Chapter 1
āIām quitting!ā
Seven months had passed since Yoona boldly threw her resignation letter on the desk and walked out of the company. Now she lay sprawled on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
For the first month, it had felt like paradise ā the world seemed beautiful, and she couldnāt understand why she had endured so much humiliation just to keep working there. She regretted not quitting sooner.
After countless nights of overtime and giving up her weekends in loyalty to the company, what she got in return was having her work stolen.
The design proposal sheād completed through nosebleeds and exhaustion bore her seniorās name alongside the team leaderās ā not hers.
āManager, I worked on this design from the very first draft. You know I never once left work on time during that project.ā
āI know, I know. But I gave you the opportunity, didnāt I? Who would entrust the companyās main branding design to a third-year employee? You got that chance because I believed in your potential. Isnāt that something to be grateful for?ā
Her team leader was no different from the backstabbing senior.
āLetās not make things so harsh between us, Yoona. You did work hard ā I know that. But can you honestly say Manager Hong didnāt help you at all?ā
Yoona had trembled with anger at his absurd words. Sheād tried to let it go ā until the performance review came out.
Sheād been given the lowest rating.
Her design was hanging proudly in the company lobby as part of the new rebranding project ā and yet she was rated at the bottom.
Outraged, she rushed to HR.
āYou seem to work excessive overtime without clear achievements. Weāre monitoring employees like you who intentionally do that just to claim overtime pay.ā
Humiliated beyond endurance, Yoona threw her resignation letter and walked out.
At least she was free now ā no one to exploit her, no fake smiles, no ulcers. Sheād find another job soon enough. Or so she thought.
Months turned into half a year, and now even her mother sighed whenever their eyes met.
It wasnāt supposed to take this long. Sheād been applying aggressively for jobs, but sheād failed at the final interview six times already.
āYoona, lunch is ready.ā
At her motherās call, she sat up quickly.
Right ā food first, thinking later.
She went to the kitchen where her mother, smiling kindly, set a bowl of rice in front of her.
āArenāt you eating too, Mom?ā
āJust watching my daughter eat makes me full.ā
Her mother, phone in hand, chuckled sweetly as she walked into the living room, chatting animatedly with someone.
That was strange. Just this morning, sheād been scolding Yoona about being unemployed.
āOh, my Yoona? Sheās just taking a short break. That company worked her too hard! They even made her come in on weekends ā the poor thing had nosebleeds from overwork! Big companies arenāt always good, you know. She was so stressed she couldnāt even eat, so I told her to quit! And sheās a Korea University fine arts graduate ā sheāll have no trouble finding a new job.ā
Her mother kept emphasizing āKorea University fine artsā like it was a badge of honor.
Yoona blinked. Was this really my mom?
Then her motherās voice changed:
āOh yes, if she teaches your son, heāll definitely pass. She even taught private art lessons when she was in college ā the kids loved her!ā
Yoona froze mid-bite. That wasnāt entirely false, but sheād only done part-time tutoring during summer breaks.
āSeung-jae, was it? Heāll pass this year for sure.ā
āMom, I only worked part-time at that academy, Iāā
Her mother turned sharply, putting a finger to her lips ā shh.
So, someone named Seung-jae was preparing for college art exams, and this was a request for private tutoring.
Entrance exam tutoringā¦
That usually paid a lot more.
She could make money, ease her motherās worries, and buy time to keep job-hunting. Perfect.
Her mother came back, gulped down a glass of barley tea, and sighed in relief.
āWhew, that was a long call. My throatās dry. Yoon-ah, thereās a lesson offer ā want to take it?ā
āSure, if itās exam tutoring. Whoās the student?ā
āA friend of Young-sunās knows someone ā her son, a retaker. Doesnāt like the regular academies.ā
āWhere does he live?ā
āHannam-dong. Oh, and heās the second son of Seoho Electronics.ā
āWhat? Seoho Electronics?ā
Yoon-ahās eyes went wide. Seoho Electronics ā that Seoho Electronics?
āYes, the biggest conglomerate in the country, the one topping market capitalization.ā
She couldnāt believe it.
āApparently the kid has a terrible temper. Heās already gone through over ten tutors.ā
Of course.
āMom, you really want to send your only daughter there? Iām still job-hunting! I even went to an interview yesterdayāā
āTen million won.ā
āWhat?ā
āThe monthly lesson fee ā ten million won. Plus a bonus if he gets into a top art university. So? You in?ā
The next day, Yoon-ah stepped out of a taxi and followed her phoneās navigation.
The neighborhood was lined with fortress-like walls and security cameras spaced at regular intervals.
It was the kind of place where CEOs and chaebols lived ā silent, empty, and heavily guarded.
āIs this itā¦?ā
She stopped before a massive gate that completely hid what lay beyond.
Ten million won a month. Even if she didnāt last long, three months meant thirty million. Enough for a small officetel with her savings ā a space with her own art studio.
A dream.
And freedom from her motherās sighs.
āThat family has two sons. Youād know the first ā heās often in the news. The secondās a late-born child, raised spoiled because he was sick as a kid. Thatās probably why his temperās so badā¦ā
Please. Iāve survived worse.
Yoon-ah had endured two years and four months of hellish overtime and verbal abuse. She could handle one moody rich kid.
She took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.
Just then, a sleek black Jaguar glided toward the gate. The driverās door opened, and a tall man in a black suit stepped out.
The afternoon sunlight of late spring caught on his sharp features as he strode toward her ā
It was Kwon Seung-won, Executive Director of Seoho Electronics, and eldest son of Chairman Kwon Jeong-hwan.