Chapter 50

The conference room was already alive with a low murmur of voices. Executives in dark suits sat around the long glass table, folders and digital pads at the ready. The moment the door opened, all sound ceased. Chairs scraped lightly as they rose to their feet, bowing in unison.

“Chairwoman.”

I didn’t return the gesture. Instead, I strode to the head of the table, Harin trailing at my side with her tablet, Haemin walking just a step behind her. He looked calm, as he slipped into a seat along the wall.

I sank into the leather chair at the head of the table, steepling my fingers.

“Let’s begin.”

One of the senior executives, Executive Park, cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. He was older, seasoned, one of the few who dared to speak more freely in these meetings. “Chairwoman. As you know, the government has already approved the preliminary plan for the coastal smart city. Nara Group’s involvement will be central in both design and execution.”

A younger executive slid a digital report across the table. “We’ve projected timelines for phase one, but there are challenges. The local council is pressuring for an accelerated schedule. If we comply, there’s risk of compromising on quality assurance.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled. Another voice spoke up, cautious but firm. “If we delay, we risk losing political favor. The elections are near; they’ll want tangible results before then. Our competitors are circling too. If we hesitate, they might slip in.”

I leaned back, listening. Their points were valid.

“Tell me,” I said coldly, my gaze sweeping the table, “what do you think is more dangerous? Delivering too fast and creating a weakness… or moving too slow and allowing competitors an opening?”

A silence fell, heavy but expectant.

Executive Park spoke again, carefully. “Both carry risks, Chairwoman. But if the timeline is accelerated, we risk structural flaws. And with a project of this scale, even one mistake will be amplified. It could stain Nara Group’s reputation.”

Another countered. “Yet hesitation can be just as damaging. Public perception is momentum-driven. If another company breaks ground faster, the narrative will be that Nara Group is falling behind.”

I let the back-and-forth run for several minutes, watching them argue with polite restraint, each trying to prove their point while still showing deference to me. They were not fools. They were sharp.

When the room reached its peak of tension, I spoke, my voice cutting clean through the noise.

“You’re all thinking in straight lines,” I said. “Fast or slow. Risk of flaws or risk of losing ground. But projects of this scale are not linear. They are layered.”

I stood, moving to the screen at the end of the room. Harin, quick as always, handed me the remote.

“The council wants acceleration. Fine. We give them acceleration — but on their terms, not ours.”

Click. A slide appeared, outlining phased construction zones.

“We will begin high-visibility portions of the project immediately. Roads. Public spaces. Symbolic structures that scream ‘progress’ to the voters. They will have their ribbon-cuttings and photo opportunities. Let the cameras record every beam being laid. But simultaneously—” I tapped the next slide, the hidden second phase. “—the critical infrastructure, the foundations, the technology, will move at our pace. Quiet, secure, and without shortcuts.”

The room was silent, processing.

“This way,” I continued, “they get their spectacle. We keep our integrity. And by the time anyone realizes how far ahead we are, it will be too late for competitors to catch up. They’ll be fighting for scraps.”

One of the executives, a woman known for her sharp questions, raised her brow. “Chairwoman, won’t that split our resources? We’d essentially be running two projects at once.”

“Not if we use partnerships strategically,” I countered smoothly. “Outsource the high-visibility work to contractors hungry for exposure. They’ll work faster than we could ever push internally. Meanwhile, our own divisions focus solely on the backbone — the parts that matter. Minimal overlap. Maximum efficiency.”

The murmurs returned, but now they carried a different tone.

Executive Park exhaled, adjusting his glasses again. “As expected of the Chairwoman… your foresight is always a step ahead of us.”

The discussion carried on for nearly forty minutes. Each time an executive raised a concern, I offering solutions that were simple yet impossible to argue against. By the end, the weight of the meeting shifted — they were no longer questioning the plan, but aligning themselves to execute it.

When the final report was closed and the last question answered, I straightened, letting silence settle once more.

“There is one final matter before we adjourn.”

All eyes turned to me.

I gestured toward the wall where Haemin sat. He rose, hesitant, as my gaze fixed on him. With a small signal, I called him to my side. When he reached me, I spoke without hesitation.

“This,” I said clearly, “is my new assistant, Kim Haemin.”

A ripple moved through the room. Surprise, curiosity, even a trace of envy.

“Some of you may have met him this morning,” I continued, my tone leaving no room for dispute. “He will be working under Harin’s guidance. You will treat him as you treat her—with respect.

Murmurs rose again, respectful but tinged with shock.

“Chairwoman,” one of the bolder executives ventured carefully, “isn’t he… a little young?”

“Age is irrelevant when I say otherwise.”

The words dropped into the room like a stone in still water, sending ripples of stunned silence across the table. No one dared push further. I allowed the pause to linger, letting the weight of my authority settle in.

Still, one of them cleared his throat, hesitating before speaking. “Chairwoman… if I may ask on behalf of everyone here—how exactly did you find Mr. Kim?”

The question came from one of the senior executives at the far end of the table, his tone polite but edged with curiosity. He wasn’t the only one—several pairs of eyes lingered on Haemin, suspicion barely veiled.

I allowed a pause before answering. “Through Harin’s recommendation.”

The lie slipped effortlessly from my lips. My calmness made it all the more convincing. 

I continued, folding my hands on the desk. “Haemin happened to be an acquaintance of Harin’s due to certain… circumstances. She observed him during his years at university, quietly monitoring his progress. Eventually, we decided he was far too capable to be left unrecognized.”

A faint stir ran through the room. Heads tilted, whispers nearly audible. Harin, ever composed, gave a polite nod to affirm my words, sealing the story as truth.

Curiosity sharpened in their eyes, whispers exchanged like sparks under glass.

I leaned back slightly, letting my gaze sweep across the table. “If you have questions, feel free to ask him.”

They didn’t hesitate at all.

The first executive, a man with silver-rimmed glasses, adjusted his tie. “Mr. Kim. As the assistant to the Chairwoman, you’ll be surrounded by constant demands. Tell us, what would you consider your first priority in this role?”

I glanced sideways at Haemin. His expression didn’t waver, but as his wife, I could see the nerves he carefully concealed. Still, he managed to keep his composure—and he answered.

“My first priority is to ensure the Chairwoman’s time is protected. That means anticipating her needs before they reach her desk and removing distractions that don’t deserve her attention. If she can focus solely on decisions that only she can make, then I’ve done my job well.”

A pause. Several executives nodded slowly, impressed.

Another voice chimed in, this one sharper, more cutting. “And if the Chairwoman assigns you a task that directly conflicts with Harin-ssi’s orders? Whose instruction will you prioritize?”

Haemin didn’t even blink. “The Chairwoman’s, of course. She is the highest authority here. But…” he added, voice steady, “I believe Miss Yoo (Yoo Harin) and I both serve the same purpose: to make the Chairwoman’s work flawless. If instructions ever conflict, I’ll clarify immediately, so the Chairwoman’s intention is carried out exactly as she wants..”

Respectful murmurs stirred along the table.

Next question came from a woman in her forties, sharp-eyed, her voice measured.

“Mr. Kim, assistants often fade into the background. Yet this role is right beside the Chairwoman. How will you ensure you’re useful without overstepping boundaries?”

Haemin’s answer was immediate, steady. “By remembering that her spotlight is not mine. My presence should make her work easier, not heavier. If I do my job correctly, most people won’t even notice I’m there—only that the Chairwoman’s work flows without obstruction.”

Soft gasps of admiration rose, even Harin’s eyebrows lifted slightly. His composure was too clean, for someone they thought was only nineteen.

And then came the fourth question. A younger executive, perhaps emboldened by the others, leaned forward with a calculating smile.

“One more, Mr. Kim. You’re young, untested, and yet the Chairwoman has given you proximity that others here worked decades for. Why should any of us respect you as her assistant?”

The room stilled. All eyes turned to Haemin.

Haemin’s lips curved, not in arrogance but in calm conviction. His voice was quiet, yet it carried.

“You don’t need to respect me,” he said evenly. “Respect the Chairwoman’s choice. If she finds me unworthy, I’ll be gone tomorrow. Until then, I’ll do everything I can to prove her decision wasn’t a mistake.”

The words fell into silence, heavy and unshakable.

There seemed to be no further questions. Haemin bowed politely, his voice steady despite the subtle tension I could sense beneath it. “I look forward to working with all of you.”

For a moment, the room was frozen. Then, slowly, one by one, the executives gave small nods. Some still skeptical, others grudgingly impressed. But none could deny the composure he had shown.

And I… had to press my nails lightly into my palm beneath the table. Otherwise, I might have smiled too warmly.

I let my gaze sweep the room once, cold and commanding. “If there’s nothing more, the meeting is adjourned.”