GHS | Chapter 1.1

Barely managing to pull himself up, Kang Seouk collapsed back down after just a few moments. He gritted his teeth and tried to stand again, but it was no use.

A cangue—a cangue, the kind of restraint used only for transporting criminals—was tightly fastened around Kang Seouk’s neck. And it was so massive and heavy, it might as well have been a door.

With his wrists and head locked into the three holes of the cangue, movement was impossible.

That’s when it happened.

“…!”

A loud thud, thud echoed as something—or someone—collided with an object. Where was it coming from? Was there someone nearby?

Kang Seouk’s gaze darted toward the unyielding door. At the same time, he braced himself to unleash his anger. It was second nature to him, a reflection of the life he’d lived.

The CEO of YoonKang Corporation. Kang Seouk. 45 years old.

Last night, at the reception hall, he’d shone brighter than anyone else.

He had a mountain of tasks to handle, calling meetings left and right, but now, he was trapped in some bizarre, unknown place.

“What the hell is this…!”

Unless you were a complete idiot, you’d realize someone had kidnapped you. But who would dare pull this off?

The problem was, the list of suspects wasn’t exactly short. Kang Seouk had made plenty of enemies in his line of work. Just recently, he’d pushed through a ruthless merger, and back when he was starting the business, he’d pulled some moves that bordered on fraud.

Still, to think he’d actually get kidnapped…

As Kang Seouk fumed, the sound of a metal door creaking open sliced through the air. The grating, ominous screeech pierced his eardrums.

Without thinking, he turned toward the sound, and his eyes widened in shock.

“You…”

There, standing a few steps above, was his son, Kang Yeonjae.

But relief didn’t come. You’d think seeing family in a place like this would mean they were here to save you, but that wasn’t the case. For one, Kang Yeonjae’s expression was eerily calm.

As he descended the steps, he flicked on the light in the dim room and smiled at Kang Seouk.

“It’s 7 a.m. now, so… you woke up a bit later than usual, huh?”

“…”

“Good morning, Father. Did you sleep well?”

It was the same voice Kang Seouk had heard hundreds, maybe thousands of times. Every morning, Kang Yeonjae greeted him like that, and Kang Seouk would brush it off without a second thought.

But this time was different.

What was this situation? And why was this guy acting like this?

“Should I have starved you for a day? You’re practically bursting with energy.”

Muttering in a slightly dazed tone, Kang Yeonjae glanced around. The walls were covered in scratches. Still, this place was soundproof enough that no noise would leak out, so it was probably fine.

“Ah.”

As Kang Yeonjae approached Kang Seouk, he paused. A thread or some lint was stuck to the edge of his navy vest. He brushed it off and checked his outfit.

Watching his son fuss over his appearance, Kang Seouk tried to move again.

Of course, the cangue, secured with a chain, kept him from getting anywhere near Kang Yeonjae.

“Damn it… argh!”

On top of that, the ankle cuff—were clamped around both ankles, nearly causing him to topple over. The only reason he didn’t was because Kang Yeonjae grabbed the cangue to steady him.

Helping Kang Seouk stand upright, he said,

“Careful, Father.”

“You… did you set this up?”

Kang Yeonjae thought to himself that his father’s lack of caution was just so him. Nodding calmly, he replied,

“Yup. You said you’d take a two-month vacation after wrapping up this deal, so I figured now was the perfect time. I can handle the backlog for you.”

“You—”

“Actually, I just came from pulling an all-nighter. Kinda tired, to be honest.”

A string of curses surged up Kang Seouk’s throat but got swallowed back down.

Was this kid insane? Was he seriously saying this with a straight face?

What kind of nonsense was this? But making a scene here wouldn’t help. Whatever his son’s motives were, he wouldn’t have gone through with something like a kidnapping half-heartedly.

Clamping his mouth shut, Kang Seouk glared at Kang Yeonjae.

“Still, work’s gotta get done on time… Can’t put it off, you know.”

Kang Yeonjae could practically see sparks flying from his father’s eyes. Kang Seouk was quick to read the situation, so he stopped talking, but he couldn’t do anything about the fire blazing in his gaze.

Watching from a few steps away, Kang Yeonjae let out a quiet chuckle. There wasn’t much else to express—no other emotion to show.

***

Kang Yeonjae.

The name used the characters for discipline and talent. He was a child born from a reckless mistake Kang Seouk made when his first rut hit at a very young age. Kang Seouk didn’t even know the child existed until the omega partner unexpectedly gave birth.

He only found out when the kid was seven years old. By then, the omega had already died in an accident, leaving behind a massive inheritance with no family to claim it.

At the time, Kang Seouk was just about to start his own company, and the one thing he desperately lacked was money. He was already fed up with investors who were sizing him up, trying to figure out how much they could squeeze out of him or what terms they could impose.

That inheritance was something he couldn’t let slip away. He couldn’t afford to let his ambitions and plans rot any longer. The timing was perfect.

A seven-year-old kid, his own flesh and blood—taking responsibility for him in exchange for a fortune wasn’t a bad deal at all. Kang Seouk took the boy in, claimed the inheritance, and Yeonjae became Kang Yeonjae.

He didn’t have the time or energy to fuss over the small details of parenting, so he hired a nanny and a private tutor to handle it. But he didn’t completely neglect Kang Yeonjae.

Kang Seouk paid attention to his son’s results. Since the kid was, in his eyes, a dishonorably acquired child, everything about him that was visible to the outside world had to be perfect.

So, he set high standards, and if Kang Yeonjae didn’t meet them—

“I’m… sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry, and you bring me grades like this?”

“Next time—”

“Next time? It’s because brats like you keep thinking ‘next time, next time’ that you never get anywhere!”

He didn’t hold back. Hands, feet, a belt, or sometimes whatever was lying around nearby.

By then, Kang Yeonjae’s very existence, forced into the household, had become an irritation. The result of a foolish mistake from his youth.

If he kicked the kid out, he’d probably come back later claiming paternity and causing trouble. For Kang Seouk, who was aiming for greater heights, a scandal like that would be a disaster.

Since he’d already put the kid on the family registry, he had to live with him—

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Father, ah, argh!”

Ugh, what a pain. Back then, Kang Yeonjae seemed dumber than other kids—at least in Kang Seouk’s eyes. But when he hit or yelled at him, the kid would shape up for a while.

Once he found an easy method, there was no need to look for another. And since it produced good results, violence became a tool for success. The last time he raised his hand was when Kang Yeonjae was sixteen.

After that, the kid started meeting his standards on his own. He didn’t even get on Kang Seouk’s nerves anymore.

Kang Yeonjae graduated early from a prestigious university, just as Kang Seouk had planned, and joined his company. He was made to assist with tasks, projecting the image of an obedient only son who followed his father’s orders to the outside world.

At home, their relationship was no different from that of a boss and a subordinate, but Kang Yeonjae always wore a smile. Even when he had to endure Kang Seouk’s occasional fits of irritation, he kept smiling.

“…The executive director is something else, isn’t he? Even if it’s his own father…”

“I didn’t even realize they were father and son at first. Treating his own kid like that? No one could call him a parachute hire. Who’d have thought he’d be that harsh even with his own family—”

Kang Seouk had overheard employees muttering something like that once. It was about Kang Yeonjae, who just kept smiling no matter what happened.

Of course, Kang Seouk didn’t care. It was only natural that Kang Yeonjae followed his orders. Besides, the kid owed his position to him.

Getting called “director” in your twenties—was that something anyone could achieve?

It was all because he was by Kang Seouk’s side.

If Kang Yeonjae didn’t want it, he could’ve gone off on his own or run away. But he didn’t. He just stayed by his side, wearing that polite, friendly smile for everyone to see.

Looking back, that smile was more like a way to show he was harmless. “Father, Father,” he’d call in that soft voice, always with that smile, and it made Kang Seouk think there wasn’t a trace of resentment in him. That smile…

“…!”

A sudden movement startled Kang Seouk, his eyes snapping wide open. His consciousness, which had been wandering through the past, jolted back to reality. His upper body lurched forward.

“Let go! What the hell are you doing, you bastard!”

“It’d be better if you came along quietly. You might get hurt.”

There was a handle-like grip at the end of the cangue. When Kang Yeonjae pulled it, Kang Seouk, with his wrists and ankles bound, had no choice but to be dragged along.

He started spewing every curse he could think of, but Kang Yeonjae didn’t even flinch. Then, the cangue got caught on something with a clunk.

Whatever he did, Kang Seouk’s body was bent at an angle, unable to move.

Struggling to free his hands from the two holes, Kang Seouk rubbed his skin raw, panting heavily before finally chewing his lip in frustration. It wasn’t budging.

Normally, if a wrist could fit through a hole, you could at least wiggle your hand in or out, but this thing was so tight there wasn’t even a sliver of space. No matter how much he shook his arms, his hands wouldn’t come free—only his arms ached.

“Uncomfortable, huh? I’ll grab something to support your stomach.”

With a cheerful voice, Kang Yeonjae brought over a cushion and a chair. Thanks to that, Kang Seouk’s body felt a bit more at ease, but then he realized—this position was like being bent over a guillotine waiting for execution.

His face went pale. The fact that his stomach was comfortably supported didn’t matter. What the hell was this kid planning?

He wanted to look up, but no matter how much he strained his eyes, he couldn’t see what was on the ceiling. All he could see was the suffocating gray wall in front of him.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re gonna regret this. Stop now while you still can.”

“Huh?”

“You think this is gonna end without consequences?”

“Hmm…”