A few days had passed, and Ga-young was finally back in the office. Her lips curved into a soft smile as her fingers brushed over the books neatly stacked on her desk, as though touching them grounded her. Her joy was finally back—her rhythm, her space.
But when her eyes drifted toward Min-jae's empty seat, her smile faltered. With a sigh, she wandered over and sank into his chair, spinning slowly with her eyes shut.
"Why…?" she whispered to the air, voice laced with frustration. "Why are you stressing me out so much? Just go back to the US… please."
Her chair suddenly stilled. A hand gripped the handle firmly.
"What if I don't want to?" Min-jae's deep voice rumbled, close enough to make her pulse stutter.
Her eyes flew open and locked onto his. Panic rushed in—she quickly lowered her gaze, strands of hair sliding over her face like a shield.
"My apologies, sir," she stammered, scrambling to her feet. "I wasn't referring to you."
Min-jae leaned in, his shadow cutting into her space until her face was no longer hidden from him. His voice dropped, a dangerous whisper.
"Then who were you referring to?"
Ga-young's lips parted, her voice barely a tremor. "…My friend."
For a beat, silence pressed between them. Then—without warning—Min-jae's hand lifted. His fingers brushed her forehead with surprising gentleness.
"Your fever's gone," he murmured, before straightening with a quiet exhale.
Her heart thundered against her ribs. She forced herself to breathe, to smile.
"Y-yes… I rested well."
Min-jae opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of water, and turned back to her with sharp eyes.
"Then why are you fidgeting? Am I making you uncomfortable?"
Her reply came too quickly, too sharp. "No! I'm just… a little overwhelmed." She plastered on a smile.
"Mm." His low exhale carried skepticism, but he let it slide. He sank into his chair, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Anyway. Did you remember the general meeting today?"
Ga-young froze. "Omo!"
Min-jae arched a brow. "You forgot?"
"No!" she rushed, shaking her head. "Of course not. But—Mr. Min-jae, it's scarier than you think. I was supposed to prep you beforehand."
"Scary?" He tilted his head, amused. "Prep me?"
She drew in a breath, then leaned closer, lowering her voice as though the walls themselves could eavesdrop.
"The general meeting is chaos every time. Sparks, tension, power plays. And now that you're back, it'll be worse. No matter how uninterested you are in the inheritance battle, your brothers will still see you as a threat. You can't afford to look weak."
Her words made something shift in him—his expression hardening into focus.
"Go on."
"The ones you'll be facing are no joke.The CEO of K&H Restaurant. And then—" she paused, shaking her head, "—the CEO of K&H Hotel, Hwan Namjoon. Brutal. Brilliant. He's the one leading the group higher and higher. Right now, he's the strongest contender for the chairman's seat."
Min-jae's jaw tightened, but his lips curved into something darker. "And the weakest?"
"Ji-uk," she said flatly. "That Dude barely holds his own."
A quiet chuckle escaped Min-jae, but his eyes glinted with mischief. He leaned back, smirking.
"Perfect. Then let's play a little game."
Ga-young blinked. "Pardon?"
"A Dare game," he clarified casually, though the amusement in his eyes was anything but casual.
Her brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
He tilted his head, lips curving in a way that sent unease prickling down her spine.
"This is my first time back at the conference table. I think I'll give my dear brothers a little gift—something to keep them on edge."
His smirk deepened.
"After all… isn't it more fun when they don't know whether I came back for business—" his eyes flicked to hers, lingering— "or for something else entirely?"
Ga-young swallowed hard on the thought of what he might be brewing.
---
The silence that hung in the conference room was heavier than chains. Not a single breath dared to rise above it. The three brothers sat across from each other, no smiles, only daggers in their eyes. The air itself seemed to pulse with hostility—every man in the room was seated across from an enemy.
Finally, the suffocating quiet was broken. The doors opened with a sharp click. Chairman Hwan strode in, his aura commanding the room into submission, Mr. Noh following like a shadow. Instantly, every executive and heir present rose to their feet and bowed.
"You may sit," the chairman said.
Chairs scraped softly as everyone obeyed, and the meeting commenced.
Namjoon, sharp-eyed and poised, was the first to speak. His words came clipped, efficient, dripping with superiority.
"K&H Hotel's expansion has exceeded projected margins by thirty percent. I've already secured new investors in Shanghai. Unlike others, I don't waste time chasing distractions." His eyes slid deliberately toward Min-jae, his smirk faint but poisonous. "I'd say it's time those who are less… serious about K&H stop pretending to compete."
The room shifted, uncomfortable murmurs almost rising. All eyes flicked toward Min-jae—waiting, watching.
But Min-jae only leaned back in his chair, utterly calm, fingers tapping leisurely on the table. He let the silence stretch until Namjoon's smirk faltered ever so slightly.
Then he spoke. Smooth. Sharp. Lethal.
"Seriousness isn't proven by how fast you run, CEO Namjoon—it's proven by whether you can still stand when the dust settles. Expansion is impressive…" he tilted his head, his gaze pinning Namjoon like a hawk, "…but stability keeps the empire alive."
The executives' eyes widened. Min-jae's words weren't loud, but the weight of them cut through the room like steel.
Namjoon scoffed. "Stability? Spoken like someone who hasn't achieved anything worth shaking."
Min-jae's lips curved, a cold half-smile.
"Oh, don't mistake silence for weakness. Some of us don't need to shake the table—because we are the table. Investors know who holds real value… and they'll soon decide if it's the man chasing the fastest climb, or the man who can make them feel secure while climbing."
The room went dead still again. A few executives exchanged glances—his words had struck a nerve, clever enough to unsettle Namjoon without ever raising his voice.
Namjoon's jaw tightened, but Min-jae only leaned forward, resting his elbows on the polished wood. His voice dropped, casual, but dangerous:
"So tell me, CEO Namjoon… when the dust settles, will you still be standing?"
Namjoon's lips tightened, the calm arrogance in his expression faltering for the first time. The executives shifted in their seats, glancing nervously between the brothers, unsure of whether to breathe or brace themselves.
Min-jae leaned back, one arm resting lazily over the chair, his other hand twirling a pen between his fingers. That smirk of his returned, subtle but sharp.
"Well," he said lightly, almost playfully, "since CEO Namjoon here is so eager to measure who stands taller, why don't we make it more interesting?"
Namjoon's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Min-jae's gaze flicked around the table, drawing everyone in before landing squarely back on Namjoon. His voice dipped low, velvet wrapped around steel.
"A dare game."
The room stilled again. Even Ga-young, seated beside him taking notes, froze.
Min-jae tapped the pen against the table. "Each of us presents not just our numbers—but a dare. Something risky. Something bold. Something that proves we're not just heirs sitting in chairs but actual players in this game. Whoever fails their dare…" His smirk widened. "…loses face in front of the board."
Namjoon's silence stretched, his jaw tight as though grinding down a retort. The room pulsed with unease, executives holding their breath.
Then came a scoff—Ji-uk, slouched in his chair, his tie slightly askew.
"Pfft. A dare game? Really, Min-jae? What are we, children?" He chuckled, his round cheeks shaking as he poured himself another glass of water. "No wonder nobody takes you seriously. This is exactly the nonsense I'd expect from the prodigal son returning empty-handed."
Some executives snickered under their breath, but it was nervous, uncertain laughter.
Min-jae didn't even glance his way. His eyes stayed locked on Namjoon.
"At least children play fair," he said smoothly, "which is more than I can say for certain adults."
That silenced Ji-uk immediately. His smirk faltered, the sting in Min-jae's words hitting harder than he'd anticipated.
Chairman Hwan, who had been silent until now, finally leaned forward. His hands folded neatly on the table, his gaze sharp enough to pierce steel.
"Enough," he said, voice commanding. Instantly, the murmurs died.
He fixed his eyes on Min-jae. "You speak of dares as though you're above fear. Do you understand what you're proposing? A single misstep could cost the group billions. Are you prepared to wager your name on that?"
The room held its breath.
Min-jae's smirk didn't falter. In fact, it deepened.
"My name," he said slowly, his voice steady and confident, "is the only thing I am willing to wager. Unlike others, I don't hide behind excuses or inflated numbers." His gaze slid to Namjoon, sharp as a blade. "If my empire crumbles after a dare, then I was never worthy of the seat in the first place."
The executives exchanged startled looks. Even Chairman Hwan's expression flickered—something unreadable, perhaps faint approval buried beneath the steel.
Namjoon finally leaned forward, his composure snapping back into place. His smirk returned, though tighter this time.
"Fine," he said. "You want a dare? Then I'll accept. But when your turn comes,Co CEO Min-jae, don't think you'll walk away unscathed."
Ji-uk clapped his hands together, laughing nervously. "Aha! Now this is interesting! Let's see which one of you topples first, eh? Personally, I'd bet Namjoon eats you alive."
Chairman Hwan cut him a glare so sharp Ji-uk nearly choked on his own words, quickly bowing his head.
"Sorry, father," he muttered, shrinking into his chair.
The tension in the room shifted—what had begun as quiet hostility was now electric, charged with the dangerous thrill of Min-jae's "dare game." Everyone could feel it: the boardroom wasn't just a battlefield of words anymore. It was a gamble, and the stakes had just been raised higher than ever before.