Chapter 10
Up the steepest slope in all of Pyeongchang-dong, at the very peak where the Bukhansan ridge began, there stood a mansion reigning like a fortress.
Majestic pine trees, said to have guarded the site since it was first cleared, formed a dense forest along the walls, so people called the place Wolsongwon—Moon Pine Garden, meaning "the pine garden where the moon lingers."
A very long time ago, that spot had been a pavilion where scholars shared poems and songs under the moonlight, clinking glasses together.
Through the years, it had worn away and teetered on collapse, so they tore it down and built a house in its place.
The pines of today's Wolsongwon were shielded by towering retaining walls and imposing barriers, visible in their full glory only to those chosen few who passed through the mansion's heavy gates.
The Wolsongwon grounds commanded a breathtaking view of the entire Seoul skyline, and the surroundings were utterly serene.
As the sun dipped low, crisp air from the mountainsides glided silently through the garden trees, and the faint mist that settled felt less eerie than comforting—like a soft veil blotting out the world's clamor.
Locals would occasionally catch glimpses of the mansion through the gates, offering admiring words tinged with envy, saying just the sight of its elegant tiled roofline purified the soul.
With the dignified chairman and his wife in residence, the place was never rowdy, and with the second young master away overseas to boot, Wolsongwon had been especially quiet—until now, when a rare spark of life returned after all this time.
Joo-heon, who had spent the last few months in America, was back home.
He had planned to stay longer, but rushed back because guests were due at Wolsongwon soon, or so he said.
The staff, tipped off in advance about his return, moved with crisp efficiency, double-checking every corner for anything out of place.
Soon, the massive front gates—intimidating in their sheer scale—swung open, and a black sedan glided across the expansive garden to stop before the house.
The driver hopped out smartly and opened the rear door, from which a long leg in slim trousers stepped down to the ground.
Kang Sil-jang emerged from the passenger seat, pulled a suitcase the size of a body from the trunk, and a nimble male staffer whisked it into the mansion.
Gu Yeo-sa took Joo-heon's jacket from Kang Sil-jang and bowed her head with a smile as soft as a brushstroke.
"Young Master, welcome home."
"Yeo-sa."
Straight-backed, Joo-heon peered at her over the rim of his sunglasses.
There wasn't a hint of fatigue from the long flight.
He gave a slight nod and headed for the entrance, then paused as if remembering something.
"Ah."
He handed Gu Yeo-sa a white shopping bag emblazoned with the logo of a famous dessert brand.
"A little gift. Share it with the staff. Chocolate or whatever—gone before you know it if you don't line up."
Her eyes widened a touch, as if gifts were the last thing she'd expected.
"You didn't have to bring anything.... You always spoil us like this."
"Even people who can't lift a finger for me have the gall to beg for stuff. Come on."
He met her puzzled tilt of the head with a grin.
"You could stand to be a little more shameless, Yeo-sa."
She bowed politely at his cheeky remark.
"We'll enjoy it. The staff will be thrilled."
"Make sure to tell them it's expensive. I've gone broke for it."
Hosung Group commanded assets that could fund lifetimes of extravagance, even after reincarnating a few times over.
So when the chairman's second son tossed out a joke like that—barely worth a footnote amid such wealth—even the ever-stoic Gu Yeo-sa couldn't help but crack a smile.
"I'll tell them exactly that."
***
Swoosh, swoosh.
A fluffy tail brush, like a tiny broom, swept repeatedly over the pristine white porcelain.
Baek Chairman, peering through his magnifying glasses, inspected it with laser focus, determined not to leave a single speck of dust.
This dazzling piece, white as a full moon, was the final work of the late intangible cultural asset master potter Jang I-so.
For an object of inestimable value, even its pedestal was no afterthought: purple sandalwood—once called "emperor's wood"—lacquered to perfection, placed where it would be the first thing visible upon entering from the vestibule.
Baek Chairman cherished it especially, as it harmonized perfectly with the house—crafted from fine timber with painstaking care, shaped like a traditional hanok.
The only sounds were the brush on porcelain; not even rustling leaves disturbed the hush of Wolsongwon.
Then unfamiliar bustle stirred the air—Joo-heon must have just arrived.
Baek Chairman paused to listen to the distant chatter, then turned with a quiet smile.
Joo-heon, entering the main building with Ji-san Daek, spotted him.
"Must've hated cutting your trip short after I twisted your arm to come back. And yet here you are, right on time."
A light jab at his unannounced departure abroad.
Joo-heon chuckled as if to say he knew all about it, opening his mouth to reply—when Min Yeong-ju emerged from a room down the hall, smoothing her neatly pinned-up hair.
"Mother."
Joo-heon greeted her; she shot him a cool glance before turning to Ji-san Daek behind her.
"Yeo-sa, two coffees, please. The Chairman's as light frost tea. All three hot."
She approached Baek Chairman and nodded toward the living room table.
"Long flight must've worn you out. Sit and we'll talk."
"Of course."
Baek Chairman took the seat of honor, with Joo-heon and Min Yeong-ju facing each other across from him.
Soon Ji-san Daek bustled in with the coffee and tea, plus delicate rice cakes to nibble.
Baek Chairman lifted his cup, savored the aroma, then took a slow sip before asking,
"Thought you were just off playing, but you came back with big results. Got a surprise in store or something?"
It sounded casual, but was praise thinly veiled.
Joo-heon answered evenly to the question.
"Didn't mean to keep it from you. My schedule was next week anyway, but their head asked to move it up for some urgent business."
"Plenty have worn their tongues to stubs chasing that route. Nice work landing it."
Joo-heon smiled quietly.
No lavish compliments, but Baek Chairman's satisfaction was plain.
Talk turned to the license details, then anecdotes from his laid-back days in Vegas.
But across the table, Min Yeong-ju's face stayed far from pleased the whole time.
She stared silently at the steam rising from her cup, then spoke softly.
"Las Vegas. Nice."
As Joo-heon's gaze turned her way, she continued without a smile.
"Schedule changed so suddenly, but you made it work somehow."
"Yes."
Her expression flickered at his prim reply.
"Not just to stab your brother in the back on a whim?"
Light tone, thorny words.
Baek Chairman's eyes hardened.
"Dear."
Clink. She set her cup down gently and stared Joo-heon down.
Oh, what's twisted her up this time.
Suppressing a smirk, Joo-heon met her eyes, and she pressed on, lips twisting.
"You knew full well the slice you took was bigger than what Tae-ju got."
"......"
"And still, you schemed to knock him down a peg?"
"Dear!"
"I've got plenty to say to you too. Tae-ju's capable, sure, pulls off anything—but does that mean you have to keep pitting him against Joo-heon like this?"
"What nonsense is..."
"That's why I end up taking Tae-ju's side. Treat them like you have two sons, not one..."
"Shut that mouth!"
Baek Chairman finally roared, and he and Min Yeong-ju glared daggers at each other.
Watching it all, Joo-heon arched one brow ever so slightly and spoke.
Who knew homecoming meant ringside seats to this.
"Mother seems a bit tired."
"......"