Chapter 17
Bullshit
“W-What was that?”
“Wow! I thought something flew past me!”
“Was that… the new ‘royal family’ of our department?”
“Yes. To be exact, the third royal family.”
The moment Geonwoo slammed the office door open and stepped out, the employees reading the business plan jumped in surprise, heads snapping up at once.
Their stiff faces followed him out of the room, as if their necks couldn’t move any other way.
When Geonwoo finally disappeared from view, the employees froze for a few seconds, their brains temporarily offline, before slowly processing the situation and muttering among themselves.
“The royal family really is the royal family… How did someone go from being invisible to commanding attention overnight?”
“I was so startled! I honestly thought it was someone else when he came out of the office.”
“Same here. I couldn’t believe that was the same royal family member who usually just stamps in and out.”
“This must’ve been orchestrated by the control tower, right?”
An employee raised the business plan he’d been reading to show it.
“Probably… though I can’t be entirely sure. Right, Deputy Manager?”
“Hmm…”
Deputy Manager Jo Byung-do let out a low sigh.
“Why? Is there something off?” an employee asked.
“The intention doesn’t quite match.”
“Intention?”
“Yes. If the control tower had prepared this, they’d want the results to come from the headquarters for media exposure, not from a subsidiary, like before.”
Jo tapped the ceiling lightly with his blackened but clean hand, as if punctuating his point.
The employees instinctively looked up, realizing he meant the Vice President and Executive Director in the upper management offices—Myeongwoo and Jongwoo. They nodded subtly.
“Ah… right,” one said.
“But if you assume Geonwoo planned and drafted this himself, it’s so clean and precise that it’s hard to tell. You might think it impossible, yet reading it, it somehow feels doable.”
As Jo explained, the employees’ eyes dropped to the plans in their hands.
Naturally, they recalled Geonwoo.
The Cultural Business Department will be separated from Seodo Group headquarters and become Seodo Cultural Arts, a subsidiary.
There wasn’t a hint of tension on his face.
He carried himself as if standing in front of people was second nature.
Ha Geonwoo—the youngest son of Seodo Group’s chairman.
Though the media didn’t know of him, everyone within Seodo Group did.
He was even famous for doing nothing.
Unlike other heirs who treat their family business like a playground, he merely went to work and left on time.
“That’s why it’s difficult,” Jo said, prompting the employees to look up in confusion.
They didn’t understand him at first.
“This isn’t just about who’s in line.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like the dawn of a shift in Seodo Group’s landscape—or rather, a tectonic upheaval.”
The low voice left the bustling Cultural Business Department in sudden silence.
Only now did the employees feel the weight of the business plan in their hands.
Today’s decisions could either create a new wind for Seodo Group… or be swept away by it.
Wow.
It’s really him.
Yeoul looked up at Geonwoo, who was catching his breath, eyes wide in astonishment.
“It really is you,” she whispered, a mix of awe and wonder.
She had known Geonwoo for four years, yet she felt like she’d learned more about him in the past day than in all that time.
Especially how he always runs to see her.
“What did Seungtae send you?” she asked.
“Senior…?”
His face was stiff, eyes sharp and glaring.
Despite the intensity, it didn’t feel threatening.
Perhaps it was the unsteady flicker of worry in his black eyes—an anxiety over losing her, a concern for her well-being.
“Did… something happen?”
“Bullshit,” she said flatly.
Yeoul could tell that something was making him hesitate, but instead of asking, she simply shared her impression.
She held back the thought: I’m not going to fall for his nonsense again.
Geonwoo probably didn’t know the true extent of Seungtae’s manipulation yet.
But…
“Uh…?”
He blinked, surprised at her words.
“I deleted it because he was pretending to apologize when he clearly wasn’t sorry.”
“Uh…”
Seeing him half-dazed, Yeoul wondered if he’d come running because he’d been that worried about Seungtae’s message.
“It’s nothing…” she added softly.
“Ah…”
Her words seemed to spark a new realization in him, his low voice filled with quiet admiration.
Yeoul paused mid-sentence, sensing something unusual in Geonwoo’s state.
“Senior, are you okay?”
“Yeoul.”
“Yes, Senior?”
“Those words… bullshit…”
“Oh, you were surprised by that?”
“I’ve never said anything like that before…”
“Right.”
Yeoul couldn’t help but smile.
Now she remembered—she had never even used a curse word in front of him.
I only started speaking harshly when I was at my lowest point.
If she, at twenty-three, had avoided saying things she normally would, Geonwoo’s surprise made sense.
Come to think of it, even during that hellish marriage, I never cursed Seungtae or my mother-in-law out loud.
She had been treated like a sinner for being unable to bear a child.
Seungtae claimed she ruined his life, so she lived apologetically, thinking she had to try harder, do better.
She had chosen self-improvement over lashing out.
For things that aren’t my fault, I should just curse the guilty.
From now on, she would.
“But from now on, I might just start. Disappointed?”
“Refreshing.”
“Huh?”
Geonwoo’s unexpected reply threw Yeoul off.
She had asked, expecting at least a tinge of disapproval, but instead, his gaze seemed intrigued.
Yes, she could be refreshing.
She had always been quiet around him.
But he didn’t need to stare at her like this, eyes shining.
“You look comfortable.”
“…”
She lost her words.
It was like a hammer to the head, more shocking than she’d anticipated.
“It means you’re following your heart.”
“…”
“If you follow your heart, I support whatever that leads to.”
Something stirred violently inside her, rising with an uncontrollable heat.
She remained silent, only watching Geonwoo, who slowly lifted the corner of his mouth into a gentle smile.
Then he raised his left hand and glanced at the watch on his wrist.
His expression tightened, as if something was displeasing him.
Geonwoo met her gaze again.
“I’d stay longer, but I have to go.”
“Oh… you came during work, right? Go ahead.”
“Just one thing I want to ask.”
“Yes?”
“Are you really okay?”
Without a subject, Yeoul understood immediately and answered.
She was starting to understand Geonwoo.
He didn’t mention uncomfortable words unnecessarily.
He simply expressed concern with gentle eyes, soft expressions, and a caring voice.
“Alright, then.”
Geonwoo nodded lightly, confirming her honesty in both words and gestures.
“I’ll come by tonight.”
“Tonight? Why?”
He turned to face her.
“To take you home.”
“It’s fine.”
“My only joy. Don’t take it away.”
“Huh?”
She blinked in disbelief, but Geonwoo only smiled lightly.
Then he left the practice room.
Once he disappeared, Yeoul blinked, catching her breath after being stunned by Geonwoo’s playful, unfamiliar demeanor.
“Wow… new.”
Nothing else came to mind.
Geonwoo stepped out of the Korea University of Music building and into the parking lot, a short laugh escaping his lips.
He had called just to hear Yeoul’s voice.
Even over the phone, he sensed the subtle shifts in her emotions.
When she said Seungtae had sent her a message, he had dashed out without a second thought.
Yet to hear her call it “bullshit”…
“Better solve this quickly,” he muttered.
That was his responsibility.
To ensure she could continue playing the cello, her greatest joy.
