On Monday at lunchtime, Chairman Yoon Taeyoung of Samho Group sat alone in a serene private dining room inside a traditional Korean Hanok—a wooden, tile-roofed house designed for quiet, minimalist living.
As the head of a major conglomerate, he was a man constantly pressed for time—especially on Mondays. Just last week, he had squeezed an executives' meeting into a new-employee orientation lunch.
So the fact that he was waiting for someone at this hour was something no one in the company could have imagined.
Beyond the wide glass window of the room stretched a beautifully manicured garden—an artisan-made pond, maples turning deep red, and autumn flowers swaying lightly in the breeze.
But Taeyoung didn't spare the scenery a glance. His eyes rested instead on the cup of green tea in front of him.
Steam rose from the cup like a faint mirage.
"Where's the vice chairman who lectures you every day? Why are you always alone?"
Dongha's voice from last Saturday echoed in his mind. That comment had irritated him more than he cared to admit—and it was why he'd finally reached out to Vice Chairman Lee Sunjoon yesterday.
The man, gruff and curt as always, had agreed to meet without hesitation. And so here Taeyoung was—waiting.
"All this because of one offhand remark from Dongha? Really?"
It was ridiculous. Taeyoung let out a dry laugh.
A meal they had postponed for two years had been scheduled within two days of Dongha saying that.
"Your guest is entering," a kneeling attendant announced, sliding open the door.
A man in his mid-sixties, surprisingly solidly built, stepped inside—sharp eyes, a strong nose, a classic suit and tie. Vice Chairman Lee Sunjoon looked every bit the seasoned salesman he had been for forty years.
Though officially on leave, he dressed like a man still running the company.
When their eyes met, Taeyoung immediately rose and bowed.
"Good afternoon, Vice Chairman."
"Well, well. Chairman Yoon. And how is my dear nephew?"
A faint sneer curled Sunjoon's lips. He spoke with the familiar acidic tone of Taeyoung's maternal relatives.
He was Taeyoung's mother Lee Seon-ok's youngest brother—someone who embodied every sharp edge of the maternal bloodline.
Seeing him always reminded Taeyoung of his mother's most prickly traits.
As the long-time "attack dog" of Taeyoung's father, the late Chairman Yoon Jaesang, Sunjoon had been the man sent into every corporate battle—persistent, ruthless, unyielding.
It was exhausting even to imagine—but Sunjoon thrived on that kind of work.
And now that he was away from the company, that aggressive energy had turned toward Taeyoung.
"Yes, Uncle. I believe the last time we met was at my mother's memorial service two years ago."
"Hmph."
They sat. Soon the attendants brought in an impeccably arranged lunch table.Once the door closed, Sunjoon tilted his head and launched the first strike.
"So. Still no news about a child?"
Taeyoung's brows drew together sharply. A jab at his infertility was also an insult to his wife, Jung Jihee.
Sunjoon continued mercilessly:
"Are you at least getting treatment? A chairman should have an heir! How long are you going to dote on some kid with no proper lineage? I told your father and sister a thousand times—don't bring a mixed-blood brat into the house!"
Mixed-blood.
Taeyoung clenched his teeth.
And referring to his late father as "Chairman" instead of acknowledging Taeyoung's current position made his eye twitch.
"That boy entered the company as an intern this year, didn't he? Why on earth would you let him inside Samho Group?"
"Impressive, Uncle. Still have an information network?"
The sarcasm slipped out before he could stop it.
"Well, someone has to keep that secret under control. What will you do if people find out that a mixed-blood orphan is part of the Samho bloodline?"
Taeyoung stayed silent.
Because Sunjoon was right about one thing:When Dongha was registered, he had been falsely logged as a distant relative's child in order to receive the Yoon surname.
Sunjoon had overseen the entire process as his father's chief enforcer.
To him, Dongha—his sister's husband's illegitimate son—had always been nothing more than a stain.
And yet, Sunjoon's influence within Samho was undeniably strong. For forty years, he had been the late chairman's right hand—relentless, efficient, brilliant.
Part of Taeyoung wished he had a "right hand" like that.
But not at the cost of bending to his uncle's demands.
If only Dongha could take such a role in five or ten years…
"Dongha has a good head for the job," Taeyoung finally said. "After just one week as an intern, he's already asking why the Vice Chairman isn't at work."
"Oh?"
Sunjoon's expression loosened.
Dongha had unwittingly acted as a bridge between uncle and nephew.
Seizing the moment, Taeyoung asked the question he had avoided for years:
"After two years of leave, do you intend to return? Or retire permanently?"
Sunjoon's gaze sharpened.
"If I return, will you accept the proposal I made before?"
"No. Absolutely not."
The refusal was immediate.
Sunjoon's jaw tightened.
"He is your maternal grandfather. A titan of politics and business. Joining forces with him is your duty! You refuse that?"
"I refuse to grow Samho under my grandfather's shadow."
Sunjoon's face twisted.
"Samho could never have grown without him! Don't be naive."
"No," Taeyoung said coldly. "Samho grew because our employees sacrificed and worked for it. Not because of my grandfather."
"You arrogant fool! You know nothing! How will you run a company like that?"
"I'm already running it, sir."
The air froze.
Sunjoon shot to his feet.
"Until you meet your grandfather in person, I will not return."
He slammed the door as he left.
A sharp wind seemed to slice through the room.
Taeyoung stared at his now-cold cup of tea, expression blank.
*
Afternoon, 3 PM — Samho Apparel Headquarters
Dongha sat in a conference room, waiting for Deputy Manager Oh Myungjoo.
He stretched, and the plastic chair creaked under his weight. Working all day indoors made him restless.
He recalled the messages he had sent earlier:
[Hello, this is intern Yoon Dongha. May I request a meeting regarding the OB Toddler order review?]
It had been marked as read, but she hadn't replied.
He had sent another:
[This is per Executive Director Park Jinhee's instruction.]
That got an instant response.
Dongha smirked.
So classic style. Strong toward the weak, weak toward the strong.
[How about 5 PM?]
Five o'clock.
One hour before quitting time.
She clearly planned to brush him off quickly.
Dongha didn't answer her. Instead, he sent a message to Manager Moon from the System Operations Team.
[Manager Moon, our intern Han Yoojin is struggling because the system data doesn't match the order sheets.]
Moon replied in literally one second:
[What? The system?]
Dongha couldn't help laughing under his breath.
One person didn't answer at all, and the other replied too fast.
He ran a hand through his hair.
[Fabric specs, prices—nothing matches the data sent from Sales.]
[Impossible. I'll check immediately.]
Amazing.
Just the name Han Yoojin could move a whole department.
Thirty minutes later, Deputy Manager Oh finally replied—and scheduled the meeting for 3 PM.
And now Dongha waited, calm and composed.