The graduation ceremony was over. I held my degree in Design, a paper shield against the corporate war my father expected me to fight. But the celebration that followed was far from festive.
We sat in the private dining room of a five-star hotel. The air was thick with the scent of expensive lilies and the unspoken tension that always followed my father. My mother sat beside me, her hands folded gracefully. She was a woman who had built her own successful boutique bakery empire from scratch. She was the second wife, a position that always felt like a delicate shadow in this house.
Across the table, my twin brothers, Jun and Seo-jun, watched me with their usual cold indifference. Their own mother had passed away giving birth to them. To them, my mother and I were always the outsiders who had moved into a house built on someone else's grief.
"Congratulations on your degree, Hana," my father said, his voice cutting through the clink of silverware. He didn't look at me. He was focused on cutting his steak with surgical precision. "Design is a fine hobby. But we both know where your heart has been wandering lately."
I froze. I thought I had hidden it well. I thought my late-night research into trainee systems and market trends was a secret.
"You still want to play with dolls, don't you?" Jun sneered, swirling his wine. "You want to be part of that glittery, useless world of idols."
My father put down his knife. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a single, crisp check. He slid it across the white tablecloth. It stopped right in front of my plate.
2,000,000,000 KRW.
"Two billion won," my father stated calmly. "Consider it your final inheritance. If you can build a successful agency using only this amount, without any further help from the Kim name or assets, I will let you do whatever you wish. You will have your freedom."
I looked at the zeros on the check. In the world of K-Pop, two billion won was a drop in the ocean. It was a golden trap.
"But if you fail," he continued, his eyes finally meeting mine, "you will return home. You will marry the man I choose, and you will never speak of music again. You have one year."
My mother squeezed my hand under the table. I could feel her silent worry, but I also felt the strength she used to build her own bakeries. I looked at my brothers, who were already smirking at my inevitable failure.
I picked up the check. My fingers didn't tremble this time.
"One year," I replied, my voice steady. "I accept."
The deal was struck. I wasn't just a designer or a billionaire's daughter anymore. I was a gambler holding a two-billion-won bet against my own father.
That night, my room felt too vast and too silent. I lay in bed, staring at the check for two billion won lying on the nightstand. My feelings were a tangled mess of euphoria for finally getting the green light and a creeping sense of dread.
Two billion won. To most people, it was a staggering amount. But growing up in this family, I knew exactly how quickly that money could evaporate in the ruthless K-Pop industry. Building rent, staff, trainers, music production, dorm costs. That figure was starting to look very small.
A knock on the door broke my daydream. Jun and Seo-jun stepped inside without waiting for permission.
"Still counting the zeros on that check, Hana?" Jun asked while leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. He was still wearing a crisp shirt after a long shift as a renowned neurosurgeon. "If you need medical assistance after a panic attack because your money ran out, just call me. I will give you a sibling discount."
Seo-jun laughed as he sat on the edge of my bed. As the sole heir to Father's business empire, he was used to managing numbers thousands of times larger than the check in my hand.
"Two billion won isn't even enough for the marketing costs of a single top-tier group, Little Sister," Seo-jun chimed in with his typical dismissive tone. "My advice, do not waste that money renting an office in Gangnam. You will be bankrupt in three months."
"Then where should I go?" I asked, trying to hide my unease.
"Find a cheap place. Very cheap," Seo-jun said with a smirk. "Use your design brain to make a dump look like an art gallery. And if you need advice on operational management, I am willing to help. Of course, in exchange for you admitting that your Idol idea is a beautiful failure."
Jun tossed a small box toward me. It contained premium neuro-vitamins.
"Take those," Jun muttered. "You will need a sharp brain if you want to compete with the sharks in the entertainment industry. Or at least, it will help you stay sane when you have to sleep on the floor of your new office later."
The two of them walked out with a faint laugh, leaving behind a scent of expensive perfume that contrasted sharply with my uncertain future. I reached for my faithful laptop. If I could not win with capital, then I had to win with strategy.