Chapter 5 …

The Regressor Pierces the Heart of the Moon!

“What did you just say? Grandpa?”

Mom looked at me in confusion.

“Ah… N-No, it’s nothing.”

“Huh? Taewoong, did you finish your military service or something? Why are you suddenly ending your sentences like that?”

“The seniors in my club are really strict.”

I smoothly changed the subject.

In our family, the word “grandfather” was forbidden.

To the rest of the world, he was Chairman Ha—the kindly old man everyone compared to the smiling Hahoe mask.

But I knew who he really was.

I remembered.

I was still a child.

Not even in elementary school yet.

When we heard that my grandmother was critically ill, my parents took me to my grandfather’s mansion.

Back then, I was excited.

I’d only ever heard about grandfathers and grandmothers through my friends.

Until then, they had always sounded like someone else’s family.

The idea that I actually had grandparents fascinated me.

And that wasn’t all.

Unlike the other kids, I had several uncles and even an aunt.

Only after I grew up did I understand why.

My father had spent his life traveling all over Korea as a salesman for a small company.

He was also my university’s direct senior.

Back then, graduates of Yeonguk University’s Business Administration Department had little trouble getting jobs at major corporations.

On top of that…

He was the youngest son of Chairman Ha Ryun, head of the Ha Ryun Group.

Yet my father worked for a small company.

The reason was simple.

He married my mother against his family’s wishes.

As a result, every privilege he had enjoyed as a member of the conglomerate family was stripped away.

My mother, whom he had chosen over everything else, had lost both of her parents at a young age and had lived virtually as an orphan.

The two of them met by chance on a beach in Sokcho.

They fell deeply in love.

It was first love—the most beautiful emotion a human being could experience.

That was where the tragedy began.

My father had already been promised in marriage during his university years.

That was simply the duty expected of someone born into a chaebol bloodline.

As the youngest of four sons and two daughters, he had been arranged to marry the daughter of one of Korea’s three largest newspaper families.

Even so…

He chose love.

The Ha family reacted by threatening to kill him.

Ridiculous as it sounded, they meant it.

But my father never wavered.

He chose my mother.

Naturally, my grandfather cast him out of the family without hesitation.

To build the empire he dreamed of, every child had to serve as a stepping stone.

Anyone who refused was discarded without mercy.

His siblings, knowing their own inheritance would increase, welcomed the decision.

My father never regretted it.

He believed his love for my mother was enough to overcome the prejudice of the world.

When I think back on my childhood…

Our family was happy.

My parents looked at each other with nothing but love in their eyes.

And there was me—their only son.

We made countless memories together.

Whenever Dad had a day off and the weather was nice, we’d go to the Han River.

The three of us rented bicycles and shared fried chicken.

When it rained, we’d stay home and enjoy Mom’s delicious pancakes.

Pumpkin.

Chives.

Sweet potato.

Cabbage.

She could turn ordinary ingredients into unforgettable meals.

Even now, just thinking about them made my mouth water.

The ingredients were cheap, but the fillings changed with every season.

We never had expensive wine.

Yet my parents were perfectly content sharing a single bottle of makgeolli together.

Sheltered by their love…

I grew up without a care in the world.

If only…

If only that nightmare hadn’t happened.

It was raining that day.

A steady, miserable rain.

The three of us drove to Seongbuk-dong in my father’s tiny company car.

The neighborhood was packed with enormous mansions.

My heart pounded.

I couldn’t believe I had a grandfather who lived somewhere like this.

After getting out of the car, both of my parents looked visibly nervous.

I can still picture them today.

Mom’s small hand trembled with anxiety.

I held it tightly.

The warmth of her palm carried an unmistakable trembling.

Back then…

I didn’t understand.

She was genuinely terrified.

Dad rang the doorbell.

No answer.

He rang it again.

And again.

After a long while, two large men opened the gate.

They were security guards.

“The Chairman says to leave.”

Dad pleaded.

“Please… just let me see Mother once.”

That was the first time I ever saw my father cry.

The guards stood firm.

“There are no exceptions.”

A struggle broke out.

Dad tried to force his way inside.

The guards restrained him.

At the top of his lungs, he shouted,

“Mother! Mother!!”

Tears and rain streamed down his face as he desperately fought to get through the gate.

The tall iron gate stood unmoving.

Mom desperately tried to stop the guards from hurting him.

As the struggle dragged on, even our umbrellas were knocked away.

Soon…

All three of us were soaked like drowned rats.

Then, as if by magic…

The gate opened.

An elderly man with a gentle-looking face stepped outside.

“Father…”

Dad’s voice trembled.

He looked like the smiling mask from a folk tale.

Golden buttons decorated the traditional jacket he wore.

Silence fell.

Only for a moment…

Yet it felt endless.

The oppressive aura surrounding him terrified me.

I couldn’t breathe.

Hiding behind Mom, I peeked at him.

His lips were tightly pressed together.

He looked stubborn.

Cruel.

His eyes were those of a tiger—utterly devoid of warmth.

That was my very first impression of my grandfather.

Even now…

I remember it vividly.

He didn’t look at my parents the way parents should look at their children.

His gaze was cold.

Hostile.

Like he was staring at enemies.

For a brief moment…

Our eyes met.

There wasn’t a trace of emotion in his.

Not even the slightest warmth reserved for family.