Chapter 23
Sera's POV
"Welcome back, Miss Sera."
The moment the front doors opened, a line of maids in matching uniforms stood neatly on both sides of the foyer, bowing and smiling as they greeted me. Their voices echoed across the vast marble-floored entrance hall, a place that somehow felt both familiar and foreign after all these years.
It had been five years since I last walked through this doorway.
I gave them a small nod and stepped inside slowly, letting my eyes travel over the interior of the Hwang family residence. Some things were still the same—the grand chandelier overhead, the dark wooden staircase, the faint scent of floral oil from the hallway diffuser—but other things had changed. A few walls were repainted. The old art had been replaced with something more modern. There were more security devices installed too, including motion sensors tucked into the corners and a new keypad near the entrance.
It wasn't surprising. My family always valued image and control more than warmth or familiarity.
Hwang Jihoon—my father—is the Chairman of Daehan Group, one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country, best known for dominating the shipping and logistics industry. While I was overseas, I heard they expanded into maritime insurance and global freight as well. Everything about the business screamed legacy, structure, and expectation. And I was the daughter born to carry that weight.
My relationship with my family? I wouldn't call it broken, but it was never warm either. I left for Geneva when I was twenty, and in those five years, I could count the number of times they called me on one hand. It wasn't that they didn't care—I knew deep down they did—but affection was never something openly given in the Hwang household. We were raised to endure, to succeed, and to never ask for comfort.
Just a few days after my return, my father requested a formal meeting.
"Congratulations on returning, Sera," he had said as soon as I entered his study. His voice was deep, composed, the same as always.
I sat down across from him, maintaining the polite distance we always shared.
"It's time," he continued. "You'll be stepping into your inheritance. You're no longer just a member of this family—you're going to be the future of Daehan Group."
I didn't say anything right away. Part of me expected this, but another part of me still hoped he'd at least ask how I was doing before laying a kingdom on my shoulders.
I resented him sometimes—for leaving me to grow alone in a foreign country, and now expecting me to return home just to play heir without question. But at the same time, I wasn't foolish. This is the life I was born into. And in the end, I've always known that no matter how I felt, I would take the reins when the time came. I wasn't going to throw away what generations of blood and sweat had built just because I didn't feel loved.
Before officially taking over, however, my father gave me my first assignment—to become the official representative of Daehan Group in a potential collaboration project with Nara Group.
Outwardly, it was a business opportunity. But internally, Daehan had a different goal—one that involved disrupting Nara Group's monopoly in the construction sector and eventually absorbing that market to solidify our status as Korea's most powerful conglomerate.
Of course, the first thing that came to mind when I heard the name Nara Group… was Seo Yuna.
So she had become the heiress already.
The last time I saw her was back in university. We were always neck and neck in everything—academics, leadership, even public reputation. There were times she ranked first, and times I did. I didn't particularly dislike her, and truthfully, I didn't think she disliked me either. We simply existed in each other's space, both too proud to ever lose.
When I met her again recently for the collaboration meeting, she was as sharp and unreadable as I remembered. My team and I laid out the proposal and strategic outline, emphasizing the economic benefits of a joint regional development project. It was convincing enough, but of course, I knew Yuna would be cautious. She's not the type to accept a deal without probing deeper. When she said she'd consider it, I already expected that response. It was only a matter of time.
Ironically, it was later that same night when I found myself involved in something completely unexpected.
While driving home from the city outskirts, I hit someone.
The brakes screeched, and I rushed out of the car, heart pounding. A young man was lying on the pavement. Luckily, he was still breathing. I crouched down immediately and checked for injuries. His wallet had fallen out during the impact, and that's how I learned his name—Kim Haemin.
I drove him straight to the hospital.
The nurses and doctors moved quickly, taking him in and stabilizing his condition. I waited outside his room, staring at the monitors and sterile white walls. When I looked at his face while he was sleeping, I noticed his features were actually quite gentle. He was shorter than me, yes, but he had this softness to him—almost boyish.
Out of habit, I called my assistant and ordered a full background check on him. Not because I doubted my responsibility, but because people in my position don't leave room for uncertainty. You never know when a small incident becomes a scandal.
I also told her to check the accident scene for witnesses. If there were any, I wanted them paid or silenced. Discreetly, of course. And one more thing—I had forgotten to pick up his phone, which had been shattered near the impact site. I asked our security team to retrieve the SIM card, just in case.
While I was still on the phone, Haemin woke up. I quickly hung up and approached him.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly.
He looked disoriented, then suddenly alert. I apologized for the accident, but before I could say anything else, he insisted he was fine and left in a hurry. I didn't even get the chance to offer proper help.
By coincidence, we ran into each other again the next day.
I had just finished visiting one of our directors who had been hospitalized due to a heart attack, and while walking past another ward, I noticed a familiar face.
Haemin.
He was lying in bed alone, staring at the ceiling. I stepped in.
His expression changed when he saw me—surprised and slightly nervous. We talked a little, and I noticed something interesting. Whenever our eyes met, he always looked away first. It made me smile.
Before I left, I returned his SIM card.
And then, fate played another card.
While shopping at Hyundai Seoul, I ran into him again. He was alone.
I called out to him, and again, he looked uncomfortable. I suggested we grab a drink together—just something casual—but he kept turning me down. I almost found it annoying, but I kept smiling anyway.
Men usually tripped over themselves for a moment with me. Yet here he was, nervously rejecting my offer as if I were the one inconveniencing him.
That only made me more curious.
Eventually, he gave in.
We sat down and talked. I asked him about his life—where he studied, how he was doing. I already knew the answers but I wanted to hear it from him directly. I needed to know if he would lie.
He didn't.
Then he asked about me, and without meaning to, I found myself revealing too much. Childhood stories. Struggles I hadn't voiced in years. I apologized afterward, a little embarrassed.
But he just smiled and said it was okay.
And then he said something that completely caught me off guard—just a few kind words, honest and sincere. The kind of words I had always wished to hear from my own family… yet somehow, they came from this boy sitting right in front of me.
Not gonna lie… my heart throbbed for a second.
A soft smile tugged at my lips. I genuinely enjoyed our conversation. It was strange—whenever I talked to him, I smiled more than I realized, and somehow, my mind felt calm.
Then suddenly, he checked his phone and looked shocked.
"It's already 7:15… I need to go," he said, standing up.
I blinked. "So soon?"
"Yeah, I really have to."
What a shame… I actually wanted to talk with him a little longer.
Just before he turned to leave, I asked, "What time do your classes usually end?"
"Around five," he said. "Why?"
I shrugged, keeping my tone casual. "Just asking. See you again."
He mumbled, "Yeah, see ya," before rushing off like the wind.
I let out a quiet chuckle as I watched him walk away.
But the moment he disappeared from view, a strange emptiness crept in.
My chest felt oddly tight..
Like something warm had just left me behind.
I didn't understand why…
But one thing was clear—
I was already looking forward to seeing him again.