Chapter 11
Chairman Kang remained silent for a long while.
The longer he stayed quiet, the deeper grew Kwon-ha’s suspicion. Brushing the ihwado leaves from his hand, he stared into the distance with dark, brooding eyes. At the end of that gaze, the sight of the unlit [Ihwado] estate came into view.
“Chairman, I have ways to find out myself, but I ask again out of courtesy.”
Despite Kwon-ha’s bold words, Chairman Kang said nothing. It seemed there truly was some connection between the two of them. Whatever it was, it was a story the grandson couldn’t know. Even probing it, the chances of uncovering the truth were slim. If this was a secret the ‘Daesung Judo’ Chairman Kang was deliberately hiding, even more so.
Kwon-ha’s curiosity was reaching a fever pitch.
‘Should I probe again?’
As his mind raced with deduction, a cough came faintly from the device.
[It is a bond from a very long time ago. You don’t need to know the details.]
“Then… you know I am your grandson?” Kwon-ha asked.
[……No. That, I do not know.]
Kwon-ha groaned inwardly.
This is ridiculous. Even hiding behind one eye, the contradiction is obvious.
He dropped the incense stick he had held to the earthen floor, snuffing out the remaining spark with his shoe. Then he continued, deliberately choosing each word.
“Surely, you are aware the logic here doesn’t add up. People here break into a panic at the mere mention of ‘Daesung Judo.’”
“Moreover, allowing the one and only biological grandson of Chairman Kang, of all people, to enter at a time when outsiders are most forbidden… doesn’t make sense, Chairman.”
“So you’re saying that your involvement in letting me in was truly, absolutely, nonexistent?”
Kwon-ha emphasized every word with deliberate spacing. After his logical challenge, Chairman Kang fell silent again.
“That silence just now is the answer. I will investigate on my own.”
[This is between me and that person.]
The chairman’s voice carried the weight of a stern warning.
[You neither need nor should try to know this. Let’s end this subject here. Focus only on your duties at Ihwado. You haven’t forgotten what you’re meant to do, have you?]
His decisive line only fueled Kwon-ha’s curiosity further.
‘That can be figured out gradually while I’m here.’
He withdrew, lowering his gaze from the estate, and replied with careful composure.
“Of course. I wouldn’t forget.”
White petals, scattered chaotically by the night breeze, caught his eyes again. The hand that had held a cigarette now reached desperately for the leaves drifting like snow through the black void.
“And you haven’t forgotten the promise between us, I hope?”
[Promise?]
“Regardless, just stepping inside grants 3% stake. The chairman mentioned it this afternoon.”
[……Who said I’d forgotten?]
Kwon-ha chuckled softly at the curt reply.
“Indeed. One bite, no second words.”
Finally, he grasped a falling white petal. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled, savoring its sweet scent like a tiny reward celebrating his small victory. The aroma wrapped around his senses, calling up the faint memory of her presence.
“Well then… I look forward to it.”
In that moment, obsession sparked in Kwon-ha’s eyes as they rested on the delicate leaf.
Morning at the Servants’ Quarters
At 5 a.m., the servants’ quarters were bathed in the cool light of dawn. Kwon-ha’s eyes opened precisely on the dot.
Slowly pushing aside his thin blanket, he stretched, listening to the subtle cracking of joints as he moved.
“Huh… slept without dreaming.”
On the hard floor, with only a thin futon, his body felt strangely light. Kwon-ha marveled at his own adaptability, usually incapable of sleeping anywhere other than home. Even with Secretary Shin lying beside him, he had fallen asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. The subtle mingling of fermentation scent and pear blossom aroma had acted as a gentle sedative.
He swept his gaze over the earthen room.
“This place is strange.”
The girl he’d met yesterday was no exception—nothing about this place or its people seemed ordinary.
‘I wonder if she slept well… Is her ankle okay?’
Again, his thoughts circled back to her.
“Have I lost my mind?”
The sound of Secretary Shin’s snoring punctuated his words. Kwon-ha’s eyes narrowed as he watched the man scratching his belly.
“Shin, time to get up.”
The snoring persisted. Kwon-ha leaned close, whispering in his ear, “Shin, wake up.” He smiled, knowing the warning was given; now, the next step…
“Shin!”
The shout jolted the man awake. He scrambled upright, hands wiping saliva from his mouth, eyes blinking rapidly.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Ah, sorry. I should have woken up first.”
“As long as you slept, it’s fine. Why be so stiff? We’re friends.”
Even with Kwon-ha’s joke, Shin’s knees refused to straighten. Unbothered, Kwon-ha brushed himself off and stood.
“Dong-hoon, bring my change of clothes. Last night was chaotic, and this feels… unpleasant.”
“Yes, sir. Chief…”
“Call me Kwon-ha.”
“Ah, yes! Kwon-ha. I’ll be right back.”
Secretary Shin rushed out, flustered by the sudden mix of casual and formal speech. Kwon-ha stepped onto the verandah, breathing in the crisp air. A morning that increased his stake by 3% could hardly feel more refreshing. Sleep was good, the air crisp, and his path to succession just a little closer. A tune hummed through his lips.
“Shall I start with a shower? Warm water should be available.”
It was shaping up to be a good morning, unaware of what awaited in just fifteen minutes.
Dawn Duties
At 4:30 a.m., Doa moved across the frost-covered pear blossom yard. Her steps were precise as she first checked the Yeowol, then proceeded to the koji room.
Koji was the most crucial ingredient in brewing; for a farmer, it was like nurturing seeds.
“Hah… shouldn’t let the embers die out…”
The previous night’s attendant, Madam Sumi, had clearly been unable to resist sleep. Doa hurried to the firewood storage. Though her ankle throbbed from yesterday’s misstep, urgency left no room for pain. She chose oak over pine, ensuring the resin scent wouldn’t seep into the koji.
She recalled the words of the master:
—A single degree can affect a year’s taste. Remember, the hands that make the koji and the room that ferments it must be carefully temperature-controlled.
Kneeling before the stove, Doa arranged three oak logs in a井-shape, scattering a handful of solid fuel made from rice bran and straw at the edges. Clothes covered in ash, she pressed on. As the flames spread, the bitter scent softened into honeyed warmth.
The thermometer slowly climbed to 28.2… 28.4°C. Listening closely, Doa caught the distinctive hiss of fermenting rice starch. At 29°C, relief spread across her face.
“Ha… done.”
She left the koji room behind and headed to the final hearth check. Glancing at the servants’ quarters, her thoughts briefly flickered to the man whose ankle she had tended—an inexplicable warmth rising in her chest.
It was just past 5 a.m.; since he had been told to wait until 5:30, the timing seemed about right. She hesitated, thinking of what task to start with first, then opened the door.
“…Still asleep?”
Standing on the stepping stone, she peered inside when suddenly—bang! Something collided.
“Ah! What the hell!”
The massive, bare silhouette of a man burst from the bathroom, colliding with her.
“Watch out!”
With no time to react, they tumbled together into the yard. His hands cradled her head as ihwado leaves scattered across the earthen floor.
“……!”
Her cheeks flushed as her heartbeat raced, raw and unrestrained.
