CHAPTER~01
Not the CEO, the Captain
Hwido wrapped up his presentation with a quiet sense of satisfaction.
For the first quarter, the Wooheon Group Hotel Division’s performance wasn’t bad at all.
The “Woo Dragon” plushie, released as a cherry blossom edition, had sold out through its first, second, and third runs.
To sell the cute little dragon wearing a pink cherry blossom scarf, Hwido had even opened social media accounts and handled promotions himself.
And that wasn’t all.
He’d signed an unprecedented partnership with a film festival to attract overseas tourists, personally checking that not a single room went unbooked.
Of course, sales were still down compared to last year—but that couldn’t be helped.
Last year, the lingering pandemic had made staycations all the rage. This year, everyone desperate for travel had gone abroad.
So, in the worst possible circumstances, he had achieved the best possible results.
Or so Hwido decided to tell himself.
The results were in, the executives had praised him, and even Madam Jang Mi-hwa, sitting at the head of the long conference table, looked satisfied.
That picky old lady. Would it kill her to say something nice for once?
Hwido crossed his long legs, propped his chin on one arm, and waited for the next presentation—the Resort Division’s turn.
“Hello, I’m Kim Haeseong from the Resort Division.”
Haeseong stood confidently in front of the same screen Hwido had just used. Hwido frowned as he saw the new presentation slide appear.
What’s with that font? Is he launching a new phone series? Does he think he’s Steve Jobs?
Apparently, Haeseong had bought some fancy font online. It sparkled—literally sparkled—compared to the clean simplicity of Hwido’s presentation in Malgun Gothic.
People who can’t study always have great handwriting, Hwido thought with a smirk.
“This is the remodeled exterior of the Wooheon Resort. It’s still confidential, but we’re being discussed as a nominee for this year’s Seoul Architecture Award.”
Hwido snorted under his breath.
So what? You call that a first-quarter achievement? It’s not even nominated yet—just under discussion? Please. By that logic, my ‘Woo Dragon’ is under discussion for the Perfect Design Award.
As the presentation went on, Hwido slouched deeper into his chair, his boredom as visible as a protest sign.
If he leaned back any further, he’d be lying down.
The executive sitting behind him kept bumping knees with his chair—probably regretting his choice of seat.
“Summer is approaching. Our resort has prepared a variety of programs in advance.”
There it is.
Hwido grinned knowingly.
Now he understood why Haeseong had shown off the fancy building exterior and cluttered up the slides with flashy effects.
A resort was a family vacation spot—its revenue depended heavily on the summer season.
Which meant, compared to the hotel division, the first quarter was basically meaningless.
So you’re just losing—and making a long speech about it?
To Hwido, everything about Haeseong’s “future plans” sounded like smoke and mirrors.
This wasn’t about ideas; it was about results. And between the two of them, first-quarter results were what truly mattered.
Then, in the middle of presenting, Haeseong’s gaze shifted. He turned slightly toward Hwido—and smiled.
Smiled.
Hwido’s expression froze immediately.
Because every time Kim Haeseong smiled like that at him, something bad happened.
“Let’s take a look at the next slide.”
For the first time during the presentation, Hwido leaned forward.
Gone were the flashy fonts and colorful designs. The next slide was plain—just black letters on a white background.
But the content was enough to make jaws drop.
- “Resort Club Card sales up 43% compared to last year.”
Hwido’s mouth fell open.
“Crisis is opportunity,” Haeseong said smoothly, glancing his way.
“The main reason for this success was the impact of our recent promotional event.”
Hwido clenched his fist.
That cursed event actually worked?!
He was dumbfounded—until the next slide appeared, and he nearly fell out of his chair.
On the screen was a screenshot from a video—Hwido, in his red tracksuit, grabbing a man by the collar in the Wooheon Hotel lounge.
“Many of you may remember the video uploaded by influencer RedRed, who has 460,000 subscribers. Of course, it’s been taken down now.”
A few executives coughed uncomfortably.
Everyone in the company had seen that video—the one where the heir of Wooheon Group became the laughingstock of the internet.
And the “heir” in question was sitting right here.
RedRed, dressed head to toe in red, had called himself the Heir of Wrath.
When Hwido heard that nonsense, he’d grabbed the man by the collar and thrown him out.
The influencer had filmed in the hotel lounge without permission, prying into customers’ private lives for content. Hwido couldn’t let that slide.
But the uploaded video only showed him grabbing the man and yelling, “Get the hell out!”
Someone had even added dramatic background music—repeating the line “You fool—!” from a historical drama.
And now, Haeseong had neatly pasted that clip into his PowerPoint.
I spent all night trying to take that video down—and you put it in your slides?
Furious, Hwido shot up from his seat.
“Hwido.”
Mi-hwa’s voice tried to calm him, but he barely heard it.
“You bastard!”
Ignoring her, Hwido stormed toward the front, fists clenched. Haeseong remained composed.
“Please sit down. I’m still presenting.”
“What?”
“Yes. I haven’t yet explained the success of our ‘Get the Hell Out to Summer!’ event.”
It was based—of course—on Hwido’s viral outburst.
Thanks to that humiliating video, the resort had gained massive publicity.
And now Haeseong was standing here, using it as his crowning achievement.
“Sit down, Director Kim Hwido.”
“You sit down, damn it!”
Hwido’s fist connected squarely with Haeseong’s face.
After everyone had been dismissed, Mi-hwa fixed her gaze on Hwido.
“Hwido. You said you wanted to be the CEO.”
“…”
“Is this what you meant? A CEO who leads with his fists?”
Hwido pouted like a scolded child.
I should’ve hit him harder. Should’ve shut that smug mouth for good.
He was still fuming.
Using his mistake as a marketing stunt, turning it into a performance, and then basking in the praise—unforgivable.
“Haeseong isn’t pressing charges,” Mi-hwa said.
“What? Pressing charges? I should be the one suing—for defamation!”
“Hwido. You lost.”
Her firm tone silenced him. She sighed.
“Losing wasn’t enough—you had to throw a punch in front of an eighty-year-old woman?”
“She’s got low blood pressure. A little adrenaline’s good for her.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You hit your own brother?”
“He’s not my brother.”
Hwido’s expression turned cold.
He was twenty-nine; Haeseong, thirty. But Hwido had never once thought of him as family.
Mi-hwa understood that all too well. That was why, instead of following Haeseong to his hospital, she had stayed by Hwido’s side.
She cared for Hwido more, even if she wouldn’t say it out loud.
“It’s hot, Hwido. My blood’s boiling. Let’s go have some cold noodles.”
“Hot? The AC’s on full blast. I’m freezing.”
He was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.
At this rate, he needed discipline training, not management coaching.
“Go eat some knife-cut noodles instead,” she muttered.
At the mention of kalguksu, a thought crossed her mind—the noodle shop run by Yoon, the one whose owner always bragged about his polite, hardworking son.
“Yes, that’s it.”
“…What?”
“You’ve had it too easy, Kim Hwido.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Go make some noodles. You said you were cold.”
“How am I supposed to cook?”
Mi-hwa clasped her hands behind her back. Hwido, usually so brash, hesitated.
When she spoke like that—hands folded neatly—there was no arguing.
“Grandma, maybe I went too far, huh? I know a great noodle place. My treat—full course.”
“Enough. You’re going down to Mayeong-ri for the summer. Learn how to make kalguksu.”
Her voice left no room for negotiation. Hwido stared blankly.
Down there? Seriously?
The only Mayeong-ri Mi-hwa ever mentioned was the countryside village she loved to visit.
“No way. You can’t mean—”
“I’ll call them. Pack your things.”
She pointed at the table.
“Wallet, cards, phone—leave everything.”
Loosening his tie, Hwido stared out the window. The gray city had vanished, replaced by rolling green fields.
“Secretary Park.”
“Yes, sir?”
“How does it feel, escorting your boss to his exile?”
After working himself half to death as Hotel Division Director, this was his grand reward—banishment.
Beaten by Haeseong and now shipped off to Mayeong-ri.
“Ha-ha. Isn’t Mayeong-ri where the Wooheon Pavilion is? You joined the hotel business because of that, didn’t you?”
“Park. Do I sound excited about visiting Wooheon Pavilion? I’m being sent to learn how to make noodles!”
Park flinched at his shout. Hwido raked a hand through his hair and opened the window. Warm air rolled in.
Ten years… it’s been ten years.
Mayeong-ri—a tiny village with barely thirty households. He had spent a year there when he was nineteen.
When he thought of that time, he remembered heavy sunlight and sudden summer rain—briefly cooling, but always leaving him uncomfortably soaked.
“We’re almost there.”
The car bumped along the dirt road. Through the window, Hwido spotted a familiar blue gate.
“Can’t believe I’m really back.”
“It’s such a peaceful, traditional-looking village!”
“Yeah, yeah. Got any cash on you?”
“C-cash, sir?”
All Hwido had was his tall frame in a suit and a phone that could only make calls.
“Come on, hand it over.”
Park reluctantly pulled out a single 50,000-won bill.
“That’s it? You sure? Want me to check your pockets?”
“Th-that’s really all! No one carries cash anymore!”
Hwido wanted to make him walk the rest of the way—but if Mi-hwa found out, she’d explode.
Should’ve asked him to hit an ATM at the rest stop.
Not that it matters. I won’t be here long anyway.
I’ll pretend to reflect for a bit and head right back.
He wasn’t planning to stay even a week.
“Someone’s coming out,” Park said suddenly, pointing at the blue gate.
A woman was walking toward them.
“Do you know her?”
“Of course I do.”
That bright brown hair, tied back just like before. That pale skin that seemed to glow under the sun.
There was no mistaking her.
Why is it that every time I fail, every time I fall, I end up meeting you again?
Hwido stepped out of the car, his gaze fixed on her.
“Yoon Yeongwon.”
And damn it—
How can you still be this beautiful?
