Soo-ah looked around the room, which felt stifling and utterly beneath her standards. Crossing her arms, she let out a sharp complaint.
"Honey, this place is so small and uncomfortable."
Min-seon sighed, keeping his tone gentle as he tried to pacify her.
"My dear, it's a suitable place for now. We have to conserve our money for daily expenses. I'm trying to start a new venture, so we need to be frugal at this moment."
Soo-ah let out a slow, disdainful snort as Min-seon and Min-sun hauled the boxes and luggage inside.
"But I'm not cooking," Soo-ah declared, sinking reluctantly onto a slightly worn sofa her husband had picked up at a garage sale.
"Don't worry about it. My distant cousin is sending his daughter here to help out."
"Aid? Or help?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes. "We barely have enough to get by, and now we're bringing in another mouth to feed?"
"Oh, honey—"
Min-sun tuned them out as he walked through the house, picking a random room as he entered and plopping down onto a cheap foam mattress. His expression was blank, his gaze entirely distant.
It had all happened so fast...
[KBC NEWS SPECIAL REPORT — BREAKING NEWS]
*(Cue dramatic breaking news intro chime and red-and-white graphics: "GAON GATE: THE ₩1.2 TRILLION LAUNDERING EMPIRE")*
[STUDIO]
NEWS ANCHOR (PARK JAE-MIN):
*(Grave tone)*
"Good evening. It is 9:00 PM on Wednesday, and we begin tonight with an unfolding economic crisis that is sending shockwaves from Yeouido to the Blue House.
In what authorities are already calling the single most brazen corporate crime in modern Korean history, prosecutors have launched coordinated, simultaneous raids across five of the nation's largest consumer and financial powerhouses—all operating under the umbrella of the Gaon Group."
*(Camera cuts to a wider angle. A large digital graphic appears on screen showing the logos of Onda, Solmaru, Naru Express, and Sinseong Financial connected by pulsating red arrows to Gaon Group's high-rise tower.)*
NEWS ANCHOR (PARK JAE-MIN):
"The allegation? A massive, highly automated money laundering ring worth over 1.2 trillion won—nearly 900 million U.S. dollars.
For the past three years, everyday services millions of Koreans relied on—from ordering groceries to booking weekend getaways—were allegedly weaponized to scrub illicit funds from offshore gambling syndicates and untraceable slush funds.
Here is how the so-called 'Ghost Cart' pipeline operated."
"Atrocious, lies, all lies!" Min-seon had shot up in rage as the family watched the broadcast from their opulent living hall on a giant, sleek TV screen.
*(Cut to Full-Screen Explainer Graphic with voiceover)*
NEWS ANCHOR (VOICEOVER):
"According to the Joint Investigation Team, the scheme moved through a tightly sealed, four-stage corporate cycle:
Stage 1; The Entry Point at Solmaru Hotels & Resorts. Billions in physical, illicit cash were brought into VIP suites and private art auctions, booked under fictitious corporate retreats to generate seemingly legitimate hospitality revenue.
Stage 2; The 'Ghost Carts' of Onda. That cash was converted into digital points and used by automated bot networks to make millions of fake, micro-purchases across Onda's online marketplace.
Stage 3: Naru Express's Phantom Fleet. To ensure tax auditors saw moving goods, logistics giant Naru Express generated fraudulent waybills and automated delivery scans for trucks that never left the depot.
Stage 4: Sinseong Financial's Clean Cleanse. The fake retail earnings landed directly at Sinseong Financial Group, where they were repackaged into private equity funds and disbursed as sparkling-clean corporate dividends.
Holding the entire web together? Gaon Group's centralized executive board, which allegedly deleted compliance records and silenced whistleblowers."
[STUDIO]
NEWS ANCHOR (PARK JAE-MIN):
*(Camera cuts back to anchor, split-screen with field reporter)*
"We go live now to our senior legal correspondent, Kang Ji-won, standing outside the Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office in Seocho-dong.
Ji-won, this investigation moved at breakneck speed today. What is the scene outside the prosecutor's office tonight?"
[LIVE SPLIT-SCREEN: PROSECUTORS' OFFICE]
FIELD REPORTER (KANG JI-WON):
*(Holding microphone, police tape and frantic camera flashes visible behind her)*
"Jae-min, the lights are blazing on every single floor here in Seocho-dong..."
"No, no, no!" Soo-ah screamed as she spiraled.
Min-seon was pacing like a frantic madman.
"I am an honest businessman, I never did any illicit business," he muttered over and over as he marched back and forth across the room.
Min-sun lowered his head into his hands, the shouts and the news anchor's voice blurring into a faint, heavy echo in the background.
What was he going to do? Everything was over and gone. He stood up slowly, his mind blank, and headed to his room, ignoring his parents' frantic antics. He glanced at his room and at every possession he had. It all flashed before him, and then he came to his senses only the next day, when a bank official and a team arrived to seize what was valuable and liquidate the rest of their assets. His mother sobbed softly on one of the sofas, and his father stood defeated, watching them take everything.
Most of his friends abandoned him overnight; invitations were canceled with lame excuses, calls and messages went unanswered, and some people bluntly ignored him to his face. Only two friends, Daeyeon and Kangmin, offered any consolation, acting as if nothing had happened. Hyo-seong tossed out mean jokes here and there.
He slowly came back to reality, realizing he was lying in bed in a random room. He picked up his phone and searched for Chin's number. Staring at the screen, he debated calling her to fill her in or waiting until things got better.
Monday mornings were dreaded by college students, even as the day began with pleasant weather, busy lectures, and a flurry of academic activities that contradicted its serenity. Chin was busy cramming for midterms, as the school was about to go on break. She moved in and out of Professor Jimin's office, who kept assigning her a heavy load of tasks and errands. If it weren't for the benefits of being a teaching assistant, she might have quit long ago. She sat at the desk Professor Jimin had set up for her, juggling multiple tasks and assignments that needed to be submitted.
Jimin walked into the office and found Chin buried in her duties. Chin acknowledged him with a muttered "Welcome, Professor," not lifting her eyes from the lit screen. Sitting down, Jimin hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"There's a business summit in Seoul in the next two weeks. I need your assistance to keep appearances and take records; it will be good for you to build connections. And there will also be a dinner party."
Chin looked at Jimin with a blank expression, thinking, 'Can't you just say you need a date?'
"Oh, Professor, unfortunately it will clash with the final week of my midterm exams, so I can't make it."
Though Jimin rarely wore any expression, he seemed a bit disappointed. There was silence as both of them returned to their tasks. An hour or two passed until a knock broke the quiet. Miss Yuma popped her head in; seeing Jimin, she stepped in and walked over to him, ignoring Chin.
"Chin, do you mind excusing me and Professor Jimin? I want to have a word." Chin looked from Jimin to Yuma, ready to stand, when Jimin spoke,
"Just say whatever it is; I don't have the leisure."
Yuma was nervous, clutching the fabric of her dress. "The Seoul business summit is over the next two weeks, and I want you to be my date, since you're attending too."
She closed her eyes, bracing herself for a cold rejection.
"Sure. Be ready by 4 p.m."
Yuma opened her eyes, stunned for a moment, before a bright smile broke across her face.
"Okay," she said, practically floating out of the office.
Chin watched Miss Yuma glide out of the office, practically radiating excitement. A soft smile touched Chin's lips as she shook her head, genuinely happy for him.
"What is funny?" Jimin asked, his eyes never leaving the screen.
Chin froze, suddenly remembering his crossed eyes, and a warm blush crept up her neck. "I'm just happy for you and Miss Yuma."
Silence stretched for a second before Jimin spoke again, completely unprompted. "Can you dance?"
Chin blinked, caught entirely off guard. "What?"
"I don't know how to," Jimin muttered, his fingers still flying across the keyboard.
"Eh, a little," Chin admitted.
Jimin stood up abruptly, stepping over to her desk. He extended a hand, waiting expectantly. Chin stared at it, momentarily stunned.
"Don't read too much into it," he muttered, effectively dousing the flustered expression blooming on her face.
Chin let out a soft pout of annoyance, but she took his hand anyway. He pulled her gently from her seat, leading her out into the open space in the middle of the office.
"You should probably lock the door," Chin murmured, glancing nervously toward the entrance. "I really don't want anyone barging in and misreading the room."
He walked over to the door, sliding the heavy lock firmly into place. A slow, sly smile touched the corners of Jimin's lips.
The elevator doors slid open to the quiet luxury of the penthouse corridor. Bottle of vintage red in hand, Sunwoo took his time walking the length of the hall, casual and deliberately slow. At the last door, he tapped out a familiar, patterned knock. The latch gave way with a soft click. He barely crossed the threshold before fingers knotted into his shirt collar, dragging him out of the light and straight into a bruising, hungry kiss.
The sudden impact nearly sent the wine bottle slipping from Sunwoo's fingers. With a sharp gasp that was instantly swallowed by the intensity of the kiss, he managed to blindly maneuver his arm back, setting the bottle down safely on a nearby entryway table just before his hands instinctively found their way to the her waist, steadying them both.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him with a soft *thud*, sealing them off from the rest of the penthouse suite.
When the kiss finally broke—just enough for them to catch their breath—a breathless, amused laugh escaped Sunwoo's lips as he looked down at the familiar, mischievous face looking back at him.
"Careful," Sunwoo murmured, his thumb lightly brushing against her cheek, a lopsided smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You almost made me drop a very expensive vintage."
"I don't care," she rasped against his mouth, kissing him with a fierce, reckless hunger.
Sunwoo didn't give her room to breathe. He swept her up, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carried her across the suite toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. He set her back against the cool pane, trapping her between his body and the glass—his touch steady, but demanding. Tilting her head back, he dragged his lips down the vulnerable slope of her throat, burying his face into her neck with a sudden, desperate heat that pulled a low, helpless moan from her chest.
Every line of her frame was sculpted and struck through with clean muscle—curves tapering down into an impossible, narrow waist his hands could effortlessly span. When she finally broke their kiss, their breaths mingled in the cold air, hot, ragged, and uneven.
She slipped down from his grip with deliberate grace, sinking slowly to her knees on the polished floor. Without breaking eye contact, her fingers gathered the sleek curtain of her dark, straight hair, twisting it back into a loose, careless knot at the nape of her neck. The gaze she held him with was unapologetic and ravenous as she reached forward to pull him in.
Chin fought to keep her mind blank, but it was impossible with Jimin's hand pressed firmly into the small of her back, radiating heat through the fabric of her dress.
The steps came by rote. Min-sun had drilled the waltz into her muscle memory through grueling hours until she could move in lockstep for his high-society galas. Yet this felt entirely foreign. Jimin moved with effortless, quiet composure, humoring her whispered cues with a slow, watchful tilt of his head. Beneath the clothes, he was lean, unyielding granite—solid enough against her frame to make it painfully obvious that Professor Jimin spent far more hours in the gym.
As their bodies brushed with turn, her skin pricked with a dangerous, nervous heat. Desperate for a defense, Chin thought of herself in sheer resentment. She began mentally cataloging every petty misery he had inflicted on her as his teaching assistant—the towering stacks of ungraded tests dumped on her desk past school hours , his razor-sharp critiques, the impossible deadlines. She clung to every grudge she had, using anger like a distraction just to ignore his hand against her waist.
Professor Jimin was a calm and poised. But beneath that cold exterior, his control was fraying at the seams.
Chin was devastatingly soft against him. With every sweeping turn of the waltz, the yielding curve of her chest pressed gently into the solid breadth of his, radiating an intoxicating warmth straight through his dress shirt. She felt like silk against stone.
He angled his chin, his dark eyes tracing the line of her profile. Her gaze was unfocused, drifting somewhere over his shoulder as though she were a million miles away, yet a petal-pink flush burned her cheeks. Her plush lips twitched into an unconscious, petulant pout—clearly warring with some bitter private thought—even as she leaned in close to whisper a hushed, sharp correction whenever his footwork slipped.
Under the heavy span of his palm, her waist was lush and beautifully carved, giving just enough beneath his grip to make his pulse kick violently against his ribs. Even the hand clasped in his felt impossibly tender, fragile against his broad fingers. The sheer, yielding softness of her whole body was a quiet temptation.
Every breath he took tasted dangerously sweet. The fragrance rolling off her hair was intoxicating—rich, jasmine and warm vanilla. A dark, reckless impulse clawed: to tighten his grip until her ribs ached against his, haul her flush against his hips, and bury his face into the soft crook of her neck until her scent was bruised into his skin.
He barely managed to hold himself back, his knuckles whitening slightly where his palm anchored to her waist.
Chin, meanwhile, had reached her boiling point, suffocating under her own mounting irritation, she decided she'd had enough. Under the guise of a misstep turn, she brought the sharp point of her sandels down squarely—and entirely deliberately—onto his polished shoe.
"Oh—I'm so sorry," she gasped, her lips parting in a breathless, wide-eyed innocence. A faint, lethal flicker of amusement pulled at the corner of Jimin's mouth. He didn't flinch. He didn't even glance down at his ruined leather.
"We'll practice again tomorrow," he said, his voice low, smooth.
Breaking contact, he stepped away and walked back toward his heavy desk. He sank into his leather seat, turned his focus to his screen.
But behind the mask, his fingers gripped the mouse until the plastic creased slightly into his skin. The desk felt vast and icy, his palms burning cold with the sudden, maddening absence of her warmth.
"Ah-yes!"
A sharp, breathless cry broke from Hye-Jin's lips, her forehead resting against the cold expanse of the window. The penthouse was cast in deep amber shadows, the low, sultry drawl of a jazz record humming through the open room. Her skin was feverish, a glossy sheen clinging to her collarbones, her eyes dazed as the city sprawl drifted far below them like a sea of blurred lights.
Sunwoo stayed right behind her, an overwhelming, unyielding presence. His hand tangled firmly into the thick silk of her dark hair, tilting her head back just enough to expose the flushed arch of her throat. , Sunwoo gave her his piece with fierce, rapid thrusts, Listening to her unravel—hearing her voice catch, fracture, and beg in the dark—was absolute ruin.
Every ragged breath she exhaled bloomed against the cold pane, blooming and fading into faint white mist. With every possessive shift of his weight, her breasts hit the glass pane repeatedly as the room seemed to narrow down to just the friction of skin, the heavy thud of their racing pulses, and the unbearable, consuming heat holding them together against the glass. He adjusted his position as Hye-Jin felt his shaft penetrated in deeper. Her body in ecstasy.
A thin, serpentine coil of blue-grey smoke drifted into the silence of the suite. Hye-Jin leaned back against the barstool, chin tilted upward, her eyes narrowed into heavy, languid slits as she watched the ash glow between her fingers.
Across the island, Sunwoo was already back in his clothes—sleeves rolled up to his forearms, fingers dusted with faint shavings as he inspected the fractured cabinetry.
"The splintering runs deep," he said, his voice dropping into that calm, low timbre. "Sourcing the right rosewood and treating the finish will take time. Several visits, at least."
"Take all the time you need," she drawled, dragging deeply from the cigarette before tilting her head back to exhale a slow, milky plume toward the ceiling. A wicked, private smile touched her lips.
"As long as it guarantees you're coming back."
Behind the counter, Sunwoo's mouth kicked up in a quiet, complicit grin.
Then the metallic scrape of keys shattered the air.
The tumblers clicked, heavy and deliberate. The front door swung inward, revealing a man in his fifties standing in the threshold. He looked worn from work, shadows clinging beneath his eyes, an expensive leather suitcase hanging limp from his hand.
"Hey, kitty," the older man murmured, the exhaustion in his voice softening as Hye-Jin rose to meet him.
She crossed the polished floor with slow, hypnotic composure, her body still humming with the aftershocks of Sunwoo's weight. When Ki-Jung reached for her, she leaned seamlessly into his embrace, offering up her mouth for a deep, welcoming kiss—letting him taste the lingering smoke, the chilled air, and the ghost of another man's heat on her lips.
Over her shoulder, Ki-Jung's tired gaze drifted past the foyer toward the kitchen island, squinting at the broad-shouldered silhouette bent over the counter. Recognition clicked in his eyes.
"Oh—Sunwoo," Ki-Jung said, his voice lowering as he hoisted his heavy leather bag onto the marble console table. "Forgot to tell you to drop by earlier."
"Don't worry about it," Sunwoo replied without missing a beat. He wiped a dusting of sawdust from his thumb, leaning an elbow casually on the woodwork with effortless charm.
"You have to be careful with outside contractors these days. Most of them take your money, cut corners, and leave everything ruined underneath."
"Tell me about it," Ki-Jung sighed, unbuttoning the top of his collar. "How much is the damage going to run me?"
Sunwoo caught Hye-Jin's eyes in the dark—just for a fraction of a second—before looking back at her husband with an easy, untroubled smile. "Between friends? Labor's on the house. Just cover the raw lumber. I've got plenty of spare materials I don't mind giving up."
"Good man. Fine, fine," Ki-Jung muttered, already drained and distracted. He reached out and laced his thick fingers through his wife's slender hand, tugging her gently toward the corridor. "Let yourself out whenever you're done."
As Ki-Jung led her toward the master bedroom, Hye-Jin didn't resist. She walked beside her husband, but as the hallway shadows swallowed them, her fingers curled slightly at her side—her lingering glance trailing back across the kitchen to where Sunwoo stood watching, solitary and smiling in the dark.
Sunwoo packed away the tools, wiping down the polished surface. Stepping out into the dim penthouse corridor, he pulled the heavy door shut until the digital lock chimed, sealing the suite behind him with a cold, mechanized click.
As he walked toward the elevators, the phone in his pocket buzzed against his thigh.
He slipped it out. The screen lit up in the low-lit hall, displaying an incoming message.
[Manny Flowers Decors]
"Remember to bring bigger rosewood next time. If you have any to spare."
A slow, wicked grin spread across Sunwoo's face. He slid the phone back into his coat, the phantom heat of her skin against the glass rushing back to him—the desperate friction, the taste of her breathless cries, and the thrilling poison of leaving her husband to sleep in a home that still reeked of another man's fire.