The black sedan glided smoothly along the coastal highway, the steady hum of tires blending with the faint splash of waves crashing against cliffs below. Inside, Ryu Tae-ho sat upright, impeccably dressed, eyes scanning a thick stack of documents. Beside him, his daughter Hwa-young leaned forward, gesturing at the charts and graphs she had prepared for the upcoming cultural development program.
“Dad, the new initiatives at Seoul University and Yonsei are perfectly timed,” Hwa-young said, her voice calm but infused with excitement. “If we can offer mentorship alongside scholarships, we’ll not just fund creativity—we’ll shape the next generation of cultural innovators. Ryu Cultural Innovations will gain international recognition.”
Tae-ho didn’t lift his gaze from the papers. “I’ve read the projections, Hwa-young. Numbers are fine, but impact is everything. How will you ensure these programs truly influence students, not just decorate our name?”
Hwa-young tapped a page thoughtfully. “We’re embedding faculty advisors directly, and creating competitions that challenge students to apply their ideas in the real world. It’s not just about funding—it’s about cultivating leadership. If we get this right, our influence spreads far beyond money.”
Tae-ho finally looked up, his piercing eyes meeting hers. “You have your mother’s intelligence and your own determination. I hope your generation remembers that vision matters more than profit.”
Hwa-young smiled softly and turned her gaze to the window. The coastline stretched endlessly, golden sunlight kissing the waves, the mountains rising like silent sentinels. “Even in a world ruled by power and politics, there’s beauty that survives,” she murmured.
Her words hadn’t even left her lips when disaster struck. A massive truck, flanked by two speeding cars, swerved violently into their lane. Hwa-young’s instincts kicked in. She shoved her father back into his seat as the truck slammed into their side. The car spun, metal screeching and glass shattering, a deafening roar filling her ears.
Time slowed. Pain exploded through Hwa-young’s body, but her mind remained astonishingly clear. She gripped her father’s hands tightly. “Promise me… appa… take care of… my children… and Jun-seo…” Her voice cracked, blood mingling with sweat.
Her thoughts fractured into fragments, flashes of life she barely had time to live. Wedding memories: Jun-seo’s hands holding hers, the warmth of their first dance. Births: Tae-jun’s wails, Min-jun’s tiny fist clutching her finger. Smiles: Tae-jun winning his first school competition, Min-jun laughing beside his older brother. Faces of her husband and children merged into a single, perfect memory, a photograph of happiness in a collapsing world.
“Tae… Jun… ah… Min… Jun… ah… eomma… sorry…” she whispered, each word a struggle.
Tae-ho’s eyes widened as he looked at his daughter, his favorite, his youngest, the one who had always been the light of his life. Her eyes, once radiant, now clouded, dimming into the stillness of death. His hands trembled as he reached toward her, trying to hold her back from the void, but it was too late.
“No! My baby girl… Hwa-young…” His scream was raw, filled with a father’s grief, echoing through the twisted metal and shattered glass.
The world collapsed into chaos. Tae-ho’s old body succumbed to shock and blood loss, toppling into unconsciousness as the shrill wail of ambulance sirens approached. Doctors rushed to extract him from the mangled car, their movements frantic, urgent.
Hospitals went into immediate panic. Staff ran through corridors, preparing emergency surgery and resuscitation. News channels erupted with breaking headlines: “Ryu Cultural Innovations Chairwoman Dies in Horrific Car Crash.” Political offices buzzed with calls; even the Prime Minister and President demanded updates. Rumors spread like wildfire: Was it an accident, or a calculated attack to destabilize Korea’s most powerful family?
Across continents, Jun-seo received the calls. His hands shook as he summoned his sons, Tae-jun and Min-jun, back to Korea. The boys, young and unprepared, returned to a country gripped by panic, stock markets tumbling, corporate offices paralyzed by uncertainty. The media dissected every detail, speculating motives, painting conspiracies, and questioning whether the Ryu family could survive such a blow.
For a week, Korea existed in a tense, suffocating pause. Every news cycle carried new reports. Every whisper suggested treachery. Every headline reminded the world of Hwa-young’s youth, her brilliance, and her untimely death.
Then, in a quiet hospital room, the impossible happened. Tae-ho’s eyelids fluttered, revealing eyes blurred with tears but burning with life. “Tae-jun… ah… Min-jun… ah…” His trembling hands reached out instinctively. The secretary guided the boys closer.
“I… I’m… so… sorry…” he rasped, each word heavy with grief, exhaustion, and the weight of a father’s loss. The empire, shaken but not broken, waited in silence. But for Tae-ho, the world had narrowed to the empty space once filled by his beloved Hwa-young, and a storm of grief, power, and vengeance that was only beginning.
ns216.73.216.13da2
and then Add to home screen.