Chapter 42 

Sera’s POV

I stepped out of the conference room, my heels striking crisply against the marble floor. Behind me, my Legal team followed in silence, already buried in their notes. At my side, Mina, my ever-dutiful assistant, kept pace, clutching a folder tightly to her chest.

We moved through the gleaming corridor of Nara Group headquarters, its polished walls reflecting the faint tension that still lingered in the air.

“Is everything alright, Vice-Chairwoman?” Mina asked carefully.

A faint smirk tugged at my lips. “Of course. I just wanted to see their reaction anyway.”

I waved a hand dismissively. “Clear my evening schedule. There’s someone I want to meet.”

The memory of him pushed its way into my thoughts, stubborn and unwelcome, no matter how I tried to redirect them. I wondered if he had class today.

“Tch.” I clicked my tongue in annoyance. I should have asked for his phone number. The fact I hadn’t irritated me more than it should. Calling Dahyun and asking for Haemin’s number wasn’t an option either. The only solution left was obvious—I’d have to stop by his campus myself.

Before I could dwell on the thought, Mina’s voice cut through my silence.

“Vice-Chairwoman,” she said cautiously, glancing at me from the corner of her eye, “the Chairman has requested your presence in Busan this evening.”

I froze mid-step, turning my head slowly toward her. “Busan?” My tone was sharper than I intended.

Mina nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Yes, ma’am. He said it’s urgent.”

My jaw clenched. Of course Father would choose today of all days. I let out a long, steady breath through my nose, irritation simmering beneath my calm expression.

“Perfect,” I muttered, my voice thick with sarcasm. There was no room for refusal—not with him. And that fact alone was enough to make my blood boil.

“I’ll arrange the flight for you,” Mina offered quickly.

“No need,” I cut in, my voice firm. “I’ll drive myself.”

Mina bowed her head slightly. “Understood, Vice-Chairwoman.”

———

By the time I reached Busan, the city lights were already scattered along the coastline, glittering like jewels against the dark sea. My car pulled up to the entrance of the Grand Lume Hotel, one of Father’s favorites. Its towering glass facade shimmered beneath the night sky as the doormen hurried forward to open the doors.

Inside, the lobby glowed with gold accents and crystal chandeliers. Composed as always, I walked with steady steps toward the private restaurant on the top floor.

When I entered, Father was already there. He sat at the head of the long table, his posture effortless yet commanding. Beside him, a group of government officials were just finishing their conversation. Their laughter died the moment I stepped inside. They rose, bowing politely in my direction.

“Vice-Chairwoman Hwang.”

I offered a curt nod, nothing more. They excused themselves quickly, shuffling out with hushed voices until only the faint sound of Father tapping his fingers against the armrest remained.

“You made good time,” he said smoothly. “I take it the Nara Group meeting is over?”

“Yes.” I pulled out a chair across from him, lowering myself onto the velvet cushion with grace. “Seo Yuna turned it down, as expected.”

Father didn’t look surprised. If anything, the faintest curve tugged at his lips. “Of course she did.” He leaned back, studying me with that gaze that always seemed to see more than he let on. “And what do you think?”

My eyes flickered briefly before returning to him. “She’s cautious. Too cautious. But that doesn’t change anything. I’ll deal with it in my own way.”

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head as if amused by my determination. “That’s why I don’t need to ask further. I trust you to handle it.”

Father’s words came with that faint smile of his, calm and confident, as if my role in this empire had always been written. There was no need for him to remind me again—I already knew the weight placed on my shoulders, knew that sooner or later, the title of heiress would no longer be just a promise but a reality.

I met his eyes steadily. “I’ll deal with it in my own way.”

“As expected.” His tone carried quiet approval. Rising from his seat, Father adjusted his suit jacket. “It must have been a tiring drive. Rest well tonight.”

Then, as if recalling something, he added, “Ah, since it’s been a while since you’ve come to Busan, take some time to enjoy the city. Don’t bury yourself in work every moment.”

I almost let out a bitter laugh but only gave him a polite nod.

His smile widened faintly. “There’s a restaurant you should visit while you’re here. Haedong Sikdang. I’ve been going there for years. Their braised monkfish is unmatched—and the soybean paste stew, hearty and simple. I always order it. You should try it too.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said evenly, though part of me wondered why he suddenly sounded almost… nostalgic.

⸻

[The next day]

Morning sunlight spilled faintly into my hotel suite. I woke earlier than usual, the city outside still stretching itself awake. I checked the clock—still hours before the evening meeting Father had arranged. Yesterday, he had mentioned that the government officials were eager to meet me. I thought it unnecessary, but he insisted.

With nothing to do, the silence of the room pressed down on me, heavy and dull. I took the car out for a drive through the city. Busan was lively, but I wasn’t in the mood for sightseeing. After some time, a faint hunger stirred, and Father’s words from last night surfaced in my mind.

Haedong Sikdang.

I pulled up in front of a mid-sized restaurant tucked between modern shops. Warm light spilled from its windows, and the familiar scent of stew greeted me as I stepped inside.

Only a handful of locals sat scattered around, quietly finishing their late breakfasts. The place felt homely, its modest warmth a striking contrast to the polished luxury restaurants I was used to. The air carried the gentle clatter of dishes and the faint hum of a radio playing in the back.

The owner, a cheerful woman in her fifties with bright eyes and her hair tied back neatly, greeted me immediately. She moved with the kind of ease that came from years of running a place like this.

“Welcome! Please, come sit here by the window. The sunlight is nice this morning.”

I followed her gesture and slipped into the seat, crossing my legs neatly, setting my handbag on the chair beside me. She handed me a menu, though I only glanced at it briefly before setting it down again.

“I’ll try the braised monkfish,” I said evenly.

Her smile widened. “Ah, one of our best dishes. You’ll like it, I promise.”

I leaned back slightly in my chair, speaking almost offhandedly. “My father recommended it. He said he used to come here often.”

At that, the woman’s expression shifted with surprise, her eyes narrowing slightly as if searching through memories. “Your father?” she repeated slowly, curiosity lighting her face. “May I ask what his name is?”

“Hwang Jihoon,” I replied, my voice calm but steady.

Her reaction was immediate. Recognition flickered across her features, followed by warmth and nostalgia. “Jihoon-ssi… ah, I haven’t heard that name in so long. He used to come here all the time, back when things were simpler.” She gave a small laugh, as though speaking more to herself than to me. Then her gaze returned to me, studying me with newfound interest. “So, you’re his daughter?”

“Yes,” I confirmed with a small nod, keeping my composed smile.

“Oh, I see. What a small world,” she said warmly, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. Then she waved her hand lightly, as if brushing off formality. “By the way, just call me Auntie Miyeon.”

I gave her a polite nod in return, the corners of my lips lifting slightly. 

For a brief moment, she looked lost in memory before speaking again. “So then… how is he these days? Still as busy as ever, I suppose?”

“He’s well,” I answered politely, though my tone carried the faintest edge of detachment.

“That’s good to hear.” She beamed, almost relieved, her eyes softening with nostalgia. “Okay then, wait here, I’ll get your food started.”

She hurried back into the kitchen and after few minutes later, she returned carrying a small tray with a steaming cup of coffee. Setting it down carefully in front of me, she said with a kind smile, “Here, have this while you wait. Your food will be ready in just a few more minutes.”

I offered a polite smile in return. “Thank you.”

For a moment, she lingered, wiping her hands on her apron as though debating whether to say something. Finally, her curiosity seemed to get the better of her. Tilting her head slightly, she said, “You know, I’ve been thinking about it while I was in the kitchen… since you’re Jihoon-ssi’s daughter, that must mean you came from Seoul, right?”

“Yes,” I replied, keeping my tone warm and polite.

Her expression brightened immediately. “Ah, I thought so. Seoul… it’s been so long since I last visited.” She let out a small laugh, then leaned closer as if sharing something personal.

“You know,” she continued lightly, “my nephew also just returned from Seoul to visit me. Such good timing, isn’t it? He’s usually buried in his studies, so I rarely get to see him these days.”

I gave a polite nod, offering the faintest smile, though inside my thoughts were far away. It hardly concerned me.

Just then, the bell above the door chimed softly.

Auntie Miyeon head snapped toward the entrance, her face lighting up instantly. “Oh! There he is!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with delight.

I sat comfortably in my seat, lazily sipping the coffee she had placed before me. I didn’t even bother to turn. From her cheerful tone, it was obvious she was greeting someone she adored—likely a nephew or relative she had mentioned. Nothing unusual.

“You’ve returned! I was just talking about you,” Auntie Miyeon’s tone rose with excitement.

There was a pause, followed by a hesitant male voice. “A-ah… Auntie, now? Do I really have to…?”

“Of course! Don’t be shy,” she insisted, the clatter of her slipper shuffling against the floor. “I want you to meet someone.”

I allowed myself a faint, distracted smile, assuming it was nothing more than a doting aunt eager to parade her nephew in front of a guest. I lifted the cup again, absently tapping my fingertip against the glass plate on the table, my thoughts already drifting elsewhere.

But then the sound of footsteps drew closer. Auntie’s voice carried again, brimming with pride. “Come on, don’t act like a stranger. Just follow me.”

The boy’s voice sounded hesitant, reluctant, yet I could hear him being tugged along against his will. That flicker of hesitation caught my attention at last, and I lifted my head, turning to face the figure being pulled forward.

And in that instant, the world seemed to still.

The sight made my breath falter.

My heart skipped.

It was Haemin.