On the large screen in the conference room was a presentation that Assistant Manager Kim had prepared with ambitious flair. The design was flawless. Clean fonts, subtle effects, harmonious colors—all carefully arranged without sacrificing readability. And it wasn’t just the design—he was confident in the content too. After all, Kim had always taken charge of group project presentations back in college. A seasoned pro at public speaking, he believed he could pull off a perfect presentation no matter how picky the audience might be. He was sure of it…
“A-as you can see, th-this approach… well, in the global market as well… we can c-capture customer interest with… with these products…”
Kim’s mind went completely blank. Cold sweat streamed down his face as he mumbled incoherently. It had been a while since he’d completely lost track of what he was even saying. His pale, stricken gaze suddenly turned toward Team Leader Choi. With his eyes alone, Kim pleaded:
I’m sorry, sir…
There was no way Team Leader Choi could have heard Kim’s silent apology, and Kim himself didn’t hear a word from Choi—but somehow, it felt like he’d received a telepathic reply.
It’s okay, Kim… anyone would’ve cracked under this…
Thud.
The heavy sound of a thick file being dropped on the table cut through the air, and all eyes instantly turned toward the source of the noise.
The person seated there was the very one who had thrown the entire room into a panic—Kim and Choi included.
His name: Gwak Seon-woo. Director at KG Group, and the final decision-maker in the room. Though he’d landed his position young thanks to nepotism—being the chairman’s grandson—his decisive and competent handling of matters had earned him surprisingly good reputation among employees.
But today, for some reason, he was sitting through the meeting with a look on his face far colder than usual. For Assistant Manager Kim, this being his first time presenting at such a major meeting since joining the company, it couldn’t have been worse timing.
“D-Director… what did you think…?”
Nearly as pale as a corpse, Kim didn’t even have the strength to ask. Instead, it was Team Leader Choi who took the hit and posed the question.
Gwak Seon-woo looked as though he was wearing the coldest expression a human being could muster. It wasn’t something you could just write off as “looking serious.” It went beyond that—into something nearly inhuman. Everyone was thinking the same thing. There was no need to ask. You could tell from his face alone that the answer would be a no.
Unless he really hated the presentation, there was no reason for that kind of freezing glare. And if, by chance, it wasn’t the content but something else entirely that had seriously pissed him off, then poor Assistant Manager Kim was just collateral damage… But either way, one thing seemed almost certain: Kim wasn’t getting his approval.
Everyone resigned themselves, steeling their hearts as they waited for Gwak Seon-woo’s words. At last, wearing a terrifying, ghostlike expression, he answered.
“Yes. It’s good. Let’s go with this.”
“…Excuse me?”
Team Leader Choi blurted out loudly, his voice cracking without him even realizing it. At his outburst, Gwak Seon-woo frowned slightly. Choi immediately clamped his mouth shut, realizing his mistake—but in truth, no one in the room could blame him.
He wasn’t the only one who’d been shocked, after all.
“A-are you sure, Director? Should we really proceed with this…?”
In response, Gwak Seon-woo replied in a tone that sounded almost puzzled.
“Is there a problem?”
Meanwhile, as Choi floundered for words, Seon-woo himself was just as lost in a whirlwind of emotions. He was feeling anxious, on edge—damn near ready to collapse. On top of that, the unsettled murmurs spreading through the room were only making things worse.
Seon-woo thought of the trip itinerary he’d meticulously put together. Destination: Chicago. Travel companion: of course, Seung-hyeon.
It had been planned ages ago, a carefully arranged vacation. But right after finalizing it, company obligations had suddenly started piling up. He’d already had to delay his flight twice due to urgent work. Today was practically his last chance—no exaggeration.
Starting tomorrow, the forecast in Chicago predicted record-breaking rainfall. The weather conditions were so bad it wasn’t even clear if the flight would take off. If he wanted to stick to the plan, he should’ve already been home, packed, and en route to the airport. From the moment this presentation started, that window had all but closed.
Still, Seon-woo clung to a sliver of hope. He felt genuinely sorry, but during the presentation, he kept glancing at Assistant Manager Kim with pleading eyes, silently begging him to wrap it up quickly. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. Kim, who had started out confidently, began to unravel more and more, veering completely off-course.
His nerves got the better of him, and he started taking even longer per slide.
So eventually, Seon-woo tried to stay calm, maintaining a neutral, composed expression, but…
This damn Gwanggong face…
Even the slightest frown made Seon-woo look like he was about to unleash a freezing blizzard. When his face hardened, he came across as a ruthless man who could fire the entire company with a flick of his hand.
So by the time the presentation finally ended…
It’s over.
He was already way too late. Even if he skipped going home and said “Let’s just meet at the airport,” and dashed over at full speed—he’d still miss the flight.
“N-no, there’s no issue… It’s just that, I wasn’t sure if you genuinely liked it…”
Looking at Choi’s cautious expression stirred up a mess of guilt and gloom inside Seon-woo. Still, he managed to keep his voice steady as he nodded.
“The presentation was very good. I heard everything clearly. Let’s finalize it as is.”
Choi’s face still looked confused, but true to his veteran status, he didn’t react inappropriately. He gave a strong nod, even though his expression clearly said, You didn’t look like you were enjoying it at all…
That was a relief. If Choi had been too eager and said something like, “No, you didn’t seem satisfied. We’ll revise and come back with a perfect proposal!”—then Seon-woo’s workload would’ve just grown on the spot.
And with that, he’d be yet another step farther from going home.
It went without saying—had things gone even a little worse, Seon-woo might have become the kind of CEO who tossed his resignation on the chairman’s desk, grandfather or not, and walked away from all the mess and complicated obligations for good.
He’d barely managed to secure his escape from work… but there was no way he could face Seung-hyeon right now.
Before this vacation began, Seung-hyeon had said he really wanted to see a performance happening in Chicago. Whether it was planning date spots, picking where to eat, or choosing a movie to watch, he always prioritized Seon-woo’s opinion above his own. To a point that even made Seon-woo feel guilty sometimes, Seung-hyeon lived by the philosophy of “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
And now, for once, he’d spoken up—earnestly expressing a desire to do something together. Without hesitation, Seon-woo had nodded and agreed. They’d matched their vacation days and planned a smooth, flawless trip. Seung-hyeon had responsibly followed through on the plan, and with his leave already approved, he was surely at home right now, waiting for Seon-woo in quiet anticipation.
But Seon-woo hadn’t been able to leave the office for days, tied down by a mountain of approvals that required his stamp and a major project that had fallen behind schedule. Despite the title of “nepo baby,” the chairman’s grandson, and a strong candidate for the next group successor, he wasn’t living the easy parachute life—just drowning in work.
Glancing at the time, Seon-woo let out a sigh so deep it might’ve cracked the earth, then finally turned his steps toward the home they shared. For those who’d just seen the cold, professional, intimidating director suddenly bolt out of the office, it must’ve been a bewildering sight—but he was in a rush, and there was no helping it.
Once he entered the parking lot and finally checked his phone, he saw a message from Seung-hyeon had arrived.
“What time will you be done? I can come pick you up at the office.”
It should’ve been a hassle, but Seung-hyeon genuinely enjoyed any chance to come pick Seon-woo up. He didn’t see it as a burdensome chore or a sacrifice made for love—it just made him happy.
And because Seon-woo knew that, under normal circumstances, he would’ve waited at the in-house café even if it meant killing time, just to let Seung-hyeon come get him.
But I can’t do that now.
He’d already run shamefully late, and on top of that, to text asking him to come out and pick him up? Anyone with a conscience would find that unthinkable. Seon-woo slipped his phone back into his pocket and got into the car.
The performance Seung-hyeon wanted to see was ending tomorrow. Even if Seon-woo caught the very next flight and arrived without a wink of sleep, he still wouldn’t make it in time. He could already hear Seung-hyeon’s voice in his head:
“It’s okay, Director. There’ll always be another run someday. Just get some rest.”
Seung-hyeon would never act petty or stay sulky for long over circumstances Seon-woo couldn’t help—but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be disappointed. And the fact that he’d try so hard not to show it made it all the more painful.
Seon-woo didn’t know how on earth he was going to make up for this failure. With that weight pressing down on his chest, he drove in heavy silence.
