Jae Hyun Seo was the kind of man people noticed without understanding why. He carried an air of quiet power, a presence that filled every room without needing to say much. Tall and well-built, his posture was always straight, shoulders squared, like he was used to holding up the weight of more than just his own burdens. His sharp jawline stayed clean-shaven most days, and his dark eyes—deep and intense—rarely revealed what he was thinking. They held storms no one else could weather.
He didn't smile often. In fact, some of his colleagues had never seen him laugh. His face was usually unreadable, composed like a mask crafted over time something he wore to survive, not express.
Jae Hyun had lived most of his adult life in the shadows of expectation.
Born into the Daehan family, a name synonymous with one of South Korea's top automobile empires, his future had been decided before he could even say the word freedom. But back then, it wasn't his burden to carry. It had belonged to his elder brother, Ji Hoon the golden boy, the one everyone loved, the rightful heir. And Jae Hyun? He was the second son. The one who partied late, spent lavishly, and laughed like the world didn't matter.
But everything changed the night Ji Hoon died.
The sharp scent of hospital-grade disinfectant hit his memory without warning.
Jae Hyun blinked, and suddenly he wasn't in his office anymore he was back in that sterile white hallway, the air too quiet, the walls closing in. His mother had been sobbing uncontrollably, her hands trembling as she clutched his father's arm. The doctors had spoken gently, but the words were daggers.
Cardiac arrest… too much stress… we did everything we could.
But Jae Hyun couldn't hear anything after "he's gone."
He remembered rushing into the room his brother lying there, still and pale, tubes and machines surrounding him like lifeless armor. That image was carved into his soul. Not just the loss, but the shame.
He should have been there. He should have helped more. Instead, he'd been wasting time in nightclubs, enjoying the empire someone else was breaking their back to protect.
He clenched his fists.
If he had just noticed his brother was drowning… if he had cared enough to ask… maybe he wouldn't be haunted by this flashback now. Maybe his brother would still be alive.
The official report said it was a car accident. Quick, tragic, unpreventable. But something inside Jae Hyun never believed that version. There were pieces that didn't fit,CCTV footage that mysteriously vanished, unanswered calls on Ji Hoon's phone, business deals Ji Hoon had been questioning in the final weeks. Jae Hyun's grief twisted into guilt. And then guilt turned to suspicion.
Now, three years later, Jae Hyun was no longer the carefree second son. He was the face of Daehan Motors. The boardroom wolf. The man who had clawed his way into his brother's shoes and never quite felt like they fit.
Every day was a war.
Meetings began before sunrise, with endless back and forth between departments. Engineering. Marketing. Finance. His schedule was tighter than the bolts in the engines his factories produced. And as if managing Daehan wasn't enough, he had taken on a second life as a project consultant for Hyundai Civic's latest car line. He didn't need the extra money or prestige. He needed the distraction.
The Civic Type-R project was intense. Every detail mattered safety specs, design curves, engine torque and Jae Hyun was involved in all of it. He thrived on precision. On control. On keeping himself too busy to think about Ji Hoon's last moments.
He often worked overnight, long after the office lights dimmed and Seoul fell asleep. His corner office overlooked the city, glittering in cold neon. But he barely saw it. The glow of his laptop was brighter. Spreadsheets and simulation reports replaced dreams. Fatigue settled in his bones, but he welcomed it. The more tired he was, the less time he had to remember.
Weekends didn't exist anymore. While others took boat rides on the Han River or gathered for late-night BBQ in bustling alleys, Jae Hyun buried himself in board papers and design flaws. It wasn't just commitment—it was punishment. Maybe if he worked hard enough, long enough, he could drown out the voice in his head whispering, You should've been there. You could've stopped it.
The guilt was a constant shadow.
Sometimes, it was just a whisper, curling around his thoughts when he looked at Ji Hoon's old office door. Memories of his brother the laughter, the easy charm, the way he commanded the room flooded Jae Hyun's mind. That vibrant life was snuffed out far too soon. The official report called it an accident. But Jae Hyun couldn't accept that.
His gut told him otherwise.
There were too many inconsistencies. A hastily cleaned-up crash site, missing security footage, and whispered rumors of rivalry within the company. Had someone wanted his brother gone? If so, why? And could Jae Hyun uncover the truth before the same shadow fell over him?
Other times, he screamed ,on the night he found an old video of the two of them, laughing on a family trip in Jeju, back when things were simple. Back when Jae Hyun didn't know what it meant to carry an empire alone.
His assistant often begged him to slow down.
"Sir, you haven't eaten today."
"I'm fine," he'd reply, eyes never leaving the screen.
"Maybe take a day off this weekend?"
"I don't take days off."
She had stopped asking after a while.
To the world, he was composed. Powerful. Unshaken. But in the quiet of his apartment, when the city was asleep, the walls knew better. He'd sit on the couch, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling as questions replayed in his mind. Who would want Ji Hoon dead? Was it an inside betrayal? A business rival? Or something deeper..something closer?
He had no answers. Only instincts. And they told him someone was lying.
Jae Hyun knew he couldn't stop. Not now. Every deal closed, every new car model launched, every headline about Daehan's rising stock it was all part of the plan. Keep going. Keep winning. Keep the ghosts quiet.
Still, sometimes, when the night was just too still, he'd hear Ji Hoon's voice in his head.
"Don't let them bury the truth."
So Jae Hyun worked.
He built. He led.
But he never forgot.
The sun had barely slipped past the skyline when Jae Hyun stepped into the Hyundai Civic Type-R project office. A low hum filled the space screens glowing, 3D car models rotating, teams murmuring over designs. It was his second workplace, his sanctuary from Daehan Motors and from the ghosts that followed him there.
He walked in wearing a dark navy turtleneck under a tailored grey blazer, eyes sharp, brows drawn. The engineers straightened in their seats as he passed. His reputation preceded him—precise, blunt, and unwilling to tolerate anything less than excellence.
"Morning, Director Seo," Min-Jae greeted, handing him a tablet. "Today's briefing covers the latest engine simulation. There's a slight drag on acceleration, so the team's proposing a gear recalibration."
Jae Hyun swiped through the data without slowing. "Tell Chul to adjust the torque balancing. Don't waste time recalibrating when the shift delay is software-triggered."
Min-Jae nodded quickly, disappearing to relay the message.
The conference room was already half-filled when Jae Hyun entered. Designers, mechanics, software specialists—all glanced his way, pausing mid-sentence.
"Let's begin," he said, taking his seat at the head of the table.
Jae Hyun thrived in environments like this. Numbers didn't lie. Machines didn't betray you. Projects like the Civic Type-R gave him structure, something his personal life never had. That life outside the polished steel and glass was chaos disguised in silk.
Kyu-hee had been part of that chaos.
She looked like every lead actress in a primetime K-drama, her soft porcelain skin, big round eyes that sparkled even when she cried, and lips always glossed to perfection. She had mastered the art of delicate pouts and strategic silences, knowing exactly how to tilt her head or flutter her lashes to win an apology she didn't deserve.
At first, it had been intoxicating. Her beauty was undeniable, and Jae Hyun, still raw from loss and guilt, had let himself drown in her charm. She distracted him from the ache, from the nightmares. But beauty, he'd learned, was never enough.
"Oppa, why didn't you answer my call last night?" Kyu-hee had asked once, her voice soft but tinged with accusation.
"I was working," he replied, loosening his tie as he stepped into his apartment.
"You're always working," she sulked. "Do you love your company more than me?"
He had sighed. "It's not about love, Kyu. It's about duty."
She had rolled her eyes, standing in the center of his living room wearing an outfit that probably cost more than most people's rent. "No, it's about you not making time for me. All I ask is for you to take me out buy me things, make me feel special. That's not too much."
He had stared at her then, really stared. "You think gifts are the same as care?"
She blinked, confused. "Well… aren't they?"
That was the moment he knew. She didn't care about the way he couldn't sleep at night. She didn't ask why he worked until his hands shook. She didn't see the pain in his silence. All she saw was the black card in his wallet and the penthouse views that came with it.
Back in the present, the meeting was wrapping up.
"We'll finalize the modified layout and send it to production by Friday," the lead engineer concluded.
"Make sure it's airtight," Jae Hyun replied. "No surprises."
As the team filed out, Min-Jae lingered. "Sir, there's a package from Miss Kyu-hee downstairs. Do you want it sent up?"
He didn't even blink. "No. Tell security not to accept anything from her again."
"Yes, sir."
It had taken him months to finally walk away. The break-up had been messy Kyu-hee cried, threatened to expose private moments, accused him of being cold, unfeeling.
"Of course I'm cold," he'd snapped. "You only ever loved the lifestyle, not the man."
She had slapped him for that. He hadn't flinched.
Even now, she tried to claw her way back into his life. Expensive gifts. Messages sent through mutual friends. Gossip articles subtly hinting they were "working things out." But Jae Hyun was done.
He had built walls around his heart, steel-reinforced and emotion-proof. Love wasn't supposed to suffocate. It wasn't supposed to feel like a performance.
His phone buzzed on the table.
Kyu-hee: I miss you. Can we talk?
He turned the phone face down.
A junior designer tapped lightly on the glass wall. "Director Seo, the model prototype is ready. Would you like to review it now?"
"Let's go."
As they walked toward the lab, Jae Hyun's mind returned to the conversation he'd once had with Ji Hoon.
"Don't date girls who only want the spotlight," Ji Hoon had warned with a grin. "They'll disappear the second it dims."
But Kyu-hee hadn't just disappeared she'd tried to take the spotlight with her.
They had met at a fashion event his assistant had dragged him to. She'd worn a red silk dress with an open back and diamond-studded heels, and every man in the room had looked at her like she was a prize. Jae Hyun had been the one she walked up to.
"I heard you're the heir to Daehan Motors," she'd said sweetly.
"And you?" he'd asked, already knowing the answer.
"I model… sometimes. But I'd rather be a wife."
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, tilting her head slightly as her eyes lingered on him a beat too long. Her lips curled into a playful smile, but intentional.
He should've known then. But grief made people blind.
Inside the lab, the Civic prototype gleamed under spotlights sleek, aggressive, a machine built for control.
"A beauty," said the junior engineer proudly.
Jae Hyun studied the car for a moment, then muttered, "Not all beauty is worth the cost."
The engineer looked confused, but Jae Hyun had already turned away.
As he made his way back to his office, his phone buzzed again.
Kyu-hee: I'm sorry, oppa. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted us to be perfect.
He deleted the message without reading further.
Kyu-hee had never wanted them to be perfect. She wanted to be pampered. She wanted her life to look perfect for Instagram, for her friends, for strangers she'd never meet.
Some nights, Jae Hyun stared at the city lights through the tall glass windows of his apartment, wondering if anyone would ever see him beyond the suits, the title, and the money. He didn't want a woman who fawned over his cars or designer watches. He wanted someone who would sit with him in silence and still understand everything he wasn't saying. Someone who could touch the parts of him still bruised by loss—someone who didn't see a CEO, but a man who had been broken and was still trying to put the pieces back together.
He wanted peace. Solitude. A partner who saw the cracks behind the polished exterior and stayed anyway. Jae Hyun longed for a partner who truly cared about his emotions and fears a woman who loved him for who he was, not for the wealth or luxury that came with his name. After all the heartbreak with Kyu-hee, who only chased the lifestyle his money could buy, he craved genuine connection.
Beneath his stoic exterior, a heavy guilt weighed on him every day. If only he had stepped up sooner, helped his brother more in the company, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe his brother would still be alive. Maybe he could have prevented the tragedy or even uncovered the truth about who was really responsible for his brother's death.
He didn't know. But what he did know was this: he didn't want to keep drowning in guilt alone. He wanted someone who could pull him back to the surface. Someone who would choose him, not his empire.
She hadn't been that partner.
Now, his heart was a locked vault, his time consumed by work, his pain hidden behind boardroom negotiations and engine specs.
Maybe it was better this way.
Maybe love was for men who had less to lose.