead from the quick movement. Standing in front of him was a slightly shorter man wearing a Carhartt beanie that covered most of his hair, his lips curved into a drunk, easygoing smile.

Heeseung froze for a moment, captivated. The man’s bright azure eyes were obviously colored contacts, but they were no less mesmerizing. Heeseung felt his heart skip a beat. He was instantly smitten.

“Yeah, I don’t come here often,” Heeseung replied, setting down his drink as a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah? Where’re you from?” the man asked, his words slightly slurred. He was clearly drunk, but instead of being put off, Heeseung found himself closing the distance between them. His body moved before his brain could catch up—probably the alcohol loosening his inhibitions.

“Johnson & Wales. I’m a culinary arts major.”

The other man’s jaw dropped slightly, his surprise evident even through the haze of intoxication.

“Holy shit, dude, that’s fucking amazing,” the man said, his voice enthusiastic but unsteady. A moment later, he winced and pressed a hand to his forehead, looking like he might throw up.

Heeseung instinctively took a step back, bracing himself. The last thing he wanted was to end the night with puke on his freshly bought clothes.

“Relax, man. I’m not gonna barf on you,” the stranger reassured him with a chuckle, leaning against the wall for support.

Heeseung felt his cheeks heat up but was grateful the dim, colorful party lights hid his blush.

“What about you? What do you major in?” Heeseung asked, genuinely curious.

The man laughed—hard. It wasn’t mean-spirited, but it caught Heeseung off guard. He furrowed his brow, puzzled. The question didn’t seem that strange or personal.

“I don’t go to college, dude,” the man finally said, grinning as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? Then why are you here?”

The man shrugged nonchalantly, snatching Heeseung’s mostly forgotten drink and downing the rest without hesitation.

“I just like partying.”

Heeseung scoffed, though a smile spread across his face at the man’s shameless honesty. There was something about his openness that Heeseung couldn’t help but admire. He’d spent his entire life hiding his emotions and true feelings from others, so meeting someone who acted like an open book made him equally envious and intrigued.

“So, you must be good at cooking, right?” the man asked, his tone teasing yet genuine. 

Heeseung nodded cautiously. “What about it?”

The man rummaged through his jacket pockets, his movements clumsy but determined, until he pulled out a crumpled business card. He held it out to Heeseung, who blinked in confusion

“Well, I just opened a restaurant with my friends,” the man explained, pointing at the card now in Heeseung’s hands. “And if you’re looking for a job—” he tapped the card again, grinning—“give us a call.”

Heeseung opened his mouth to respond, to tell him that he wasn’t really looking for work or to ask why this whole thing seemed so sketchy, but before he could get a word out, the man had already disappeared into the crowd.

Heeseung stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to search for him, but the room was a chaotic blur of flashing lights, loud music, and drunken bodies. Giving up with a sigh, he leaned back against the wall, the bass from the speakers thrumming through his chest.

Disappointment was just beginning to creep in when his eyes drifted to the card in his hand. Scrawled messily on the back, alongside the restaurant’s information, was a phone number.

Heeseung’s heart leapt. That had to be the guy’s number. A super hot guy had just handed him his number—granted, under professional pretenses, but still. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. 

Thank god he’d decided to come to this party tonight. He definitely owed his roommate a huge thank-you for dragging him along.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Heeseung couldn’t stop thinking about that encounter. The gnawing feeling in his chest had lingered for days, refusing to settle no matter how much he tried to brush it off. Now, a few days later, he was sitting in the corner of a small, unfamiliar café with legs bouncing under the table as his nerves got the better of him.

The man he’d met that night seemed Korean, just like him. He’d picked up on the faint accent when the guy spoke English, a familiarity that tugged at his heartstrings.

He had impulsively called the written number, albeit after thinking about it for a while. Someone answered the phone, and once he told them his name they told him to come to this specific coffee shop. It felt strange. Heeseung had never been to this part of town before, and the person on the phone sounded far more serious than he had been during their first encounter. Heeseung tried to reassure himself that it might’ve just been the phone connection, but the unease didn't go away.

“What the hell am I doing here?” he muttered under his breath. For all he knew, this could be some elaborate human trafficking scheme, and he’d foolishly walked straight into their trap. He even dressed up for this. Great.

Just as he was about to leave and cut his losses, the bell above the door jingled. Heeseung glanced up to see three men walking toward him, all roughly the same height and dressed in black. One wore a T-shirt—crazy, considering the freezing weather outside—while the other two had hoodies pulled up over their heads.

He couldn’t see their faces clearly, as all three wore black masks, but one of them immediately caught his attention. The familiar frame made Heeseung relax slightly.

“Hey! You came!” Yep, it definitely was the same guy. He got up, fixing his teddy coat on the chair behind him. The said male took his hand, shaking it with excitement.

“Surprising, considering I don’t even know your name,” Heeseung teased, smirking as he gestured for the group to take a seat. The latter grinned sheepishly while the other two men sat down silently, one of them swatting him on the back of the head.

“You didn’t even introduce yourself, Jake? It’s a miracle this guy showed up at all,” said the man in the T-shirt, his gruff voice betraying a hint of irritation. Heeseung noted the faint rasp, like he’d been nursing a cold for weeks.

It was in Korean, which Heeseung may have forgotten a bit after being in Rhode Island for so long, but he could still pick up what was said. 

“This idiot,” the other man scoffed, pulling off his cap to reveal dark blue hair.

Heeseung chuckled at the exchange, unable to hold back an airy laugh. His reaction caught the three of them off guard, and they turned to him with varying degrees of surprise.

“Wait—you know Korean?” The shorter man–Jake–asked, wide-eyed.

“Of course I do,” Heeseung replied, finding their reactions amusing. It was almost as if they’d been caught talking behind his back (even though they hadn’t really).

Jake groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You should’ve told me that earlier,” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.

“Your English is great. Don’t sell yourself short,” Heeseung reassured him with a kind smile.

Jake’s ears turned red, and Heeseung found the sight inexplicably adorable. Everything about Jake was adorable, he realized. It was probably the only reason he was still seated here, despite how suspicious the whole situation felt.

“Ahem.” The blue-haired man next to Jake cleared his throat, looking unimpressed. Heeseung quickly collected himself, feeling warmth rush to his cheeks. He’d been caught staring.

“What is this, a date?” He asked with a teasing smirk, though his sharp tone made it clear he wasn’t amused.

Jake shot him a glare that went ignored.

“Jay’s right,” the man in the middle interjected. “This is about business.”

Heeseung turned his attention to the one who spoke. The man’s presence was calm but commanding, and Heeseung immediately pegged him as the leader of the group.

“So you guys are legit?” Heeseung asked, raising a skeptical brow. “I’m surprised.”

“Of course we’re legit,” the man said, scoffing lightly. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way. And you are?”

“Heeseung.”

“Nice to meet you, Heeseung.”

The exchange was polite enough, but the silence that followed was stifling. Heeseung shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Jake sipped from his drink, seemingly oblivious to the awkward tension.

Jay elbowed Jake sharply in the ribs, earning a pained groan.

“Ow! Asshole,” He hissed, rubbing his side.

“Can we get to the point already? We’re just sitting here like girls at a tea party,” Jay grumbled.

Heeseung found it hard to believe these three were running a legitimate business. They seemed more like bickering siblings than professionals.

“So, is it like a restaurant?” Heeseung asked, cutting through the chatter.

“Something like that!” Sunghoon grinned, but instead of reassuring Heeseung, it put him on edge. There was something about the overly eager expression that didn’t sit right with him.

“We’re still in the process of building a home base,” Sunghoon continued, “but we’re working with our legal team to get everything sorted.”

Heeseung blinked in disbelief, taken aback. These people don’t even have a settlement yet? Why the hell are they hiring so early?

“Wait—so you guys don’t even have a restaurant yet? Like, at all?”

Sunghoon opened his mouth, but Jay beat him to it. “Uh…” Jay avoided his gaze, suddenly very interested in his empty coffee cup.

Jake laughed nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. “Like hyung said, we’re in the process. It wouldn’t hurt to have extra help early on.”

“Oh yeah? And with what money are you going to pay me?” Heeseung asked, crossing his arms as he leveled a challenging glare at Jake.

Jake shrank back slightly, but Heeseung softened his gaze, not wanting to come off too harsh.

“Relax,” Sunghoon said cautiously, holding up his hands in a calming gesture.

“How do I know you’re not planning to kidnap me and sell my organs?” Heeseung joked, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Their reactions were immediate. All three men froze, their wide eyes darting to one another like they’d been caught. For a brief moment, Heeseung’s stomach dropped as thought he’d hit the nail on the head, but then they suddenly burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, you’re hilarious,” Jay said, doubling over the table.

“We’re not in the black market, don’t worry,” Sunghoon said with a tired grin.

“Oh yeah, very reassuring,” Heeseung muttered sarcastically.

Sunghoon looked to be in thought for a second before leaning over the table, hands nearly brushing Heeseung’s. 

“How about a starting salary of 70k?” 

Heeseung’s jaw dropped, any grudges and speculations out the window. 70,000 dollars a year, and only the first year was insane. It was too good to be true. 

“Deal.” Fuck it, why not? It’s not like he had a set job for him after college, and he would be able to work with people he already (kinda) knew. Still, he was a little unsure. 

“You sure? You can’t go back after signing our contract.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. This guy was unbelievable.

“I said yes, didn’t I?”

There was no turning back now. Jake and Jay’s faces lit up, both of them grinning like kids in a candy store. Even Sunghoon, who tried to maintain an air of professionalism, couldn’t entirely hide the giddiness in his expression. What absolute dorks.

“Thank you! I promise, you won’t regret it!” Jake exclaimed, jumping out of his seat with enough enthusiasm to draw attention from nearby tables. Jay groaned, swatting at him to sit back down and shushing him under his breath.

“Here are my credentials,” Sunghoon said, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket and sliding it across the table. It looked like a business card—or at least, an attempt at one. It wasn’t the most professional thing Heeseung had ever seen, but it seemed legit enough.

“Wait, but where do I go—”

“Bye, Heeseung! Pleasure meeting you!”

Before Heeseung could finish his question, they were already halfway out the door. Sunghoon waved over his shoulder, and Jake and Jay trailed after him, leaving a few stray bills on the table to cover their drinks.

The whole thing happened so quickly that it left Heeseung momentarily stunned. He glanced at the unfinished drinks they’d left behind, then back at the café’s entrance. Why were they in such a hurry? And why did everything feel so rushed?

Letting out a long sigh, Heeseung slumped back into his chair. His fingers fiddled with the business card as his thoughts spiraled.

“What in the world did I just get myself into?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The present wasn’t quite what Heeseung had imagined back at that café.

He stood in the kitchen now, the scent of spices and fresh herbs filling the air. The restaurant was bustling as usual, orders flying in and out of the small window where servers grabbed trays. From the outside, it was perfect—a fine dining dream. But Heeseung knew better. Behind the scenes, the restaurant was a smokescreen for something far more dangerous. What it was, he had no clue. 

Heeseung wiped his hands on his apron, his eyes darting to the exit where Sunghoon left with Jake and Jay following him. They were huddled together, their voices low as they talked about something that had Heeseung’s stomach twisting in knots. He tried to focus on cleaning his station, but he couldn’t ignore the looks they exchanged—subtle, but unmistakable. Something was going on, and it was something he wasn’t part of. Or maybe he was part of it, but they’d never been honest enough to tell him.

Heeseung thought of the small business card that had been tucked away in his wallet for years. The edges were frayed now, the text faded from overhandling.

When Heeseung first stepped into the restaurant, he froze in disbelief.

This couldn’t be it.

The “restaurant” Sunghoon had hyped up was nothing more than a cramped, dingy one-room building tucked into the back alleys of town. A faded neon sign outside flickered weakly, barely forming the word “Open.” Inside, the smell of grease and mildew hung in the air, mixing with something metallic and faintly sour.

The walls were stained with what he hoped was just grease, and the kitchen—if it could even be called that—was a mess of mismatched appliances and chipped countertops. The stove looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years, and the lone refrigerator hummed so loudly it sounded like it was on its last legs.

Heeseung’s shoulders slumped as he surveyed the scene. This can’t be real.

“This is… certainly not what I expected,” he muttered under his breath, feeling the weight of disappointment settle in his chest.

Jake, who had been watching him nervously from behind, took a step forward. “It’s not much, but—”

“It’s literally nothing,” Heeseung cut him off, his voice flat.

Jake flinched, his usual cheeriness dimming for a moment. Heeseung turned on his heel, already reaching for the door.

“This was a mistake,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t sign up to work in a dump.”

“Wait!” Jake’s voice rang out, stopping Heeseung mid-step. He turned back reluctantly, eyebrows raised in a mix of impatience and skepticism. Jake jogged toward him, blocking his path with a desperate expression.

“Just… give us a chance!” Jake said, his words tumbling out quickly. “I know it doesn’t look like much right now, but it’s got potential. We’ve got potential.”

“Potential doesn’t pay the bills,” Heeseung replied, his tone sharp.

“Listen man, I get it.” Jake said, raising his hands in surrender. “But you’re a chef, right? You know what it’s like to take something raw and turn it into something amazing. That’s what we’re doing here, we just need someone like you to help us get started.” It sounded like he was scrambling. 

Heeseung stared at him, unmoved. This had to be a prank, and he was not finding it funny. 

“Jake.”

Both men turned to see Sunghoon stepping forward, his calm, steady presence immediately commanding attention. Jay followed close behind, his expression unreadable.

“Let me handle this,” Sunghoon said, brushing past Jake and stopping just a few feet from Heeseung.

Oh great. Spare me. 

Sunghoon’s gaze was piercing, but his voice was measured and controlled. “Heeseung, I understand your reluctancy. This place doesn’t look like much right now. Hell, it doesn’t look like anything. But you’ve got to trust me—we’re building something bigger than this.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed. “And what, exactly, are you building?”

“A legacy,” Sunghoon said, the word rolling off his tongue like it was the easiest answer in the world. “We’re not just opening a restaurant. We’re creating a name for ourselves. Something people will talk about for years to come.”

Heeseung snorted, unimpressed. “That’s a nice dream, but I’m not seeing how it connects to this.” He gestured around the room, his eyes lingering on the flickering light in the corner and the stained walls. “Some legacy..” 

“That’s why we need you,” Sunghoon said, taking another step forward. “Once this place takes off—which it will—you would have been a part of it from the beginning. This is more than just a job, Heeseung.”

“That’s a nice speech and all, but how are you supposed to pay me 70k a year?” Heeseung still wasn’t buying it, his stubbornness preceding all else. 

“You are a chef, right?” 

Sunghoon held his gaze, almost piercing into Heeseung’s eyes. 

“Cooking. Making sure the food tastes good—that’s all you need to worry about. We’ll take care of everything else.”

Heeseung spared a glance at Jake, who was fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie, and Jay, who stood with his arms crossed, looking quietly determined. His eyes returned to Sunghoon, who was watching him intently, as though daring him to say no.

There was something about the way Sunghoon spoke—calm, confident, and unwavering—that made Heeseung pause. Against his better judgment, a small part of him wanted to believe in what they were saying.

“You really think this place has a chance?” Heeseung sighed, his voice quieter now. 

Sunghoon’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I don’t think. I know.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

author note: omg im so sorry i took so long to update!! this semester has been one of my hardest but i passed orgo 2 woooo!!! 😋 and i'm finally on summer break so i thought why not pick back up on where i left off? i hope you guys enjoy! (alice this is for u twin)

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Insufficient testing capacity, drawn-out factory inspections and government scrutiny of sensitive source code were among key issues camera makers said had delayed approvals and risked disrupting unspecified infrastructure and commercial projects.

"Millions of dollars will be lost from the industry, sending tremors through the market," Ajay Dubey, Hanwha's director for South Asia, told India's IT ministry in an email on April 9.

The IT ministry and most of the companies identified by Reuters didn't respond to requests for comment about the discussions and the impact of the testing policy. The ministry told the executives on April 3 that it may consider accrediting more testing labs.

Millions of CCTV cameras have been installed across Indian cities, offices and residential complexes in recent years to enhance security monitoring. New Delhi has more than 250,000 cameras, according to official data, mostly mounted on poles in key locations.

The rapid take-up is set to bolster India's surveillance camera market to $7 billion by 2030, from $3.5 billion last year, Counterpoint Research analyst Varun Gupta told Reuters.

China's Hikvision and Dahua account for 30% of the market, while India's CP Plus has a 48% share, Gupta said, adding that some 80% of all CCTV components are from China.

Hanwha, Motorola Solutions and Britain's Norden Communication told officials by email in April that just a fraction of the industry's 6,000 camera models had approvals under the new rules.

CHINA CONCERN

The U.S. in 2022 banned sales of Hikvision and Dahua equipment, citing national security risks. Britain and Australia have also restricted China-made devices.

Likewise, with CCTV cameras, India "has to ensure there are checks on what is used in these devices, what chips are going in," the senior Indian official told Reuters. "China is part of the concern."

China's state security laws require organizations to cooperate with intelligence work.

Reuters reported this month that unexplained communications equipment had been found in some Chinese solar power inverters by U.S. experts who examined the products.

Since 2020, when Indian and Chinese forces clashed at their border, India has banned dozens of Chinese-owned apps, including TikTok, on national security grounds. India also tightened foreign investment rules for countries with which it shares a land border.

The remote detonation of pagers in Lebanon last year, which Reuters reported was executed by Israeli operatives targeting Hezbollah, further galvanized Indian concerns about the potential abuse of tech devices and the need to quickly enforce testing of CCTV equipment, the senior Indian official said.

The camera-testing rules don't contain a clause about land borders.

But last month, China's Xiaomi said that when it applied for testing of CCTV devices, Indian officials told the company the assessment couldn't proceed because "internal guidelines" required Xiaomi to supply more registration details of two of its China-based contract manufacturers.

"The testing lab indicated that this requirement applies to applications originating from countries that share a land border with India," the company wrote in an April 24 email to the Indian agency that oversees lab testing.

Xiaomi didn't respond to Reuters queries, and the IT ministry didn't address questions about the company's account.

China's foreign ministry told Reuters it opposes the "generalization of the concept of national security to smear and suppress Chinese companies," and hoped India would provide a non-discriminatory environment for Chinese firms.

LAB TESTING, FACTORY VISITS

While CCTV equipment supplied to India's government has had to undergo testing since June 2024, the widening of the rules to all devices has raised the stakes.

The public sector accounts for 27% of CCTV demand in India, and enterprise clients, industry, hospitality firms and homes the remaining 73%, according to Counterpoint.

The rules require CCTV cameras to have tamper-proof enclosures, strong malware detection and encryption.

Companies need to run software tools to test source code and provide reports to government labs, two camera industry executives said.

The rules allow labs to ask for source code if companies are using proprietary communication protocols in devices, rather than standard ones like Wi-Fi. They also enable Indian officials to visit device makers abroad and inspect facilities for cyber vulnerabilities.

The Indian unit of China's Infinova told IT ministry officials last month the requirements were creating challenges.

"Expectations such as source code sharing, retesting post firmware upgrades, and multiple factory audits significantly impact internal timelines," Infinova sales executive Sumeet Chanana said in an email on April 10. Infinova didn't respond to Reuters questions.

The same day, Sanjeev Gulati, India director for Taiwan-based Vivotek, warned Indian officials that "All ongoing projects will go on halt." He told Reuters this month that Vivotek had submitted product applications and hoped "to get clearance soon."

The body that examines surveillance gear is India's Standardization Testing and Quality Certification Directorate, which comes under the IT ministry. The agency has 15 labs that can review 28 applications concurrently, according to data on its website that was removed after Reuters sent questions. Each application can include up to 10 models.

As of May 28, 342 applications for hundreds of models from various manufacturers were pending, official data showed. Of those, 237 were classified as new, with 142 lodged since the April 9 deadline.

Testing had been completed on 35 of those applications, including just one from a foreign company.

India's CP Plus told Reuters it had received clearance for its flagship cameras but several more models were awaiting certification.

Bosch said it too had submitted devices for testing, but asked that Indian authorities "allow business continuity" for those products until the process is completed.

When Reuters visited New Delhi's bustling Nehru Place electronics market last week, shelves were stacked with popular CCTV cameras from Hikvision, Dahua and CP Plus.

But Sagar Sharma said revenue at his CCTV retail shop had plunged about 50% this month from April because of the slow pace of government approvals for security cameras.