Chapter 08
When Cha Miyeon heard that her daughter had arrived home, she hurried to the entrance and stood waiting by the front door.
“I’m home.”
“You’re pretty late. Did you have fun?”
“Yes. Thanks to you, Mother, I had a wonderful time.”
“Good. It certainly looked that way.”
Cha Miyeon inwardly praised herself for her own sense.
Today’s meeting between the two had been her handiwork.
It was exactly the kind of story that reporters prowling for prey would love.
A young man and woman who first met at a charity event, then grew closer while learning tea ceremony together.
It was the sort of relationship that could easily be praised as cultured and refined, unlike the casual romances of young people these days.
“As expected of my daughter. You never disappoint me.”
With her husband becoming increasingly sensitive by the day, knowing how important this marriage had become for securing his future political support, Cha Miyeon had been walking on eggshells lately.
But Seohah was doing far better than she had expected.
At first, Cha Miyeon hadn’t been particularly pleased about getting the two involved with each other, but now she felt that taking the girl in had been worthwhile.
“I heard you went to his house, too.”
Seohah had assumed Cha Miyeon would already have been informed that she had left Dalhyang Tea House, but the fact that her adoptive mother knew even more made her hesitate for a moment.
“Ah………………. Yes. He served me some milk.”
“Milk, when he had all that expensive tea at Dalhyang Tea House? What a strange boy.”
Seohah deliberately kept her tone casual when mentioning even the little things, and followed Cha Miyeon with a small laugh.
“Director, you have a phone call.”
Cha Miyeon was the head of Bitnaneum Foundation, an organization whose primary mission was supporting people with visual impairments.
The charity fundraising event held not long ago had also been her idea.
Once a highly successful actress, she cared deeply about how she appeared to others.
That tendency had only grown stronger after she married Yoon Junghwan, an ambitious politician.
Since Yoon Junghwan’s ultimate goal was to become the President of South Korea, Cha Miyeon naturally assumed that the position of First Lady would belong to her.
That was also why she had established the Bitnaneum Foundation.
“Secretary, you’re still here. Take the call, Mother. Oh, by the way, is tomorrow’s interview schedule still unchanged?”
“Yes. Everything’s going ahead as planned. You look tired. Get some rest.”
Whenever she was with Junhyuk, the tension alone left her mind several times more exhausted than usual.
Junhyuk’s voice automatically replayed in Seohah’s mind.
‘Starting tomorrow, one of my people will be staying by your side. If you don’t like that, then don’t come at all.’
The person who had called was undoubtedly one of Han Junhyuk’s close associates.
He seemed like the kind of man who kept every word he spoke with absolute precision.
Since anything involving her could not proceed without her adoptive mother being involved, he was probably making sure that everything was clearly established.
Then Seohah remembered something else Han Junhyuk had said.
‘Our house.’
There was nothing strange about those two words, yet her heart quietly rippled at them.
Seohah couldn’t tell whether the confusion inside her came from her feelings or was simply the result of exhaustion.
Seochon spread out beneath the slopes of Inwangsan, west of Gyeongbokgung Palace.
Deep inside one of its quiet alleys stood the office of the Bitnaneum Foundation, a two-story building that had once been an old hanok residence before being renovated into a neat and elegant space.
Today, there was an interview with a women’s magazine published by a newspaper company, targeting an older demographic.
Whenever something like this happened, Seohah had to stand beside her adoptive mother like a complimentary gift that came attached to her.
Today was no exception.
“You made a glamorous retirement from being a top actress to becoming the wife of a politician. And now you’re devoting yourself to society as the chairwoman of the Bitnaneum Foundation. This transition in your life has always been a subject of interest. Was there something that drove you?”
Cha Miyeon answered the reporter’s question with a serious expression.
“As you know, I, too, once spent a period of my life trapped inside a dark tunnel where I couldn’t see the way forward. It was a story of loss—miscarriage, stillbirth, and eventually infertility.”
The reporter nodded as if she understood Cha Miyeon’s pain.
“Sometimes, when someone reaches out to you during such a time, your entire life can change. For me, that someone was… a child.”
“You mean the daughter you adopted?”
“Yes. That tiny, fragile child tightly held onto my hand and told me, in her own way, that she wanted to live……………….. I suppose that was when I decided that I, too, had to live for someone else.”
Cha Miyeon lowered her long eyelashes and paused between her words.
She knew very well how much power a carefully placed silence could give to the words that followed.
“Back then, I hated myself so much. I thought I was a failure, someone who had fallen behind everyone else. But as I raised my daughter, for the first time, I began to feel like maybe I was a decent person after all.”
“Of course. Adoption itself isn’t an easy decision, and your daughter was also ill. I imagine becoming a family wasn’t an easy process. What was it like?”
“As I came to love my daughter, I stopped hating myself. In the end… you could say that my daughter saved me. At a time when I wanted to let go of everything, she gave me a reason to keep living.”
The reporter paused for a moment before adding in a tone that carried something slightly different from simple admiration.
“So you felt that you were saved by your child. Usually, people say that parents are the ones who save their children….
That’s quite striking.”
Cha Miyeon smiled gracefully as she took Seohah’s hand affectionately.
“Everything I’ve accomplished and everything I’ve become is thanks to Seohah. I could never have done it alone.”
It was the perfect line for the final act of a play.
But Seohah couldn’t contradict that particular statement.
It was true that Cha Miyeon’s life had completely changed because of her.
The problem was that, as the price of that salvation, someone had to remain behind in that dark tunnel.
And that someone was Seohah herself.
On the outskirts of Pangyo Techno Valley in Seongnam stood a single gray five-story building.
There was no signboard. The only indication of the company’s existence was its name, subtly engraved into a metal panel beside the entrance.
Shield One Secure (Shield One Secure) Protection & Strategic Risk Consulting
At first glance, it could easily have been mistaken for an asset management company.
But once you entered the third floor, even the air felt different.
A control room lined with monitors. Doors that could only be opened through individual authentication.
In a windowless conference room, there was an almost eerie feeling that even the sound of breathing might be monitored.
The interior was quiet, yet it lacked the rigid atmosphere typically associated with private security facilities.
A middle-aged man seated on one side of the conference room spoke first.
He was a member of an unofficial diplomatic cooperation delegation.
“Honestly… I thought this was a foreign company.”
Junhyuk looked at him briefly across the table, then flipped through the prepared profile.
“Half of our field operatives are from foreign companies. Our security team includes people from PMCs and members of former U.S. military tactical support teams. I also started out overseas as a mercenary.”
“In the United States?”
“I was with a private military company headquartered in Texas. We mainly handled security for local embassies in war zones, protection for private VIPs, and route planning for executives of major corporations.”
The client raised his eyebrows slightly.
“Were you from a Korean special forces unit?”
“I served in the Army Special Warfare Command before being discharged. But I’m actually stronger on the planning and design side than on field operations.”
Junhyuk turned one of the monitors toward him.
A 3D simulation displayed a VIP travel route stretching from a hotel on the outskirts of the United Arab Emirates, through Dubai International Airport, and all the way to an undisclosed location in Korea.
Drone coverage, lane control, route intersections, and even blind spots in CCTV coverage were all being calculated and displayed automatically.
“You said this assignment involves a high-ranking individual’s family staying here, and that the purpose is medical treatment. So the schedule in Korea will be fairly long.”
“Yes. It may even be longer than expected. However, if the illness becomes known to the public, it could create significant internal risks for the country. That’s why we wanted to avoid exposure as much as possible and came here on recommendation.”
“Then instead of assigning a dedicated security team, we’ll operate a mobile surveillance team and coordinate it with your schedule and movements. Communications will be handled through an encrypted app, and our field operatives will be positioned so that you won’t be able to tell they’re with us.”
“By the way, have you handled this kind of work often?”
The corner of Junhyuk’s mouth curved into a slight smile, and he nodded as though the answer were obvious.
“It’s what I do as naturally as breathing.”
**
After finishing the consultation, Junhyuk saw the client’s aide out and headed down to the basement.
The first basement level contained a physical training area known as the “P-Zone.”
It had everything from treadmills and weight machines to a combat training area, mats for restraint techniques, and a virtual firing system for tactical drills.
Among the employees immersed in their training, Junhyuk’s gaze settled on a man whose sheer build made him look more suited to an MMA ring.
“Park Jaeman, come out.”
He was a sturdy, straightforward man who stood at the complete opposite end of the spectrum from Junhyuk’s lean physique.
“Ah, Boss, I haven’t finished my quota for today yet……………….”
“Do you remember this?”
Still grumbling, Park Jaeman scratched the back of his head as he looked at the object resting in Junhyuk’s palm.
