"What did you just say?" My grandfather's voice ricocheted around the room like a caffeinated ping-pong ball. Not exactly angry, just the kind of tone that makes you question every life choice — including getting out of bed in the first place
I popped my pinky into my ear, pretending to adjust a nonexistent hearing aid. "Relax, Grandpa. It's not like I signed up to fight a war or something. I just… want a normal life. You know, one where I'm not stuck in endless meetings about the latest inventions — brilliant, baffling, and somehow both at the same time."
You'd think I suggested tossing all the family treasures into a volcano. The look on his face says he wanted to throw me out the window instead. All I wanted was a chance to live independently, to experience a reality that didn't revolve around Lunaris — the family business that somehow turns gadgets nobody asked for into gold.
Oh, you want details about my glamorous, tragic existence? Buckle up. I'm the grandson of Ji Seong Hwan — legendary chairman and founder of Lunaris. Yep, that family. The ones who made a fortune confusing everyone with gadgets and maintaining a public image shinier than my grandmother's silverware.
Don't get me wrong — I don't hate it. It just feels like living in a really nicely painted box. I want a taste of something real. Something ordinary. Like taking out the trash or complaining about Mondays.
"A normal life? A normal life, you say?" Grandpa's voice made the paintings shudder. "You are my one and only heir — the heir to Lunaris, Ji Haneul! What more do you want? You've got it all!"
I sighed dramatically, tossing my head back like I was auditioning for a Shakespearean drama. "Exactly the problem, Grandpa. I'm like a well-fed cat. Purr-fectly pampered but utterly useless. You don't want your only heir growing up to be a squishy, sheltered weakling who thinks real life is just another season of The Office, do you?"
He raised an eyebrow like it was an Olympic event. "Do you even know how dangerous the world is?"
"How would I know? I've barely left our gated community! It could be full of rainbows and unicorns for all I know," I replied, totally not mocking him at all — sarcasm dripping from my words like honey.
"You stupid son-of-a—" He lunged for a book on the table like it was a grenade.
I ducked instinctively, fully expecting to lose a few brain cells to literature. But no book hit me. My grandfather froze mid-swing, halted by none other than Kang Min Ho, our family butler.
"Calm down, Mr. Chairman. Or your blood pressure will hit the roof," he said, voice smooth as silk fresh out of the dryer. Then he turned to me. "And you too, Young Master — tone down the sarcasm. This isn't a comedy show."
Kang Min Ho has been my mentor since childhood — teaching discipline, combat, and the subtle art of surviving irritated grandfathers. Calm, composed… somehow more terrifying than Grandpa when he flashes that look in his eye.
Finally, my grandfather sighed in resignation. "Alright then, Mr. Kang, since you've been training him since he was in diapers, what do you think? Can this stubborn brat — I mean, child — survive outside my protection?"
"As far as I'm concerned, Young Master is more than capable. He's not your average boy," Mr. Kang replied, nodding like a sage.
I nodded eagerly, grinning like I'd just been told I could eat dessert before dinner.
"Alright then, I'll trust your judgment, Mr. Kang," Grandpa huffed, then pressed something on the table like it was the launch button for a spaceship.
A knock at the door sounded, and a woman strode in. She was elegant and dangerously beautiful, and when I say dangerously, I mean if looks could kill, I'd be six feet under. She's one of those women you definitely don't want to be on the bad side of — ever.
Her name is Han Ji Yoon, and she is Grandpa's trusted secretary.
"You called for me, Mr. Chairman?" she greeted, her cool gaze looking like it could freeze boiling water.
"Ah yes, yes, Ms. Han. As it turns out, this little brat wants to leave outside my protection and experience the world," he sarcastically replied, making the sign of the skeptic with two fingers while throwing a sideways glare at me.
"Oh, this toddler wants what?" she responded, her cold eyes sizing me up like I was an ill-fated contestant on a cooking show.
Those words pricked me. You could probably see a little angry emoji above my head; it was that dramatic.
I wanted to glare at her, but let's be honest – that probably wouldn't end well for me, right?
"Exactly, Ms. Han! Mr. Kang here vouches for this brat's skills, so I'm thinking of giving his request the green light," the old man declared like he was some sort of game show host. I nearly did a little victory dance at those words.
"And for that reason," he continued, "I want you to assist him with whatever he needs before he steps out of my house."
"Yes, Mr. Chairman," she replied like she'd just been handed a royal decree.
"Now, Haneul, what do you need?" Grandpa asked, like I was a kid in a candy store.
"Uhm... nothing really, grandpa, just my black card," I said. You know, the one that makes buying stuff feel like a video game cheat code?
Just as Grandpa was about to respond, Ms. Han jumped in like she was the referee in a wrestling match.
"Wait a second, Mr. Chairman! He wanted to experience the world, so let him experience it. And earning money is part of it, right, Young Master Ji Haneul?" She shot me a grin that screamed, "I'm up to something!"
I couldn't help but chuckle. Great, now my life's a reality show. What's next? A dramatic music score for my money-earning adventures?
I smiled awkwardly, "Ah, yes, of course! She's right, Grandpa! I wanted to experience ordinary life, and that's all part of it."
But inside, I was secretly throwing daggers at Ms. Han. Ugh! This lady was really getting on my last nerve. I quickly slapped on a grin as she shot me a look that practically screamed, "What's the matter? Got something to say, little brat?"
She then turned back to Grandpa and kept rambling on.
"So here's my suggestion, Mr. Chairman," she said, "he can take whatever clothes he can carry— preferably just the essentials, like shirts without holes—and we'll give him an allowance that'll barely cover a decent sandwich. Just enough for him to find a place to stay and a pocket money until he scores a part-time gig."
"And let's not forget," she continued, "we will enroll him in Seonghwa Academy through the Lunaris scholarship program!"
Honestly, I could feel my enthusiasm for "ordinary life" fading faster than my chances of getting a decent meal on that budget!
"Oh, right, right," Grandpa nodded sagely, as if he were negotiating some ancient treaty. "How about 1 billion won? That should definitely do the trick, right?"
"No, Mr. Chairman, that's just excessive," Mr. Kang said, waving his hands like he was trying to lift a giant weight. "500 million would be more than enough."
At this point, I could see Ms. Han's face darken like a storm cloud ready to unleash a tsunami. She slammed the book she was holding onto the table with a force that could probably send shivers through the Earth's crust.
Silence fell like a drawn-out drumroll. All eyes were on her. We were witnessing an epic showdown—except nobody knew who would throw the first punch.
"Let me make myself clear," she said, and you could almost hear ominous background music cueing up. "When I say 'enough for him to start,' I mean enough to rent a cheap place, pay two months' rent in advance, and have a little allowance for daily life. Which is still absurd, because he wants to experience O-R-D-I-N-A-R-Y L-I-F-E. Right, Young Master?"
She shot me that devilish smile again — the kind that made me feel like I was about to step into a bear trap.
"Uh… oh right, right," I stammered, managing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.
"Perfect," she said, which immediately set off alarm bells in my head—this was a negotiation, and I was about to be outmatched. "Now for the amount, here's the math I came up with: 500,000 Won for a deposit, 800,000 Won for two months' rent, and another 500,000 Won for his expenses until he finds a part-time job. So, that's a total of 1,800,000 Won."
At that moment, I swear I could hear my soul doing a backflip out of my body—probably because it was trying to escape the financial horror show unfolding in front of me.
I mean, just hearing those numbers made my wallet start crying like a toddler who lost its ice cream. I was used to spending money like it was water and my hands were wide open, but now? Man, it felt like I was trying to catch goldfish with a net full of holes—good luck with that!
"And that means, young master, you need to find part-time jobs as soon as possible to cover the expenses of your O-R-D-I-N-A-R-Y-L-I-F-E," she said, hands on her hips, looking like a superhero ready to fight my money mismanagement.
"Oh, and don't forget to take the test on Monday for your scholarship, and whatever you do, don't fail it," she added, giving me the kind of look that suggested failing was not an option unless I wanted to live under a bridge.
"What? I need to take the test, too?" I gasped, clutching my chest like I'd just seen a ghost.
"Well, of course, young master! The Lunaris Scholarship Program only accepts capable individuals; we're not a charity, you know, especially not for folks living the O-R-D-I-N-A-R-Y-L-I-F-E! Get it?" she shot back, grinning like she'd just scored a touchdown against my dreams.
Well, that basically shut me up faster than a cat around a vacuum cleaner. I couldn't find any room to argue; she was like an assassin, always going for the vitals. At this rate, I needed a part-time job just to afford a second opinion on my life choices!
After a few more discussions, I finally got the green light to leave the house. I picked up the money from the table and said my goodbyes. Just as I reached for the door, my grandfather's voice stopped me.
"Haneul, my child!" he called out.
I turned, meeting the gaze of the man who had always seemed larger than life—suddenly serious, vulnerable even.
"I've already lost your father and mother in that accident," he said, his tone low but heavy with meaning. "I don't want to bury another child. So, promise me… no matter what you do, you'll be careful."
"Yes, grandfather," I replied, short and steady. But deep down, those words weighed on me like a stone in my chest. This wasn't just a warning—it was a plea.
He nodded slowly, a subtle gesture that felt like an unspoken understanding passing between us. I bowed lightly, then stepped out of the study room. His eyes didn't leave me, following my every movement like he was etching this moment into memory.
There's no turning back now. From this moment on, I'm on my own.