The office of the Vice Chairman of Choi Sun Group.
Following the text of the documents past his spectacles, Choi Jun-sik’s gaze drifted toward the office door every now and then. Before long, the knock he had been anticipating sounded.
In walked his son, built like the very door he had opened.
Seeing Hyeon-myeong block the doorway with his massive frame, looking down at him with casual ease, Jun-sik reflexively bolted up from his seat.
Even standing, he now had to look up at his son. Jun-sik had never been short in any room, but his son stood half a hand taller than him.
A towering height and the physique of an iron warrior. If one looked only at his frame, he was undeniably an imposing, formidable brute of a man, yet year by year his face came to resemble his mother’s striking, radiant beauty all the more.
Only his temperament was the exact opposite of hers.
As his son strode over at an unhurried pace and took a seat on the sofa, Choi Jun-sik settled into the seat across from him and stole a cautious glance at his son’s expression.
‘He’s as intimidating as ever today. Even if he is my own son.’
If only he would act affectionate with that handsome face of his, yet the rascal always looked at his father as if staring at a painting on the wall.
Because Jun-sik knew all too well how things had turned out this way, he could never bring himself to nag carelessly, leaving father and son perpetually on parallel tracks.
Choi Jun-sik parted his lips carefully.
Though Choi Jun-sik, Vice Chairman of Choi Sun Group, concurrently served as CEO of Choi Sun Mulsan—the company Hyeon-myeong belonged to—he spent almost all his time in his office at the group headquarters. As a result, he rarely had occasions to meet his son face-to-face. Whenever his son took the time to come see him like this, Choi Jun-sik was always eager to pass along recent news.
When asked if he was surprised, he merely pulled his lips into a slight stretch—what kind of response was that supposed to be?
Thinking that he truly could never read what was inside him, Jun-sik continued speaking.
Chairman Choi Yong-chol of Choi Sun Group had two sons.
The eldest, Choi Jun-sik, was born from his first marriage, and the second, Choi Jun-ik, was the child of his remarriage following the death of his first wife.
Holding fast to the principle of succession through the eldest son, Chairman Choi Yong-chol had declared early on that the chairmanship would pass to Choi Jun-sik, and after that, to Choi Jun-sik’s eldest son, Choi Hyeon-myeong.
However, Madame Min Jong-ran—Choi Yong-chol’s wife, Choi Jun-sik’s stepmother, and Choi Jun-ik’s birth mother—held a different view. Her argument was that the most qualified talent ought to sit at the helm. Beneath it lay her desire for her own son and grandson to seize power. In particular, she wanted the post-succession chairmanship to go to Choi Yu-hwan.
All of this was because Choi Hyeon-myeong had shown no ambition for power.
While Choi Hyeon-myeong’s younger cousin, Choi Yu-hwan, was desperate to expand his influence, Hyeon-myeong had always been detached and nonchalant. He neither built political connections for the future nor cultivated corporate factions. It was as if inheriting the chairmanship or not made no difference to him.
Even so, when it came to actual performance, Choi Hyeon-myeong consistently outperformed Choi Yu-hwan by a wide margin, which kept Chairman Choi Yong-chol’s will regarding the eventual succession relatively firm.
Yet watching his unenthusiastic son, his father, Choi Jun-sik, could not set his mind at ease.
There was no telling what ambitions Choi Yu-hwan might harbor going forward, now that he was expanding his reach through marriage.
No matter how superior Hyeon-myeong was in performance, the world had a way of running on the stubborn insistence of whoever was loudest. A noisy presence carried weight over quiet competence, and because that loud presence could also become a force that couldn't be ignored, one could not afford to stay idle.
Jun-sik offered a prime opportunity, hoping Hyeon-myeong would do something, anything. Even as he offered, he kept a nervous eye on him, wondering what daunting excuse his son would use to decline this time.
And yet.
Thrown off balance by his son’s straightforward, complaint-free agreement, Jun-sik ended up asking back.
Ahem. Jun-sik cleared his throat and brought up the next item.
…He agreed to this too?
Seizing the momentum, he had tossed it out just to test the waters, and once again it had passed without a hitch.
He had merely spoken the title. Yet that resonant, heavy voice was intimidating on its own. Having let his greed run wild with request after request thinking such chances were rare, Jun-sik swallowed a breath at his son’s sudden aura.
Ah, of course.
Saying everything he wished to say in that composed, unruffled tone—such was his son.
Even that razor-sharp demeanor carried the poise of an aristocrat among aristocrats. Jun-sik sighed quietly at the sonorous baritone, steeped in an elegance that surpassed his own father’s.
Returning to his usual posture, Jun-sik retreated swiftly.
Though he had been checked for overreaching, the two important matters earlier had gone through, making this a thoroughly successful day.
Jun-sik took in Hyeon-myeong’s details from head to toe.
His son's demeanor toward his father remained as restrained as ever, and yet something about him was strangely different.
There was an unfamiliar lightness lingering at the corners of his mouth. For reasons unknown, unlike his usual self, his son appeared to be in quite a good mood.
On the way back to his office from the group headquarters.
Idly toggling his phone screen on and off in the back seat, Hyeon-myeong murmured as if tossing out words for anyone who cared to listen. Secretary Kim Gi-baek gave a brief report.
Assuming his superior, who loathed crowded events, would naturally skip it, Gi-baek gave a belated, flustered reply.
Hyeon-myeong recalled his conversation with Hong Yu-yeon’s caregiver and tapped his phone screen aimlessly.
Had she mentioned she would try standing exercises starting today?
Hong Yu-yeon’s recovery was surprisingly rapid. The real issue was that she kept crossing his mind.
Now that he had her phone number, he found himself endlessly hesitating over whether to press the call button.
After staring quietly at the screen for a long while, Hyeon-myeong finally hit call.
Ring. The ringing tone stretched on strangely long. Fortunately, it did come to an end.
Yet from the other end, the line was merely answered; not a sound came through. Hyeon-myeong waited for a long beat for Hong Yu-yeon to show the slightest reaction before finally speaking.
Even with the question asked, no voice returned through the receiver. Only what sounded like a sniffle, an inhale catching a runny nose, came across.
When he spoke once more, a response came from the other side. A thick, submerged voice that sounded as if she had worn herself out weeping to barely squeeze out an answer made Hyeon-myeong’s expression darken.
Something had definitely happened.
Changing his mind about returning to the office, Hyeon-myeong raced straight to the hospital.
He knocked and opened the room door to find Hong Yu-yeon lying in bed with her back turned toward the entrance. Her caregiver, Seo Ji-sook, was seated before her, comforting her.
Ji-sook let her know, but Hong Yu-yeon didn't even turn her head.
Standing still, Hyeon-myeong asked,
Instead of answering, Ji-sook shook her head from side to side with a feeble smile. It seemed to mean she couldn't speak of it in front of Yu-yeon.
Judging by Ji-sook’s expression, the situation didn't seem utterly devastating. Which only made it more puzzling. Just what could have driven this woman to such sorrow?
A woman who hadn't shed a single tear even when told her ex-boyfriend had stolen her program.
Had a wave of despair washed over her belatedly?
At the exchange between Hyeon-myeong and Ji-sook, Yu-yeon let out a muffled murmur. It sounded like she was saying, ‘Have a good meal,’ yet even as she let out that voice, she remained as still as a boulder.
After sending the caregiver out, Hyeon-myeong sat down on the chair beside the bed. As he stepped deeper into the room as he always did, the woman curled in on herself and rolled in the opposite direction, as if refusing to face him.
The motion was endearing, yet he was in no position to laugh.