Like Mother, Like Son
Jin Ae-ran had three sons.
All three had come from her own body, borne through months of pain, yet the youngest, Kang-hyun, had always been singularly willful — a law unto himself.
Her eldest son, Moon Sung-hyun, had inherited the group after her husband's sudden death from overwork and a brain hemorrhage, and now served as Chairman of Moonseong Group. Her second son, Moon Jeong-hyun, was President of Moon Sung Holdings, the largest affiliate in the family's empire.
The two sons, entrenched and wielding enormous influence within the Moonseong Group, were Jin Ae-ran's pride.
Her third son, Moon Kang-hyun, by contrast, couldn't have cared less about the group's affairs.
"Thank heavens I have two sons willing to move as I wish."
He had a will of iron that never bent, but his tongue ran sweet and slippery as flowing water — and more than once, a conversation with him had sent her blood pressure climbing.
"And you? You're my son too, aren't you?"
"Last I checked, I am. And that son of yours is neither a criminal nor a rabid dog — he works hard and earns an honest living. Surely you're not planning to yell at him for that?"
Jin Ae-ran let out a sigh as old conversations with Kang-hyun surfaced in her memory.
Really, the nerve of him. Fleeing from the founding anniversary ceremony, of all things. Even thinking about it now made her blood boil all over again.
She suspected it had all started back in his school days, when he'd taken up with friends he never should have befriended, and the regret still gnawed at her.
She should have cracked down harder back then.
Just then, three crisp knocks sounded at the door, followed by Secretary Kim's voice.
"Madam Chairwoman, your youngest son has arrived."
"Show him in."
Jin Ae-ran drew a long breath and rose from her seat. After learning he'd bolted from the ceremony the day before, she had summoned him to her office without delay.
"Not very busy today, I see."
Kang-hyun walked into the office wearing a perfectly blank expression. The sheer audacity of that face — utterly oblivious to any wrongdoing — made her stomach turn.
He was handsome, infuriatingly so. Bathed in the spring sunlight streaming through the window, his face gleamed like a sculptor's finest work.
Every time, that face was what weakened her resolve. Jin Ae-ran steeled herself as she studied her youngest — the most striking of her three sons.
How long could one miserable ceremony possibly run, that he couldn't sit through it to the end? He'd handed her the perfect pretext; this time, she would not let it slide.
"Would I have called you here if I weren't free?"
"Ah, so you missed me, then? You did just see me yesterday."
He sprawled across the sofa as if it were his own living room. That easy insolence made one of Jin Ae-ran's eyebrows shoot up.
"Why did you leave yesterday without so much as a word? I don't call on you for group business all that often, do I?"
"The only person who even noticed I slipped out is you, Mother."
"What? And you call that an answer?"
Jin Ae-ran raised her voice in sheer exasperation, but she couldn't refute him.
Architect Moon Kang-hyun was famous in his own right, yet only a handful of people knew he was an heir of the Moonseong Group.
Even so, wanting him to show his face at the ceremony and stay until the end was, admittedly, her own greed — her hope that he would lend himself to the group's affairs and not just his architecture.
At the sharpness in her voice, a shadow crept into Kang-hyun's eyes.
"Mother, do you still not know me? I told you I wouldn't touch the group's business. And I don't go back on decisions once they're made."
As if she could ever forget that wretched stubbornness of his. Jin Ae-ran glared at him, eyes blazing.
In moments like these, he felt less like a son and more like an enemy.
"Who on earth did you take after, to turn out like this?"
"Why, you and Father, obviously. Or did you pick me up somewhere? You'd know better than anyone, wouldn't you?"
Unable to strike a son who was nearly twice her size, Jin Ae-ran could only sear him with a look.
"My mistake was letting you run loose back then."
Her words burst out like a sigh, and Kang-hyun's eyes darkened another shade.
It was nothing he hadn't heard before, so he understood exactly what she meant.
She was reproaching the days when he'd turned his back on the children of comparable chaebol families to become inseparable from Seo Lee-hwan — the days of what she called his rebellion.
Even the word rebellion made him want to laugh.
It had only been rebellion through Jin Ae-ran's eyes. From where Kang-hyun stood, he'd been a perfectly ordinary, healthy student.
Instead of learning the finer arts of money-flaunting and pulling rank, he'd spent his days shooting hoops on the schoolyard and buying tteokbokki from a snack shop, covered in sweat and dust. To a chaebol matriarch, that was all it took to look like delinquency.
"Because of that regret of yours, you cut me off for five whole years. I got to see my friend's face one last time in a funeral portrait — and is that still not enough for you?"
Jin Ae-ran flinched at that.
She knew better than anyone how cold and frightening her son became the moment the perpetual smirk left his face.
"You think I want to think that way? But looking at you, how can I help it?"
The humor wiped clean from his face, Kang-hyun rose from his seat.
"If the thought keeps bothering you that much, there's always the option of never seeing me at all. I'd suggest changing your mind before resorting to that."
"Are you serious right now—"
Even as Jin Ae-ran's hands trembled with fury, Kang-hyun didn't so much as blink. He gave a brief bow.
"Rather than expecting anything from me, it would be faster to change your own heart. I'll be going, then."
He walked out of the office without a single glance back.
He'd always been like this, but today it felt uniquely like she was being torn apart from the inside.
Where on earth had something like him come from? Jin Ae-ran released the groan she had uttered a thousand times before, pressing hard against her throbbing temples.
After accepting Kang-hyun's proposal, Lee-jin stopped taking new class reservations. With only the previously booked sessions left to run, her schedule had opened up far more than usual.
The sunlight pouring through the workshop's large glass windows was so dazzling that Lee-jin went to lower the blinds. Beyond the glass, the line of roadside trees and the scattered blossoms of spring looked fresh and vivid.
She stood gazing absently at the view for a while, and by the time she came back to herself and reached for the blinds, a car had pulled up in front of the workshop.
Wondering if it was a customer, she looked more closely — and recognized the face.
"Ji-hoon sunbae?"
A senior she'd been close with in college had shown up without so much as a text. Lee-jin hurried toward the entrance.
With a bright chime of the doorbell, Cha Ji-hoon stepped inside.
"Sunbae, what brings you here without any warning?"
Lee-jin greeted him, her eyes curving with surprise and pleasure.
"It's been a while. You've been well?"
"Thanks to you."
He stepped inside, studying her face carefully — checking, it seemed, whether any shadow still lingered there.
"The workshop's even prettier than the last time I visited."
After exchanging pleasantries, the two sat across from each other at the work table, sipping coffee and catching up on this and that.
"I still can't believe you're a professor now."
When Lee-jin laughed as though she couldn't possibly believe it, Ji-hoon frowned.
"Does it really suit me that badly?"
"No, well — the club kids had the exact same reaction, didn't they?"
Apparently her guess had landed, because the crease between his brows deepened. Watching him, Lee-jin bit back a laugh.
"I was worried about you. I'm glad you look bright again."
She understood at once that he meant the shadow of Lee-hwan's death, and she faltered for a moment. A brittle smile flickered across her lips.
"Everyone was so supportive. I'm much better now. The living have to keep living, after all."
The club members had all made an appearance at the funeral, however briefly. She'd met Ji-hoon there too. Not wanting the mood to darken, Lee-jin quickly changed the subject.
"So what brings you here? Don't tell me you came to brag about becoming a professor."
"Why? Am I not allowed to brag?"
Ji-hoon said it with deliberate grumbling, then set a document envelope on the table.
"What's this?"
Reading the puzzlement on her face, he explained.
"We're hiring an adjunct lecturer this term, and you came to mind. You should apply — with your credentials, I think you'd have a real shot. And I can help however I can."
"An adjunct lecturer?"
"In name, sure. But from the students' perspective, you're practically a professor. If your course evaluations are good, there's even a chance of being hired on as full faculty."
Watching him carry on so earnestly, Lee-jin answered with an apologetic face.
"Sunbae, I appreciate a generous offer, but I'm sorry — I've taken on a commissioned project, so I don't think I can."
"What? What project?"
"Well, it's..."
Just as Lee-jin opened her mouth to explain, the doorbell chimed.
"Oh — you had a customer. Should I come back later?"
Kang-hyun had stepped into the entryway, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.
"No, come in. He's not a customer — a sunbae from college."
"Ah. Is that so?"
He strode unhurriedly toward the table, and with every step, his height and his extraordinary looks seemed to fill the workshop to bursting.
Cha Ji-hoon studied the man radiating the presence of an apex predator, and before he knew it, his guard was up.
Lee-jin, oblivious to whatever current was passing between the two men's eyes, introduced them in the middle.
"Ji-hoon sunbae, this is Moon Kang-hyun — a friend of my brother's."
"Kang-hyun, this is Cha Ji-hoon, my sunbae from university."
Both men paused briefly at the way she'd phrased it.
My brother's friend. My sunbae. Some invisible scoreboard had just been set — and, somehow, the match had already been decided.