Chapter 53

The room was wide and immaculate, lined with polished mahogany tables and chandeliers that reflected across the glossy floor. Nameplates glinted under the overhead lights: Nara Group on one side, Daehan Group on the other. n the center sat the Minister, hands folded neatly as though he carried the weight of two dynasties between his palms.

Yuna sat at the head of our delegation, her posture straight, her expression unreadable, as if nothing in the world could shake her. To her right were her legal counsel and Director Baek, files stacked neatly in front of them, pens poised like weapons ready for battle. Harin and I sat just behind her.

Honestly, I had no idea how I ended up here. My chest tightened with every passing second. This was too much pressure for someone my age.

I let out a slow sigh and lifted my hand, holding my wrist gently. The throbbing sensation had not left me since last night. Carefully, I pulled my sleeve back just a little, revealing the faint bruise that still marked my skin. It was still there—ugly proof of what had happened.

⸻

[Yesterday Night]

It happened after dinner. Yuna had called me into her private office. When I knocked and stepped inside, she was seated at her desk, revising documents with her usual sharp focus. But the moment her eyes lifted and met mine, I noticed something different. Her face was shadowed, dark in a way that made my instincts scream at me to be careful.

She set the document aside and stood, walking toward me with deliberate steps. My breath caught, and I swallowed hard, bracing myself.

“I have something to tell you,” Yuna said.

“Y—Yes?” I stammered, nervous.

“Tomorrow, our company will have a meeting at the Ministry office,” Yuna said, her voice cool and precise. “It is a discussion regarding potential collaboration with Daehan Group.”

At once, my throat went dry. I could already picture where this conversation was heading.

She didn’t stop there. “By now, I am certain you already know who will be leading the delegation on their side, don’t you?”

Her words made my stomach twist. I nodded nervously, admitting softly, “Yes.”

The truth was, after what had happened in Busan, I had done my own research. I had checked on Hwang Sera and discovered that she was none other than the heiress of one of Korea’s most powerful conglomerates—Daehan Group. Yuna’s greatest rival. The revelation had nearly knocked me off my feet. The coincidence was so absurd that I almost thought fate was mocking me.

Gathering what little courage I had, I asked carefully, “Should I… not go tomorrow?”

Her lips curved into a cold smile, and instead of answering directly, she reached out and took hold of both my wrists. At first her touch seemed gentle, almost affectionate, but even then I could sense something dangerous beneath it.

“No,” she said firmly. “You must come. Harin will be accompanying me tomorrow, which means she will not be at the company to keep an eye on you. Who knows what kind of lowly women might dare approach you when neither of us are around?”

Her grip on my wrists tightened slightly.

She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. “Besides… I heard that you have already become rather popular among the female employees.”

“Yuna, I am not even—” I began to panic, rushing to explain myself.

“It is fine,” she cut me off, her tone sharp yet disturbingly calm. “I know. You do not even speak to them. That alone is what saves you from my rage.”

Her words sank like ice into my chest.

“But tomorrow,” she continued, her gaze never leaving mine, “we will face Sera. Do you understand what I am trying to say?

Her hands pressed harder around my wrists, the pressure burning into my skin. I winced, trying to hold back my voice, but it hurt more than I could bear.

“Yuna, please, can you let g—”

“You understand, Haemin?” she interrupted again, her voice calm but her grip cruel.

The pain sharpened. My wrist felt as though it might fracture if she pressed even a little harder. Panic surged through me.

“Yes, I understand!” I said quickly, my voice breaking. “Please, let me go—”

“Then promise me,” Yuna whispered, her smile sharp, her eyes glinting coldly. “Promise me you won’t do anything reckless tomorrow. Promise me you will not give me a reason to turn my anger on you.”

“Yuna, please…” I begged, almost trembling.

“Promise,” she demanded, her voice laced with threat, her grip tightening even further.

“I promise!” I cried out, raising my voice out of desperation.

Finally, she released me. My wrists fell limply to my sides, the skin red and throbbing with pain. I cradled one wrist in my other hand, trying to soothe the sting.

“Good,” she said, her smile softening into something warmer, though it chilled me all the same. She reached up and ruffled my hair. “I know you would never betray me.”

______

The memory of last night lingered at the edges of my mind, until the sound of voices pulled me back. My mind returned to the present.

Across the table, Hwang Sera leaned slightly forward in her chair, every movement deliberate, every detail of her presence commanding. Behind her sat Daehan’s executives, their eyes shifting nervously between the two women—as if aware they were sitting between two storms.

Then I noticed it. Sera’s gaze moved slowly across the room, searching… until it landed on me. She paused, her lips curving into a faint smile. Before I could even process it, she gave me a quick wink—subtle enough that no one else seemed to notice.

Heat rushed to my face, and I quickly looked away, my throat dry.

From beside me, Harin’s voice broke through in a whisper. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim?”

I startled slightly and forced a small, shaky smile. “Y-yeah. I’m okay. It’s just… this is overwhelming for me.”

Her eyes softened, and she gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. These kinds of things… they’re normal for those of us who are part of this group.”

Normal.

I swallowed hard, glancing toward Yuna’s calm figure at the table. For me, none of this felt normal at all.

The Minister cleared his throat softly, breaking the silence that had settled after the introductions.

“Ladies, gentlemen… today marks a historic step. While no agreement will be signed today, both parties have expressed interest in exploring a collaboration that could redefine the nation’s infrastructure landscape. Let us proceed with constructive discussion.”

He gestured politely. “Chairwoman Seo, please.”

Yuna lifted her gaze, calm and precise, her voice carrying easily across the polished hall.

“Nara Group acknowledges Daehan Group’s strength in logistics and shipping. With our expertise in urban and regional development, synergy is possible. But clarity must come first. What we are here to discuss is not a merger of equals. It is an alignment of strengths—on terms that benefit both, yet protect autonomy.”

Her words were smooth, measured, yet there was no mistaking the subtle edge—Nara would not bend.

Sera smiled faintly, her hands folding neatly on the table.

“I agree with Chairwoman Seo. Autonomy is important. Which is why Daehan Group will not settle for a secondary role. We are here because we believe a joint framework can be created, one that ensures both parties stand as equal partners.”

The legal teams shifted uncomfortably, already sensing the storm behind those carefully chosen words.

The Minister leaned back, letting the air stretch thin before he interjected again.

“Then let us explore the structure of such a framework. Shared equity? Regional divisions? Expansion priorities? These are details—but today, we must decide whether the principle of cooperation can stand.”

Yuna lifted her gaze, calm and precise, her voice carrying clearly across the polished chamber.

“Nara Group has executed projects of greater scale before. We have the capital, the manpower, and vast experience. To be frank, Minister—” her eyes flicked briefly toward Sera, “—there is no necessity for collaboration. Nara can move forward independently.”

The words struck like stone. I could feel the air shift, the Daehan executives stiffening in their seats.

Sera’s lips curved faintly, but her voice was sharp silk when she answered.

“Then why are we here, Chairwoman Seo? If Nara has no need for Daehan, why accept this meeting at all? Surely it isn’t to waste the Minister’s time.”

Yuna’s expression didn’t falter.

“We accepted this meeting out of respect for the Ministry. But I cannot ignore the possibility that Daehan has… other motives.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone colder. “Influence, leverage, or another political favors. Tell me, Vice Chairwoman Hwang—what is Daehan truly after?”

The faint smile on Sera’s lips sharpened, though her hands remained perfectly still on the table.

“Hidden intentions? If Daehan sought only power, Chairwoman, we would not need to come knocking on your door. We already control the nation’s arteries of trade. No project—Nara’s or otherwise—moves without our vessels crossing oceans and our freight lines crossing borders.”

Yuna’s fingers tapped lightly once against the table before going still again. Her voice dropped lower, icy.

“Arteries can be rerouted. Ships can be replaced. Nara builds the foundations of nations—Daehan only carries what others create. Do not mistake logistics for vision.”

The silence was heavy enough to press against my chest. Sera leaned forward, no longer smiling.

“And do not mistake construction for dominance, Chairwoman. Without Daehan, your so-called foundations remain idle. A building is worthless without the lifelines to connect it to the world.”

The Minister raised a hand, his tone firm but carrying a thread of amusement.

“Enough. This is not a contest of pride, but a discussion of cooperation. Both of you argue as though the other has nothing to offer, when the truth is clear—neither of you can claim the whole field.” He looked from one woman to the other. “The nation gains nothing if this becomes a battle of egos.”

Yuna’s gaze flicked briefly toward him, but her eyes returned to Sera, sharp as a blade.

“Ego has nothing to do with it, Minister. It is about clarity. Daehan rarely steps into partnerships without seeking hidden advantage. I will not allow Nara to be dragged into a game that benefits only one side.”

For the first time, Sera let out a quiet laugh, soft but cutting.

“You see suspicion everywhere, Chairwoman Seo. Perhaps that is why those around you tread so carefully.” She paused deliberately, then tilted her head with calculated calm. “If you doubt Daehan’s sincerity, then I suggest something simple: why don’t you lay out your terms? Transparency is the best cure for suspicion.”

Her words echoed in the room, the challenge laid bare.

Minister Jang leaned back slowly, watching closely as the tension thickened once again.

Yuna leaned back in her chair, perfectly composed, her fingers laced together as though she held the room itself in her grasp. Her gaze swept across the polished table before settling, cool and unflinching, on the Minister.

“Very well,” she said, her voice smooth, sharp. “If Daehan truly wishes to step into Nara’s circle, then you will accept Nara’s conditions.”

A pause—then her words struck, each one deliberate.

“First—project oversight remains solely under Nara Group. All strategic directions, approvals, and major decisions will pass through my board. Daehan’s role will be limited to logistical execution.”

Executives shifted, whispers moving like ripples through the room. Everyone expected resistance. But before they could dwell on it—

Sera’s head inclined ever so slightly.

“Agreed.”

Yuna’s brow lifted, faint curiosity flickering behind her calm eyes.

“So easily?”

Sera’s lips curved, though her smile carried no warmth. “If it guarantees progress, then yes.”

Unmoved, Yuna pressed forward, her tone sharper now.

“Second—branding and public presentation. Every project launched under this partnership will carry the Nara name first. Daehan follows.”

It was a bold demand, one that would cut deep into Daehan’s pride. Everyone braced themselves for resistance.

Yet once again, Sera’s reply was swift.

“Agreed,” she said smoothly, her gaze steady, unwavering.

A ripple of unease spread across the room. Yuna studied her carefully, irritation flickering beneath her still exterior. She leaned forward slightly, her voice cold and precise.

“Third—final veto power. Contracts, budgets, regional expansions—all will require Nara’s final approval. In the event of disagreements, Daehan complies without contest.”

The Minister shifted in his seat, preparing to step in, certain this would be the breaking point.

But Sera’s expression remained calm.

“Agreed,” she said again, decisive as a blade.

The room stirred uneasily. Even Yuna faltered for the briefest moment, her composure flickering into suspicion. Why was Sera yielding so easily?

Her eyes narrowed.

“Then let me ask, Vice Chairwoman Hwang… what terms does Daehan require in return?”

Sera leaned back slightly, her posture elegant yet edged with intent. Her gaze sharpened, her voice calm but carrying steel.

“Only one.”

The room stilled. Every head turned toward her.

“My condition is simple,” Sera continued, her tone smooth yet deliberate. She extended her hand, and her slender finger pointed across the table. All eyes followed the direction she indicated.

“Him.”

My heart stopped.

“Me?” The word almost slipped past my lips, but no sound came.

Dozens of eyes turned toward me at once. My throat went dry, my pulse pounding so loudly I thought it might betray me. Even Harin, sitting beside me, looked uneasy.

Sera’s voice did not waver.

“For every discussion, every negotiation, every adjustment between our groups—I want him as the mediator. His presence will ensure neutrality and balance.”

The words fell like thunder. Murmurs broke out across the room, sharp whispers in every corner.

Yuna’s frame stiffened instantly. Her nails pressed into her palm beneath the table, her control slipping just enough for those closest to sense it. When she spoke, her voice was ice.

“No. That’s impossible.”

Her refusal was immediate, cold, absolute.

Confusion rippled through the delegates. Even the Minister Jang blinked, taken aback.

Sera’s smile curved sharper, a faint glint of triumph in her eyes.

“So quick to refuse, Chairwoman Seo? What are you afraid of?” Her tone was polished, but the taunt beneath it was unmistakable. “I accepted every single one of your demands without protest. Yet this one small request, you deny without a thought. Curious, is it not?”

The Minister frowned, shifting his attention to Sera.

“Vice Chairwoman Hwang, if I may—how do you know this young man, and what is your relationship with him?”

Sera’s reply was effortless, as though rehearsed. She smiled politely.

“He is someone I know and trust. Nothing more. And I believe his presence would benefit both parties.”

Her words were light, casual—but heavy with implication.

The Minister considered this, then slowly turned his gaze back toward Yuna. His voice was calm but carried authority.

“Chairwoman Seo. Let us be reasonable. Vice Chairwoman Hwang has compromised greatly here. Every major condition you presented, she accepted without hesitation. To reject her only request so abruptly—it risks making the balance of this negotiation appear skewed.”

Yuna’s jaw tightened, her composure dangerously close to breaking. Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

“He is not—” she caught herself, teeth pressing together, forcing restraint, “—he is not suitable for such a role.”

“Not suitable?” Sera tilted her head, her tone soft yet mocking. “I doubt that. You chose him as your assistant, did you not? Surely, you believed in his capability when you gave him that position. So why, Chairwoman, is this such a difficult matter to grant?”

Yuna’s eyes darkened, cold fury burning beneath the surface. Her glare locked with Sera’s, unflinching, a silent war between them.

Meanwhile, my chest tightened. I sat frozen, the air pressing down on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Yuna’s cold glance cutting in my direction, sharp enough to make my stomach twist. Was she… was she blaming me for this?

Even Director Baek and the legal aides shifted, uneasy, attempting to ease the tension. But Yuna’s silence was deafening.

The Minister leaned back slowly, folding his hands together. His tone was calm, but there was a faint edge of insistence.

“Chairwoman Seo. Vice Chairwoman Hwang. For the sake of progress, I suggest compromise. If Daehan has bent this far, then surely Nara can bend by one degree.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

When Yuna finally spoke, her voice was low and lethal.

“Very well.”

Her eyes burned as they settled on Sera, her tone clipped and final.

“If this is what Vice Chairwoman Hwang insists upon… then he will be present. But—” her gaze flicked toward me briefly, sharp as glass, “—he will remain under the supervision of my secretary, Harin. He is still learning, and his involvement will be limited.”

Sera leaned back, her smile faint but dissatisfied, her fingers drumming once against the table as if considering whether to push further. After a long pause, she inclined her head gracefully.

“Accepted.”

The room exhaled as though the tension itself had been holding its breath.

Minister Jang, who had watched the clash with careful neutrality, finally spoke. His voice carried the weight of finality.

“Very well. It seems both Nara and Daehan have reached a preliminary understanding. Today’s meeting has laid the foundation for what could become one of the most significant collaborations in our nation’s recent history.”

He straightened in his seat, his gaze moving from Yuna to Sera.

“The legal teams from both sides will draft the framework in detail. Once the terms are finalized, my office will set the date for the next session. At that meeting, we will review and—should there be no further objection—the agreement will be signed.”

A round of polite applause filled the room, executives and officials clapping in unison as the Minister’s words settled. The sound carried the weight of inevitability, echoing against the polished walls.

I clapped along with the others, though my hands moved without strength, my mind still reeling from what had just unfolded. The sound of applause filled the room, but it only made the weight in my chest heavier.

Then, a faint vibration buzzed against my leg. My phone. I slipped it out of my pocket, careful not to draw attention, and unlocked the screen.

From Yuna? My gaze flicked up to her at the head of the table—her face unreadable. I quickly lowered my eyes and opened the message. 

[Yuna: After this meeting ends, wait for me at the car. Don’t dare to wander around.]

My throat tightened. I hesitated, then typed a quick reply.

[Okay.]

A sigh slipped past my lips as I set the phone down on my lap. She wasn’t angry with me… was she?

At the front, the Minister gave a final nod, his tone firm and decisive.

“Then this meeting is adjourned. I thank both parties for their candor and commitment.”

______

The meeting wrapped up and, just like that, the atmosphere shifted. The polished formality dissolved into something lighter. Executives leaned toward one another in casual chatter, a few already gathering their files to leave.

Outside the ministry building, I could already hear the muffled echo of camera shutters and reporters calling out questions. The media coverage was everywhere

Near the front, Yuna was exchanging a few quiet words with the Minister. Her expression remained composed.. On the opposite side, I caught a glimpse of Sera’s assistant speaking with Harin, their heads tilted in professional politeness.

Yuna had told me to wait at the car. But my throat was dry, and the long hours in that suffocating room had left me restless.

I slipped quietly out of the conference room, the murmur of voices fading behind me as I wandered down the polished hall. A water dispenser stood tucked in a quiet corner. I filled a paper cup and sank onto the bench beside it, the cool water sliding down my throat as I tried to steady my breath.

And then—

“Long time no see, Haemin.”

The voice came from behind me, low but familiar. My chest tightened instantly. Slowly, I turned my head.

Before I could speak, a finger brushed against my cheek, tapping lightly.

I froze.

Sera stood there, close enough that her perfume lingered in the air. Her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile, a soft chuckle slipping past as she straightened her posture.