Chapter 15
What Saheon had said in the rooftop room earlier wouldn’t leave Jian’s mind, and she was embarrassed that his words had shaken her so easily, like an idiot.
And above all, there were the priest, who had been asking this and that as though he had been desperately curious about Saheon since earlier, and Anna, who was showing an almost excessive amount of interest in him.
The moment someone opened the floodgates, they were sure to bombard Saheon with all sorts of trivial questions. The longer the conversation went on, the greater the chance that something wouldn’t add up—or that too much of his personal information would be revealed.
Unlike the anxious Jian, Saheon calmly ate his jajangmyeon. Even the way he picked up a piece of sweet-and-sour pork with his chopsticks was refined and gentlemanly.
Anyone looking at him would never think he was someone who had nowhere else to go and was relying on a coworker’s rooftop room for shelter.
If anything, with a little imagination, he looked more like a crown prince who had fled a palace coup, hidden his identity, and taken refuge in an ordinary civilian’s home.
Jian kept sneaking glances at him until their eyes finally met. She hurriedly looked away, but Saheon leaned slightly toward her and whispered in a low voice.
“Is there something you want to say to me?”
“No.”
Jian shook her head as she brought her water glass to her lips. The corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile.
“Have you already finished thinking about it?”
“Cough!”
The moment the water went down her throat, she choked.
“Oh, hey. What’s wrong with you?”
Heejin pulled out several tissues and handed them to Jian. Covering her mouth, Jian coughed for quite a while.
＊＊＊
The next day.
A black sedan came speeding toward them from a distance, kicking up clouds of dust.
“Director!”
Manager Choi Kang-hoon hurriedly got out of the driver’s seat after spotting Saheon. His face showed an unusual mixture of relief and concern—an expression rarely seen on a man who normally seemed almost robotic.
“Are you really all right staying here?”
Manager Choi looked up at the house and asked in a troubled voice.
“No.”
Saheon, who hadn’t slept a wink all night, answered curtly as he pressed his fingers against the space between his brows.
“Do you have somewhere else for me to go?”
“What about returning to the main residence…?”
“If I get shot in the head, I’ll do that.”
“D-Director!”
Sigh.
A deep sigh escaped Saheon’s lips. Standing beside him with her hands clasped together, Jian bowed and straightened.
“You must have had a hard time coming all the way here, Manager Choi.”
“Not at all. Secretary Han is the one who’s been having a hard time.”
“What hard time?”
Saheon muttered unhappily as he looked at them, prompting Manager Choi to suddenly remember something. He hurriedly opened the trunk.
“Director, I brought some things you might need.”
Saheon looked at the several suits and shirts, ties, watches, perfumes, and other items piled inside. He took only a hair dryer and a few changes of clothes before closing the trunk again.
“That’s enough. Take the rest back. I don’t think they’ll be useful here.”
“Then is there anything else you need?”
“It would be nice if there were a pyeongsang.”
“A pyeongsang?”
“Let’s go upstairs and talk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Saheon swept his hair back and led the way. But when he began climbing the staircase running along the exterior wall of the house instead of entering through the first-floor front door, a look of bewilderment appeared on Manager Choi’s face.
“D-Director.”
When Manager Choi hesitated, Saheon stopped for a moment and turned around.
“What are you doing?”
His smile was pleasant.
And somehow terrifying.
Manager Choi flinched before quickly following him up the stairs. Jian, who had been standing awkwardly behind them, followed as well.
“Director… this is… I mean, how…”
When Manager Choi reached the top, he found himself speechless at the sight of the rooftop coated in green epoxy and the tiny rooftop room sitting beside it.
“Pretty nice, right? My house.”
Saheon smiled.
Manager Choi felt a cold sweat run down his spine.
What on earth had happened?
Saheon had always enjoyed the very best of everything, so naturally, he was particular about both food and sleeping arrangements. Whenever Manager Choi arranged business trips for him, wasn’t the hotel one of the things he paid the most attention to?
He had already been secretly shocked when he heard that Saheon had spent a night at Jian’s house last time.
But for a man who hated both excessive heat and cold, to stay in a rooftop room?
And to make matters worse, the place looked like somewhere the Saheon he used to know would have refused to enter without even taking off his shoes.
“Come inside first.”
When Saheon opened the iron door, it screeched loudly.
Manager Choi carefully controlled his expression so he wouldn’t show his shock, slightly ducked his head, and stepped into the rooftop room.
“Sit down.”
“Yes, excuse me.”
Manager Choi Kang-hoon took off his dress shoes and politely knelt on the floor.
The room, covered in yellow vinyl flooring, was surprisingly clean—and astonishingly small.
Manager Choi nearly bit his tongue trying not to gape at the neatly folded bedding in one corner.
“Manager Choi.”
“Yes, y-yes.”
Saheon called his name quietly, and the already tense Manager Choi immediately answered.
He couldn’t blame Saheon for being furious at him for leaving him in a place like this.
He had made a serious mistake by simply taking Jian’s word for it without properly checking the situation.
But it wasn’t entirely Jian’s fault either. The situation in Seoul really was that serious, and it wasn’t as though Saheon had somewhere else to hide at the moment.
Still…
This was too much.
Manager Choi, suddenly dizzy again, straightened his posture while remaining on his knees.
“Manager Choi. Does Secretary Han Ji-an need to be at the Seoul office?”
“What?”
Saheon didn’t repeat himself.
Manager Choi hesitated, unable to understand what he meant for a moment.
What did he mean by saying she was needed at the Seoul office?
Was he saying he would fire her if she wasn’t needed there, as punishment for daring to leave him in a place like this?
Manager Choi merely rolled his eyes nervously.
Saheon rubbed his furrowed brow and continued.
“If she isn’t needed there, there’s no reason to make her commute. Let’s just have her stay here. I need a secretary here too.”
“Oh, yes! Understood. There’s no need for Secretary Han to go to the Seoul office.”
Only then did Manager Choi understand.
Jian, who had been sitting quietly with the expression of a fellow criminal, widened her eyes.
“Manager!”
“Secretary Han, stay here and assist the Director. There’s no need for you to commute.”
“What about weekends?”
At Saheon’s question, Manager Choi’s head snapped toward him.
“She can stay on weekends too, right? She’ll be paid overtime separately.”
Ah.
I’m screwed.
Clear despair flashed through Jian’s eyes.
Saheon pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and chuckled.
“You look so happy. It really does wonders for a person’s mood.”
“Haha…”
Jian placed both hands on the floor and slumped in despair.
“Tsk.”
Saheon clicked his tongue before turning his gaze back to Manager Choi.
“Manager Choi.”
“Yes, Director.”
“Could you tell me something?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Specifically, what kind of work I did and how I lived my life.”
Manager Choi and Jian’s eyes met in midair.
Ever since losing his memory, Saheon had shown remarkably little curiosity about anything.
Yet they couldn’t exactly bring things up themselves and pressure him into remembering, so it had been weighing on Manager Choi.
Perhaps spending a night here had finally made him desperate to recover his memories as quickly as possible.
Manager Choi immediately began speaking.
“When you were twenty-one and doing your internship, I believe you were working at the headquarters. Is that correct?”
Saheon nodded.
“Yes.”
“Ah, yes. Then I’ll start by explaining the subsidiaries. As you know, Hyungang Group has three major subsidiaries. You are currently a managing director of Hyungang Group, as well as the CEO of its subsidiary, Hyungang Aerospace.”
“What about my eldest brother?”
“Vice President Lee Jae-kwon is forty-three this year and is in charge of Hyungang Heavy Industries.”
“And my second brother?”
“Executive Director Lee Jae-seong is thirty-seven this year. He’s an executive director of the group and the CEO of its subsidiary, Hyungang Tech.”
When Saheon remained silent and listened, Manager Choi continued.
“Hyungang Tech develops missile guidance sensors and AI target-recognition systems, while your Hyungang Aerospace leads the development of cutting-edge technologies such as aircraft propulsion systems, hypersonic missiles, and space launch vehicles.”
“So which subsidiary is doing the best right now?”
At Saheon’s question, Manager Choi nodded with a pleased expression.
“Hyungang Aerospace. You recently secured a contract worth one trillion won as well.”
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Your subsidiary has the strongest performance among the three brothers across all major indicators, including profitability, new-business development, and stability in overseas expansion.”
“Hmm.”
“Your management judgment also receives the highest evaluations from the board. The only difference in rank between you and your brothers is due to the difference in when each of you joined the company.”
Saheon smiled, clearly pleased by the praise that was practically spilling from Manager Choi’s mouth.
Still kneeling, Manager Choi continued with a proud expression.
“According to current analyses from financial-sector analysts and major economic newspapers, you have the highest level of market confidence among the candidates for the next chairman.”
“I see.”
“Yes. Internal and external opinion polls also show that employees and shareholders alike favor your leadership the most. At this point, you are at the center of the most prominent succession track.”
“At a time this important, I lost my memory because of an accident arranged by Lee Jae-kwon.”
The pleasant smile disappeared from Manager Choi’s face.
The sudden weight of reality settled heavily over the tiny rooftop room, leaving behind a thick, oppressive silence.
