The week following Zhang Yize’s arrival at the Ryu residence moved like the calm before a storm. Though Jun-seo had formally introduced him to the family as his cousin’s son from Beijing, most members believed the story without question. Yize’s composed demeanor and deep voice carried a gravity that commanded respect — but beneath the surface, he was far from ordinary. He wasn’t here for family bonding. He was here because Jun-seo had called him.
That night, in the quiet of the east wing study, Tae-jun sat with Yize. The dim light from the ceiling lamp fell in half-shadows across their faces — one calm, one sharp, both dangerous.
“Ryu Min-jae,” Tae-jun began, tapping his pen against a folder. “He’s clever — too composed. Either he’s really smart, or someone’s whispering in his ear.”
Yize leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“So you want to pull him out of hiding?”
Tae-jun’s lips curved faintly.
“Exactly. Make him believe he’s found an opportunity, one he can’t resist.”
Yize glanced at the documents — a project proposal for Ryu Tech’s future expansion into medical AI, an idea Tae-jun had designed himself. But this version, the one sitting in the file, was modified — misleading data, false numbers, and a hidden clause that would implicate anyone who submitted it as their own. A perfect trap.
“Who’s the messenger?” Yize asked.
“Chun Min-sung,” Tae-jun replied. “Research director at Ryu BioSolutions. He’s loyal to me — or rather, loyal to whoever promises him a seat higher than his current one.”
Yize smirked. “Then let’s make him the face of this little performance.”
The next morning, in the glass-walled offices of Ryu BioSolutions, Chun Min-sung was nervously straightening his tie when Tae-jun entered. The young man bowed deeply.
“Director Ryu! I wasn’t expecting—”
“Relax, Min-sung,” Tae-jun interrupted smoothly, handing over a sealed envelope. “Inside is a proposal I want you to show Min-jae. Tell him it’s an internal collaboration opportunity for a new AI project, confidential and high-profile. Make it sound like something that could boost his reputation.”
Min-sung blinked, confused. “So… you don’t want me to present it directly to the board?”
“No,” Tae-jun said quietly, almost like a whisper that carried command. “This is for Min-jae. He needs to think it’s his chance. Once he bites, we’ll have what we need.”
Min-sung nodded, not daring to question. “Understood.”
By the following day, the bait had been taken.38Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQFPWgcuy4z
Min-jae, proud and eager to prove himself after being overshadowed by his cousins, approached Chun Min-sung with interest. The project — artificial neural mapping for early-stage brain deterioration — was ambitious and perfectly tailored to lure someone with Min-jae’s ego.
“Who’s leading this?” Min-jae asked, scanning through the proposal.
“It’s… still confidential, sir,” Min-sung stammered, rehearsed. “But the upper board is looking for a young strategist to take charge. Your name came up.”
That was all it took. The glint of ambition flared in Min-jae’s eyes.38Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA3eYxIPPlj
He agreed immediately, submitting the proposal to the upper management under his name. What he didn’t realize was that the false data inside — the one Tae-jun had buried deep in the technical details — would flag the project as a plagiarized concept from an overseas firm.
When the internal audit came through, Min-jae was summoned to the family’s central board meeting. Tae-ho himself sat at the head of the long table, while other members watched silently as the report unfolded.
The conclusion was brutal — fraudulent project submission. Min-jae tried to defend himself, blaming faulty data and poor internal communication, but no one believed him.
“If you can’t handle a simple verification,” Tae-ho said coldly, “you’re not ready for Ryu Group responsibilities. You’re suspended until further notice.”
As Min-jae stood there, humiliated and speechless, he saw Tae-jun across the table — calm, unreadable, but with the faintest flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.
Later that night, in the secluded back garden where the city lights met the edge of darkness, Tae-jun and Yize stood together again.
“One down,” Yize said. “He’ll lick his wounds for a while, but he’s finished.”
“Good,” Tae-jun replied, lighting his cigarette. “Let him think it’s bad luck. The real enemy will show their hand soon.”
Yize folded his arms.
“You suspect someone’s giving orders to these cousins of yours.”
“Not just one person,” Tae-jun said. “Three — Ji-ho, Han-se, and Su-ah. They’re the only ones who haven’t slipped yet. But they will.”
The same night, across town, Tae-jun sat quietly in the corner of a luxurious restaurant in Gangnam — L’Amarante, one of the most exclusive dining spots for the elite. The low jazz music, the crystal chandeliers, and the muted chatter of business tycoons created a scene of deceptive peace.
He was waiting for someone. Or rather, watching.
At another table, Kang Hae-won was dining with a few university acquaintances. Her posture was graceful, voice soft, but her eyes — they were sharp, watchful. She had noticed him the moment he walked in. Every part of her was torn between curiosity and wariness, remembering her grandfather’s warning: “Be careful with him, Hae-won. He’s not like the others.”
When Tae-jun left his table and slipped through the crowd, she followed without thinking — drawn by some inexplicable pull. But halfway through the corridor, she realized he had vanished. She turned, confused—
And then froze.
Tae-jun was already behind her, one hand braced against the wall beside her head, his face just inches from hers. The air tightened.
“Why are you following me, my lady?” he whispered, his breath brushing her ear.
Her heart jumped. She pushed him back, flustered.
“I—I wasn’t following you—”
“If it’s because of your grandfather,” he interrupted softly, “drop it. I have no interest in becoming anyone’s assignment.”
He smiled faintly, eyes glinting under the dim lights, then reached up — straightening a loose strand of her hair, brushing her shoulder lightly — before stepping back.
“You should go home, Kang Hae-won,” he murmured. “It’s dangerous to follow people like me.”
He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there — heart racing, cheeks flushed, a mix of anger, confusion, and shame twisting inside her. Because what he said was true. She had been following him on her grandfather’s orders.
When she finally stepped out into the cool night air, she saw Tae-jun again — talking beside a black sedan to a tall, foreign man. For a brief second, she caught sight of Yize. His presence was unsettling — sharp, quiet, like a ghost that didn’t belong here.
Tae-jun noticed her gaze. He gave a small, knowing smirk before getting into the car. The doors shut, and the vehicle disappeared into the Seoul night, leaving Hae-won standing by the curb — clutching her handbag, unable to decide whether she should fear him or be intrigued by him.
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and then Add to home screen.