Chapter 5
: Suspicious, Very Suspicious
Joo Pyunghwa watched his daughter’s back with a puzzled look.
“Hana, are you taking kimchi fried rice again today?”
“Oh, Dad, you’re up? You should’ve slept a little more.”
As she turned her head, Hana frowned at the sight of his shaggy bare legs.
“Dad, I’ve told you—don’t walk around in just your underwear when your daughter’s home!”
“These aren’t underwear! They’re shorts!”
“What kind of men’s shorts are that short?!”
Joo Pyunghwa, with his thick, curly hair, scratched his fluffy-looking head.
Here’s a little TMI: unfortunately, Hana had inherited her father’s curly hair gene.
That made her school life pretty annoying back when short hair was mandatory. Every morning, she had to spend forever flattening and fixing her hair that puffed up like a Choco Mushroom snack after sleeping.
But now, she was actually pretty satisfied with it.
It wasn’t the coarse kind of curls, and once she let her hair grow out, it looked like she had a natural perm. It saved her frequent trips to the salon, which meant saving money.
Joo Pyunghwa stretched his legs and said,
“They didn’t look this short in the photo, but they are. Oh well, I bought them, might as well wear them.”
“Dad, you know you can get a refund for those. Just say the size is wrong.”
“Nah. As someone who used to run a shop, I just can’t do that. They fit around the waist, so it’s fine.”
A former violent crimes detective, Joo Pyunghwa was far too kind-hearted to speak harshly to others. Because of that, his wife—and Hana’s mom—Jang Shin-young’s combativeness had only grown over the years.
Hana sighed and resumed her wok work.
“Just don’t wear that outside, seriously.”
“Yeah, I won’t. But what’s with the kimchi fried rice again?”
Normally, Hana never took the same lunch twice in one week.
So for her to be making it two days in a row was strange enough that Joo Pyunghwa had to ask twice.
“What do you want for breakfast? I have some grain powder drink mixed—should I pour you some? It’s sweet with honey.”
At that moment, Joo Pyunghwa’s eyes narrowed. His detective instincts were kicking in.
He shuffled over to her and tilted his head, eyeing her.
“Suspicious.”
“Huh? What’s suspicious?”
“You’re avoiding the question on purpose.”
Hana’s eyes wavered. Her biggest strength—and weakness—was that she was terrible at lying.
“I’m busy, Dad. I don’t have time to joke around with you.”
“Be honest, Joo Hana. Who’s that lunch for?”
“Who else? It’s mine.”
Even as she made up excuses, her hands didn’t stop moving.
A short silence passed.
She filled a thermal lunch container with kimchi fried rice and topped it with a fried egg. She let it cool to keep it from getting soggy while Joo Pyunghwa circled the kitchen with his arms crossed.
“Very suspicious.”
“Oh my god, stop. I’m busy.”
“Hana, I’m Joo Pyunghwa. I can read your eyes like—”
Hana cut him off with a raised hand and pointed at the wok.
“Do you want some kimchi fried rice or not?”
“Well, I mean—”
“If not, I’ll pack the rest.”
As she opened the cupboard, Joo Pyunghwa shouted in a panic.
“I’ll eat it!”
“No time to fry another egg, though.”
“Fine.”
“And you’re on dish duty.”
Before he could reply, Hana packed the lunch and zipped out of the kitchen.
Joo Pyunghwa narrowed his eyes and muttered,
“That girl never even made a lunch for her dad. Now she’s making someone else’s? This is definitely suspicious.”
DK Headquarters, 8th Floor Gym
“Healthy employees make a healthy company”—under that belief of Do Myung-jin, DK Foods and its affiliates offered the gym for free to all employees.
It was open 24/7, and employees were allowed to work out even during office hours—as long as it didn’t exceed one hour.
As long as it wasn’t abused, bosses weren’t allowed to nag.
Despite being free, the gym was filled with state-of-the-art equipment.
From 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., professional trainers were on-site offering PT sessions—on the company’s dime.
Naturally, the place was packed the moment it hit 8 a.m.
That’s why Siwan came at 6 a.m., when no one was around.
He was an early bird by nature, but more than that, it was because employees felt uncomfortable exercising with him in the same space.
It was only natural—they couldn’t even casually chat with their colleagues if “the boss’s son” was nearby.
It had been like that even when he was just a regular staff member. Now that he was the “Director,” it was even worse.
Siwan, dressed in a sleeveless top, had a lean yet well-defined muscular body.
Not bulky, but compact—refined muscles built for function.
Like a masterpiece carved by a great sculptor, his muscles were sharp and symmetrical.
After finishing his last routine—5 minutes of sprinting—he sat down and used his shirt to wipe his sweat.
As he lifted his shirt, his chiseled abs glistened.
No one was around, but Siwan shyly pulled the shirt back down and pulled out a pill container from his bag.
When he opened the lid, colorful pills were neatly organized.
Was he sick?
Not at all.
This was Siwan’s “meal”—his way of getting nutrients without actually eating, something he hated.
It had become a habit to take them in private, like now.
He gulped down the pills one by one with water, forcing them down.
“Sigh… A director at a food company having pills for breakfast. Pathetic.”
He sighed again and headed for the shower.
Watching from a hidden spot was Joo Hana, in a loose hoodie and a messy bun.
She had left home way too early trying to escape her dad’s interrogation. With nothing better to do, she thought she might as well work out. But what she saw shocked her.
“Why is he taking so many pills? Is he seriously sick?”
Having seen him in the break room yesterday, she even considered they might be psychiatric meds.
But knowing CEO Do Myung-jin, he’d never let someone unstable be a director—even if it was his son.
“No way. If the CEO knew, he’d take him off the job until fully recovered.”
Her thoughts led her to a conclusion:
“He must be hiding a serious illness from his family!”
Mental health issues can’t be hidden from family. But physical illnesses? You can hide those with enough painkillers and willpower.
Hana felt a swell of sympathy for Director Do Siwan.
Is this what it’s like to be the son of a CEO?
“Good thing I packed lunch for him today. Stay strong, Director. I’m rooting for you.”
She earnestly wished him well and began her workout.
After his shower and getting changed into a suit, Siwan returned to his office and found a paper bag hanging from the doorknob.
It had a logo: Bunsik Heaven—a casual snack shop.
Strange.
He hadn’t ordered any food. He never did.
Plus, this was inside the office. Only people with a staff badge or fingerprint could get in.
“Hm…”
Who had come by?
In movies, this would 90% be some kind of threat.
Siwan carefully poked the paper bag open from a distance.
“Maybe I shouldn’t open this out here.”
If it was a threat, obviously it should be opened somewhere private.
He entered his office, sat down, and stared at the bag like he could burn a hole through it.
Of course, he didn’t have x-ray vision.
Before opening it, he prayed in his heart.
“Lord, why do You test me so?”
He only went to church on Easter and Christmas, but in moments like this, faith hit different.
Siwan took a deep breath and opened the bag.
“…?”
Inside was a soft lunch bag.
His father would’ve recognized it instantly, but Siwan was from the school lunch generation and had never seen such a thing.
Still tense, he unzipped the bag and pulled out a round metal container.
His expression turned serious.
Was it… a bomb?
“Wait…”
A delicious aroma drifted up.
The same scent that had made his mouth water yesterday for the first time in twenty years.
With trembling hands, he slowly turned the lid.
The stronger the scent grew, the more his heart raced.
“…!”
A glistening sunny-side-up egg greeted him.
“C-Could it be?! Did Assistant Manager Joo give me this?!”
The scent was identical to what he’d smelled yesterday.
He’d looked up the name as soon as he returned to the office: Joo Hana, age 32. He was surprised—she looked much younger.
Then his face paled.
This was the director’s office. There were no utensils.
“Damn it!”
He sat upright like a meerkat and scanned through the office window to see if anyone was nearby.
Of course not—it was too early.
He considered eating with his fingers.
“They eat curry rice with hands in India, right?!”
As he tried to convince himself, he noticed a bulge on the lunch bag’s side pocket.
Inside was one of mankind’s greatest inventions—a spork.
“Ohh, Miss Joo Hana!”
That wasn’t a prayer. It was literal reverence toward Joo Hana.
Why had she given him kimchi fried rice at dawn?
He could question her motives, but at the moment, Siwan could only think one thing:
I have to eat this before anyone shows up!
