This position had been arranged the moment Seo-in graduated from university — a placement designed to launch him into the marriage market. It was one measure put in place to find him a suitably matched partner and avoid an undesirable marriage.
Min A-ran had persuaded his father to create a respectable-sounding title for Seo-in. Even the team members within the division hadn’t been assembled by Seo-in’s own choosing.
It was even a position that would disappear the moment he married Kwon Gi-jeong.
Kwon Gi-jeong hadn’t wanted Seo-in engaging in external activities, and Min A-ran naturally didn’t want Seo-in outshining Beom-yeong either.
The one who was to carry on after their father was, of course, Park Beom-yeong. And Seo-in had accepted that as a matter of course. He had never once entertained a rebellious thought about it. That was Park Beom-yeong’s place — and because he was an older brother bound to him by blood, it was only right that it belonged to him.
Seo-in took his seat. This position was nothing more than decorative wrapping paper draped around him until he was ready to be married off.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
Kim Dong-un turned with a rigid expression and walked out. Jang Yu-hwan, who had been wearing a bright face until moments ago, faltered as though treading carefully. Watching him, Seo-in said quietly:
“Kim Dong-un won’t be coming back. He lacked the aptitude for this role, so I’ve transferred him to another department.”
Kim Dong-un was someone with an ambition to succeed that ran stronger than most. A person like that could never be satisfied merely assisting Seo-in. He would have figured out, more shrewdly than anyone, that Seo-in’s position was a mirage that could vanish at any moment.
He was the one who had been reporting Seo-in’s every minor action to Park Beom-yeong. He’d made it a habit to seek out Secretary Kim Woo-seok — Beom-yeong’s secretary — multiple times a day, as though perpetually seeking to leave an impression. He was using Seo-in as a bridge to reach Beom-yeong. That made him of no use to what lay ahead.
“……”
Jang Yu-hwan opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it again. Seo-in continued:
“You’re the only one left now. Things are going to get busier from here — if that’s too much, say so now. I don’t have time to waste; I’ll need to bring someone new in.”
Jang Yu-hwan swallowed dryly. Something about Seo-in’s manner felt slightly different from before. Up until now, he had always spoken gently and looked after those around him with warmth. But today there was an undercurrent of urgency, edged with something unmistakably resolute.
“I’ll manage.”
“Is that so?”
Seo-in looked up quietly at Jang Yu-hwan before him. The man drew a little closer.
It was a position without real substance — and yet it wasn’t as though Seo-in had spent his time here doing nothing. He too had willingly borne sacrifice for his father and his brother, for the sake of both of them. But no one had ever acknowledged it, and Seo-in had never sought acknowledgment.
Not once.
He had never harbored those kinds of feelings in his chest. Seo-in had simply been chasing a blind, desperate hunger for love.
“……It should be somewhere around here.”
Seo-in pulled out the documents wedged into the shelf. He took a portion of the meticulously organized materials — sorted by date — and handed them to Jang Yu-hwan.
Then he opened a drawer and began going through the papers inside.
Jang Yu-hwan spread what he had received across the large table.
“Are you referring to the investment list we narrowed down ourselves, sir?”
“That’s right.”
Seo-in answered while still flipping through the papers he’d pulled from the desk drawer. Then he turned to look at the report open on his monitor.
Unlike what Min A-ran had wanted — for Seo-in to idle away his time here and then get married — Seo-in had tried harder to be of help to his father and brother. He had identified promising investment opportunities and submitted them as formal reports. In his own way, he had wanted to prove he was capable of something.
— Seo-in, maybe it’s because you’re still young. This isn’t the kind of place worth investing in.
Every single time, Beom-yeong would scoff and dismiss Seo-in’s reports out of hand. Perhaps it was because Kim Dong-un had already filled him in beforehand. He never listened properly. And their father’s response had been no different.
Then, whenever a problem arose with a project Beom-yeong had pushed forward, he would dump it all on Seo-in. Seo-in would roll up his sleeves and step in, telling himself it was all for the good of the family.
It wasn’t even something that required deliberation. He had followed his mother’s words — that the household could only stabilize if Beom-yeong’s standing was made solid. But every failure that resulted from any of it became something Seo-in had caused, while every success became proof of Beom-yeong’s own ability and competence.
Buzz——
Seo-in shifted his gaze to the sound of vibration. A familiar number lit up on the face of his phone, resting atop the pile of papers scattered across the desk.
Secretary Lee Dae-hyeon.
Kwon Gi-jeong’s man.
Seo-in hesitated for a brief moment, then put the phone to his ear.
[This is Lee Dae-hyeon, from yesterday. I was hoping to arrange a visit this afternoon, if that works for you.]
“Today?”
[Yes. If that’s inconvenient, please let me know a date that suits you and I’ll come then instead.]
The time remaining before the wedding was pressing, no doubt. In the past, Seo-in hadn’t even been able to guess why Kwon Gi-jeong was in such a hurry — but he knew now, didn’t he. It would be for his mother, Go Eun-ju, who was ill.
“Where should we meet?”
Seo-in gave a slight nod, as though working out the timing in his head. It wasn’t hard to guess the purpose of the call. There was no reason Secretary Lee would be contacting him over anything other than the matter of marrying Kwon Gi-jeong.
Moments like this always made Seo-in wonder whether he was marrying Kwon Gi-jeong or Secretary Lee Dae-hyeon……
Seo-in reached into his inner pocket and took out the ring. A new one would be made to fit properly, and he would need to confirm the tuxedo he’d be wearing at the wedding.
Kwon Gi-jeong’s would already be decided — so Seo-in’s would differ from it by little more than color while following much the same design. They would take his measurements, and beyond that it was a comparatively straightforward matter of looking things over with his own eyes.
Seo-in had virtually no say in any of it. His opinion wasn’t needed.
There probably won’t be a reason to meet Gi-jeong for a while.
Seo-in’s eyes, which had gone quiet all of a sudden, widened.
No — there would be.
There was something Kwon Gi-jeong still needed from him. So he would be coming to see Seo-in.
Either way, Seo-in had only one thing to focus on — getting out of this household, with everything he had.
Seo-in turned his gaze back to the monitor once more, deep in thought. He had looked into a range of investment opportunities as part of his work for his brother.
The projects Park Beom-yeong tended to pursue were highly profitable in the short term, but carried equally high risks. He threw himself without hesitation into new city mixed-use development projects and massive reconstruction complex builds. Whenever Seo-in tried to persuade him that these weren’t safe, Beom-yeong would claim he already knew what he was doing and tell Seo-in to stop sticking his nose in — dismissing his concerns entirely.
Seo-in had tried instead to look for investment opportunities that were more stable and sound from a long-term perspective. But most of those had been rejected outright at Beom-yeong’s level and never accepted.
“It should definitely be somewhere around here……”
Jang Yu-hwan muttered as he flipped through the reports spread before him. Without meaning to, Seo-in’s gaze drifted over and settled on him. He reached back into his memory — things he had seen in the time that had already passed.
“Not this one either.”
Jang Yu-hwan was talking to himself, and Seo-in was just about to slowly turn his head away——
“Found it!”
Seo-in rose from his seat. Moving even faster, Jang Yu-hwan came back holding the report.
“Is this the one, sir?”
Thwap.
The report was laid open on the desk in front of Seo-in.
[Life Sciences: Future Value Investment Report]
Seo-in flipped to the back pages. What he was looking for wasn’t the report itself — it was a person whose name appeared within it. Time had blurred the memory of when he had put this together, but back then, Seo-in had added a note on someone he believed could be proven worth investing in, as part of his effort to persuade his father.
Seo-in’s hand stilled on a page. He studied the man in the photograph for a long, quiet moment.
“You found the right one. Good work.”
