Mina continued, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"You should save your words for your new boss," she said lightly. "Though I wonder if you'll even find one. I heard Jobs are hard to come by these days." She tilted her head. "Especially for the less… privileged."
Yujin's expression shifted instantly. She stared at Mina as though someone else had taken over her body, someone colder.
Mina stepped closer. The smile vanished, replaced by a flat, unblinking stare.
"I don't know exactly what you did," she said calmly. "But if it even brushed my aunt in the wrong way, I won't stay quiet, i wont let it slid ." Her gaze hardened. "And trust me, when i put my mind on something, it gets done one way or the other." she said staring dead in her eyes as Yujin looked away immediately, her shoulders stiffening. She knew better than to invite further attention from a Choi. In the end, a Choi was a Choi, one wont want to mess with them regardless of their age.
---
Geum Family Mansion
Sang Tae stood in the grand hallway of the vast mansion, waiting in front of the elevator. His grandfather, Mr. Geum, had asked that they go to work together today. It wasn't unusual, but it had been a long time since they last did.
Lately, Sang Tae hadn't been himself. Not since the Inaugural Ceremony, what Mrs. Seo had said that day, or Minjae's words at the mechanic's shop that day.
It was becoming clear to him that Minjae believed her family's accident wasn't just an accident but a murder case.
And for reasons he didn't want to acknowledge, his thoughts kept drifting toward his own family.
Toward his grandfather.
The idea alone made him uncomfortable. He pushed it down every time it surfaced, telling himself it was ridiculous, disrespectful even. Yet the doubts lingered.
His grandfather had been… different lately as well, Quieter. More watchful. And then there was the lie.
Sang Tae had discovered, that his grandfather had never been sick on the day of the Inaugural Ceremony. If that was true, then why make an excuse? Why stay away, when the Geum family had sworn to stand beside the Choi family?
Was he unhappy for Minjae?
Or was he avoiding something?
And then there was the ribbon.
Every major family had presented theirs.
Every single one—except the Geums.
The omission hadn't meant much to Sang Tae at first, But Minjae's words and suspision echoed in his mind now.
A black sheep. Still hidden.
What unsettled him most was how close she seemed to be getting. It felt as Tho she was only one ribbon away from finding what she was looking for.
Or who.
He tried to recall other things. Small details he'd dismissed before. Conversations cut short when he entered rooms. The way his grandfather sometimes went quiet at the mention of the Choi family. How Mrs. Seo's words that day felt less like an attack and more like a warning....Or a message.
His chest tightened.
No.
This wasn't possible.
Sang Tae exhaled slowly, forcing himself to steady his thoughts.
He was overthinking. That was all.
Minjae was grieving. Mrs. Seo was manipulative. And his mind was filling in gaps that didn't exist.
It had to be that.
Lost in thought, Sang-tae barely noticed the sound of the foot steps, until the familiar voice cut through the quiet.
"You've been hard to see lately, Geum Sang-tae, you must think you are very special."
His aunt, Geum Soo-myeon, approached with her daughter Ha Ji-woo trailing behind, graceful and visibly exhausted by her mother's presence.
Sang-tae bowed his head politely, but Soo-myeon didn't return the gesture. She only looked him over, slow and deliberate, a smug curve to her lips.
"Good morning," he said evenly. "Have you been well?"
"Of course," she replied, smirking. "I don't need to ask you the same. You look very comfortable, especially for someone who couldn't be bothered to attend the family dinner Father personally requested." She smiled thinly. "I assume you had a very impressive excuse."
"I was buried in work. I lost track of time." Sang tae explained subtly inclining his head.
She scoffed. "And we weren't? We rearranged our schedules only for Father to cancel everything because you didn't show." Her eyes sharpened. "Typical."
"I'm sorry... "
"Save it." She waved him off. "I never expected much anyway. Illegitimate brats always take more space than they deserve."
"Mom," Ji-woo cut in quietly, rubbing her temple. "It's too early for this."
Sang-tae remained still, calm to the point of indifference, as though he hadn't just been reminded of his place yet again. He'd learned long ago that reacting only fed her satisfaction and invited more cruelty, silence on the other hand, bored them. He was used to it. His aunt's contempt wasn't unique, she was simply the most vocal. The rest of the family shared the same resentment, wrapped in polite smiles, cold glances, and conversations that abruptly stopped whenever he entered a room.
Sang-tae was the son of Geum Hyeon-seo, the illegitimate youngest son of Mr. Geum. Hyeon-seo had died young, long before the truth ever surfaced. It was only after his death that Mr. Geum discovered the son he had hidden for years—waiting, hoping for the right moment to bring him into the family. That moment never came.
What remained was Sang-tae.
Mr. Geum brought him into the household without hesitation. The rest of the family never welcomed him.
Sang-tae grew up surrounded by that quiet hatred, learning early which hallways to avoid, which dinners to excuse himself from, which conversations were not meant for him. The only warmth he ever knew in that mansion came from his grandfather.
Mr. Geum had three daughters and two late sons. One of those sons, his second child__left no children. The other was Hyeon-seo. That made Sang-tae the last remaining male heir of the Geum bloodline, a fact that only deepened the resentment toward him.
Because Mr. Geum had fathered Hyeon-seo late in life, his daughters were much older, and Sang-tae grew up as the youngest nephew and cousin. Among them all, Ji-woo was the closest to him in age, though still older.
What truly ignited their hatred wasn't just his existence, but his future.
Mr. Geum never hid his intentions. Sang-tae was to inherit the bulk of his estate. A seat at the CHNs. A place they believed should never belong to someone like him.
So they made sure he felt it—every day.
Over time, Sang-tae learned how to cope. He kept his head down, stayed close to his grandfather, buried himself in work, and mastered the art of being invisible. He spoke only when necessary, listened more than he talked, and learned that distance was safer than hope.
Just then, The elevator chimed.
Just then, the elevator chimed softly.
The doors slid open to reveal Mr. Geum. He paused for a brief moment upon seeing his daughter—he had only expected Sang-tae. Leaning lightly on his favorite walking stick, he stepped out with measured ease.
"Let me," Sang-tae said quietly, reaching for the briefcase in his grandfather's hand.
Mr. Geum allowed it without comment.
Together, they began walking, completely ignoring Soo-myeon's presence. He had long grown tired of his children's bitterness and chose silence over confrontation.
Soo-myeon rolled her eyes.
"Father."
Mr. Geum stopped. Slowly, he turned.
She stepped closer, studied his face for a moment, then glanced pointedly at Sang-tae before letting out a thin sigh.
"Father," she said again, "don't you think your favoritism is becoming painfully obvious?"
Her gaze flicked back to Sang-tae, who pretended not to notice.
"Sang-tae failed to show up to the family dinner," she continued, her voice sharp. "Because of him, you cancelled the entire plan. You inconvenienced everyone, yet you never scolded him, didn't even complain. Instead, you simply rescheduled to fit his time."
A smirk tugged at her lips.
"Don't you think you're being a little too generous?"
Mr. Geum took a step closer, his expression calm, as always.
"I only adjusted one dinner, Not the course of the family's fate." he said
"What would you have me do instead?" He asked as Soo-myeon scoffed.
"You know, there are plenty of ways to deal with a rat that forgets its place, i dont need to suggest what you do." she said
The air fell still.
Mr. Geum regarded her in silence for a long moment—long enough to make her uncomfortable. Then, without another word, he turned and resumed walking.
They had gone only a few steps when her voice cut through again.
"Don't bother waiting for me tonight," she said coldly. "I won't be attending the so called dinner." she said but Mr. Geum didn't stop.
"You can eat when you're hungry," he replied evenly, already moving forward.
"Father!" Soo-myeon yelled after him, frustration sharp in her voice.
While Sang-tae just followed beside him, silent as ever.