TE 24

The moment of stunned hesitation was fleeting. Seo-ha hastily concealed the tablet beneath her pillow once more before inquiring about the identity of the person knocking at her door.

Her father never ventured to the second floor, so at this hour, the only likely visitor was the housekeeper. Yet, strangely, no response came. Reluctantly overcoming her laziness, Seo-ha descended from her bed. She paused briefly before the mirror to tidy her disheveled hair, then opened the door.

To her astonishment, she found herself face-to-face with an entirely unexpected individual.

“Seo-chan…?” she stammered.

“…Noona,” came the soft reply.

There stood Seo- chan, clutching something in his hands, his posture awkward as he gazed up at her.

Despite the incident being a mere two days old, the atmosphere between them felt as tense as if they were meeting for the first time after a long war. A more mature adult might have warmly welcomed Seo-chan despite his apparent discomfort, but Seoha found herself equally ill at ease, as if she were a child of the same height.

She felt upset, disappointed, and yet, unable to harbor any true resentment.

The challenge lay in knowing how to approach him.

In this regard, despite his younger age, perhaps Seo-chan possessed a wisdom beyond his years.

“This…” he began hesitantly.

“What’s that?” Seo-ha inquired.

“I… I made it at school…”

It was evident that this small mind had wrestled greatly with his thoughts, striving to fabricate a reason to approach her first. This alone demonstrated a maturity far surpassing her own, despite her physical growth.

“We… we were told to draw the person we like most in our family…”

“…”

“I drew you, Noona.”

The once pristine sheet was now adorned with a full-sized depiction of Seoha. The cartoon-like rendering featured a comically oversized head disproportionate to the body, but the meticulously drawn star-shaped eyes betrayed the care invested in its creation.

While she had been upset…consumed by her emotions.

It was her younger brother who reached out first. Seoha felt a mixture of embarrassment and shame, but these emotions were overshadowed by a greater stirring in her heart.

How should she respond? How would others – normal people – react in such a situation? The words to express the emotions welling up inside her seemed more elusive than if she were addressing her fellow drug manufacturers.

As Seoha’s lips quivered, her gaze alternating between the drawing and Seochan, the boy spoke again.

“I… I need to do my homework now…”

“Oh…?”

“I’m… I’m going!”

Before Seoha could utter another word, Seochan retreated at a pace that was neither quite a run nor a walk.

It seemed his courage had finally wavered. In contrast, Seoha, who had failed to muster as much bravery as her brother, found herself staring at Seochan’s closed bedroom door. Only then did she voice the words she should have spoken earlier.

“…Thank you.”

Seoha gazed intently at the self-portrait her younger sibling had drawn, her fingers tracing the vivid texture of colored pencil strokes. The image depicted her in a white dress with wavy black hair cascading down.

“My face isn’t this big,” she muttered, a mix of amusement and mock indignation in her voice.

As her eyes wandered over the drawing, she noticed the background. Though mostly shaded in black, making it difficult to discern the location, a lone desk stood out. Atop it sat a curious bowl filled with what appeared to be white grains.

“Is that supposed to be a dining table?” she wondered.

It made sense, she mused. After all, mealtimes were often the only occasions when she and Seochan crossed paths, despite being family. The dining table as a backdrop was a poignant choice.

“It’s adorable, really,” Seoha thought, unable to tear her gaze away from the endearing artwork.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated loudly on the bed, shattering her reverie. The spacious room meant a considerable distance between the bed and the door, so Seoha hurried over with quick, light steps. Before she could even grasp the device, the name on the screen sent a thrill through her already fluttering heart – so intense she felt she might claw at her chest.

It was Ki Tae-beom, whose number she had formally exchanged and saved just the night before.

In an instant, her mundane morning transformed into the promising start of an exhilarating day.

Of the only two people in the world, she truly cared for, the one who had extended a hand of reconciliation and the other now reached out through a call.

Seoha realized that happiness often springs from such seemingly insignificant moments.

***

The opulent lounge of Empire Hotel, a testament to luxury and sophistication, boasted walls adorned with masterpieces depicting Greek mythology. These weren’t mere reproductions; they were authentic artworks, acquired at ridiculous prices from prestigious auctions, now serving as lavish décor. 

Moon Seok-ho, a man whose religious knowledge extended no further than Christianity, found himself surrounded by these enigmatic paintings. Though he possessed a vague understanding of their significance, the identities of the gods and the stories they portrayed remained a mystery to him. Not that it mattered, he thought dismissively.

He took a sip of the pre-arranged wine, a product of one of Empire’s subsidiaries, and grimaced. The refined taste was lost on his more traditional palate. “Arrogant bastard,” he muttered under his breath, his anger simmering with each passing moment.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had gone to great lengths to discover Kwon Joo-hyuk’s preferences, even reserving a table at an exclusive fine dining restaurant. Yet, the young man had the audacity to decline, insisting on meeting in the hotel lounge instead, citing a distaste for face-to-face meals.

For Moon Seok-ho, a man accustomed to reigning supreme in both his household and church, such insolence from someone young enough to be his son was infuriating. However, he knew when to swallow his pride. It was this very ability that had allowed him to survive in this cutthroat world.

The pre-arranged Empire wine was just another attempt to curry favor with the young upstart. But as the minutes ticked by – 37 minutes past the agreed time, to be precise – Moon Seok-ho’s patience wore thin.

Just as he was about to lose his composure, the sound of approaching footsteps broke his concentration. Opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with the long-awaited young man.

Silence hung in the air. Typically, one would offer an apology for such tardiness, but this young man seemed content to wait, legs crossed, for Moon Seok-ho to initiate the conversation. The casual disregard only amplified the sense of humiliation.

“Ha ha, it seems the traffic was quite heavy,”

Moon Seok-ho finally offered, providing an excuse for Kwon Joo-hyuk.

“No, I overslept.”

Pastor Moon barely suppressed a curse at the response, carefully scrutinizing Kwon Joo-hyuk.

Dressed in a three-piece gray suit with his forehead exposed by pomade, Kwon Joo-hyuk exuded the unique aura of a born businessman—younger than Pastor Moon, but not to be underestimated. He seemed static, meticulous, calculating—a true numbers man.

Behind him…

Pastor Moon almost missed her, standing silently like a shadow. A woman in a black casual suit stood motionless behind the sofa, holding a black leather briefcase.

She was quite pretty.

For Pastor Moon, beautiful women only brought one thing to mind.

Is this Kwon Joo-hyuk’s type? She could be quite innocent-looking if dressed up…

But someone of Kwon’s caliber could easily afford to sponsor celebrities…

As Pastor Moon’s gaze intensified, scrutinizing Secretary Song, Kwon Joo-hyuk’s low voice cut through the silence.

“Be careful,” he warned. “Our Secretary Song has quite the temperament.”

“…”

“You might get bitten if you’re not cautious.”

The real ‘dog’ wasn’t the woman, but Kwon Joo-hyuk himself.

Despite his smiling lips, his eyes seemed to gleam a venomous yellow, like a feral canine—heavy and fierce, as if ready to tear into Pastor Moon at any moment.

Who knew he actually cared for his employee?

Pastor Moon rose first, trying to hide the cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

“Let’s have a drink first.”

Without assistance from his staff, Pastor Moon personally uncorked the wine bottle and poured the red liquid into Kwon’s glass, his posture subservient to anyone watching. As the crimson stream descended into the clear glass, Kwon Joo-hyuk observed silently before raising his hand to summon an employee.

“The Macallan, 30 years old.”

The hotel employee, instantly recognizing the owner, hurried off to fetch the requested whiskey.

Meanwhile, Pastor Moon remained frozen, still clutching the wine bottle.

Deliberately ignoring Pastor Moon’s gesture of goodwill with the wine, Kwon Joo-hyuk brazenly ordered whiskey. With a feigned expression of regret, he stated:

“I’m afraid I’ve grown rather tired of wine.”

Pastor Moon struggled to swallow the words crawling up his throat like insects, desperate to spill from his lips.

You impudent, golden-spooned brat…

Of course, he dared not utter such insults in front of Kwon Joo-hyuk. The consequences would be unthinkable.