The Ryu mansion echoed with silence—broken only by the muffled sound of two siblings arguing behind the theater doors. Ryu Se-jun and Ryu Hae-rin, both still reeling from their father’s scolding earlier that morning, had decided to cool their tempers the usual way—by watching a movie in the private home theater.
The large screen glowed with scenes from The Big Short, the acclaimed film on the 2008 financial crisis. Hae-rin munched popcorn while Se-jun leaned back, trying to appear unfazed but clearly annoyed.
That was when the door opened softly.
“Yo,” came Min-jun’s voice, casual as ever. “Mind if I join?”
Se-jun scoffed. “Since when did you care about finance movies, Min-jun?”
“Since people like you started watching them,” Min-jun replied, slipping into a seat nearby. His tone was playful—but there was a sharpness beneath it.
As the movie rolled, he leaned forward. “You know,” Min-jun began, “if we compare The Big Short to Inception, it’s kinda fascinating. Both deal with layers of deception. Like, you think the market’s collapsing, but it’s actually a dream inside a derivative, right? So if Lehman Brothers was the dream architect, then who’s Cobb here? Goldman Sachs? Or the Federal Reserve playing Fischer’s subconscious?”
Se-jun blinked, trying to process what he’d just heard. Hae-rin frowned. “Wait… what are you even saying?”
“I’m saying,” Min-jun grinned, “sometimes the illusion of control is the real control. You act like you’re shorting the market, but in truth, someone else is shorting you.”
Both Se-jun and Hae-rin exchanged confused glances. Hae-rin shrugged. “Min-jun, you seriously need sleep.”
He chuckled, leaning back in satisfaction. Got it. Neither of them grasped even the metaphor. He mentally struck their names off his quiet list—two heirs who only followed orders, not thinkers.
Later that evening, music filled another corner of the mansion. In a softly lit room, Ryu Do-hyun sat alone, playing his violin with a focused frown. The melody was elegant but tense, every note trembling with emotion.
Min-jun entered quietly, leaning against the doorway. “Nice vibrato,” he said.
Do-hyun turned slightly, acknowledging him with a nod but kept playing.
Min-jun stepped closer, his voice low, almost poetic. “You know, music and business are similar. Too much pressure on one string—” he gently tapped the violin bow “—and it snaps. But too soft, and no sound comes out. It’s all about knowing which cord to pull, and when.”
Do-hyun blinked, clearly lost. “Uh… I just play what sounds good.”
Min-jun smiled faintly. “Exactly. Some people play for harmony. Others play to make sure no one else gets a solo.”
Do-hyun looked baffled. “What?”
“Never mind,” Min-jun said lightly, walking out as the melody continued. Another name off his list.
That night, Min-jun sat by his desk, the list half-crossed, his eyes thoughtful. Only one name remained: Min-jae.
Earlier that day, Min-jae had entered the theater briefly, catching Min-jun’s eye before leaving without a word. But that brief glance told Min-jun something—unlike the others, Min-jae noticed. He wasn’t distracted by confusion; he was observing. Watching. Waiting.
The next morning, at the Kang family quarters, sunlight streamed through the expansive windows. Kang Hae-jin, the respected patriarch of the Kang conglomerate, sat in his armchair, sipping tea.
“Hae-won,” he said, his deep voice steady.
His granddaughter, Kang Hae-won—poised, elegant, twenty years old—entered and bowed respectfully.
“Yes, Grandpa?”
He gestured for her to sit. “Tell me, who do you think is the most brilliant mind in the Ryu family?”
Hae-won thought carefully. “It must be Chairman Ryu Tae-ho. He built their empire.”
Hae-jin chuckled softly. “That’s true. But I mean the next generation.”
She hesitated. “Perhaps Ji-ho or Han-se. They’re quite well-known socially.”
Her grandfather smiled faintly, shaking his head. “No. It’s not them. It’s Ryu Tae-jun.”
She blinked, surprised. “Tae-jun? The one who rarely appears in public?”
“Yes. When I had my people trace his origins, I found something… intriguing. Connections with China. Possibly through the paternal side. Beyond that, I couldn’t dig further—but it’s certain: Tae-ho’s true power isn’t his own. It’s those two brothers—Tae-jun and Min-jun.”
Hae-won’s breath caught. “Then why are you telling me this?”
Hae-jin’s eyes gleamed with a mix of cunning and authority. “If possible, make him yours.”
She smiled faintly—but inside, she felt disgust. Once again, I’m just a tool, she thought. Still, she bowed. “I understand, Grandpa.”
Her heart, however, said otherwise.
Two days later, Seoul National University buzzed with excitement. Students whispered as Ryu Tae-jun, newly enrolled in the business department, walked past. Every gaze followed him—his calm, refined demeanor drew quiet awe.
Among the crowd stood Hae-won. She recognized him instantly. Their eyes met briefly; hers curious, his unreadable.
From that moment, she couldn’t look away.
A week later, the Kang family hosted their grand 50th-anniversary celebration. The Ryu family was invited. The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and the scent of fresh peonies.
The younger Ryus—Ji-ho and Han-se—were immediately surrounded by girls trying to flirt their way into power. Laughter, perfume, and murmured gossip filled the room.
But across the hall, Hae-won’s eyes searched only for one man—Ryu Tae-jun.
He sat apart, composed and quietly confident, his suit sharp, his presence magnetic. While others tried to catch attention, he seemed entirely unbothered.
As she watched, her mind echoed her grandfather’s warning: Be careful with him.
Outside the grand hall, the sound of an engine broke the chatter. A tall, commanding figure stepped out of a sleek car—broad-shouldered, handsome, with sharp Chinese features.
Jun-seo himself came to greet him, smiling warmly. “You’ve grown, Yize.”
Inside the hall, Tae-jun and Min-jun turned toward the commotion. Their eyes lit up simultaneously.
“Yize gege!” Min-jun shouted, running forward. The tall young man opened his arms, laughing as he hugged him tightly. Tae-jun followed, embracing him too.
The entire hall turned to watch.
Jun-seo raised his voice for all to hear. “Everyone, this is my cousin’s son—Zhang Yize. He’ll be staying with us for some time.”
Most nodded politely, accepting it. But three pairs of eyes didn’t—Ryu Su-ah, Ji-ho, and Han-se.
Tae-jun noticed. He looked straight at them, lips curving into a knowing smirk.
Ji-ho muttered, “Looks like our cousin Tae-jun isn’t as simple as he seems.”
Su-ah’s lips curved in amusement as she turned away. Han-se, however, kept his gaze fixed, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
And from that night onward, the balance within the Ryu family quietly began to shift.
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and then Add to home screen.