Choi Kang-woo stopped by the Main Building before heading to work. The garden, blanketed in the previous night’s snowfall, looked particularly pristine. It felt absurd to consider himself a man capable of such sentimental appreciation, but he figured it was a change spurred by his time spent around the children. Upon entering the house, he was greeted by Choi Kyung-Hye.
“What brings you here during working hours? Is something wrong at the company?”
“Do you only think of business whenever I visit, Mother?”
As Choi Kang-woo punctured her reflexive line of questioning, Choi Kyung-Hye clicked her tongue.
“Must you put it that way? I’m happy to see you; I only wondered if there was something troubling you.”
“Nothing special. Is Father in?”
“Yes. He’s in the study.”
As Choi Kang-woo moved toward the study, Choi Kyung-Hye called after him, “Shall I tell him to come out?”
“No. This is a conversation for the study.”
“Very well, then.”
Realizing this was a matter of business, Choi Kyung-Hye nodded and asked, “Shall I have some tea sent in?”
“No. I’ve already had some.”
After Choi Kang-woo disappeared into the study, Choi Kyung-Hye watched his retreating back and bit her lip.
“I don’t know why I can’t be like Han Na-Eun. Even when I try to be affectionate, the words just don’t come out right.”
Muttering to herself, she turned to head to her room and prepare for the day.
Inside the study, Chairman Choi sat behind his desk, peering through his reading glasses at a stack of documents.
“Yes. What is it?”
He set his glasses down as Choi Kang-woo approached.
“Nothing, really. I just wanted to see you, Father.”
“Sit down. You must have come because you’re facing something difficult.”
“It’s not exactly difficult. But I wanted your perspective.”
Chairman Choi nodded, and Choi Kang-woo took a seat. With the heavy oak table between them, Kang-woo studied his father. He felt anew the sheer gravitas of the man who had steered this company for decades.
“Why is that? Is the acquisition of the new cable channel giving you a headache?”
“Not a headache, exactly. But a person is causing trouble—and that person happens to be quite high-ranking.”
Chairman Choi nodded slowly, his gaze sharpening. His presence was steady, his voice a low rumble.
“So, you’re debating how to handle a subordinate. Using people is the most crucial part of management.”
Chairman Choi continued, “A company’s growth ultimately rests on its people. Place the wrong person in a position of power, and the foundation can crumble in an instant.”
He paused, casting his gaze toward the window as if lost in thought, before turning his attention back to his son.
“Hiring talent is the baseline, but ability alone is insufficient. No matter how gifted someone is, if they act against the company’s interests, they become a liability. You must move forward with those who understand our vision and act in alignment with it.”
Choi Kang-woo nodded. Chairman Choi added, “When I evaluate a person, I look for sincerity and reliability first. Competence can be taught. But someone who lacks loyalty and affection for the firm will eventually betray it for their own gain. That is why, regardless of their resume, if someone engages in corruption, it is vital to cut them off decisively.”
“I intend to,” Choi Kang-woo replied, “but timing is everything. The project they are currently overseeing is significant.”
“True. Cutting someone loose requires precision. The method matters as much as the timing; you don’t want them harboring ill will and causing further damage as they exit.”
Chairman Choi offered a faint smile. “A manager’s true role is to foster people who can grow and take responsibility alongside the company, rather than merely treating them as disposable tools. That is the difficult, essential part.”
“I understand.”
“So, what do you intend to do?”
“I will isolate them from the areas where the corruption occurred. I plan to give them time to properly hand over their duties so they can finish the work they began. It will ensure they provide a full account of their transgressions against the company.”
“That is a sound strategy.”
“Thank you. I’ll be heading to the office now.”
Choi Kang-woo braced himself as he arrived at work. He gathered the board members and stated, “Director Son has been embezzling advertising fees by exploiting intermediary transactions within Myeongseong Media’s sports channel contracts.”
The room erupted in whispers.
“Director Son holds the largest share of responsibility for that acquisition…”
“That is not all,” Kang-woo continued. “He overcharged the channel’s advertising budget and siphoned the difference into his personal account. This was discovered during an internal audit as we prepared to expand into the new travel channel.”
A board member spoke up, “We will need a replacement, but is there anyone capable of stepping into his shoes?”
Choi Kang-woo ignored the question, detailing the extent of the betrayal. “Director Son used corporate funds for personal entertainment, family vacations, and luxury goods. He processed these as operating expenses, but the frequency and the scale were so excessive that they triggered the secret audit.”
“And your decision? Are you planning to terminate him immediately?”
“Director Son will not be fired today,” Choi Kang-woo replied. “Instead, he will be demoted to a regional affiliate on the outskirts of the group. He will be removed from all decision-making roles and assigned to menial tasks—paperwork, the review of minor promotional materials—and he will be required to cooperate fully with the newly appointed Director.”
The board members fell silent, offering no opposition.
“I believe the Representative’s decision is prudent. A summary firing might create instability, but as long as he remains within the group, he must contribute to our recovery.”
Choi Kang-woo executed the order that very day.
* * *
News of Director Son’s demotion spread like wildfire through Myeongseong Media. Han Na-Young heard it almost immediately. She clenched her fists, her focus shattered. With no afternoon schedule, she left for home early.
“Wait, why are you home so soon?”
It was Han Na-Young’s routine to network until late. Seeing her home early, dressed to the nines, Park Misuk was taken aback. Han Na-Young kicked off her high heels without a word.
“Oh my, these expensive shoes…”
Watching Han Na-Young carelessly discard shoes worth millions of won, Park Misuk knelt to line them up. As she briefly marveled at the crystal-encrusted heels, a sharp, piercing scream erupted from the living room.
“Argh!”
Park Misuk jumped, nearly dropping the shoes. She scowled, “Goodness, you startled me! What on earth is wrong with you?”
Han Na-Young shrieked, her face twisted in a mask of fury.
“Director Son got demoted!”
Park Misuk gaped. “Demoted? What do you mean?”
Han Na-Young paced, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “He got exiled to the provinces!”
“Why? What did he do?”
Han Na-Young let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “What does it matter why? The idiot. Whatever you do, you make sure you don’t get caught. He got caught, and now he’s finished.”
Park Misuk sighed, shaking her head. “Oh dear. What happens now?”
Han Na-Young raked her fingers through her hair. “What do you mean, ‘what happens’? I won’t be able to get another cent out of that man. I don’t know why I ever trusted him.”
Just then, the electronic lock beeped. Director Son had arrived. Park Misuk retreated to her room, leaving them alone. Director Son walked straight into the bedroom, but Han Na-Young hesitated, her mind racing. She was calculating how to handle a man who had suddenly lost all his leverage.
Director Son called out from the bedroom, “What are you doing? Not coming in? I have something to tell you.”
Han Na-Young replied with a flat, listless tone, “I’ll be in soon. Want some water?”
“Yeah. I’m thirsty.”
*Yeah, I bet you are,* she thought. *You’re probably hanging by a thread.*
She brought him a bottle of water. He drained it in a single, desperate gulp, then gestured for her to enter. As she stepped into the bedroom, Director Son suddenly lunged, tackling her onto the bed and climbing on top of her.