Razor-Sharp Light Streams In
A blade of light sliced sharply across the room, stabbing straight through the gap in the curtains.
Je-hyeok lay sprawled across the bed, cigarette dangling from his lips. His half-asleep mind felt hazy, drifting.
The phone had rung several times, then the doorbell followed right after.
He pinched the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, pulled it from his mouth, and exhaled a slow cloud of smoke with his eyes closed. The hand holding it dropped limply beneath the bed.
He repeated the motion again and again. Only when the cigarette grew too short to grip between his fingertips did his eyes finally open.
He took one last deep drag, then casually flicked the glowing ember toward the ashtray on the nightstand. He rolled his body forward, lifting one arm to shield his eyes. Even so, the sunlight kept digging relentlessly into his vision. He finally reached for the phone.
His loyal secretary, Choi Mun-gyu, answered immediately.
“Enter.”
He issued the order in a clipped tone, then tossed the phone aside.
From outside, the sound of the front door’s password being punched in came through. Soon after, the steady rhythm of Mun-gyu’s footsteps followed. And then—knock, knock—three precise raps against the door.
“I’m coming in, CEO.”
The door opened. Mun-gyu hesitated for a split second. On the bed, where sunlight poured in brightly, Woo Je-hyeok lay half-naked. He seemed to be waiting until he woke before heading to the living room.
“Close the curtains, will you?”
“…”
“The weather’s disgustingly clear.”
A lazy voice slid out. Mun-gyu did as instructed, striding to the window and yanking the blackout curtain open with a flick.
Before the fabric settled, the sky outside filled the entire wall window, cloudless and perfectly blue.
Je-hyeok still kept one arm across his eyes. It looked like the young master’s leisurely morning sleep had only just begun.
Mun-gyu straightened the scattered clothes around the bed. He picked up the phone and cigarette pack from the floor, set them on the nightstand, grabbed the ashtray, and quietly left the room.
In the bathroom he emptied the ashtray, then grabbed a glass from the kitchen and filled it with water. He balanced the ashtray and glass on a tray and checked his wristwatch—2:47 p.m.
When he opened the bedroom door once more, Je-hyeok was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed in the dim light, rubbing the back of his neck.
Mun-gyu set the glass beside him.
“I’ll wait in the living room. Let me know when you’re ready—”
“Report.”
The tone was unmistakably impatient. Mun-gyu had been sizing him up when he began the daily schedule briefing.
Having stepped away from the IT company he had once run, there were no major events on the calendar. The main task was coordinating with the buyer on the timing for the article announcing Je-hyeok’s stake sale in the IT firm.
They had planned a circuit test at the speedway in Taebaek that morning, but Je-hyeok’s tardiness had canceled it. It was just a hobby, so no real problem.
As Mun-gyu spoke, Je-hyeok stood and headed for the closet. He opened the door and flipped through the hangers until he found a silk robe.
“...We have about two hours until the MCP Partners meeting.”
“Wasted a lot of time, huh?”
“Hm?”
“Outside.”
“No, sir.”
“You wasted two whole hours?”
For a moment the usually mechanical secretary’s tone faltered. On the sofa, Je-hyeok yawned lazily and stretched, muscles flexing under the sunlight like lit-up veins.
Mun-gyu sometimes struggled to read what his boss truly wanted. At times it felt like he was deliberately testing the reaction.
“You’re really something, you know that, Choi?”
He was enjoying cornering the other person.
“I’m sorry, CEO.”
Mun-gyu bowed respectfully.
“But you know something. It’s been exactly ten years since you brought me on as your representative. I’m perfectly fine with it.”
Compared to the countless accidents Je-hyeok had caused over the years, wasting two hours was nothing to Mun-gyu.
Je-hyeok had been a troublesome young master for the entire ten years he had stayed by his side, causing problems without end.
“...Was there any trouble at the event yesterday?”
“I was right there the whole time. What were you supposed to do, you couldn’t do it in public.”
“I missed you once in the middle...”
He had clearly read the unspoken thought: You turned a perfectly fine event into a fucking circus.
Je-hyeok’s lips curved up in a smirk.
“Ten years and now we’re even.”
“...No other incidents, then I’ll wrap up the report for today—”
“Ah, did you get your revenge?”
“...Yes?”
“It wasn’t serious.”
The light laugh that crossed Je-hyeok’s face somehow stung Mun-gyu’s chest.
Je-hyeok had always treated the world so lightly. So Mun-gyu needed to confirm whether his “revenge” had truly been harmless.
“Revenge against whom?”
“A woman.”
In that instant past flirtations Je-hyeok had caused flashed through Mun-gyu’s mind. He had stopped chasing women for a while, even though they had interested him at first.
“If you ran into any trouble while I was away, please tell me whenever.”
But Je-hyeok raised a hand to stop him.
Don’t ask again.
If there had been trouble, he would have given a hint. Since there was no hint, it wasn’t that bad. Still, Mun-gyu couldn’t quite relax. Je-hyeok had been raised like a pampered heir—money, comfort, everything. He chased nothing but fleeting thrills and excitement in his life.
Buying the IT startup company had been just for the fun of it. From university days he had poured huge sums into various firms and projects, chasing the rush that came with high risk.
Whether his luck or talent was real didn’t matter; money poured out without rules, but most investments paid off in huge returns.
Skylink had been one such investment. A video-messenger app company. Je-hyeok, who enjoyed app development, had bought the whole thing.
The app launched under his ownership had struggled at home but exploded in Europe and Southeast Asia. Thanks to his aggressive market expansion, he had never given up despite the domestic flop.
The success had made headlines, but once the company entered its stable phase, Je-hyeok lost interest. He stepped back from management and sold eighty percent of his stake for six billion won to a fund company.
Eleven years ago, a twenty-billion-won toy building he had received from his grandfather as a university graduation gift had become a six-billion-won fortune in his pocket.
Mun-gyu, who claimed to be the closest to him, still couldn’t fully estimate the scale of Je-hyeok’s personal assets, separate from the ones he would inherit from Wooshin.
That was why Je-hyeok, who had no regrets about money, had suddenly decided to join Wooshin last spring. It had come out of nowhere.
He had never shown interest in the heir position at Wooshin until now. He had watched the family squabbles from the sidelines with no real interest.
Grandfather Woo Jang-gil had welcomed the decision without question. After all, he had always coveted his only grandson’s assets and abilities.
Woo Jang-gil had looked pleased when Je-hyeok grew up and matured, but Mun-gyu knew the real reason.
This decision was also for Je-hyeok’s thrill and fun.
The bloody family competition hidden behind Grandfather’s back had looked entertaining.
It would have provoked Je-hyeok’s twisted sense of excitement and competitive fire. Since he had already achieved everything outside Wooshin, maybe he wanted to take on Wooshin itself now.
Once he set his mind on something, he raced forward fiercely until he achieved it. But Mun-gyu could not shake the unease.
From what he had observed, Je-hyeok’s excitement always ended at some point. The man lost interest the moment he reached the goal. When that happened, he would discard Wooshin without a second thought and leave.
Mun-gyu imagined the sight of the elderly Woo Jang-gil grabbing his neck and collapsing. The impure thought kept creeping in that perhaps that day would be Grandfather’s final sleep.
“Don’t worry. Nothing serious happened.”
The embarrassment showed on his face. Mun-gyu lowered his head awkwardly.
“Nothing serious should have happened. The Wooshin entry is next year, so we need to stay completely clean for now.”
It was fortunate he understood.
“Grandfather said to take it easy, cultivate, and study for half a year. Even if Father’s orders are bullshit, I’ll endure them. Even if they’re dog shit, I’ll endure them. What else can I do?”
It seemed the irritation that had twisted his heart since yesterday was the reason.
“...Even Chairman would understand your intentions.”
Yesterday morning, an unexpected call had come from Cheongung-dong. His father, Woo Tae-young, had summoned him to confirm the Wooshin entry position. But the position had flipped everyone’s expectations.
On the way out after their private meeting, the cold aftertaste of the curse Je-hyeok had muttered still lingered clearly.
Attending Woo Min-ho’s unruly event he had originally planned to skip, and turning that place into a fucking circus—it had been rebellion and a warning to his father.
“Strict on the surface, but he cares for the CEO more than anyone and worries most. Since he wants the CEO to succeed, he’s being extra thorough—”
“Come.”
The hesitation vanished. Mun-gyu bowed.
“I’ll prepare a car in an hour.”
He would not undo the decision to enter the successor competition now. Once he set his sights, he charged forward fiercely.
No matter who he was, it would take time before he was officially confirmed as Wooshin’s heir. At least Woo Jang-gil’s deathbed request would not make Je-hyeok the heir.
Mun-gyu steadied his heart and left the residence.