It hadn’t even taken half a century for Chunwoo Group to reach its current scale. The secret behind its rapid rise? Filthy money. They had dipped their hands into every dark corner of the world.
Sure, there are few who do business with entirely clean hands—but Cheon Han-jo, who had laid his business foundations with funds from illegal drugs and underground gambling dens, had never once tried to kick his old habits. He rose to chaebol status through the trade of land and people, as though it were second nature.
She had heard more than enough about just how vicious he’d once been—her father had talked about it so often it had practically worn her ears out.
The same old man who now smiled like a doting fool over his grandson, who wept so heartbreakingly over his daughter’s misfortune—this frail-looking elder had once killed multiple people with his own hands.
She had overheard executives and heads of conglomerates at her father’s gatherings say that if all of Cheon Han-jo’s crimes were weighed on the scales of justice, even a life sentence wouldn’t be enough.
But she also knew all too well how powerless the law was against the rich.
For years, she’d thought Cheon Han-jo’s precious daughter, Cheon Soo-young, had fallen into a vegetative state as divine punishment—atoning for her father’s sins.
But now that she had opened her eyes, it was obvious: justice didn’t exist in this world.
Maybe karma was just a made-up lie.
“Vice President Cheon is still in a fragile state. Her eyes are open, but that’s it. She’ll start speaking and walking again soon, though. She’s already made it past the hardest part. It’s basically a miracle, so please don’t cry. You need to conserve your strength, Chairman. Crying will only wear your body down.”
“Professor Joo… Soo-young will smile again, and talk… and everything, right?”
“Of course. Heaven must’ve seen your devotion, Chairman. That’s why she woke up—because she knew.”
Joo Yoon-seo beamed at him like sunshine, reassuring Cheon Han-jo.
A smile like that was nothing difficult. Mixed emotions could pass in a moment. She was someone who knew how to separate what mattered from what didn’t.
There were too many patients who could only be saved by Chunwoo’s donation money.
Before skill, knowledge, or noble intentions, one needed money to practice medicine.
“Now close your eyes. Get some deep sleep, and once you’ve regained your strength, go hold Vice President Cheon’s hand.”
At her gentle words, the old man finally let his eyes flutter shut. The sedative must have started working quickly.
Even a man who’d lived like a devil had his weaknesses—his child was still his Achilles’ heel. If anything were to happen to Cheon Soo-young, it was obvious he’d wither right along with her.
For someone who used to cut people down like slicing radishes if it served his interests, to now hesitate to get rid of Han Ki-taek because of a will his daughter had written—well, that was quite the glaring vulnerability.
Still, maybe it wasn’t about love or loyalty after all. Maybe she had been wrong.
Maybe he hadn’t been trying to save Cheon Soo-young out of fatherly devotion. Maybe he had been clinging to her simply to prevent her will from being executed.
So long as she lived, the will held no legal power, and the inheritance wouldn’t proceed. If he truly loved and respected her, shouldn’t he have let her go in peace?
But without knowing the full truth of his heart, it was too soon to judge.
“The young master seems to have arrived.”
Oh San-daek spoke quietly, showing her phone screen. Cheon Han-jo had already drifted into deep sleep.
“That was fast. He said he was in Gangwon-do, but maybe he was nearby.”
Joo Yoon-seo blinked in surprise.
When she’d spoken to Cheon Tae-seong on the phone, his voice had sounded so terrible she’d doubted he’d come at all.
Maybe it was his neat-freak nature that pushed him to see things for himself—but she hadn’t expected him to arrive this fast.
Leaving Cheon Han-jo in Oh San-daek’s care, Joo Yoon-seo stepped out of the room. The hallway outside Cheon Soo-young’s room on the second floor looked more like a full-blown hospital wing than a private home, with medical staff busily moving about.
She checked on Cheon Soo-young once more, then headed downstairs.
From the way Kim Dae-hong was watching the front entrance, it seemed he’d already received word that Cheon Tae-seong had passed through the gate.
Joo Yoon-seo stood silently next to him, her expression calm as they both turned to look at the front door. But then—she couldn’t help it. She let out a short, breathy laugh. Cheon Tae-seong had entered… hand in hand with someone.
“Well, now. Looks like someone just came back from a date in the next neighborhood over,” she quipped.
Tae-seong replied with a small bow of greeting.
“My mother’s room is on the second floor, right?”
It was Kim Dae-hong who answered the question.
Ha-jin bowed respectfully toward Joo Yoon-seo in silence. She returned the bow, awkwardly, as her eyes scanned over both men. For some reason, her shoulders stiffened on reflex. She had only ever seen Ha-jin in a hospital setting, so seeing him outside felt… strange.
So strange, in fact, that she suddenly found herself wondering—Where the hell did Tae-seong find someone that good-looking?
Up until now, even when her family had persistently tried to push him toward marriage, she’d never thought too deeply about it. But seeing someone beside Cheon Tae-seong changed everything.
The moment their eyes met, Tae-seong reached out and placed a hand on Ha-jin’s shoulder.
The sight stuck with her in an odd way. As the two passed her by, something inside her heart gave way with a dull thud.
***
Cheon Han-jo’s estate was intimidating from the moment you stepped inside.
“I’ll wait outside.”
Ha-jin only managed to get the words out just before they reached the top of the stairs.
He had only managed to step into this lion’s den because Tae-seong was shaking, and he’d wanted to be there for him. But that was the extent of his bravery.Â
And besides, he did have a conscience. A mother who’d been in a vegetative state for ten years had just opened her eyes. He couldn’t shamelessly barge into that reunion.
“I’m not leaving. I’ll stay here as long as you need me. I just… don’t want to get in the way.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you’d feel uncomfortable…”
Tae-seong finally looked down, only reacting when Ha-jin gently tugged at his arm.
“If you go to the end of this hallway, there’s a room I used to stay in. You can wait there if you’d like.”
“Not the drawing room downstairs? You mean there’s a room up here? Are you sure it’s okay for me to just waltz in? I feel like a burglar or something.”
“If there’s something you want, you’re free to steal it,” Tae-seong joked.
For a brief moment, his face relaxed—just until they reached the door to Cheon Soo-young’s room. Then he stiffened again.
Ha-jin patted his back reassuringly and gently nudged him forward. He stayed at the door until it fully closed behind Tae-seong, silently cheering him on.
Seeing his mother again must be awkward and nerve-wracking… but it was a thousand, no—a million times better than never getting that chance at all, no matter what kind of relationship they’d had.
When he turned around, the long hallway of the mansion stretched out in front of him. Now that he was alone, it felt awkward just walking through Cheon Han-jo’s home. He crept along the corridor like an actual thief until he reached the room Tae-seong had mentioned.
“Excuse me,” he murmured softly as he opened the door, even though no one was around to hear.
Feeling a bit guilty, he left the door wide open as he entered. But the room was so large that it made the open door feel pointless.
It was spotless—like someone had just cleaned it.
Still, it was clear Tae-seong hadn’t stayed here in a long time. There wasn’t even a lingering trace of his scent. The linens and pillows only smelled of fresh detergent, which left Ha-jin feeling strangely disappointed.
Too awkward to sit down right away, he wandered around the room, and his eyes naturally drifted to the bookshelves and display cabinets.
That’s when he finally saw Cheon Soo-young’s face—in several framed photos. The moment he saw her, it was obvious where Tae-seong had gotten his looks. She was a striking beauty.
She didn’t seem like the type to care about things like awards or trophies, and yet the shelves were lined with medals and commendations. It was surprising to learn Tae-seong had even received sports awards.
How the hell did he get the Minister of Education’s Award?
It was oddly endearing—he must’ve been incredibly diligent as a student. Well, he did get into med school.
“This is some sweet rice punch I made. Would you like to try some?”
“Ah!”
Ha-jin, absorbed in looking around, jumped out of his skin. Startled, Oh San-daek jostled the tray, nearly spilling the punch.
“I’m so sorry! I was totally spaced out. You scared me.”
“Oh, no, no! I should’ve made some noise before coming in…”
As they exchanged apologies, Oh San-daek took a good look at Ha-jin and giggled.
“Our young master made sure to tell me to take good care of you. Said you’d probably be hungry.”
“Thank you.”
He’d eaten three and a half packs of ramen, gone for a short walk, then driven for an hour. There was no way he could still be hungry—but Ha-jin accepted it with gratitude.
With the desk being the only proper spot to sit, they placed the tray there and sat across from each other. Oh San-daek casually pulled up a side chair and sat diagonally across from him.
“…”
As he drank the punch and nibbled at the fruit, Ha-jin noticed she wasn’t leaving. Her gaze was so openly inquisitive that he felt compelled to say something.
“So this is the room Tae-seong always stayed in?”
“You mean the young master? Yes, of course. He used to live in Seoul with the lady, but after she fell ill, he came here to be with her. These days, he’s mostly in Seoul for work.”
“Ah…”
“You never miss someone until they’re gone. The house just feels empty without him.”
She nudged the plate of fruit a little closer to him.
“I wish he’d come and stay over sometimes, but he’s always so busy. Didn’t even come for New Year’s. Last time he slept here was sometime in January, I think. The Chairman practically dragged him over for a year-end party, and even then, he left before sunrise after drinking a bit.”
Ha-jin immediately regretted asking. It reminded him of when his own grandmother would get started on how her grandkids never visited. Once it began, there was no end.
Smiling awkwardly, he bit into a piece of watermelon and half-listened to her chat away.
As he idly glanced at the desk, something odd caught his eye.
The desk calendar… was still stuck on April.
