CH 2.
Unlike other chaebol heirs, Executive Director Kwon Seung-won was rarely seen in the media — despite being active in the company’s management.
She had only ever caught a glimpse of him on TV once or twice, standing expressionless at an official event. She had never really looked closely at his face before…
But the man before her was nothing like the faint image she remembered.
His appearance was breathtaking — so striking that “beautiful” felt more fitting than “handsome.” His features, his physique, and the proportions of his body were flawless, a perfect subject for a sketch.
She wanted to pick up her pen and draw him right there.
Overhead, a camera shifted slightly. A red light blinked on — and with a click, the gate opened.
The man beside her didn’t step inside right away. Unsure whether to greet him or go first, Yoon-ah hesitated. Then he turned slightly toward her, casting a deep shadow across her face.
Brown eyes, so pale they could’ve belonged to someone mixed-blood, met hers — sharp, raw, and unnervingly intense.
It felt like being caught in something she couldn’t escape.
Her fingers curled unconsciously.
“
Yoon-ah?”
He recognized her — something she hadn’t expected at all.
“Ah, yes. Hello. I’m here for the lesson interview.”
“I’m Kwon Seung-won. You came through Director Bang Young-seon’s recommendation, I heard.”
“Yes, she’s an old friend of my mother’s.”
He gave a faint nod, studying her with quiet scrutiny before offering a thin smile and walking inside.
“Ah, what a shame. The director just got an urgent call and had to leave.”
A warm-looking middle-aged woman greeted Yoon-ah, motioning her to come in.
The living room was spacious and open, filled with elegant classical furniture. Through the full glass wall, a spring garden shimmered outside.
After inviting her to sit, the woman disappeared briefly into the kitchen, returning with a tray of strawberries and a steaming cup of tea.
“Thank you,” Yoon-ah said, setting it down.
“Just wait a bit, dear. The director might be back soon. You’ve come all this way — no sense wasting the trip.”
“Yes, of course. The tea smells wonderful.”
“Oh, you speak so prettily — and you’re twenty-six, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The woman laughed softly, handing her a strawberry.
“Now, you probably already know, but our Young Master Seung-jae can be a little… particular. You know how artists are — strong opinions, stubborn temperament.”
“I understand,” Yoon-ah replied, nodding.
So it’s true — he’s the difficult one.
“But he’s really a soft-hearted boy once you get to know him,” the woman continued. “You’ll see what I mean soon enough.”
“Of course.”
“Oh dear, it’s almost time for the executive director to come down. Have you eaten? Why don’t you stay for lunch while you wait?”
Yoon-ah checked the time. 1:30 p.m. It was late, and since there was no telling when the director would return, she agreed.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll just have a little.”
Lunch was served — but separately.
The middle-aged woman, Mrs. Cheongsong, set a meal for Executive Director Kwon in the dining room, and prepared another tray for Yoon-ah in an adjacent staff room.
Even in the same house, the difference in dining arrangements surprised her.
So this is how the rich eat — even meals apart.
After two hours of waiting, the “director” never came. She ended up eating only half a bowl of rice and leaving.
Back home, she tossed her bag down and opened a cup of instant noodles. As she poured the boiling water, her mother wandered in, stretching.
“How was the interview? You didn’t even get lunch, did you?”
“I ate a little.”
“Oh, they even fed you? But then why noodles again?”
“I waited for two hours but didn’t even see the director. They said they’d call me to reschedule.”
Her mother tapped her shoulder.
“What are you talking about? They already called — said they liked you and want you to come tomorrow to sign the contract.”
The next day, things were much more formal.
This time, a young woman named Manager Yang greeted her.
Sitting on the sofa, Yoon-ah carefully reviewed the contract before stamping her seal. A monthly payment of ten million won was no small deal, and since the student was a chaebol heir, it all felt fittingly official.
Everything was ordinary — except for the confidentiality clause at the end.
Once the paperwork was done, Manager Yang led her upstairs.
“Mrs. Cheongsong spoke very well of you,” she said. “The director trusts her judgment.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve also got prior experience teaching art prep classes, right?”
“Ah… yes, a little.”
Yoon-ah’s polite smile was stiff. Her experience barely counted, but it wasn’t a total lie.
“We also saw your Good Design Award record. The director decided quickly after that — said we should secure you before you got hired elsewhere.”
“Oh, um… I was just lucky.”
Seven months of unemployment had worn down her confidence, and the praise felt awkward.
They stopped halfway down the hallway on the second floor.
“This is your room.”
The space was bright and spacious, with sunlight pouring through the terrace windows. There was a dressing room, a private bath — almost like a small apartment.
Manager Yang pointed to a door across the hall.
“The bathroom is over there. Everything else belongs to the Executive Director — you won’t need to enter.”
In other words: Don’t go near it.
Yoon-ah nodded. The second floor had no common area — meaning all other rooms belonged to Kwon Seung-won.
“And on the third floor,” Manager Yang continued, “there’s the Executive Director’s private suite and terrace pool. You won’t have any reason to go there either.”
“Yes, understood.”
“So, this is your lesson schedule. Check it and let me know if you have any notes.”
“Yes, thank you.”
As Yoon-ah looked down at the paper, Manager Yang’s tone sharpened slightly — calm but unmistakably firm.
“Do not enter any other rooms. Ever. Under any circumstances.”
