Seoul — The Choi Residence
The HanRiver looked different at night.
From the Choiresidence, the city seemed farther away than it really was. Traffic still flowed across the bridges, and the buildings on the opposite bank glittered beneath the summer sky, but the glass surrounding the penthouse kept the noise outside. Inside, the only sounds were the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the occasional tap of a finger against a phone screen.
Madigan lay stretched across the sofa, one leg hanging over the armrest as another fancam replayed for what was probably the fifth time that evening.
HaeJin laughed at something a fan had shouted from the crowd.
She smiled before she even realized she was smiling. When the clip ended, her thumb hovered over the replay button.
"...Come back already."
She pressed it again.
Behind her, heels crossed the wooden floor with the same steady rhythm they always had.
"Ji Ahn."
She looked up.
Her mother had already changed out of her office clothes once that evening. The deep crimson blazer she wore now was impeccably tailored, the kind of piece that never seemed to wrinkle no matter how long the day had been. A slim watch rested against her wrist. Her hair hadn't moved despite the hours she'd spent outside.
She looked ready for another meeting. She probably was.
"I'm heading out."
Madigan sat up, setting her phone aside.
"Now?"
YooRi nodded once as she fastened the clasp of her watch.
"SEVYN's board requested another meeting."
"...Again?"
"Again."
There wasn't any annoyance in her voice. If anything, she sounded as though she'd expected it.
Madigan watched her walk toward the dining table where a leather folder had been left waiting.
"You've been seeing them a lot lately."
"I have."
"You really want them."
Yoo Ri slid a document into the folder before closing it.
"I want LUCENT."
The answer came so naturally that Madigan blinked.
"You mean that."
"I do."
She didn't say it like someone chasing headlines or trying to win a bidding war. She said it the way people spoke about decisions they had already made.
Madigan frowned.
"But... why?"
Yoo Ri rested one hand lightly on the back of a chair. For a moment, she looked beyond the windows toward the river below.
"I can't tell you yet."
Madigan sighed.
"Eomma."
"Hm?"
"That's not an answer."
A faint smile touched Yoo Ri's face.
"I know."
"It's also unfair."
"I know that too."
Madigan stood and walked over, stopping a few steps away.
"Are you trying to buy SEVYN?"
"No."
"Invest?"
"Maybe."
"Transfer their contracts?"
Yoo Ri looked at her. Not coldly. If anything... steadily.
"Ji Ahn."
Two syllables. They were soft enough that nobody else would have thought anything of them. Madigan knew exactly what they meant.
'Enough.'
She folded her arms anyway.
"So you're still not going to tell me."
"No."
"You know I'm going to keep asking."
"I expected nothing less."
Madigan let out a quiet breath through her nose.
"You always do this."
"I usually have a reason."
"I know."
Yoo Ri picked up her folder.
"So trust that I still do."
Madigan searched her mother's face. She'd spent her whole life watching people misread Yoo Ri.
They saw a successful CEO and assumed ambition came first. They saw expensive suits and quiet meetings and decided she was calculating.
Sometimes she was. She had to be.
But Madigan also knew the woman who remembered every birthday without checking a calendar. The woman who never forgot to ask whether she'd eaten before leaving for work. The woman who had once cancelled an overseas trip because Madigan had caught the flu. She wasn't distant. If anything, she was careful.
Which made this harder.
"Eomma."
Yoo Ri paused.
"...Are they in danger?"
The room became still. Yoo Ri didn't answer immediately. She turned toward the windows, her gaze resting on the dark ribbon of the Han below. When she finally spoke, the answer came quickly.
"No."
Too quickly.
Madigan noticed. So did Yoo Ri.
For the first time that evening, something almost imperceptible crossed her face.
It wasn't fear or regret, but the weight of a thought she wasn't ready to share.
"If I make a move," she said quietly, "there will be a reason."
"What reason?"
"I can't tell you yet."
"You keep saying that."
"I know."
Madigan looked down for a moment before lifting her eyes again.
"You sound like the villain in every drama."
Yoo Ri let out the smallest laugh.
"I've seen enough dramas to know that's not a compliment."
"It wasn't."
Another silence settled between them. This one wasn't uncomfortable. It was familiar.
Yoo Ri crossed the remaining distance and reached up to smooth a loose strand of hair behind Madigan's ear. She'd been doing that since Madigan was little. Some habits ignored age.
"I'm not the villain."
Madigan met her eyes.
"I know."
"And I'm not your enemy."
"I know that too."
Yoo Ri studied her daughter for a long moment.
"You care about those boys."
Madigan blinked rapidly.
"I'm a.. big fan of them. Yes.., that's why."
Even Madigan didn't believe herself, she only hoped her mother would believe her.
"I can see that."
"They've worked hard."
"I know."
"They deserve better than people treating them like investments."
Yoo Ri's expression softened, almost too subtly to notice.
"I agree."
Madigan blinked.
"...You do?"
"I've never believed people should be treated that way."
"Then why—"
"When the time comes," Yoo Ri interrupted gently, "you'll understand."
She picked up her clutch from the console by the door. Before stepping into the hallway, she looked back once.
"Be wise."
The doors opened and Yoon Ri stepped without looking back. Madigan watched her mother step inside.
The doors slid shut.
For a while, she remained where she was, looking at her own reflection in the glass.
Be wise.
It was the same thing Yoo Ri always said before making a decision she couldn't explain.
Madigan picked up her phone again. The paused fancam was still waiting. Hae Jin smiled at thousands of people who believed they knew him.
She pressed play.
Outside, the lights of Seoul shimmered across the river. Far above the city, a private jet continued its descent toward home.
None of the people awake that night knew how closely their paths had already begun to draw together.