"Ji-Hwan stopped by briefly earlier today," Choi Eun-Hye said. She sat before the vanity, gently applying lotion to her neck, her movements calm and habitual.
"What did he come back for?" Kang Dae-Sung replied without lifting his head. "To ask you for money?"
"Dear…" Choi Eun-Hye looked at her husband through the mirror's reflection. "He only came to get some clothes."
"There are still his clothes in this house?"
"Not his," Choi Eun-Hye answered softly. "He took Ji-Seok's tuxedo."
Kang Dae-Sung finally looked up.
"Does Ji-Seok know?"
Choi Eun-Hye shook her head.
"And you just let him?"
"He said he only needed to borrow it for a while."
Kang Dae-Sung gave a humorless smile.
"Very good, Choi Eun-Hye. Very good indeed." His voice was cold. "When has 'borrowing for a while' ever meant anything other than borrowing indefinitely? Do you really think Ji-Hwan will return anything he takes?"
"I just felt sorry for him," Choi Eun-Hye replied quietly. "He wanted to attend an event but didn't have suitable clothes. What's wrong with using Ji-Seok's?"
Kang Dae-Sung shook his head slightly. He raised a hand to remove his glasses. The tablet in his hand was placed on the bedside table, the glasses set neatly beside it.
"At twenty-five years old, and still unemployed," Kang Dae-Sung said harshly. "Always doing things his own way. Completely unteachable."
"Don't forget why he turned out that way," Choi Eun-Hye replied softly.
"Yes… I've never forgotten, Eun-Hye." Kang Dae-Sung let out a long breath. "Turn off the light. I want to sleep."
Choi Eun-Hye sighed quietly before standing up.
"I tried persuading him to work at your company," she said as she walked toward the light switch. "But he refuses to start from the bottom."
The bedroom light went out, leaving only the faint glow from outside the window.
"Just give him any position there," she continued. "Maybe as a manager."
Kang Dae-Sung let out a short, humorless laugh.
"What experience does he have? And that mouth of his—rude, disrespectful. Just imagine it. If I made him a manager, how many employees under him do you think would resign?"
"You haven't even tried, yet you're already thinking the worst," Choi Eun-Hye retorted, her voice rising slightly. "Is Ji-Hwan really that terrible? Don't forget Mother's final words to you."
Kang Dae-Sung clicked his tongue.
"That's enough. I'm sleepy."
Choi Eun-Hye huffed in frustration. She pushed the blanket aside and lay down on the bed, turning her back to her husband. The night returned to silence, yet the tension never truly faded.
__________
Seorin City stretched far and wide, filled with skyscrapers that gleamed beneath the sunlight. It was not merely a large city—it was one of the most important hubs in South Korea, a symbol of relentless progress and wealth that never slowed.
On Haneul-ro, the glass tower of Kang Horizon Group rose skyward, a clear marker of a powerful conglomerate. The corporation managed real estate, shipping, and private hospitals, wielding influence that was difficult to rival.
Kang Horizon Group was more than just a name. It had been built by the Kang family after the end of the Korean War, and since then, it had continued to grow—inheriting prosperity, influence, and carefully guarded business strategies passed down through generations.
"Han Soo-Min!"
"Yes?"
A young woman answered, her mouth still chewing her breakfast.
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes, Chief," Soo-Min replied as she wiped her mouth.
"Starting today, you're assigned to the lobby. Make sure you put up the warning sign before cleaning the floor—never forget. And one more thing—don't chat with the company staff. Remember?"
"I remember, Chief."
"Good. You may go now."
The man immediately shifted his attention, issuing instructions to the other cleaning staff. Soo-Min quickly stepped out of the small room, tying her long hair back neatly and simply.
Outside, she paused for a moment. Her hands checked each item in her cleaning cart, making sure everything was in place before heading toward the lobby.
Today marked exactly six months since she began working as a cleaner in the corporate building. She was not a permanent employee—just a contract worker whose position could be terminated at any time.
Han Soo-Min came from a remote village in the Wonju district. She was only eighteen years old. She had not completed high school, forced to drop out due to the crushing poverty that burdened her family.
Her mother had once been involved in an accident while working at an illegal factory—an accident that cost the woman her left arm. Although her mother had since recovered, Soo-Min's younger sister was still in school and required financial support.
That was why Soo-Min came to Seorin City.
A city that was foreign, cold, and made no promises.
As long as there was work.
As long as she could help her family.
She did not choose.
As soon as Han Soo-Min arrived at the lobby, she parked her cleaning cart in its usual corner. Her eyes watched the entrance, waiting for the moment when company staff began streaming past the barrier gates toward the elevators.
"So beautiful."
A small smile curved her lips whenever her gaze landed on the neatly dressed, elegant female employees. At times, her heart harbored quiet dreams—imagining herself wearing such beautiful clothes and going to work with confidence. But she quickly came back to reality. It was nothing more than an impossible dream. Without the qualifications or status to stand in that position, those hopes were merely distant illusions, far out of reach.
After nearly half an hour, Soo-Min gently pushed her cleaning cart forward. She checked every trash bin in the lobby, replacing each liner with a fresh one. Shoe prints that left marks on the floor were carefully scrubbed away. This was her daily routine—nine full hours of keeping the lobby spotless, with no desire in her heart to become part of a different world she could never truly claim.
__________
Meanwhile, on the same day, at a different location, a taxi stopped in front of Aram Gallery. Kang Ji-Hwan stepped out of the car with a tense expression, barely concealing his anger after learning that the commission from the painting sold two days earlier was far below his expectations.
He shoved the gallery door open roughly, startling the receptionist working in the lobby.
"Where is Seo-Ra?" Ji-Hwan demanded in a sharp voice.
"She's in her office, sir," the receptionist replied quickly.
"Tch."
Without another word, Ji-Hwan strode toward the stairs, heading straight for his sister's office. No one dared to stop him.
Upon reaching the second floor, he knocked forcefully on the gallery management office door. A few moments later, the door opened from the inside by a woman.
Ji-Hwan pushed the door open roughly, startling the staff inside—most of them women. He paid no attention to the commotion. He had only one goal: to see his sister.
His steps were fast and heavy, his face tight with barely restrained fury. When he reached Seo-Ra's office, Ji-Hwan flung the door open.
"Ya.. Kang Seo-Ra!"
His shout echoed through the office, thick with anger he made no effort to hide.
Seo-Ra did not look up immediately. She remained seated behind her desk, calm, as though the outburst were nothing more than a passing breeze.
"There's no need to shout, Ji-Hwan," she said quietly.
Ji-Hwan marched up to her desk. "Don't you dare lecture me," he snapped. "The money that went into my account isn't even a million won. Don't toy with me."
Seo-Ra finally raised her head. Her gaze was steady, unflinching.
"Ya.. Ji-Hwan. Do you think I'm trying to cheat you?" she said calmly. "I'll pay you—once I receive payment from the buyers. The problem is, many customers suddenly canceled."
"That's impossible," Ji-Hwan shot back harshly.
"If you don't believe me, check for yourself."
Seo-Ra pushed her laptop toward him. The lit screen displayed a list of transactions—or rather, the lack of them.
"Since that night," Seo-Ra continued, "I've only received one payment. And that was for a cheap painting. When I contacted the customers who canceled their orders, they all gave the same reason."
Ji-Hwan frowned. "What reason?"
"If I want them to buy the paintings, they want you to have dinner with them."
"That will never happen," Ji-Hwan replied without hesitation.
Seo-Ra let out a small sigh. "Then there won't be any money for you."
"Aisshi… ssibal." Ji-Hwan raked a hand through his hair, even though it didn't itch. "How many?"
"Not that many," Seo-Ra replied casually. "Twenty-two."
"What?!"
"It's just dinner. It won't take long," Seo-Ra added. "If you're willing, I can arrange the schedule. I'll prioritize the ones buying the most expensive paintings. What do you say?"
Ji-Hwan fell silent. His brows knit together, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. A few seconds passed before he spoke.
"Only choose customers who buy paintings worth over one hundred million won," he said at last. "Anything below that isn't necessary."
Seo-Ra smiled faintly. "Alright. Don't worry. Just wait for my call—and don't forget to dress properly."
"Make sure they pay first."
"I know." Seo-Ra waved a hand lightly. "You can go now."