"Do-jun, don't say nonsense!"
Lee Hae-in couldn't help but speak up, her voice trembling with worry.
That was the bravest thing she could muster under Jin Yang-chul's heavy gaze.
Do-jun glanced at his parents—they were terrified. His father's lips quivered, and his mother looked ready to collapse.
But Jin Yang-chul didn't look at them long. He turned back and fixed his icy gaze on Jin Sung-joon.
"You," he asked, voice low and dangerous. "Who broke the porcelain?"
Sung-joon's face drained of color. He couldn't even lift his head.
"It… it was him. He broke both vases… I…"
"Enough."
Jin Yang-chul's voice cracked like thunder. Sung-joon froze.
The old man's eyes behind those gold-rimmed glasses reflected light like cold steel. His jaw tightened, his cheeks puffed in disgust as he gave a side glance to Jin Yong-ki and his wife.
"Sung-joon," Yang-chul said slowly, "you disappoint me."
"You are the eldest grandson. The heir to Sunyang Group. And yet you can't even take responsibility for a porcelain vase? You're descended from tigers—do you know that? Then don't let me smell the stench of a house dog again."
"Grandfather… I…"
Sung-joon's voice cracked, and then the tears came. Big, wet tears of humiliation.
He meant what he said. He really believed Do-jun had done it. But nobody believed him.
"And you?" Jin Yang-chul turned to Do-jun, his face unreadable. "Was it really you who broke the vases?"
Lee Hae-in grabbed her husband's arm in panic.
Her heart was in her throat. Please… say no, baby. Just say no.
Jin Run-ki wanted to speak but found his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. The pressure from his father was too immense.
And then—
"Yes."
The word came out clear and firm.
Everyone in the room froze.
"Hmm?"
Jin Yang-chul narrowed his eyes. "You do know that breaking my vase comes with punishment. One more chance: did you break them?"
"Yes."
Do-jun doubled down.
He was betting everything on one idea—
That this man… this tiger of Korea's business world… admired those with spine.
Not cowards.
Lee Hae-in nearly fainted. Jin Run-ki rushed to support her.
Even Jin Yong-hwa's heart skipped a beat—she'd heard that Chairman Joo Young-il of Daeyoung Group once offered 2 billion won for the twin vases. And now they were gone.
Two billion won, in 1987, when 10 million won was a middle-class family's yearly income.
Yang-chul raised his hand—his intent was clear.
No one dared to stop him.
Jin Yong-ki and Jin Dong-ki smirked.
Finally, a proper beating.
The brat would be humiliated. And maybe—just maybe—Yang-chul would ban Run-ki's family from Jeongsimjae forever.
They braced for the storm.
But instead—
"Oh?"
Jin Yang-chul dusted his palms slowly. Then he looked down at the ten-year-old boy.
"I reward and punish fairly. Even if you're my grandson, a mistake is a mistake. Are you ready to be punished?"
"Yes."
Do-jun bowed calmly. "Mother told me a man should take responsibility. If I broke it, I'll be punished."
Silence.
Then shock.
Even his previous defiance didn't prepare the crowd for this.
A ten-year-old child. Standing tall.
Unblinking under the gaze of Korea's most powerful man.
Interesting, thought Jin Yang-chul, eyes narrowed.
Even among the directors in his own company, few dared hold eye contact with him. And here was a boy—barely up to his waist—answering without a quiver in his voice.
Moments passed. And then—
"…Today is my birthday. I'll let it go."
Gasps all around.
Sung-joon's eyes welled up again.
Why?
Why was Do-jun spared?!
I'm the eldest. The heir. The one who took the blame and suffered. Why is he getting away with it?
But before he could protest, Jin Yong-ki pressed his shoulder down.
A silent shake of the head.
Meanwhile, Lee Hae-in finally let out a sigh of relief.
But then—Yang-chul added:
"There's been a shift in the Blue House. Election results are changing. Tomorrow morning, 9 a.m., the three families will meet me in the study."
Three families.
Not four.
Everyone understood what that meant.
Jin Run-ki and his family were excluded, as always.
He had no say in the company's future.
Eyes turned toward him, a mix of pity and mockery.
Not even invited to the table.
And now your son's going to kneel through the whole meeting?
"As for you, Do-jun," said Yang-chul coldly,
"While we discuss the company's affairs, you'll kneel—until the meeting ends. That's your punishment."
Nine a.m.
No one knew how long it would last.
Could be hours. Maybe even past lunch.
Do-jun would suffer. And that was the real penalty.
"…Thank you, Grandfather."
Do-jun bowed once more, unfazed.
Yang-chul waved them away.
"Get out. I need to be alone."
The crowd dispersed.
Knowing the family sharks would circle soon, Jin Run-ki hurriedly left with his wife and son right after the party.
Behind them, voices cackled.
"That family really doesn't know their place. My Sung-joon is Sunyang's future heir. Even if he broke some vase, so what?" sneered Sun Jung-rae.
Yoo Ji-na snorted. "Exactly. Look at their status. The youngest son of a mistress' child. Hah!"
On the way home, Jin Run-ki and Lee Hae-in were silent.
They didn't understand—why had Do-jun taken the fall when Yang-chul was already suspicious of Sung-joon?
Why walk into the fire willingly?
Looking at their son's lowered head, both felt a surge of guilt.
Why didn't we stop him?
Run-ki had hoped today's party would earn his father's forgiveness.
But after what happened in that porcelain room—
All those plans had shattered, just like the vases.
And just like that…
The long night began.