The suffocating midsummer heat of late July clung to the exclusive residential hills of Seoul, broken only by the rhythmic, deafening thrum of cicadas in the manicured pine trees.
The sharp chime of the front gate doorbell cut through the quiet afternoon at the Lee residence.
A moment later, the estate's housekeeper hurried down the stone path, unlocking the heavy gate. The second her eyes registered the two prominent figures standing beneath the shaded portico, her posture straightened into an instinctive, formal bow.
"Oh, Mr. Park! Principal Han!" she exclaimed, quickly stepping aside. "Please, come inside out of the heat. Just one moment, I will inform Mr. Lee and Madam of your arrival immediately. You may wait in the main foyer."
"Thank you, Mrs. Kang," Park Jin-ho said with a nod.
The heavy oak front door clicked shut, sealing them inside the cool, air-conditioned silence of the vaulted marble entryway. As the housekeeper's quick footsteps faded down the long parquet corridor toward the private study, the pleasant, diplomatic smile on Principal Han's weathered face instantly dropped.
The venerable head of Kirin Arts High turned toward Jin-ho, his brow furrowing behind his wire-rimmed spectacles.
"Jin-ho-ya... Mr. Park I am still not entirely sure about this," Principal Han murmured, keeping his voice strictly below a whisper. "Using an administrative loophole like this..."
Park Jin-ho only smiled—a faint, effortless curl of his lips that held neither warmth nor malice, only absolute confidence.
"If you want your grandson Leo to be an international exchange student, then we need one more candidate for the quota to not make it suspicious," Jin-ho replied smoothly, adjusting the silver cufflinks on his tailored linen shirt. "You were the one who came to me asking for a favor to swing the dissenting votes on the Board of Directors, were you not? Jae-man will handle the risks on the administrative side. Don't worry. Leo will get his exchange placement."
He leaned in half a step, his dark eyes locking onto the older educator.
"All you have to do now is sign off on the single additional candidate I have personally chosen."
Principal Han shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening.
"And what possible interest do you have in a random foreign student from Eastern Europe?"
"I have my own interests," Jin-ho said softly. A brief, unreadable shadow flickered across his eyes before he let out a low, dry chuckle. "Besides... Min-hyuk helped me a great deal with Jin-woo. Without him... I finally understand how they feel now. I know their pain. And this Oleksandr... he looks exactly just like him. Just... Ukrainian."
He shook his head faintly, a wry amusement coloring his tone.
"I hope I can help them fill that void. Even just a little."
Principal Han's expression darkened with sudden, fierce moral hesitation.
"Jin-ho, that is not ethical. Bringing in a boy simply because—"
"Ethics?" Jin-ho cut him off sharply, his voice dropping into cold whisper that brooked no argument. "Save the lecture for the school assembly, Old Man."
He straightened his lapels, his easy smirk returning as if the chill had never existed.
"Anyways... I am always up for it if I get to add a little extra salt to the tea for my dear little brother."
Before Principal Han could retort, the heavy double doors at the end of the hall swung open.
"Jin-ho! Principal Han! What an unexpected honor!"
Dr. Lee Min-hyuk stepped into the foyer, dressed in a comfortable casual linen shirt, his face breaking into a wide, welcoming grin as he reached out to shake his old friend's hand. Right behind him, Lee Eun-seok appeared with her signature, poised grace, offering an elegant bow to both men.
"Please, come through to the sitting room," Min-hyuk insisted, ushering them toward the sunlit parlor overlooking the garden. "It's far too hot to stand around by the door."
A few minutes of standard pleasantries drifted through the room.
Eun-seok soon returned from the kitchen, gracefully setting down a lacquered wooden tray bearing four glasses of chilled barley tea and delicate porcelain coasters.
She took her seat beside her husband, her sharp, perceptive eyes settling on Jin-ho with professional precision.
"So," Eun-seok asked, tilting her head slightly with a polite smile, "what brings the two of you to our home on a sweltering Saturday afternoon?"
Jin-ho let out an amused scoff, shaking his head.
"Ah, Eun-seok-ah... you truly never switch off. Sitting across from you always feels like I've walked straight into the nine o'clock evening news studio. No wonder you're Korea's national anchor."
"Occupational hazard," she countered lightly, though her eyes remained focused.
"Fair enough," Jin-ho said, dropping the casual banter. He exchanged a brief, meaningful glance with Principal Han, then reached into the inner pocket of his jacket.
He pulled out a thick, unmarked manila envelope and set it squarely in the center of the coffee table.
Principal Han cleared his throat softly, speaking up before either of the hosts could touch the envelope.
"We thought... it might be best for you two to look over these papers privately, after we take our leave."
Jin-ho stood up from the sofa, smoothing the crease of his trousers.
"We won't take up any more of your weekend. I only hope that we might hear good news from you both after you've had time to consider it."
"Thank you for the tea, Eun-seok-ah." He offered a polite, shallow bow. "Min-hyuk-ssi."
"Mrs. Kang," Mrs. Lee waved her hand to the housekeeper to lead the guests back to the gate.
Without taking a single sip from the sweating glasses on the table, Jin-ho and Principal Han excused themselves, their measured footsteps echoing back down the marble corridor until the front door clicked shut behind them.
Silence descended over the sunlit living room.
Eun-seok stared at the sealed manila envelope resting between their untouched tea glasses, her brows drawn together in quiet confusion.
"What in the world are those papers, Min-hyuk?"
Min-hyuk looked down at the envelope for a long, heavy moment.
He let out a tired, quiet sigh and casually tossed the thick folder onto the side console table, as if unwilling to let its contents disturb the peaceful afternoon.
"It's probably just some additional clinical indicators or foreign medical research Jin-ho managed to pull together from abroad for Jin-woo," Min-hyuk murmured softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "He knows I have connections with the international neurological board. I'll just take them to the clinic on Monday and look through them properly."
Eun-seok looked at her husband's weary face, a profound, heartbreaking tenderness softening her features.
"Don't you remember?" she said quietly, her voice trembling with an old, familiar sorrow. "We were just like that once. When it comes to your children... you would give away the entire world just for a single sliver of hope."
Min-hyuk's shoulders dropped.
He nodded slowly, wordlessly reaching out to pull her against his chest.
Eun-seok rested her forehead against his shoulder, her eyes welling with sudden, hot tears that she struggled to blink away.
The quiet weight of memories they rarely dared to voice filled the sunlit room, pressing heavy against their ribs.
BANG!
The front door suddenly flew open with the force of a small gale, followed by the clatter of dropped sneakers against the wooden entryway.
"OMMA! APPA! I'M HOME!"
Lee Ha-neul's loud, energetic voice bounced off the high ceiling, instantly shattering the solemn quiet.
"You will literally never guess who I just saw!" she shouted, the rapid thud of her socks charging down the hallway toward the living room.