BS 1

Seonju is dead.

Upon hearing the news, her younger sister arrived and broke into uncontrollable sobs. It made one wonder if they had truly been as distant as they seemed—only seeing each other once a year on their father’s death anniversary.

Hyejun, watching the scene in a daze, suddenly felt dampness on her face. She wiped the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand, again and again, only to find traces of moisture each time.

A name surfaced in her mind.

She headed to the archery hall where Seonju had lived. From beneath the television stand in Seonju’s room, tucked away in a corner, she retrieved a hidden notebook.

“I’m sure it was written here…”

With trembling fingers, she flipped through the pages.

And then, she found it—eleven digits.

The seconds it took to input the number into her phone felt unbearably long.

―This is Cha Jeongun.

The coldness in his voice startled her into silence. After a brief pause, the man spoke again.

―Hello?

His voice was different—no longer the youthful tone from that long-ago day, a memory he had likely erased.

And yet… it was also different from the voice Seonju had longed for in her dreams, the one she had etched into the pages of her notebook in heartbreaking detail. That voice had been… warmer.

After a moment of hesitation, she carefully spoke.

“Hello. My name is Yoo Hyejun.”

―Who is this?

“You know Kang Seonju, don’t you?”

A long silence followed.

Tense, Hyejun held her breath, straining to catch even the subtlest reaction from the other end. At last, a heavy sigh escaped through the phone.

She debated whether to wait longer, but in the end, she spoke first.

“Kang Seonju passed away this morning.”

Another deep silence.

Just as Hyejun began to wonder if the call had been disconnected, the man’s voice returned—cold and detached.

―If you have nothing more to say, I’m hanging up.

“Wait!”

Panic surged through her. She couldn’t let the conversation end like this.

“I’ll send you the address of the funeral home. Please… come.”

Even her pleading tone did nothing to sway him. The call ended without hesitation.

It was expected, and yet, she couldn’t quell the ache in her chest.

He won’t come, will he?

On the second day of the funeral, Hyejun muttered to herself, thinking of the man who had yet to show any sign of coming.

She told herself she had to respect his decision. If she considered his feelings, even contacting him might have been too much.

But as the time for the encoffining ceremony drew near, her anxiety became unbearable.

She hadn’t wanted him to forgive Seonju.

She only wanted him to be there for her one last time.

So she sent another message.

Kang Seonju missed you. So much. More than anything.

Hours later, the funeral director informed her that they could delay no longer.

As Hyejun rose from her seat in the mourning hall and stepped outside, she bent down to put on her shoes—only for a sudden wave of dizziness to wash over her. Clenching her eyes shut, she pressed a hand against her forehead.

“Yoo Hyejun?”

A deep, weighty voice rang out, tinged with reluctance.

Something about it struck her at her core.

Taking a shaky breath, she slowly opened her eyes, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept a wink.

Beneath the lingering resentment in his expression, a profound sorrow lay hidden.

Once, he had been a boy who clenched his teeth to suppress his grief.

Now, he stood before her, no longer a child but a man—staring at her in stunned silence.

 

* * *

 

One month later.

At the Samsung-dong family home of Chairman Cha Seonghyeon of Jaehan Construction, the family had gathered for dinner for the first time in a long while.

As he reached for a neatly sliced piece of marinated abalone, Chairman Cha paused and turned his sharp gaze toward Jeongun.

“How is the bidding preparation going?”

His piercing eyes seemed to stab at Jeongun’s indifferent profile. Having barely managed to eat half a bowl of rice due to his lack of appetite, Jeongun set down his chopsticks and took a sip of water before responding.

“Everything is being prepared without issue.”

Jaehan Construction had completed a 1-trillion-won tunnel construction project in Indonesia last year, a contract they had won through a previous bid. Now, as plans for additional construction were being announced, Jaehan had been selected as the preferred negotiating partner. However, there was no room for complacency.

“Are you sure?”

Jeongun met the calculating gaze aimed at him with an air of indifference as he answered.

“Our intelligence team is closely monitoring the local situation. Fortunately, the government responded swiftly after the incident, and things have settled down for now. But we believe it’s still too early to let our guard down, so we’re proceeding with extra caution.”

Despite Jaehan Construction’s previous success with the project, Chairman Cha’s concern was not unfounded. A few months prior, a visiting minister had caused a diplomatic stir during a dinner in Indonesia by getting heavily intoxicated and making a reckless scene.

The tense relations between the two countries had only recently begun to stabilize. Even a minor mistake could reignite tensions, making vigilance imperative.

Chairman Cha let out a quiet sigh.

“Make sure there are no mistakes.”
“Understood.”

After answering calmly, Jeongun absentmindedly shifted his gaze—only to catch sight of Jinwook, who was shooting him a sharp glare.

Narrow, slanted eyes with pointed corners, a blunt nose, thin lips with faint contours—Jinwook was the spitting image of his biological mother, Oh Yeong.

He and Jeongun were half-brothers.

The legitimate heir of a prestigious family and the illegitimate son of a concubine.

There was no chance their relationship could be good.

“The JX-1 mid-term presentation is next week, isn’t it?”

Chairman Cha brought up the substructure development project that Jinwook was overseeing. The cunning glint in Jinwook’s eyes softened as he turned his attention away from glaring at Jeongun.

“Yes, Father.”

“I heard prototype production is about to begin?”

“That’s correct.”

“It’s been delayed too long. Investors keep whining about returns. If you don’t want to give them more reasons to complain, you’d better wrap it up as soon as possible.”

“Understood.”

Despite his firm response, Jinwook’s expression remained far from pleased. Jeongun, knowing exactly why, narrowed his eyes slightly.

After finishing his meal, Jeongun stopped by the restroom to wash his hands. On his way out, he caught sight of Oh Yeong berating one of the house staff.

“Mrs. Sung! What’s wrong with the seasoning today? How many times have I told you to keep the vegetables lightly salted? Are you ignoring me? What, do you want me to have high blood pressure and drop dead?”

Complaining after eating her fill was her specialty. It was no surprise—throwing tantrums at anyone within reach had long been part of her daily routine.

As he made his way toward the study to bid Chairman Cha farewell, a staff member approached him.

“The chairman is in the orchid room.”

Turning back, he stepped out of the main house.

The orchid room was located to the left of the path leading to the annex. Collecting and tending to orchids was Chairman Cha’s only hobby, and he spent more time there than anywhere else in the house.

Not long after, while walking at an unhurried pace, Jeongun heard Jinwook’s irritated voice. He turned his head slightly and spotted Jinwook a short distance away, talking on the phone while rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

Jeongun stood there for a moment, watching him with an unimpressed gaze, before resuming his steps.

He entered the orchid room, pushing open the glass door. The space was lined with wooden orchid stands arranged in a U-shape, each holding dozens of orchids that looked similar yet distinct. The air inside was slightly cool but pleasant.

Chairman Cha stood in the center, carefully cradling the leaves of a wind orchid in his hands.

“Father.”

“You handle the rest.”

Noticing Jeongun’s arrival, Chairman Cha gave instructions to a nearby staff member before stepping out of the room.

Following him out, Jeongun glanced back on a sudden impulse—Jinwook had disappeared.

“Your mother.”

It had been over a month since Seonju’s funeral. This was the first time since Jeongun had moved into the main house at the age of eight that Chairman Cha had spoken of her.

“I had her placed at a temple near the archery range.”

“Hmm.”

A heavy sigh followed, and then an unexpected question.

“I heard she was raising a girl?”

Jeongun nodded, knowing he was referring to Yoo Hyejun.

“Yes.”

The image of Hyejun came to mind as if she were standing right before him.

Small shoulders that seemed like they’d still fit snugly under one arm, a nape pale as freshly fallen winter snow, and a single dark mole resting on her skin like an ink stain. More than her name, those details remained vividly etched in his memory.

He thought he had erased everything after the funeral. But the image lingered, lodged in his mind like a nail—an omen of what was to come.

 

* * *

 

By the time Jeongun’s car arrived at his villa, the late-night darkness had completely engulfed the building, as if ready to swallow it whole.

Had recalling his mother during his conversation with Chairman Cha been the problem?

A sudden headache had forced him to lean back against the seat and catch a brief rest.

It was then that his driver, Minho, called out to him.

“Director, you need to wake up for a moment.”