“I’m sorry, CEO. I’m really sorry.”
“You’re misunderstanding. Please, I swear I’m not…”
Cheon Tae-seong had seen this expression on Lee Ha-jin’s face before—when he’d knelt before him, begging for his life. The same face flashed before him now, and it felt like a ball of fire was surging from his gut.
Maybe it would’ve been better if Ha-jin had lashed out with a brazen, defiant expression. But instead, he was pleading with that pitifully foolish look, which only stoked Tae-seong’s fury further. The memory of that day—of how he’d lost control and driven Ha-jin into a corner—came back to haunt him.
Tae-seong lowered his head deeply, trying to steady his breathing.
“The only thing Han Ki-taek wants is to enforce the will my mother left right before she attempted suicide ten years ago.”
“……”
“She was chronically depressed—we can’t even say for sure that she was in her right mind when she wrote it. No one even knew there was a will until after the incident. No one knows where she got all those pills, and there’s only circumstantial suspicion that Han Ki-taek was at the house that day. I happened to be away for a few days at the time.”
Ha-jin kept silent, unable to say a word. Tae-seong’s family history was so horrific, it felt like the two of them were just bundles of accumulated tragedies.
He didn’t even know where Yushin was now—so why did Tae-seong’s story feel just as impossible to deal with? It felt like there wasn’t a single clear or simple path, and all he could do was resent the cruelty of it all. Was this second life he’d been given really meant to be a punishment?
“If we give Han Ki-taek what he wants, most of my mother’s shares will transfer to him. Of course, Grandfather won’t let the company be swayed so easily, but still… things will get messy. Really messy. It’s an unreasonable demand to begin with.”
Then what about Yushin…?
Ha-jin’s vision turned white, and he could no longer see Tae-seong clearly.
“…Then what am I supposed to do?”
Tae-seong raised his head again. Ha-jin had expected a cold, hard expression, but instead, there was something mournful on his face.
As Tae-seong gazed quietly at Ha-jin’s face, twisted with desperation, Ha-jin felt like he was about to lose his mind.
Tae-seong let out a choked breath.
“I’m saying it’s all my fault… from my mother to what happened to you.”
He tightened his grip on Ha-jin’s leg until it ached.
“So just blame me. Be angry, yell at me, curse me, demand everything from me… Ha-jin.”
Even me…?
Ha-jin couldn’t quite understand what he meant. Was he supposed to resent Tae-seong because Yushin, an unrelated party, got caught up in the Cheon family’s internal war? But Tae-seong wasn’t the one who did anything wrong.
His gaze was pinned to Tae-seong like a nail, to the point his eyes burned. The moment he finally blinked, Tae-seong’s eyelashes trembled. Ha-jin parted his lips to speak—
“Sir! We just got a call from the Chairman’s residence—”
The secretary rushed in, holding a phone still on a call, his face ashen.
Ha-jin instinctively lifted his head and met the man’s gaze. At that moment, he felt a terrible premonition. He’d felt this kind of eerie tension right before something terrible happened before.
As Tae-seong stood up from his seat, the secretary swallowed hard and continued.
“…You’re requested at the Chairman’s house immediately. The Vice Chairwoman’s condition is critical.”
Tae-seong pressed his fingers to his eyes.
“Ha. What a party today, huh?”
He glanced at Ha-jin, who had gone pale with shock, then turned to the secretary.
“Tell them I’m on my way.”
The secretary bowed slightly with the phone still to his ear, then quickly turned around. Tae-seong looked back at Ha-jin.
“Go wait at my place. I’ll find your brother.”
“……”
In barely an hour, Ha-jin felt as if he’d forgotten how to form coherent words. He could only chew on his lips until they bled.
He had no choice but to entrust his younger brother’s life to someone whose mother had just been declared critical. The whole situation was so far beyond his capacity to handle that he felt like a fool—helpless, worthless. Even the way misfortune piled on top of misfortune felt like some kind of curse carved into his destiny.
Tae-seong didn’t wait for a response. He turned and strode out of the CEO’s office.
Moments later, Kim Dae-hong returned, looking awkward and troubled.
“Manager.”
He approached the ghostly, unsteady Ha-jin and held out a hand.
“The CEO instructed me to escort you home.”
“You don’t need to help me up.”
Ha-jin stood on his own, his steps obedient but stiff. Kim Dae-hong opened his mouth again.
“Um…”
He wasn’t the kind of man to say more than necessary, which made Ha-jin glance at him in surprise. The man flinched at the eye contact, eyes wide.
“N-No, never mind. Let’s go up.”
Even in the elevator, Ha-jin could feel Kim Dae-hong stealing glances at him.
Once they arrived and the door to Tae-seong’s apartment opened, Kim Dae-hong gently but firmly guided Ha-jin inside—then abruptly raised his voice.
“Lee Yushin! I mean, your brother. We’ll bring him back safe and sound—not a single scratch, so please don’t worry!”
“Oh… okay. Thank you.”
Ha-jin couldn’t help but respond, overwhelmed by the sudden energy.
The front door slammed shut behind him as he hesitated and backed away.
He stood frozen in place for a while. Then the lights, triggered by a motion sensor, slowly went out—darkness settled over the room.
In his hand, the clump of Yushin’s hair pricked at his palm like thorns.
Finally, Ha-jin sank to the floor and buried his face in his knees.
***
At the hour one should be winding down for bed, Han Ki-taek was up, picking out a tie. He chose his favorite—a deep red one. Behind him, his secretary cleared his throat and spoke up.
“Shouldn’t it be black, sir? Considering the occasion…”
The secretary didn’t stop at suggesting—he directly handed Han Ki-taek a black tie.
Han Ki-taek raised one corner of his mouth in a long, crooked grin and chuckled.
“Oh, ‘cause she’s about to croak? Didn’t think you were the type, Secretary. Hah… people are something else.”
“My apologies.”
“Good instincts, though.”
He clapped the secretary on the shoulder like he was proud, then took the black tie. The red one slipped from his neck like a snake.
“Should I prep a congratulatory envelope in advance? Oh wait, condolence money. My bad. Forgot I’m uneducated.”
Even while sitting down to put on his socks, he couldn’t stop talking, almost giddy with excitement.
“Shit, she used to nitpick my Chinese characters all the time. What was it? Right, that time at Yoon-ji’s sister’s wedding, I gave a nice little speech about the two families becoming close, and she blew her top, said I embarrassed her in public. Gave me the death glare from behind.”
“……”
“I even said ‘condolence money’ instead of ‘congratulatory gift’ that day. Should’ve snapped a photo of Soo-young’s face right then and there.”
He made a rectangle with his fingers, as if framing a shot in the air.
“Would’ve made a perfect funeral portrait. Damn. What a waste, huh?”
“It’s time to depart, sir.”
Prompted by the secretary, Han Ki-taek straightened his suit and stepped out of the dressing room.
One of his men, standing off to the side of the living room, hung up the phone and approached. He leaned in and whispered something directly into Han Ki-taek’s ear.
Han Ki-taek raised his eyebrows and made a long, drawn-out hum.
“She’s got a condition like that? You know about this, Secretary?”
The secretary, unaware of the exchange, simply shook his head. Han Ki-taek furrowed his brow in faux concern.
“Make sure none of those Alpha bastards start thinking with their dicks. Don’t lay a finger on her until everything’s settled.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If Tae-seong flips out, it’ll just make things messy.”
His tone was almost warm and benevolent.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Can’t even clock out today. So busy, so busy. Good work, everyone.”
“Safe travels, sir.”
With hearty farewells at his back, Han Ki-taek strode down the long hallway and out of the house. The place suddenly felt too small for him to live in, and he let out a loud, carefree laugh.
“A new beginning, at last.”
He muttered something vague as he got into the car.
The driver started the engine and pulled out of the dark underground garage. As the car rose up to the city streets, the glittering lights between the buildings seemed to illuminate his path forward.
The sky was clear, the moon was bright—he had a feeling tomorrow’s weather would be absolutely perfect.
