Seongheon woke early, finished his shower, and stepped into the dressing room. As he cinched his jacket and prepared for the day, the quiet click of the outer door caught his ear.
He moved toward the sound. The visitor’s presence was so faint that it required a keen sensitivity to notice, but Seongheon’s focus was sharp. He reached out and swung the door open.
The moment he caught sight of Yeonwoo’s back as she crept along on tiptoe, a smile touched his lips before he could even register the emotion.
He watched her intently as she slipped into the study, then followed. It was only six-thirty in the morning; he was both curious and captivated by her sudden appearance at Unseondang.
More than that, he realized, he had missed her all through the night.
He approached the study with soft, measured steps. Leaning against the doorframe, he peered inside. Yeonwoo was busy tidying the cluttered desk, likely bothered by the fact that she hadn’t been able to finish cleaning the day before due to the room’s poor ventilation.
He stood perfectly still, his gaze anchored to her back.
Yesterday, after he’d sent her away with her face stained in tears, he had spent the night in a restless fever, plagued by the kind of insomnia that clings to a tropical night.
He had wanted to map the scars she carried and plumb the depths of her despair, but every time he tried to gauge them, he felt his control fraying at the edges. So he had stalled, reflected, and stalled again.
Seongheon blinked, grounding himself. After a long moment, Yeonwoo straightened up, her task complete.
*She’ll turn around soon. We’ll make eye contact. How much harder will my heart beat when I finally meet those eyes?*
While he was caught in the thought, Yeonwoo reached into her pocket. She hesitated, her movements wavering, before she finally placed a piece of paper on the desk and turned.
Their eyes met.
“Good morning.”
Yeonwoo jumped, clearly startled by his voice.
“Oh! How long have you been standing there?”
“It looked like you were on shift. Did you manage to get any sleep?”
“Oh… yes. Oh, hello. No, I mean—did you sleep well?”
Unable to hide her embarrassment, she turned flustered. Seongheon pushed off the doorframe and stepped into the room. Yeonwoo immediately glanced at the desk and reached out to snatch the paper, a panicked expression on her face.
Seongheon was faster. He plucked the paper away, and Yeonwoo reacted with a comical, frantic expression he’d never seen before, reaching up to reclaim it.
“Oh, please—give it to me! Please, Managing Director!”
She stood on her tiptoes, straining for the paper. Seongheon held his arm high, unfolding the document with his free hand. Yeonwoo clung to him as if he were a sturdy tree trunk, jumping repeatedly in a desperate bid to reach it.
Finally, fearing she might lose her balance, Seongheon burst into a laugh and grabbed her firmly by the arms to steady her.
“Give it back! Please, Managing Director!”
“Is this intended for me?”
Watching her jump in place—so candid and adorable—he felt his humor genuinely brighten, even at this early hour.
“No! It’s not! Ugh, give it back!”
“Let’s see…”
“Ughhhhh!”
Seongheon raised his arm higher, wrapping his other arm around her back. It was intended to make her stop, but Yeonwoo was so preoccupied with the paper she didn’t realize she had effectively been pulled into his embrace.
“Please! Don’t read it! Ah, please!”
“To Managing Director Nam Seongheon. Hello, Managing Director. This is Ji Yeonwoo.”
“Ughhhhh!”
Mortified, Yeonwoo froze mid-cry. Only then did she feel the solid weight of his hand against her back, and her heart sank right to her toes.
“I gained great courage from the words you said, Managing Director, and I am writing to express my gratitude.”
Seongheon fell silent, his expression turning serious as he read. Yeonwoo turned pale, her head spinning. She felt as though the rhythm of her racing heart was being transmitted directly through his fingertips.
As she tried to pull away, he held her a little tighter. They remained at an ambiguous distance, their chests nearly touching. Yeonwoo could only manage shallow, uneven breaths while Seongheon finished the short letter.
*“Thank you so much. You could have ignored me and turned a blind eye, but you listened to an employee’s grievances with such sincerity. Since coming to Domyeongjae, I have met wonderful people, and these days, I find myself wanting to become a person who can pour my heart into others as well. I will be an employee who loves and cherishes Domyeongjae more than anyone else. Thank you, Managing Director. From Ji Yeonwoo.”*
Seongheon lowered his chin, meeting her gaze. Her face was flushed so red it looked as if it might burst, and she seemed paralyzed.
“I’m moved from the very start of the morning, Ms. Ji Yeonwoo.”
*‘Ms. Ji Yeonwoo is living well. She has lived well, and she will live even better than anyone else. I will be the proof of that.’*
Had those words truly reached her heart that deeply?
“Please don’t tease me.”
“I’m being sincere. It’s a moving gift.”
*A gift.* Yeonwoo flinched at the word and pulled back. Seongheon released her without resistance, lowering his arms. Yeonwoo chewed her lip, her voice small.
“I thought it was shameless to just hand you a letter. But I couldn’t prepare anything else, and I wasn’t sure I could provide a gift you would actually like…”
She bowed her head. His warmth still lingered on her back, making her stomach churn with a dizzying, sickening intensity.
“Thank you. I’ll take my leave now.”
“Ms. Ji Yeonwoo.”
She wanted to vanish like dust, but he called her name. She turned back, hesitant.
“Managing Director, is there something else you’d like to say?”
“…”
“Or something you need me to do?”
“No. There isn’t.”
*I missed you, and I’m thankful you came to find me.* The words stuck in his throat.
Seongheon exhaled, folded the letter neatly, and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.
“I had a purpose, but now that I’ve achieved it, I’ll be off to work.”
*…I missed you all night long.*
“I’ll be going.”
*You were a wonderful gift that came to me early this morning.*
*
At the office, Seongheon shook hands with Lawyer Shin Jong-mun, who arrived right on time. A former Chief of the Seoul Western District Prosecutors’ Office, Shin was a veteran counsel for Seoryang Group and handled matters directly for Seongheon.
They got down to business as soon as they sat. Lawyer Shin, summoned at dawn, looked bewildered. He had expected a discussion on site logistics, not this.
“So, you are saying you want to terminate the contract with Namsong Industrial Development.”
Lawyer Shin pulled up a file on his laptop. “You need the justification to do so?”
“Simply put, yes.”
Shin pushed his glasses up, his mouse clicking rhythmically. “The problem is Cha Yoonseok, the Vice President of Namsong. The issue stems from his private life involving Ji Yeonwoo, a former secretary and current Domyeongjae employee.”
“That is correct.”
“Please wait a moment.” Shin began organizing the details. Seongheon sat in silence, recalling his secretary’s report from yesterday: *‘A report for stalking was filed, but dropped for lack of evidence. Five years ago, she was reported by another woman for similar reasons, and that case was also ruled as having no grounds.’*
It was clear Yeonwoo was not the first victim of Cha Yoonseok’s fixation.
‘Can you confirm the lawyer in charge of those cases?’
‘Yes. Lawyer Kim So-yong, a former prosecutor, is an acquaintance of Cha Gil-wook, the CEO of Namsong. They are long-standing members of the same golf club.’
To protect his son’s reputation, the father had used his wealth and connections to bury the truth. He had silenced victims and used high-powered lawyers to ensure Cha Yoonseok remained untouched.
It was a wretched reality.
Seongheon sent the files to Lawyer Shin, who finally looked up after a long review.
“Managing Director, I’ve reviewed the materials, but an immediate entry point is difficult. This is a private matter.”
The contract was signed; terminating it based on the conduct of a Vice President was a steep challenge.
“However, it is not entirely hopeless. I will return to the head office and look for a way.”
Seongheon nodded slowly, rubbing his fingertips together.
“Lawyer Shin.”
“Yes, Managing Director?”
“Do you think I would have summoned you all this way just to change a single contract?”
Shin stiffened.
“I wouldn’t waste your time with something so trivial. My capacity isn’t that small.”
Seongheon raised a hand.
“What is the maximum penalty for stalking?”
“It depends on the circumstances, but based on the case of Ms. Ji Yeonwoo, a prison sentence is unlikely. The core issue is the lack of substantial evidence regarding harm.”
“And how is one supposed to document a broken heart?”
“That is the limitation of the law, Managing Director.”
As Shin spoke with professional detachment, Seongheon’s fist tightened.
“Do you intend to have Cha Yoonseok punished? A fine might be possible.”
“Lawyer, how much of a punishment is a petty fine?”
“…”
“Unless, of course, the amount is enough to pull the roots out of the family’s foundation.”
*Pull the roots out of the foundation.*
Shin let out a slow, heavy breath, finally understanding. He had assumed this was about a simple contract termination. The more they talked, the more he realized the scope of Seongheon’s intent.
“If you speak your mind clearly, I will find a way.”
Seongheon’s face hardened. It was the look of a man who had discarded all compassion and mercy.
“I told you. I want to pull the roots out of that family’s foundation. Those who use money to cover up crimes must lose everything they have so they can never engage in such behavior again. Never.”
“…”
“That is what I think. What do you think, Lawyer?”
“…”
Shin let out a sigh laden with dark realization. “Ah.”