The boardroom of LX Group was a monument to a ghost. For decades, it had been the domain of Cha Tae-hyun's cold authority, then briefly, the stage for his son Min Jae's defiant reclamation. Now, the vast, minimalist space felt like a gilded cage to the man sitting uncomfortably at its head.
Dr. Kang Ha-ru, at thirty-eight, felt profoundly out of place. The scent of lemon polish and old money couldn't mask the sterile emptiness. Before him, a sleek tablet displayed the dizzying financials of a global conglomerate he had never wanted. Across the table, twelve of Korea's most powerful executives watched him with a mixture of skepticism, calculation, and thinly-veiled resentment.
"The quarterly reports from the semiconductor division are concerning, Dr. Kang," said Director Park, a man whose tailored suit cost more than Ha-ru's first research vessel. "The innovation lag behind competitors is becoming a narrative. The markets need reassurance. They need visible leadership."
