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Chapter 24
With anxious steps, Chief Manager Byun trailed behind Jung Yoo-gun, his face etched with awkward discomfort.
Unlike Jung Yoon-jae, who was respected at home and abroad for his proven abilities, Yoo-gun had climbed to the rank of Executive Director largely thanks to the unseen hand of Kim So-hye—who had skillfully persuaded her husband.
And because Yoo-gun was the one child So-hye cherished more dearly than life itself, he was, in every sense, an extension of her.
“You do know that today is Executive Director Jung’s homecoming day, don’t you? After years abroad, if the welcome feels the least bit lacking, you’ll answer to me. Make sure the reception goes smoothly, report to me in real time. And remember—the secretary I handpicked will arrive soon. See that they’re properly trained.”
The early-morning text from Kim So-hye left Byun’s lips parched.
From his looks to his temper, Yoo-gun resembled his mother. Every word he uttered was law to Chief Manager Byun. He knew well that defying either mother or son could cost him his position, so he bowed, scraped, and sweated through every encounter.
“Executive Director!”
Byun rushed forward, blocking Yoo-gun’s path, sweat rolling down his forehead.
“The Chairman is waiting for you.”
“What do you think you’re doing right now?”
Yoo-gun closed the distance between them step by step. Startled, Byun instinctively retreated.
“How dare you stand in my way.”
“B-but—”
“Chief Manager Byun, I see you’ve even started sweating when you never used to. Your health must’ve declined.”
“N-no, sir. Just… the weather is warm today.”
“Then don’t make this hot day even more unbearable. Step aside.”
Leaning close, Yoo-gun whispered in his ear:
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten—I am not Kim So-hye.”
Byun flinched, his face paling, while Yoo-gun smirked and clapped his shoulder.
“The suddenness of your return made the Chairman turn his car around mid-meeting just to greet you,” Byun stammered, desperate.
But Yoo-gun paid him no mind, striding on with unbroken arrogance.
He halted in front of the Senior Managing Director’s office, his brows twitching upward.
Jung Yoon-jae.
The younger man who had taken the senior seat before him, the eternal thorn in his side.
From their childhood, Yoon-jae had always outperformed him—studies, sports, everything. The thought alone made Yoo-gun grind his teeth.
The label “illegitimate son” had clung to him for years, and while he fought to strip it away, all that remained was festering resentment and rage toward Yoon-jae.
Worst of all was the founder, Chairman Jung. Despite Yoo-gun sharing the same blood, the old man had only ever recognized Yoon-jae. Not once had he opened his heart or even a space beside him.
Just remembering it sent fire rushing from Yoo-gun’s toes to his chest.
“Sixteen years ago, at the seaside… I should have finished him off for good.”
The memory tightened his brow. For years he had endured, driven only by one thought—banishing Yoon-jae from Do-won Group forever. His sharp gaze carried a grim resolve.
He flung open the office door.
Startled, Secretary Kwon shot to his feet, and Chief Han quickly stepped forward to intercept.
“I thought you were due tomorrow, sir…”
“Am I not allowed here today?”
With one brow cocked, Yoo-gun fixed Han in his sights.
“It’s been a long time, Executive Director.”
“So it has.”
Han had once easily called Yoon-jae “Young Master,” but never extended the same courtesy to Yoo-gun. The slight still stung.
Chairman Jung, Chief Han, even old Lady Jeju—every one of them had stood loyally by Yoon-jae. The loyalty made Yoo-gun sick.
Han’s gaze lingered on Byun, who was sweating buckets behind him, radiating anxiety.
“Have you already seen the Chairman?” Han asked carefully.
“That’s none of your concern. And tell me, Chief Han—aren’t you about retirement age? Yet now you’re Chief of Staff to the Vice President. Impressive.”
So the boy hadn’t changed at all. The same mocking tone, the same disdain.
Han merely replied calmly: “Still, it’s good to witness your return firsthand. I trust you’ve been well?”
“Of course, or I wouldn’t be standing here.”
“If we had known you’d arrive today, we would have prepared a proper welcome.”
“What need is there? Formalities mean nothing when the sentiment isn’t genuine.”
As Yoo-gun strode toward Yoon-jae’s private office, Su-yeon cut him off.
“And you are?”
“Forgive me, sir, but until I’ve reported to the Senior Managing Director, I must ask you to wait.”
The room chilled under the heavy silence.
“So you’re apologizing… for insulting me?”
Amused, Yoo-gun chuckled darkly and closed the distance between them.
“You must not realize—we are not on speaking terms.”
“No matter how close the relationship, reporting comes first. That is my duty.”
The air grew colder still. Secretary Kwon jumped in:
“Just a moment, sir, if you would—”
But before he could finish, Yoo-gun shoved open the door to Yoon-jae’s inner office.
“Why is it so difficult just to meet once?”
Yoon-jae’s gaze was icy, his hand gripping a fountain pen so tightly that blue veins bulged across his skin.
“You’ve forced your way in. At the very least, show some manners.”
Yoo-gun flopped onto the sofa, brushing back his suit jacket.
“Manners? Between us? Don’t you think that’s a little funny?”
“What exactly is between us?”
“Must I spell it out?”
Yoon-jae ground his teeth, his eyes searing with the promise of violence.
“Blood. We share blood. What could be stronger than that?”
“You forgot the word that comes before it—‘half.’ Half-blood. Illegitimate.”
Yoo-gun laughed bitterly.
The tension crackled. Yoon-jae’s calm mask only reinforced his place as Do-won’s unshakable pillar. The fact that nothing had changed gnawed at Yoo-gun’s pride.
Su-yeon entered quietly, her voice low.
“My apologies, Senior Managing Director. I meant to inform you first, but he entered so suddenly—”
“A person should heed others’ words. From now on, no outsiders enter without my permission.”
The word outsider lodged in Su-yeon’s ears. Yoo-gun barked out a harsh laugh.
“Of course. I’ve always been the outsider, haven’t I? Cleaner that way—no need for pretense.”
Trying to break the tension, Su-yeon asked:
“What kind of tea may I bring you?”
Yoo-gun’s eyes swept her from head to toe, lips twisting into a sly smile. Yoon-jae’s brow twitched at the sight.
“So you’re Secretary Chae? Have we met before?”
His gaze clung to her face.
“Strangely… you look awfully familiar.”
Su-yeon’s brows knit under his scrutiny. Yoo-gun’s eyes flicked to her name tag.
“Chae Ha-yoon…” he murmured.
“Shall I bring your tea?” she asked briskly.
“No tea. Just a glass of cold water.”
“Yes, sir.”
Even as she walked away, Yoo-gun’s eyes lingered on her back. Yoon-jae’s voice cut low, sharp as steel:
“You’ve barely arrived and already playing games.”
“Games?”
“Tricks like yours should be played on someone else.”
Yoo-gun chuckled, eyes still glinting.
“Funny. I could swear I’ve seen her before. Chae Ha-yoon… she stirs some memory.”
“Out of all the women you’ve used and discarded, you think she’s one of them? Don’t even dream of comparing her to that filth.”
Yoo-gun only smirked wider.
So. The man who never glanced at women, riled up over a mere secretary?
“Alright, I admit—women are many. But is this really worth such fury? Surely a brother, returned to Korea after years, matters more than some secretary.”
“Spare me the word ‘brother.’ And yes—the secretary matters more.”
Yoo-gun tilted his head, raising his hands in mock surrender. Silence as cold as ice seeped into the space between them.
