All throughout the drive to Gangwon Province, reports continued to flow inside Tae-seong’s car. The news that Cheon Soo-young was in critical condition had spread within the opposing faction in the company even faster than it had reached her own son. The cancer cells Han Ki-taek had been cultivating for the past ten years were now gleefully running rampant.
More than feeling ambushed, Tae-seong found it simply incomprehensible. As someone who knew the next year and a half of the future, he was disoriented by how quickly everything was accelerating.
“When my mother woke up… I must’ve really panicked.”
Tae-seong muttered to himself—not really for anyone else to hear. He should have expected Han Ki-taek to make a move. What weighed on him most was how visibly shaken he had appeared in front of Ha-jin. Looking back now, having knowledge of the future and acting based on it seemed to bring more drawbacks than advantages. That unguarded moment had cost him—and it stung.
Still, it would be difficult for Han Ki-taek to get what he wanted. His ending was already written and couldn’t be changed. The sins he’d piled up over the past ten years were far too heavy.
“CEO, we’ve received a reply from Prosecutor Jung’s office. They’re ready to move on your signal. All the documents for the press are prepped too.”
The secretary, typing furiously on a laptop in the passenger seat, turned the screen toward Tae-seong and continued rapidly.
“But the resistance from Director Han’s side won’t be easy. They’ve invested a staggering amount into the casino project, so I’m sure they’ve already made moves behind the scenes. And… we still haven’t finalized negotiations with Assemblyman Kim Sung-ho’s camp, the ones backing Director Han. I’m concerned this might be too hasty.”
The casino business was just a shiny front. The real operation was the drugs and prostitution traded in the shadows. They used casinos and tourism as bait, throwing lavish parties to draw in guests. By nightfall, they would discreetly distribute narcotics and use them to build a steady clientele.
Han Ki-taek would host massive yacht parties with those clients. International waters became the site of illegal gambling, drug-fueled orgies, and prostitution. The money exchanged at these events easily reached tens of billions of won. Foreign powers were deeply involved, and the web of interests had become a tangled mess.
“No matter when we blow this up, we’re bound to take a hit. I mean, it’s not like Grandfather built everything clean, right? If there’s a wrongdoing, there should be a price.”
This was a mindset Tae-seong had never adopted in his past life. Back then, he’d taken for granted all that Cheon Han-jo had built—no matter how dirty the means. His grandfather had always seemed like nothing more than a gentle, loving elder in his eyes.
They say blood is thicker than water, and letting go of what you were born with is almost unimaginable.
Only after losing Ha-jin and being thrown back two years did his eyes begin to open.
Cheon Soo-young had first met Han Ki-taek at a construction company meeting. That meant the very beginning of all this wretchedness had been rooted in Chunwoo Group—his grandfather’s legacy. So even if it meant the family took a hit, it felt right to see it through and sever things properly.
In Tae-seong’s childhood, Han Ki-taek had always been full of self-pity and bitterness, while Cheon Soo-young tried relentlessly to mold him into her ideal image. Not once did Tae-seong recall them ever looking at each other with warmth. In that sense, it was a relationship that should’ve ended long ago.
“Will Lee Yushin be alright? He’s seriously ill, isn’t he?”
The secretary’s question this time drew no response. Tae-seong just kept fiddling with his phone. On the screen was a message from the security team saying they had located Yushin’s whereabouts—and his own reply telling them to wait and not act yet.
“……”
Tae-seong was Cheon Han-jo’s blood too. He bore the Cheon surname, but the other half of his lineage came from Han Ki-taek. Right now, the priority was to win the fight. Would he have made a different decision if it had been Ha-jin who’d been kidnapped?
He clenched his fist tightly.
“Let’s hope he holds out. If we act now, we’ll lose Han Ki-taek.”
“I’ll station medical staff near the site just in case.”
“Good.”
Tae-seong responded calmly, but then suddenly went rigid. His phone had vibrated—a message from Ha-jin.
[Thank you, CEO.]
[I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier.]
Tae-seong blinked several times before immediately calling back.
– “Oh, uh! …Hello? CEO?”
There was the sound of rustling, like Ha-jin had dropped the phone in surprise. Tae-seong cleared his throat.
“Hey, Ha-jin. Did you have dinner?”
– “Yes. Director Kim was standing guard, so I had no choice.”
“Why are you making excuses for eating dinner?”
– “…Honestly, it was hard to get anything down. But I figured I had to hold out, so I forced myself to eat.”
“You did good.”
For a moment, all he could hear was Ha-jin’s quiet, even breathing, like he’d forgotten how to speak. Tae-seong ended up saying one more thing.
“I’ll find Yushin.”
– ……
“Don’t worry. Try to get some rest.”
– “CEO.”
The silence from Ha-jin weighed on Tae-seong. He rolled down the window. The wind swept through, tousling his hair, and he finally felt like he could breathe again. After a few deep breaths, Ha-jin spoke again.
– “I don’t regret anything.”
This time, it was Tae-seong who was struck speechless.
– “I’m not even angry with you. The one who did wrong wasn’t you.”
Fuck. Tae-seong swore silently, pressing his throbbing temple with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.
– “So please don’t blame yourself.”
“…Guess I’ve lost my mind, I must really be in love with you.”
Tae-seong let out a hollow laugh, tossing the line like a joke, but Ha-jin’s voice remained serious.
– “Maybe that’s true. Even in this situation, I’m not angry at you.”
“……”
– “And strangely… I trust you.”
“Ha-jin.”
– “I really am okay. I can wait.”
Tae-seong couldn’t respond for a long time, but Ha-jin waited patiently. When Tae-seong finally managed to say okay, Ha-jin simply told him to be careful, that he’d be here waiting.
After the call ended, a heavy weight settled in Tae-seong’s chest.
***
– “Please stay calm. Can you confirm the patient’s consciousness and breathing one more time?”
“She’s unconscious and not breathing. I think she took a lot of pills. Her lips are blue.”
– “Understood. Is the patient lying flat on a hard surface?”
“Yes, on the bathroom floor.”
– “Alright. I’m going to guide you through CPR. Place your hands together and press firmly on the center of the chest, using your body weight. The compression rate is…”
Tae-seong performed CPR frantically, following the paramedic’s instructions.
Even when the emergency responders arrived, he didn’t stop—he was too out of it, still pounding on his mother’s chest, unable to let go.
When his grandfather arrived at the hospital, he exploded, demanding that they save his daughter no matter what. Despite the fact that Cheon Soo-young had taken the pills herself, he lashed out at the medical staff like they were the culprits. He raged that if his daughter died here, they would pay with their lives.
Oddly, Tae-seong felt a strange sense of calm. Amid his grandfather’s shouting, the chaos of the medical staff, and the constant beeping of the machines hooked up to his mother, there was a surreal stillness.
Maybe it was the aftermath of pressing on his mother’s chest more than a hundred and twenty times a minute, nonstop for over ten minutes. Like a runner at the end of a race, he was hit by a wave of exhaustion.
It felt like the end of a long battle. Even his mother’s blue lips looked peaceful.
“Love died when you came into this world.”
His mother used to say that often—drunk and drugged, she’d blame him, claiming that Han Ki-taek had changed after Tae-seong was born. Still, he could never let her go. She was the one who’d brought him into the world.
“I don’t regret it.”
That was what she always said.
Did she mean she didn’t regret loving Han Ki-taek? Or that she didn’t regret giving birth to Tae-seong?
Tae-seong had always chosen to believe the latter. That at least, she didn’t regret him. Even as Tae-seong objected, his grandfather decided to put his comatose daughter on life support.
Tubes and wires snaked across her fragile body. That was the moment she truly began to feel like a stranger.
She’d always felt distant and cold—even when she was alive. But lying there at death’s door, eyes shut, she felt completely unfamiliar.
Exactly one week after Tae-seong found her collapsed on the bathroom floor, his grandfather returned—looking shaken, holding an unfamiliar document in hand.
The will, written in Cheon Soo-young’s handwriting, stated that everything she owned would go to Han Ki-taek. That she wished for his well-being.
Not a single word about her son. Not a single mention of Tae-seong.
