WGD Ch 14

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I don’t want to think about anything.

Ironically, that very thought was what kept Siheon moving.

Having secured the CCTV footage from the front of the newlywed home, he sat at the computer and quickly scanned the received data. The license plate of the black sedan, his own face getting in and out of the car—he extracted the necessary details and sent them to his personal tablet PC before handling personal matters.

First, he secretly hung the coat gifted by Aubrey among Cha Wonwoo’s clothes and belatedly unpacked the luggage he hadn’t touched since returning to Korea.

The luggage, which he thought wasn’t much, turned out to be quite substantial, and fatigue hit him hard. Perhaps because of that, despite not eating properly since returning, his stomach felt bloated. He tried taking digestive medicine, but it had little effect, and he finally ended the eventful day by lying his exhausted body on the bed.

Falling asleep wasn’t easy either. Tossing and turning through the early morning, at some point, he felt a warm body embracing him and the familiar scent of pheromones.

“I stopped by because I missed you.”

A voice whispered softly at his sleeping ear, lips brushing against it. A hand gently kneaded his fingers, stroking neatly trimmed nails and smooth knuckles. The warmth of lips touching and leaving his cheek.

“Good night.”

Only then could he fall into a deep sleep.

After sleeping soundly for a few hours, Siheon slowly sat up.

“Ah…”

A large jacket that had been covering his upper body slid down. Touching it, he found Cha Wonwoo’s warmth still lingering. Unconsciously bringing it to his nose to smell, Siheon, feeling embarrassed, smacked his lips. Yesterday, his stomach had been upset all day, but for some reason, today he felt hungry from the morning.

Preparing breakfast by heating chicken breast and placing it on a salad, Siheon turned on the living room TV.

Perhaps because it was a time of intense media and public attention, every news channel featured a segment on the CH Group. Thanks to that, he could frequently catch glimpses of Cha Wonwoo’s face while flipping channels.

“With the sudden promotion as a turning point, there are predictions that a generational shift will occur among the CH Group’s top executives.”

“With the relaxation of the ‘financial-industrial separation’ regulation, Cha Wonwoo, who established CH Financial and led it from the forefront, earning recognition for his management skills, has secured control over the CH Group…”

“…The issues with the circular shareholding structure have been consistently raised. There’s also a significant view that this is a half-baked succession.”

The content was more or less the same, and seeing his face only in still shots felt unsatisfying. Absentmindedly flipping channels, Siheon spotted Cha Wonwoo moving during an interview and quickly stopped.

From what he overheard, it was after a meeting with the presidents, and the questions seemed to be about the timing and scale of the inauguration ceremony.

“The inauguration ceremony,”

Some people exude an oppressive aura just by opening their mouths. According to those around him, Cha Wonwoo was such a presence.

“No matter how I look at it, he just seems irritable from lack of sleep.”

Siheon popped a piece of chicken breast into his mouth, chewing while closely examining Cha Wonwoo’s assertive features, which seemed to pierce through the screen. As usual, Cha Wonwoo raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth with a cool demeanor, then, as if catching himself, softened his expression and continued answering.

“There will be no separate inauguration ceremony, just a meal with family.”

“Which family are you referring to?”

At the loaded question, Cha Wonwoo gave an enigmatic smile.

“Who else but my family?”

When asked about his thoughts on succession or to state his resolve, he smiled leisurely, left a single comment, and got into the car.

“I’ll work hard, so please give me a lot of support.”

Siheon let out a chuckle. It was an ordinary thing for a businessman to say, but because of his face, it felt like he should grab his phone and vote right away. If Cha Wonwoo had appeared on a survival audition program, Siheon was certain CEO Heo would have done whatever it took to secure a contract, and Siheon himself would have contributed. Cha Wonwoo would’ve been his ultimate bias.

Oh, is this how Minjae feels when he stans me?

Siheon thought of the guy who’d been noisily texting since yesterday, insisting they eat together now that he was back in Korea, before pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

He wanted to eat with Cha Wonwoo. There were things to talk about too. When could they meet? Siheon’s wish, as he obsessively flipped channels searching for Cha Wonwoo, came true sooner than expected.

“Hyung-nim, hello!”

Since Kang San, the manager, only handled Siheon, when Siheon rested, Kang San could too.

But with the combo of “day off, non-official personal schedule” and a daily pay of 500,000 won, anyone would jump at the chance. Driving for 500,000 won? Only a fool would pass. Succumbing to capitalism, the simple youth Lee Kang San couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of the sweet, hefty 500,000 won.

“Your greeting is extra loud today?”

“Hyung-nim, I have two principles.”

“What are they?”

Kang San held up one thick finger and answered.

“One, don’t work the lower body on upper body day, and don’t work the upper body on lower body day. Muscles need recovery time too.”

Raising his middle finger next to his index to make a cute ‘2,’ Kang San continued.

“Two, to live a healthy life, you need protein and an employer.”

Winking at the astonished Siheon like a caterpillar wiggling its eyebrows, Kang San politely gestured to the car with both hands.

“Get in, Hyung-nim.”

The destination, reached in a car driven by a protein addict, was a traditional Korean restaurant near a secluded temple.

Sukseoljae

Below the large signboard bearing the name, the place was filled with quaint trees. They said it was a renovated traditional house from the Joseon era. Perhaps because of that, the hanok, nestled at the foot of the mountain and blending with nature, exuded an elegant charm everywhere the eye landed.

Its seclusion was a major advantage, but the sights, sounds, and feelings also calmly soothed the heart.

Stepping out with a pouch containing his tablet, Siheon surveyed the surroundings. Kang San, having parked, approached with a thumbs-up.

“Thanks to you, Hyung-nim, I’ll feast on quality protein today.”

As they neared the entrance, two staff members emerged. After exchanging greetings, they guided Kang San and Siheon to separate areas.

Sukseoljae—the reason for coming this far from the city was a lunch appointment. Siheon was to dine with Cha Wonwoo, while Kang San would eat with the driver Kim and Secretary Yang, who accompanied him.

The guiding staff neither hurried nor walked ahead. Thanks to that, Siheon could fully appreciate the hundreds of earthenware jars lined up behind the half-open gate and the gravel path that made different sounds with each step.

Following the staff, he soon reached a *sajumun connected to the wall.

The staff opened the wooden door. The traces of time were embedded even in the sound. With a creak, as he crossed the threshold, his view suddenly opened, revealing a spacious backyard.

“This is a separate annex at Sukseoljae’s backyard, serving guests only once for lunch and dinner, so you can dine comfortably.”

As the kindly smiling staff explained, it was true. The annex, larger than expected, was structured to allow dining indoors or outdoors based on the guest’s preference.

Moreover, the backyard was vast, with only the sajumun they’d entered and a small *ilgakmun used by staff bringing food, making it ideal for those valuing privacy.

“The president is over there.”

The staff pointed to a high *numaru at the end of the annex.

There, leaning against a pillar rising from the ground to the rafters, Cha Wonwoo was dozing with a weary face. Unlike his turbulent inner self, his appearance blended perfectly with the serene atmosphere.

“Wait a moment.”

Siheon quietly stopped the staff.

“I’ll go alone from here.”

Reading his intent to avoid making noise, the staff lowered their voice too.

“I’ll come when the meal is ready.”

“Thank you.”

With a silent bow, the staff returned the gesture and left.

Once the staff disappeared, Siheon walked slowly. To reach the numaru, he’d need to remove his shoes and step onto the daecheong, which would likely creak. So, instead of the daecheong, he carefully crossed the backyard and stood below the numaru, looking up.

Seeing Cha Wonwoo’s peacefully sleeping face like this often stirred indescribable emotions. Usually, it was helplessness. Not lethargy, but rather a sense of being irresistibly disarmed.

A warm gaze caressed his cool face.

Hoping Cha Wonwoo’s nap would last a bit longer, Siheon stood rooted to the spot until the staff brought the first course.

Soon, the ilgakmun opened, and staff entered with dishes on trays. Perhaps because the annex and ilgakmun were close to keep food warm, the sound woke Cha Wonwoo, who lifted his heavy eyelids.

Cha Wonwoo blinked slowly. He’d instinctively called Siheon, but he still seemed half-asleep. While he lingered in a dreamlike state, Siheon retraced his steps, removed his shoes, and walked onto the daecheongmaru.

As he’d expected, the floor creaked like a melody. Listening to the irregular sounds, Siheon reached the numaru and sat across from Cha Wonwoo, who finally managed to open his eyes.

“When did you get here?”

“Just now.”

“You should’ve woken me.”

“I didn’t wait long. I really just arrived.”

Quietly approaching staff transferred dishes from trays onto the long table between them. Had he requested a large single spread instead of a sequenced course? The food seemed endless. It was a choice typical of Cha Wonwoo, who didn’t want their time together interrupted.

While they set the table and left, Cha Wonwoo repeatedly rubbed his face to shake off sleep.

“Have you been to the hospital?”

As soon as the staff left, leaving only dessert to bring, Siheon asked. He’d prepared many things to say, but seeing his face, what he wanted to say came out before what he needed to say.

“I’ve been too busy…”

Expecting a scolding, Cha Wonwoo’s voice shrank. As predicted, Siheon’s concerned nagging followed.

“You said you switched to the strongest suppressants because the ones you took before marriage weren’t working. Even taking them diligently, if your rut broke through, you should’ve gone to the hospital first.”

Seeing Cha Wonwoo’s head lower like a scolded child, Siheon shut his mouth. They were here to eat. Right. Especially since the topic he’d bring up after the meal wasn’t light, he figured he should at least fill Cha Wonwoo’s stomach first.

And judging by the situation, as Cha Wonwoo said, he was likely too busy to even find time for a hospital visit. Sipping warm tea, Siheon picked up his spoon.

“I was just worried. I’m not mad, so let’s eat first. Want some porridge?”

Deliberately exclaiming how delicious the abalone porridge and seasonal cold vegetables were, Cha Wonwoo quickly regained his energy and piled various items onto Siheon’s rice.

“You eat, you. Your face is half gone.”

“Alphas can go hungry a bit. We’re born sturdy. You need to eat more, hyung.”

Cha Wonwoo transferred abalone sushi to Siheon’s bowl, retorting. Then he stopped chopsticking, staring until Siheon ate. Thinking eating the sushi would end it, Cha Wonwoo suddenly offered a spoonful of rice.

“What’s that?”

“…”

“What.”

Cha Wonwoo’s eyes rolled with dissatisfaction. Pretending not to notice, Siheon grabbed his wrist, pulling the rice into his mouth.

“The rice here is tasty too. You eat.”

Now Cha Wonwoo’s face even showed indignation. As Siheon feigned ignorance and continued eating, Cha Wonwoo sighed heavily, gave up, and moved his empty spoon.

Oppressive aura? An overwhelming presence just by speaking?

Siheon wondered if anyone would say that seeing how Cha Wonwoo acted with him. Cute, maybe, but oppressive? Chuckling, Siheon seized the moment Cha Wonwoo scooped rice and quickly placed a tender piece of steamed sea bream on it.

“Here, hyung put this on for you. It says it wants you to eat it.”

After that, Cha Wonwoo openly insisted on putting food on Siheon’s plate and demanded Siheon do the same, sparking a playful argument.

“One bite for you, one for me. What are we, kids playing house?”

Though he teased, Siheon ate what was offered and picked various items for Cha Wonwoo too.

Once their hunger was somewhat sated, their eating slowed. Watching Siheon’s chopsticks closely, Cha Wonwoo, thinking the time was right, calmly explained what had happened in Korea.

Most aligned with Siheon’s guesses.

While Chairman Cha recovered, they’d hide it and strengthen the succession structure. If he could return to the forefront, they’d revert to the original management system. If not, they’d use Cha Wonwoo as a successor to manipulate things from behind.

Either way, using his grandson Cha Wonwoo as a pawn remained unchanged.

“Anyway, Chairman Cha still treats me like a puppet. If it comes to it, even if I become chairman, he plans to wear the honorary chairman title and pull strings.”

“Regency or what?”

Cha Wonwoo chuckled at the playful retort and calmly stated his position.

“I’ve accepted the promotion to president for now. My goal is to make Chairman Cha let go of the company, and for that, I need to be CEO. Becoming chairman at this age would face more backlash than going from president to chairman.”

A company’s owners are its shareholders, not the owning family. But most of Korea’s business world follows a monarchical owner system. Even with small stakes, CEOs wield immense influence, reigning as the company’s master. They even pass that power to kin. Cha Wonwoo couldn’t escape criticism for inheriting power and wealth like hereditary nobility.

“If it’s a mountain I must climb, it’s better to face the pain now. People call it a parachute, attribute it to lineage or traits, and curse the promotion, but subconsciously, they think, ‘Oh, president now, chairman next.’”

Cha Wonwoo, saying this, didn’t look happy at all.

It was as if he was doing it because he was taught to, and because it was the only way to protect Siheon.

Siheon’s heart wavered. Recalling Attorney Park Jio’s words about tying divorce and responsibility for PI marketing, he cautiously asked.

“Does public opinion bother you a lot?”

“Who likes being criticized? But…”

Pausing and pursing his lips, Cha Wonwoo added in a voice thick with disgust.

“The blood in my veins happens to be Cha.”

Sometimes, Cha Wonwoo revealed his loathing for his lineage. Where did that deep-rooted hatred come from? Siheon knew he wasn’t close to his family. He barely interacted with his living mother. Siheon had met her only four times, maybe.

The first was at the pre-wedding meeting, where CEO Heo attended in place of Siheon’s late mother. The second was at the wedding. The other two were at the annual memorial for Cha Wonwoo’s late father, Cha Geumho.

She didn’t attend family gatherings or public events. Except for memorials, she stayed abroad, rarely seen.

With Cha Wonwoo drawing a line, saying there was no need to contact her, Siheon often forgot he had a mother-in-law.

He didn’t ask why. Asking when Cha Wonwoo wasn’t ready felt like it would trouble him. So Siheon naively thought he’d speak when ready, that they’d hear it someday.

Not knowing they’d end up divorced.

The missed question mark drifted away, leaving his doubts unanswered, without a period.

The two men, lost in their thoughts, shared a familiar silence and continued eating.

“Shall we have dessert?”

As Siheon set down his chopsticks, Cha Wonwoo released the tethered scenery. Clink, the fish-shaped metal piece swayed in the breeze, making a beautiful sound.

Hearing it, staff rushed in, cleared the table, and brought dessert.

“Palace medicinal tea and Guseonwanggo, a rice cake favored by King Sejong, known for aiding digestion and detoxifying the body. Enjoy.”

Other dishes held colorful walnut confections, juak, and crispy maejakgwa, beautifully arranged.

Being with Cha Wonwoo definitely boosted his appetite. Siheon, who’d normally ignore dessert, savored each piece, finishing them all, and suggested a post-meal stroll.

The cool breeze tickled, and the earthy and pine scents it carried were refreshing. Walking together in the peaceful backyard felt like stepping back in time or as if time had stopped.

After circling the sunlit backyard, Siheon sat Cha Wonwoo down, saying he had something to discuss. The man, more sensitive to Siheon’s tone, expression, and actions than anyone, immediately grew serious.

“What’s this about?”

“First, let me say this. I’m not telling you this to get an apology. So don’t feel guilty or act like the world’s collapsing with apologies.”

Siheon was extremely cautious and careful. And equally resolute. Taking out his tablet and placing it on the table, he played the recorded file.

—The New York schedule must’ve been tough. Your face looks half gone, Actor-nim.

—Yes, long time no see, Attorney.

The conversation with Attorney Park Jio played through the cold device. It wasn’t a complete unedited version; unnecessary parts, like “You still love him, don’t you,” were cut.

Throughout the audio, Cha Wonwoo’s expression shifted moment by moment. The destination was a face filled with disillusionment.

—We trust you’ll make a wise decision, Actor-nim.

With that, the audio file ended.

Cha Wonwoo looked at Siheon with eyes full of confusion and regret. Licking his dry lips and hesitating, he ultimately said nothing, remembering Siheon’s request not to apologize.

“At first…”

Siheon spoke to Cha Wonwoo, who was enduring the moment with a fearful expression.

“I thought about suing the CH Group. Blackmail, something like that.”

Lawsuit.

Was it a word that lent reality to an unbelievable situation? Cha Wonwoo, sitting half-dazed, finally reacted, half a beat late.

“If you want, I’ll do whatever it takes. Anything I can help with, I’ll do. I’ll find a proper lawyer, not that jerk—whether a former prosecutor or judge, I’ll scour the country to ensure you win—”

“Cha Wonwoo.”

Cutting off the torrent of words, Siheon gazed steadily at the man before him.

“You’re a smart guy. Think carefully about what you just said.”

Cha Wonwoo’s wandering, unfocused eyes slowly steadied under Siheon’s unwavering gaze. As time passed, his face hardened coldly.

The moment a lawsuit was filed against the CH Group, Cha Wonwoo’s image would inevitably be tarnished. Through the gossip of those eager to add fuel, he’d become the protagonist of nonexistent scandals.

Siheon recalled a phone call from the night he contemplated the lawsuit.

—It’s a matter of conflict of interest.

After repeatedly listening to the recording, Siheon impulsively called CEO Heo.

Though they bickered outwardly, to Siheon, who lost his mother early, Heo was akin to a parent. Not sharing everything, but an adult whose sincere advice he could seek. Yet, given Siheon’s personality, he rarely contacted Heo unless it was significant. Knowing this, Heo answered late at night without sounding tired.

A lawsuit wasn’t a solo endeavor; it required consultation with the agency. Siheon explained the situation roughly. Listening to the details, Heo gave his opinion in a serious tone.

—President Cha Wonwoo can’t help you, Actor Kang. Even if he’s your ex-husband with an unprocessed divorce, he’s still CH Group’s executive. One favorable testimony for you could jeopardize his position. How could he help? From the perspective of employees or shareholders, he shouldn’t. Unless he’s decided to resign?

“No. That’s… I don’t intend to ask him to.”

—Right, let’s say President Cha Wonwoo is out of the picture. What will people say? A chaebol and a celebrity. In this story, you’re the underdog, Actor Kang. And the public always curses the antagonist opposing the protagonist. Who’s that here? The public dislikes those who have everything, who seem to have it all. They often want those people to be the bad guys. The more the public supports you, the more President Cha Wonwoo will be vilified. Is that the scenario you’re envisioning?

“The antago… he’s not necessarily the villain. Just an obstacle, maybe.”

Even as he grumbled, Siheon let out a dry laugh, finding himself absurd. Even excluding Cha Wonwoo, the public wouldn’t separate him from the CH Group. Especially with his recent promotion to president, the media was primed. If forces opposing Cha Wonwoo’s succession launched a public opinion war, he might be torn apart, left with just bones, bleeding profusely.

“If I start a lawsuit, regardless of my intentions, it’ll target Wonwoo. He’ll have to choose between me and the company.”

—…

“It’s, it’s… a brutal ending, isn’t it? CEO, I guess I’m no good as a writer. Every scenario I write is a mess.”

That was why he hesitated. Deep down, he already knew. To confront the CH Group without joining hands with Cha Wonwoo, he’d end up attacking him.

Then it happened.

—Siheon-ah.

It was a name Heo hadn’t used in ages. It was how Heo called him when he was a road manager, when Siheon was still young.

The year his mother passed, just before he turned twenty, Heo said to think of it as a harsh coming-of-age ceremony. He’d said that from then on, Siheon had to choose and take responsibility for everything as an adult, and he’d treat him as such. This was the first time since.

Siheon-ah.

That single word stirred something inside, welling up. Siheon tilted his head to keep tears from spilling. Heo’s unguarded voice rang in his ear.

—You’ve always been like that, even as a kid. When given a task, no matter how you felt, you focused on getting it done. So when your mother passed, I pushed you harder, saying you had to take responsibility for your life. I thought focusing on work would make it less painful. But since your divorce, I’ve been thinking.

—Maybe you grew up too fast.

—Your tendency to take responsibility for everything alone—I think I’m partly to blame.

I made you an adult too soon. Heo added bitterly. Siheon wanted to say no, that Heo was and always had been someone he was grateful for, but he couldn’t open his mouth. If he did, sounds he didn’t want revealed would escape.

As Siheon steadied his breathing, Heo called him, as if understanding all the unspoken words.

—Siheon-ah, your life is yours. I know. You’ve done so well, and I believe you’ll keep taking responsibility for your life. But marriage is different. You can’t decide and take responsibility alone. To the other person, that’s not responsibility—it’s unilateral imposition and notification.

—Marriage is about sharing responsibility.

—From the divorce to this lawsuit you’re considering. Have you ever discussed it with your spouse first?

The calm question was sharp. It hurt, yet it was also refreshing. Swallowing hot saliva, Siheon cleared his throat.

“CEO.”

—…Yes, Actor Kang.

“Thank you.”

The perceptive Heo knew from that thanks alone that Siheon had found another path. Saying he’d tell Kang San to avoid non-critical schedules and to rest well, Heo hung up.

And now.

Siheon looked at Cha Wonwoo across from him with unwavering eyes.

“You can’t help me in a lawsuit. Conflict of interest or something like that.”

Helping Siheon would draw backlash from the board and shareholders. Staying neutral or silent would turn the public against him. In a situation where they’re pushing PI marketing for image improvement, his image could instead be damaged.

Ultimately, this lawsuit would be poison to Cha Wonwoo in any form.

Siheon had no intention of making him abandon what he’d built or forcing him to choose between the company and himself.

“Instead.”

Siheon pushed the tablet on the table closer to Cha Wonwoo.

“Help me in a way other than a lawsuit.”

“Hyung.”

“It has the audio file, footage of the car at the newlywed home, and photos of me getting in and out.”

Cha Wonwoo being a weapon remained unchanged. But there was definitely something different.

“You said to trust you a bit, Cha Wonwoo. I will. I won’t sue. So take this and do whatever—blackmail, negotiate, your call. I’ll follow your lead.”

This time, he wouldn’t wield it recklessly.

“If I need to meet Attorney Park Jio, I’ll set it up. If there’s something to hear, I’ll draw it out and record it. You’re not the recorded party, so it may lack legal weight, but if they know you have this, they won’t move rashly.”

I, too, become his weapon.

“I noticed the backyard scenery was nice earlier. I’ll take a walk, so think it over.”

Over Cha Wonwoo’s hand, tightly gripping the tablet, round knuckles protruded. Fondly taking in the reddened shape, Siheon stood.

It wasn’t empty words—the backyard scenery was truly beautiful. He strolled leisurely, admiring the distant temple, cliffs carved by the wind, and lush mountains. The sound of Cha Wonwoo ordering tea for someone echoed faintly.

Pausing, hands behind his back, Siheon closed his eyes. A chuckle slipped out. Asking for help, saying he’d trust and follow someone’s way while staying docile—it all felt so awkward.

Perhaps Heo expected a softer conversation. A couple sitting side by side, saying, “Shall we find a solution together?”

That was still too much. To fully open up and collaborate with Cha Wonwoo, Siheon still had things he was hiding.

Opening his eyes, Siheon’s gaze was as calm as ever. The kind that didn’t easily ripple. After circling the backyard, he returned to the numaru with the same expression as before.

On the long table, white porcelain tea sets—a teapot, cups, and teaspoons—were neatly arranged. As Siheon sat, Cha Wonwoo poured tea with refined skill. Contrary to expectations of a drained man, he had a resolute face. Sipping the tea, Siheon found it was sweet quince tea, unlike the earlier medicinal tea.

“Hyung.”

At the call, Siheon, who’d taken a sip, set down his cup. Hesitating after calling, Cha Wonwoo met his eyes with a resolved look. Unlike earlier, when he could barely meet Siheon’s gaze, this was different.

“There’s an event I’d like you to attend. I was going to go alone because I thought it’d be uncomfortable for you, but on second thought, it’d be more meaningful if we went together. In many ways.”

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Located at the foot of Namsan Mountain in Seoul, Korea Hotel is renowned for its greatest charm: the ability to overlook the city while offering views of both the mountain and the Han River.

However, for guests in somewhat special circumstances, they would likely cite its advantages in security and protection as the primary benefit. Perhaps for this reason, most state guests visiting Korea tend to stay here.

For ordinary visitors, it provides beautiful scenery beyond the windows, while for VIPs, it is beloved for its discreet routes and structure that ensure safety. Korea Hotel.

Today, security personnel dedicated to the CH Group’s owning family were meticulously stationed both inside and outside the premises.

“Clear the press line before it gets crowded.”

“Please double-check the VIP’s route.”

“Sorry, this path is currently restricted.”

“Are you hotel staff? Please show your ID.”

At that moment, as security guards with earpieces moved in perfect coordination according to their assigned roles, two men stood in the center of the grand dressing room of the Presidential Suite.

They were Cha Wonwoo and Kang Siheon, preparing to attend a family dinner held in place of an inauguration ceremony.

“Avoid overly fitted silhouettes, but considering the age of both individuals, we’ve prepared outfits that reinterpret classic designs with a modern sensibility. While it’s not a formal business event, since the president will be exposed to the media, we’ve opted for a more formal approach,” explained the team leader of Strategy Team 1 from the CH Group’s Strategic Planning Office, as other staff members surrounded Cha Wonwoo to assist with his change of clothes.

While he donned a deep navy suit, a matching waistcoat, a cool-toned tie, and diamond cufflinks, Siheon, standing beside him, was also surrounded by staff.

“Actor Kang, you won’t be exposed to the media today, but since it’s your first family gathering in a while, we’ve prepared your outfit in coordination with the president’s, as per his instructions.”

Siheon’s attire consisted of a beige suit paired with Cha Wonwoo’s, a poplin shirt, and a red silk structured tie.

After the process was complete, Cha Wonwoo, inspecting each other’s outfits, extended his hand to the side.

A staff member, reading the cue, approached with a leather storage box. The box contained spare cufflinks arranged at regular intervals. Cha Wonwoo selected a pair of diamond cufflinks identical to those on his sleeves.

“President, we’ll take care of it,” another staff member offered politely, extending a gloved hand, but Cha Wonwoo shook his head.

“It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

He stepped toward Siheon, personally attaching the diamond-studded cufflinks to his sleeves, and said, “I’ll go down and enter through the hotel’s main entrance. I’ll contact Secretary Nam separately, so you can come down then.”

The “meal with family” Cha Wonwoo mentioned in place of an inauguration ceremony indeed referred to Siheon. However, a public family gathering for the Cha clan was also necessary. With speculation swirling about the succession structure, there was a need to outwardly display a harmonious family image.

Family dinner, formal meal—whatever the name, it was merely a gathering of immediate family members engaging in tense verbal sparring in an uncomfortable atmosphere.

Thanks to that, the front of Korea Hotel, represented by Cha Donghyeon, the third son of CH Group Chairman Cha Hyuncheol, was bustling with crowds aiming to cover the rare Cha family gathering.

“What about Chairman Cha?”

Is that guy even able to come, considering he’s ill? At Siheon’s question, Cha Wonwoo adjusted a misaligned cufflink and answered, “He said he’d yield the spotlight since I’m the main character. Of course, that’s the public stance, but with so many eyes watching, it’s an excuse to hide his health issues.”

“Don’t big company chairmen and their successors usually get photographed together on days like this?”

“Can’t be helped. Besides, we told the press that Chairman Cha would quietly have a meal and leave, but since he’s in recovery, he can’t come anyway.”

“If the chairman isn’t here, what about your grandmother?”

Madam Song Wonju, the chairwoman of the CH Foundation, was Cha Wonwoo’s grandmother. Confirming the cufflink’s proper placement on Siheon’s sleeve, Cha Wonwoo lowered his hand and met his eyes.

“It’s the same for Chairwoman Song. She wouldn’t want to support me. Her second son is still alive and well, after all.”

Their family dynamics were utterly incomprehensible. Of course, a son might take precedence over a grandson. But wasn’t a grandson still family? Especially considering the eldest son who passed away, one would think she’d feel more pity for Cha Wonwoo, yet Madam Song Wonju was more preoccupied with favoring her second son, Cha Eunsik.

“Then your mother is overseas…”

Siheon’s question, suppressing rising anger, trailed off. He already sensed the answer while asking. As expected, a cynical response came from Cha Wonwoo.

“Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Maybe she’ll show up for the chairman’s inauguration.”

“Then who are you going in with?”

Siheon asked pointedly. Everyone else would probably bring their families in tow…

“Who else would matter besides you? Like Chairman Cha said, it’s my day, so what’s wrong with getting photographed alone? It’s nice to stand out. And technically, I’m not alone. I’ve got security and secretaries.”

Cha Wonwoo, with a nonchalant expression, loosened Siheon’s red tie slightly. That made Siheon even more upset. The way he acted as if he’d always been alone. Finally, a question slipped out of Siheon’s control.

“Should I go with you?”

It was something he said despite knowing he shouldn’t. Hearing it, Cha Wonwoo, finishing Siheon’s appearance, responded slowly, “No. My goal is to warn those inside, not to throw bait to the media. So, we’ll meet up later.”

He withdrew his hand and turned away. Since learning about the incident with Attorney Park Jio, he’d been in a persistent low-pressure state. Watching him leave with considerable resolve, Siheon let out a suppressed sigh.

“Let’s go together. I didn’t want you to face those tiresome people, but legally and otherwise, I thought it’s necessary to show that you’re still mine.”

At Sukseoljae, when Cha Wonwoo spoke about the family gathering, his pale face was utterly bloodless. Unless Siheon misread, the emotion that briefly flashed and vanished on his weary expression was a desire to abandon everything and flee. He quickly composed himself, but Siheon, whose craft was acting, didn’t miss that moment.

“Actor-nim, how about resting here for a bit?”

Senior Nam Ilho opened the door to the hallway leading to the reception room, suggesting. Siheon, setting aside his concern for a moment, nodded lightly. He had no fond memories of Korea Hotel.

No, it was rather the worst place. So he needed to sit and conserve his strength.

Today’s meal wouldn’t go smoothly either.

[Photo] President Cha Wonwoo Attends Family Dinner Commemorating Inauguration

(Cha Wonwoo walking in with secretaries.jpg)

▲ On the 1st, entering the entrance for the evening dinner at Korea Hotel in Hannam-dong, commemorating his inauguration as CH Group’s general president. Unusually, a small family dinner with only immediate family replaces a formal event.

◆

The family dinner celebrating President Cha Wonwoo’s promotion was held at Korea Hotel on the afternoon of the 1st.

(Bright-faced President Cha Eunsik and his wife.jpg)

▲ President Cha Eunsik of CH Construction, considered a strong rival for Cha Wonwoo’s succession, and his wife arrived first, drawing attention.

(Vice President Cha Iryeong supporting his pregnant wife.jpg)

▲ Following them, Vice President Cha Iryeong of CH Construction appeared affectionately with his wife, who recently announced her pregnancy. Cha Ijun, the youngest son of President Cha Eunsik, was absent, having left for studies in the U.S.

(Cha Donghyeon, giving instructions beyond the revolving door.jpg)

▲ Meanwhile, Cha Donghyeon, the third son of Chairman Cha and representative of Korea Hotel, arrived early to prepare for his nephew’s promotion dinner.

As Siheon skimmed the rapidly uploaded articles and photos, Senior Nam Ilho, having finished a call, approached. It was a signal to move.

Siheon, putting his phone on airplane mode and slipping it into his inner pocket, stood up.

“Where’s Wonwoo?”

“He’s waiting in front of the dining hall. This way.”

As expected from a route starting from a room typically used by state guests, the path to the dining hall minimized external exposure.

During the walk, Senior Nam Ilho briefed Siheon on the recent activities of those attending the dinner. Listening to the concise, critical information, Siheon’s steps on the carpet showed no hesitation. Like Cha Wonwoo, he wanted to warn the Cha family not to mess with him. With firm resolve, he had nothing to fear.

The dining hall, set in a separate space across the garden, was out of reach of the press’s lenses.

Turning a corner, Siheon saw Cha Wonwoo talking with Secretary Yang.

In a venue filled with elegant classical beauty, he seemed like a modern masterpiece. It was clearly the same look from the dressing room, yet seeing him from a distance felt new. Perhaps because recently they’d met in raw, stripped-down states? Seeing him so impeccably dressed made Siheon’s heart race.

“Hyung.”

Spotting Siheon, Cha Wonwoo straightened from leaning against the wall. Striding over to close the distance, he wrapped an arm around Siheon’s shoulder and led him to the entrance.

At the door, Cha Wonwoo nodded forward. At his signal, Secretary Yang and Senior Nam, waiting with hands on the stone handles, opened the door.

Creak, the large, heavy door, stretching to the ceiling, opened like a beast’s maw.

Escorted by Cha Wonwoo, Siheon stepped inside.

The door closed behind them.

In the space cut off from the outside, a sudden halt in the flow left only silence lingering. The others, already seated and conversing, turned their attention to the last pair to enter. It was natural for eyes to focus on the event’s protagonist, but the person beside him was an unexpected presence.

Receiving varied expressions and piercing gazes, the two men headed to their seats.

“Tch, Donghyeon, so that’s why you left the seat next to you empty,” President Cha Eunsik muttered, openly displaying his displeasure. With Chairman Cha and Chairwoman Song absent, he, the eldest man, was the senior figure. Sitting at the head, a position he wouldn’t normally covet, he blatantly scrutinized his nephew Cha Wonwoo’s actions.

Unfazed, Cha Wonwoo pulled out a chair for Siheon to sit first. Someone’s scoff was audible, but neither paid it much mind.

Focused on ensuring Siheon’s comfort, even pulling and adjusting the chair, Cha Wonwoo sat down carelessly, as if it were a bother.

Relative to President Cha Eunsik at the head, his wife and Vice President Cha Iryeong’s couple sat on the left, while Cha Wonwoo, Siheon, and Donghyeon took the right. By the number of attendees, it was indeed a modest family meal.

Siheon, now facing Vice President Cha Iryeong, swallowed a groan inwardly. Of all people. The most uncomfortable figure in the Cha family. When their eyes met, Cha Iryeong gave a slight nod. It seemed polite, but he didn’t hide his contempt.

Yet Siheon’s wariness wasn’t due to mere disdain. Looking into those eyes that deemed him filthy, there was a vulgar undertone. It was always these seemingly upright types who engaged in perverse acts behind closed doors. Plus, with his subtle inferiority complex toward Cha Wonwoo, it was obvious what fantasies he harbored about Siheon. This subtle, sticky gaze was something only Siheon, the target, could sense. Only the victim ever knows.

Except for Cha Eunsik, who openly frowned as if the situation displeased him, most maintained composure. The silent power struggle already felt exhausting.

“Looks like everyone’s here,” Cha Wonwoo said, breaking the silence as no one dared speak first.

“Let’s eat.”

Representative Cha Donghyeon, who couldn’t stand the tension, quickly chimed in.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, so let’s eat something delicious and talk. We rarely gather outside holidays.”

But sadly, his attempt to lighten the mood was cut short by Cha Iryeong’s words.

“Uncle, it’s not like the press is coming in here, so why bother with an uncomfortable meal? We’re not kids—spending a few hours together won’t make us closer.”

Sipping pre-dinner liquor, he shrugged leisurely. With his effort thwarted by his nephew, Cha Donghyeon frowned.

“Iryeong, since we’re here, let’s at least have a proper family meal.”

Something about that was funny, as Cha Iryeong let out a scoff. His unpleasant gaze fixed on Siheon.

“There’s one uninvited guest for a family gathering.”

Cha Wonwoo, about to drink water, froze. He set the glass down, exuding a menacing aura. His cold, glinting eyes and trembling pheromone glands suggested he might unleash pheromones to subdue the other at any moment.

“Cha Iryeong, watch your mouth.”

“Watch what? Aren’t you the one mistaken? This isn’t a casual drinking party—it’s a family gathering. We all made time despite our busy schedules, so you should’ve chosen your plus-one carefully. To bring someone with neither qualification nor justification.”

Siheon quickly pressed down on Cha Wonwoo’s thigh, sensing he was about to leap up. Feeling Cha Wonwoo’s resentful glance, Siheon, unfazed, stared directly at Cha Iryeong. Despite the heat rising in his chest, his mind cooled.

“Qualification and justification. Since my brother-in-law puts it that way, let’s settle it. Who here has the least qualification and justification?”

Ignoring the incredulous stares, Siheon continued without hesitation.

“Qualification? The divorce isn’t finalized, so like it or not, we’re still legally married, so there’s nothing more to say. As for justification, I’d say I have more than those who’d sell out their nephew or cousin for personal gain.”

In his mind, he recalled the briefing from Senior Nam Ilho on the way here. Most of it was filthy, sordid stuff he didn’t even want to voice. Yet, they forced him to speak, Siheon added, swallowing a self-deprecating laugh.

“But, brother-in-law.”

“…”

“The child in your wife’s womb has nothing to do with the Cha family. Doesn’t that make you the one without qualification or justification?”

The woman at the edge of his vision froze as if a pause button had been pressed. The room’s atmosphere turned icy, like a bomb about to explode.

Siheon, who dropped the bomb, remained calm.

Hostile and confused glances darted across the table. Finally, President Cha Eunsik roared, demanding to know what this was about. Worried Siheon might be startled by the sudden shout, Cha Wonwoo held his hand under the table. Siheon, signaling he was fine, brushed Cha Wonwoo’s hand with his thumb.

“Well, I don’t know what my brother-in-law is talking about,” Cha Iryeong said, brazenly trying to deflect.

“Father, think logically. If it’s not my child, why would I protect her?”

He was an alpha. With a strong fixation on lineage, he had no reason to claim another’s child as his own. It sounded reasonable, and Cha Eunsik’s sharp gaze turned to Siheon. As the man was about to retort, Cha Wonwoo cut in.

“Because you’re not a logical guy.”

Cha Eunsik flinched at the low remark.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’d better hear it from your daughter-in-law directly.”

Cha Wonwoo glanced at the woman beside Cha Iryeong. After a brief pause, she lifted her head, unwilling to appear cowed, and said, “I’m getting a divorce.”

With consecutive bombs, the atmosphere grew uncontrollably cold. Creak. Cha Iryeong’s neck turned toward her like an unoiled machine. It was far from the gaze of a spouse—more like one looking at a disobedient animal.

Siheon, slightly furrowing his brow, recalled Senior Nam Ilho’s voice as he witnessed the chilling scene.

“Vice President Cha Iryeong has a paraphilia. He can’t get aroused by normal intercourse. He needs to watch his spouse with someone else to get an erection, but even then, it subsides immediately upon penetration. And…”

Shocking details followed. In short, the recently announced pregnancy wasn’t Cha Iryeong’s biological child. Initially complicit with Cha Iryeong’s relations with another alpha, the woman, upon becoming pregnant, decided she couldn’t continue and chose divorce.

“It’s not just because of Vice President Cha Iryeong’s paraphilia. She’s promised to remarry the child’s biological father. This is strictly confidential.”

“You collect this kind of information in the secretariat?”

“You can never have too many bullets. But rather than us collecting it, she came to us with the documents, asking for help with the divorce. This will keep Vice President Cha Iryeong quiet for a while. If one of his key allies loses power, it’ll be harder for President Cha Eunsik to fight for succession.”

With his trusted son suddenly entangled in a scandal and becoming a liability, Cha Eunsik’s rage was uncontainable. It wouldn’t be surprising if he attacked Cha Iryeong on the spot. The only reason he didn’t was the press waiting to capture their departure after the family gathering.

The woman, mentioning divorce, left after saying she’d send her terms through a lawyer, leaving the dining hall’s atmosphere frigid. Glancing at Cha Eunsik, who was gulping water to suppress his anger, Cha Wonwoo said calmly, “Iryeong’s personal life and family issues—I won’t bring them up first. So don’t try to drag my husband into the succession fight for your own gain. That’s why I called this meeting.”

Cha Wonwoo locked eyes with each person seated.

“If you want to compete, do it with me. Leave my family out of it.”

Clearly drawing the line, he subtly signaled Cha Donghyeon, his only ally, then took Siheon’s hand and stood.

“We’ll say my sister-in-law left early due to feeling unwell, and I’ll stay at the hotel for work. The rest of you, time your exits to match the meal’s end.”

Knock, knock, knock. A polite knock sounded then.

The door area grew briefly noisy, and when it opened, a man stepped inside.

“Hello.”

Unaware of the frozen atmosphere, the man entered with a bright smile. Seeing his face, Siheon instinctively tightened his grip on Cha Wonwoo’s hand.

“Did I… arrive too late?”

It was Im Jaehan, the youngest son of Rozen Petrochemical and Cha Wonwoo’s former blind date partner.

“I stopped by an art gallery, and my mother wouldn’t let me go. She was so insistent, saying it’s hard to see me these days, so I got delayed listening to her,” the man said, offering a brief apology as he stepped inside. He didn’t seem surprised to see Siheon. On the contrary, he smiled leisurely when their eyes met. His gaze, lingering on their tightly clasped hands, shifted to the nearly empty table.

“I thought I came relatively quickly… I should’ve left earlier.”

Had Siheon known of his visit, he wouldn’t have come. Judging by the lack of prior mention, Cha Wonwoo clearly didn’t know either. A glance sideways confirmed Cha Wonwoo’s face, crumpled with dismay.

Then who?

As if answering the question, a sigh-laden voice came from behind.

“I called him.”

The culprit was President Cha Eunsik. A fleeting look of discomfort crossed his wrinkled face before vanishing. He’d invited Im Jaehan to put his nephew Cha Wonwoo in an awkward position, but with things going awry, he seemed flustered.

In contrast, Im Jaehan, either oblivious to or unperturbed by the tense atmosphere, approached Cha Eunsik to greet him. The man, quickly adopting a businessman’s demeanor, shook hands naturally.

“So, is Chairman Im doing well?”

“Of course. He’s so well he’s too busy, to the point that even I, his son, only get updates on his whereabouts through reports. He’s practically living in Ulsan for the steam cracker project.”

“Our Chairman Im’s passion has always been exceptional.”

“When a big project breaks ground, he goes incommunicado, and my mother’s complaints are endless. I got delayed today listening to her grievances. She was adamant that since we have more than enough money, I shouldn’t care about the other party’s status and should marry a family-oriented alpha.”

Not oblivious, but unperturbed. He was a clever man who knew how to hide sharp intentions behind smooth words. Siheon closely observed the neatly dressed, bright man. Im Jaehan, who deftly steered the conversation toward marriage, wore a sly smile.

“By that standard, the person I met for a blind date recently is perfect. Not just good enough to overlook conditions, but so ideal it’d hurt to elaborate.”

His gaze turned to Cha Wonwoo.

“He’s incredibly family-oriented, isn’t he, Wonwoo hyung?”

Wonwoo hyung.

The impact of that address on Siheon was immense.

Cha Wonwoo would be someone’s hyung, sure. Even Cha Iryeong and that rascal Cha Ijun called him hyung. But the feeling was different. They didn’t call him so warmly and affectionately.

Besides Im Jaehan, who else called Cha Wonwoo hyung? Could anyone? Siheon racked his memory, but no such person existed.

Wonwoo hyung.

Struck by the sweet address slipping unexpectedly from another’s lips, Siheon struggled to regain his composure.

“Such a family-oriented person, yet surprisingly cold. He didn’t reply to a single text I sent.”

Im Jaehan’s tone and actions were full of ease. The youngest, beloved son of a chaebol family. There was none of the expected rudeness or arrogance often associated with such a title. He differed from the paparazzi photos and media portrayals. Far more upright and charming than Siheon remembered. Even his playful glare, complaining about not getting a text reply, was endearing.

If even a fellow omega felt this way, an alpha would be even more drawn. It wasn’t a self-deprecating thought. Siheon took pride in his appearance and career, and even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t belittle himself by comparing with others.

An alpha drawn to a beautiful omega. The reverse was true too, but it was instinctual, so he could only accept it.

“Hyung.”

That address came again. At first, Siheon didn’t realize it was directed at him, lost in other thoughts. When he wanted to calm his mind or clear his head, he’d mentally recite drama lines from episode one onward. He was doing that now, quietly swallowing the shock of someone else calling Cha Wonwoo “hyung.” Then, startled by the sensation of his held hand being gently shaken, he turned his head.

“Let’s go home.”

Surprisingly, Cha Wonwoo’s eyes were fixed on Siheon, as if it were his instinct.

“Huh? Uh…”

Uncharacteristically, Siheon stammered, like a malfunctioning machine. Clearing his throat to regain his pace, he locked eyes with Im Jaehan. The man, ignored despite his texts going unanswered, didn’t seem upset but rather intrigued.

Meeting his gaze, Siheon instinctively nodded in greeting—a professional habit. Seizing the moment, Im Jaehan approached and extended his hand.

“Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Im Jaehan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Though the handshake was offered to someone else, Cha Wonwoo’s expression darkened instantly. Stepping forward, he shielded Siheon behind him and bared his teeth.

“I recall we settled everything back then.”

“Settled? I thought maybe you’d hit your head or something.”

The address still felt jarring. Im Jaehan continued with a sly demeanor.

“And we’re not done talking. I told you back then, I have my own circumstances I can’t back down from, just like you, Wonwoo hyung.”

“Im Jaehan.”

“Calling me like that won’t help. Anyway, I get that you’re stubborn, so step aside, Wonwoo hyung. I want to talk to this handsome actor.”

Each time the man called Cha Wonwoo “Wonwoo hyung,” Siheon felt as if the ground beneath him was cracking. Snap, the earth split and trembled. Was this why Cha Wonwoo got upset whenever Siheon called others by their names without honorifics?

It feels really unpleasant and dirty, doesn’t it?

Of course, this was different—Cha Wonwoo wasn’t the one affectionately addressing someone else; it was someone addressing him. But still, why did it feel so bad?

He knew not everything needed detailed categorization, but as an actor, Siheon wanted to label this unfamiliar emotion he was feeling.

“Ahem.”

Then, President Cha Eunsik, who’d been observing, abruptly stood. Buttoning his jacket, he addressed his family.

“Seems the young ones have things to discuss, so let’s step out. Donghyeon, you must be busy, go handle your work. Iryeong, get up. You and I need to talk.”

Using Im Jaehan as an excuse, he seized the chance to escape the chaotic dinner. Still, leaving immediately felt awkward, so he didn’t forget to add a regretful act.

“With things turning out like this… what a shame we couldn’t eat.”

“It’s fine. I came to see Wonwoo hyung anyway.”

“Right, then let’s meet separately when Chairman Im comes up from Ulsan. Tell Chairman Seo thanks for the painting last time.”

Before leaving, Cha Eunsik patted Im Jaehan’s shoulder. To his son Cha Iryeong and nephew Cha Wonwoo, he offered only cold indifference. As they filed out like linked sausages, Cha Iryeong approached last.

“I’ll remember today well. So I can treat you both to a proper meal. See you soon.”

Leaving a pale but still defiant remark, Cha Iryeong exited, and the dining hall fell silent.

Im Jaehan broke the awkward wall of silence.

“You’re quite different from what I heard.”

It was an out-of-the-blue comment. Unsure who it targeted, Siheon stayed quiet, and an explanation followed.

“I heard you were really cool. But seeing you hiding behind Wonwoo hyung now, I’m thinking celebrity rumors aren’t trustworthy. What do I do with this revelation?”

A chuckle escaped at the cute provocation. Cha Wonwoo’s back muscles twitched, visibly irritated. Before he could interject, Siheon subtly pulled him back, flashed a polite smile, and stepped forward to offer a handshake.

“Jaehan-ssi… ah, is it okay to call you Jaehan-ssi? I’m not sure about your title.”

Whether it was rank or position. Corporate hierarchies confused him even in scripts, and now he didn’t care to bother. From articles, he knew Rozen internally used the trendy title of “management leader,” but he deliberately feigned ignorance. He also ignored Cha Wonwoo’s quiet whisper, “Not Jaehan-ssi, Im Jaehan-ssi.”

Im Jaehan nodded in acceptance and asked, “Then should I call you Siheon hyung?”

“Do you just call everyone hyung? Your family tree must be extensive.”

“Huh?”

“No, it’s just that calling someone hyung or dongsaeng on first meeting feels odd, so I spoke out of turn. Just call me Kang Siheon-ssi or Actor Kang. Growing up as an only child, I find terms like hyung, dongsaeng, or oppa kind of awkward.”

If Yeppi heard, she’d pout, “What about me, hyung-ah? Woof!” But Siheon shrugged and changed the topic.

“So, what did you want to talk about…?”

After a brief tilt of his head, Im Jaehan returned to the conversation.

“Oh, before that, I have something to give. It’s a gift for Wonwoo hyung’s presidential inauguration, but if we’re splitting hairs, it’s for you too, Actor-nim.”