The sixtieth floor. The office of the Chairman of the Kang Group.
There was no massive wooden desk, just a long glass table holding a precise architectural model of the future Yeongdeungpo district. Glass towers, hanging gardens, and wide streets, all illuminated by tiny LED lights.
Kang Tae Joon, a man in his late sixties with silver hair and a back straight as a spear, stood staring at the model. He wasn't looking at the towers, but at the empty space they would be built on.
Behind him stood Han Jae Won in silence, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Do you know why I want this specific piece of land, Jae Won?" Chairman Kang asked without turning around.
"Because it is the strategic connecting point between the new commercial center and the port, sir," Han answered calmly.
Chairman Kang smiled coldly. He reached out and knocked over a small plastic tower from the model.
"That is what I tell the investors," the old man said. "But the truth is, my father died in a filthy alley in that neighborhood. He died coughing up blood because he didn't have the money for coal to stay warm. I have spent forty years building an empire to prove I am not a son of that alley. As long as that neighborhood exists in its old form, I will remain, in my own eyes, just a hungry child."
Chairman Kang turned toward Han Jae Won. His eyes were as hard as flint.
"I am not buying the land to build towers. I am buying it to bury my past under thousands of tons of reinforced concrete. If Taeyang Chemicals takes it, it means my past has defeated me."
The Chairman paused for a moment, then added in a tone that brokered no argument: "My son, Sung Joon, is just a fool playing with my money, but I rely on you for this proxy match. If we lose this neighborhood, I will not hold my son accountable. I will hold the man I pay to clean up my son's mistakes accountable."
Han Jae Won bowed at a ninety-degree angle. "I will not fail you, sir."
***
Han Jae Won's office.
As soon as the heavy door closed behind him, Han's posture didn't change. He walked with calm, measured steps to the wall cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He didn't drink it in one go. He took a slow sip, tasting the liquor with his usual coldness.
"Did he threaten to fire you?"
The voice came from the dark corner of the office. Kang Ha Eun was sitting on the leather chair, playing with her silver lighter.
Han didn't turn around immediately. He silently placed the crystal stopper back on the bottle.
"Your father is a strict businessman, and he has the right to be concerned about his investments," Han said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
"My father sees you as a pawn." She flicked the lighter on, then snapped it shut. "You wear thousand-dollar suits and speak eloquently. But inside, you are terrified. You're afraid to lose all this and go back to being a nobody lawyer. Your fear of poverty is what makes you his obedient dog, and you hide that fear well."
Han turned to her. He didn't tremble, and he didn't get angry. Instead, he looked at her with a purely administrative, soulless stare.
"And what about you, Ha Eun?" he asked in an icy tone. "Why do you interfere in a game that isn't yours? Why are you watching that broken boxer?"
Ha Eun stood up. She walked slowly toward him. There was no anger in her eyes, only a bleak boredom.
"Because I hate this empire," she said in a quiet voice. "I hate my father, I hate my stupid brother, and I hate a man like you who sells his intellect to shine their shoes. You all think everything can be bought with money or threats."
She stepped close until she was face-to-face with him.
"I am watching that boxer... because I want to see what happens when you introduce a man with absolutely nothing to lose into your system. I don't want him to win to take the neighborhood. I want him to burn the entire chessboard to the ground... with all of you on it."
She turned and left the office.
Han Jae Won remained alone in the room. He looked at the glass in his hand. He didn't drink. He walked calmly to the hidden sink in the wooden corner, and slowly poured the aged whiskey down the drain. He washed the crystal glass with cold water, dried it meticulously, and returned it to its place in the cabinet as if it had never been touched.
***
Midnight. Yeongdeungpo District.
A light rain was washing the empty streets. The neighboring storefronts were boarded up with wood, with red (X) marks painted on the doors as a sign of sale and departure.
Inside the partially burned boxing gym, Seung Woo Park was sitting on a charred wooden bench. He held a piece of cloth in his hand, wiping the ash dust from an old framed photograph.
The iron door of the gym opened. A man wearing an expensive coat and carrying a leather briefcase walked in. A corporate lawyer.
The lawyer didn't look disgusted by the ash. He stepped quietly over the debris, standing there with a cold, professional smile.
"The contractors will start demolishing the adjacent buildings tomorrow at dawn, Mr. Park," the lawyer said in a smooth voice, placing a white envelope on the corner of the burned ring. "You are the only one who hasn't signed. This envelope doesn't just contain the price of your land; it contains the price of a quiet, comfortable retirement. There is no need for anyone to get hurt over stubbornness."
The old man didn't raise his eyes from the photo.
The photo wasn't of Ji Hun. It was of Seung Woo himself, a smiling young man, standing next to his late wife in this exact spot, thirty years ago, when the wood was new.
"You people don't understand," the old man said in a hoarse, tired voice. "You think these walls are just bricks and cement. My wife sold her wedding ring to buy this land. We built this ring with our own hands, board by board, so we could have one untainted thing in this filthy city."
The old man set the photo aside and raised his tired eyes to the lawyer.
"I lost my wife. And I lost every boy I trained in this ring to the gangs or to despair. I have nothing left in this life but this burned wood I am standing on. If I sell it, it means my entire life was a lie."
The old man picked up the white envelope from the ring and tossed it into an iron barrel full of ash.
"Take your briefcase and get out."
The lawyer smiled. He didn't get angry, and he didn't argue. He calmly adjusted his coat collar.
"Old wood burns quickly, Mr. Park," the lawyer said, his eyes scanning the charred ceiling. "Be careful not to leave the lights on at night. Accidents always happen to those who refuse insurance."
The lawyer turned and walked out into the rain, leaving the old man sitting alone under the flickering lightbulb.