DW 01

“You mean you really don’t feel anything toward me? That’s strange. That can’t be right.”
“……”
“Is it… emotional numbness? Some kind of affliction? Maybe your eyesight’s bad—or your sense of aesthetics is just unusually broken?”

It was a crisis like no other—an unforeseen collapse in the life of a man who had never known lack or failure.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not as if you’re going to give me anything.”
“…What?”
“See? You do that—those round eyes and that confused ‘What?’ look. Do you know what that makes me want to do?”
“……”
“You really have a knack for driving people insane, Joo Do-ah. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

For the first time in his life, he longed for someone more than life itself—
that cool, unyielding, and heartbreakingly lovely woman.

“So yeah, damn it, I like you. Enough that I don’t give a damn about your stupid brewing technique.”

Rough, and yet—

“Joo Do-ah, I’m drunk on you. Completely.”

This is the sweet, intoxicating story of Kang Kwon-ha’s first love.

* * *

It was late April, when pear blossoms burst open like white flames across Yehwari village.
The air was perfumed with their scent—the season’s fullest bloom.
Spring’s peak.

Yet in one corner of Seoul, there was still a place locked in midwinter’s chill—
the Hannam-dong mansion of Chairman Kang Ho, patriarch of Daesung Liquor.

“Make sure nothing goes wrong. You know what they’re like.”
“Yes, team leader.”

The mansion loomed behind walls of granite taller than a man, with towering pine trees standing like sentinels. Even the security guards at the iron gate exuded the menace of hell’s gatekeepers.

A house that perfectly reflected its master.

“Executive Director Kang Dae-sik of Daesung Distribution has arrived.”
“CEO Kang Mi-ra of Daesung F&B and Executive Director Seo Hee-jin have arrived.”

The entire fortress-like estate buzzed with tension. The entire Kang clan had been summoned at dawn.

Among the line of imported cars idling before the gate, one stood out—a high-end domestic sedan, black and sleek.
The security officer’s face hardened the moment he read the license plate.

“Director Kang Kwon-ha of Daesung Liquor has arrived.”

All the guards, linked by earpiece, wore the same expression—tense, alert, almost fearful.

When the assistant, Shin Dong-hoon, stepped out of the passenger seat, he raised a hand to stop the guard about to open the door.

“Wait a moment. He’s still finishing some work.”
“Ah, yes.”

Everyone stood frozen, terrified of appearing even slightly improper.

After what felt like an eternity—

Tok tok.

A light tap on the window. Permission granted. The guard opened the door.

The polished tip of a pair of black oxfords touched the ground first.
A sharp crease ran down the line of tailored trousers.

Nearly 190 centimeters tall, with a boxer’s build, Kang Kwon-ha didn’t need to speak to command attention; he radiated authority.

“Mr. Shin, this.”
“Yes, sir.”

The assistant took the tablet handed to him.

“Tell them to revise the highlighted section and send it back.”
“When would you like it?”
“Today. On my desk before I leave.”

It had taken a month to prepare that report, but Kwon-ha didn’t care. There was only ever one acceptable answer.

“Yes, Director.”

Buttoning his jacket, he took a brief look around. His every movement sharpened the air like a drawn blade.

Checking his watch, he murmured—

“Hmm. Good timing.”

The sunlight broke through a cloud, catching the slick of pomade in his hair. It looked, absurdly, like a spotlight.

“Welcome, Director Kang.”

Everyone bowed. He smiled faintly, polite and controlled.

“Thank you for your work.”

He patted one of the guards on the shoulder before walking through the now-opening gates.

As he passed the line of expensive foreign cars, he muttered with a smirk—

“What impeccable taste, as always.”

Idiots.

Chairman Kang Ho—his grandfather—was a staunch nationalist and a lover of Korean products.
Daesung Liquor had built its empire on traditional liquor.
And his import-loving relatives had, once again, proven who the true heir was.

“I’ve got a good feeling about today, don’t you, Mr. Shin?”
“Yes, sir. I think so too.”

A killer feeling, indeed.
The arrival of Kang Kwon-ha, Daesung Liquor’s director of marketing and the chairman’s only grandson.

Inside the mansion, Chairman Kang Ho sat cross-legged on a silk cushion. Even in April, he wore cool white linen.

“Kwon-ha, you’ve come.”

His cousins had already taken their seats, leaving one spot empty—right beside the chairman.

“I’m a bit late.”
“No, you’re right on time.”

The old man’s defense of him made the others’ faces twist.

Before he could even sit, his aunt, Kang Mi-ra, struck first.

“Father, did you see Hee-jin’s first-quarter results for Esfranc? They’re phenomenal!”

Esfranc—Daesung F&B’s new coffee franchise.

“She’s grown up so much. Honestly, you’d be proud, Dad. She’s your only granddaughter, after all.”

Next to her, cousin Seo Hee-jin played the modest daughter act.

“Oh, Mom, please…”

Fake. Every bit of it.

When she darted a sharp look at Kwon-ha, he almost laughed. A hundred and eighty degrees of improvement? More like a hundred and eighty degrees of crazy.

The chairman nodded, sipping chrysanthemum tea.

“Yes, I saw the report. The numbers were high.”

At once, Mi-ra and Hee-jin beamed—
until Uncle Kang Dae-sik joined in, voice slick with poison.

“Ah, those numbers. I heard they were achieved by forcing franchise owners to overstock and giving away free drinks every week.”
“Uncle, that’s not true—”
“Come now, Hee-jin. You might not know business, but Daesung’s not a charity. Isn’t that right, Father?”

Perfect.

Though his uncle had run Daesung Distribution into the ground, moments like this were priceless.

The chairman sighed heavily.

“Every time we meet, it’s like a pack of dogs fighting.”

He set the cup down with a sharp clack. Silence fell instantly.

“It’s not like that, Father, I just thought—”
“Grandfather, that’s not fair, Uncle’s misunderstanding me—”
“Dad, I didn’t say anything.”

Excuses piled on top of excuses.
Everyone was the victim, the misunderstood party, the martyr.

The chairman’s gaze drifted—settling at last on Kwon-ha, the only one who’d kept his mouth shut.

“Looking at you lot… I think it’s time I chose who’ll succeed me.”

Finally.

Kwon-ha felt the pulse of anticipation climb his spine, each beat electric.

It was coming. The title, the recognition, everything.

“I’ll give it,” said the chairman slowly, “to the one who fulfills my wish.”

“……”

“Go to Yehwari. Bring me the brewing method of Cheondo Ihwaju.”

So much for that killer feeling.

“And one more thing,” the old man added, his eyes like tempered steel.
“Do it by the book. No underhanded tricks.”

And just like that—

What had begun as a killer feeling turned into a killer assignment.

A challenge that would change everything.