The sky had softened into shades of amber when Jae-Hyun returned home, the air fragrant with spices, fried chicken, and the faint hiss of oil from the family restaurant below. As he pushed open the door, the familiar warmth wrapped around him like a promise — chatter from customers, the clatter of dishes, and his mother's laughter cutting through it all.
"Welcome home, Jae-Hyun!" his mother called, her voice bright above the hum of activity. She was behind the counter, towel slung over her shoulder, hair tied messily in a bun. "Dinner rush starts soon — if you're not too tired, come lend a hand!"
"I've got it," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He grabbed an apron, knotting it neatly at his waist.
He slipped into the rhythm easily — clearing tables, carrying trays, refilling tea cups with quiet precision. Every motion was calm and assured, like he'd done this a thousand times.
At one of the tables near the window, a group of middle-aged women chatted between bites of japchae. Their eyes followed him as he passed, the tray balanced effortlessly in one hand.
"Oh, Mrs. Jung," one of them began, turning to his mother with a teasing grin. "Your son is such a delight. Always helping, always polite. My boy would rather die than touch a dish towel."
Jae-Hyun's mother laughed, wiping her hands. "Ah, he's not that special. He just knows I'll feed him extra if he helps."
The women chuckled. But one leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes twinkling. "You're too modest. Look at him — that face, that posture. If I were twenty years younger—"
"Unnie!" another scolded, half-laughing, half-scandalized. "You're embarrassing Mrs. Jung!"
Jae-Hyun froze mid-step, tray still in hand, his ears turning pink. "Ah, please, ma'am," he said quickly, ducking his head, his tone polite but awkward. "I'm sure your sons are much more impressive."
The group broke into laughter. "So humble, too!" one sighed dramatically. "Handsome and polite — you really won the lottery, Mrs. Jung."
His mother beamed, though she tried to hide her pride behind a casual wave of her hand. "You're going to give him a big head."
"Impossible," another woman chimed in. "He's too well-raised for that."
Jae-Hyun chuckled softly, setting their order down. "Really, you flatter me. But I'm just helping my mom — she's the real hard worker here."
That earned him a chorus of awws and approving clucks.
"You hear that, girls?" one woman whispered to her daughters, who were quietly scrolling their phones nearby. "That's how you recognize a keeper."
"Mom, stop," one of them groaned, cheeks red.
Jae-Hyun laughed, excusing himself to another table, but his smile lingered — not from vanity, but from the warmth of it all. The teasing, the laughter, the life. It grounded him in a way no boardroom ever could.
Back in the kitchen, steam fogged the air. His mother handed him a plate of noodles. "Here. Table three."
He took it with a nod. "Got it."
As he moved, his mother glanced at him, a question tugging at her lips. "How's everything with your company? NovaSec, right?"
He set the plate down gently before answering. "Going well. We just secured another contract. Word's spreading — clients are starting to trust us more."
Her eyes softened. "That's wonderful, honey. But don't burn yourself out. I want you happy, not just successful."
He smiled, rinsing his hands at the sink. "I'm happy when you are. Don't worry — I'll be fine."
Before she could reply, Eun-Ji's voice cut through the bustle. "Oppa! Table three ordered more noodles!"
Jae-Hyun raised a hand in acknowledgment. "On it!" He moved swiftly, efficient and calm.
From the kitchen doorway, his mother watched him for a moment longer, pride flickering quietly in her eyes.
- - -
Meanwhile, across town, the scent of simmering stew greeted Jae-Suk as he stepped through the front door of his own home. He dropped his bag near the shoe rack, calling softly, "I'm home."
"Welcome, dear," came his mother's voice from the kitchen. "Dinner's almost ready."
He peeked in, smiling faintly. "That looks delicious, Mom."
"Go get changed first," she said, stirring the pot. "Your father's in the study."
That made him pause. "Oh. Is he busy?"
"As always," she said with a small smile. "But he'll be happy to see you."
Jae-Suk nodded, heading upstairs. He changed into a sweatshirt, but his thoughts lingered — on the way his father had been different lately. More serious. More focused. And always talking about work with Jae-Hyun.
Finally, he couldn't hold it in. He padded back downstairs, knocking lightly on the study door. "Dad?"
Mr. Oh looked up from his papers, his eyes meeting his son's. "Ah, Jae-Suk. How was your day?"
"Good," Jae-Suk replied. "But… I wanted to talk to you about something."
Mr. Oh's gaze flickered briefly to his papers. "I'm really busy right now. Can it wait?"
"It's important," Jae-Suk insisted, stepping inside the study.
Mr. Oh sighed but set his pen down, giving his full attention. "Alright, what is it?"
Jae-Suk hesitated, then blurted out, "Why do you always meet with Jae-Hyun? I've noticed you two have private meetings, and I… I'm just curious."
Mr. Oh leaned back slightly, studying his son. "That's quite direct."
"He told me to ask you," Jae-Suk admitted. "Said whatever you tell me is the truth."
A long silence. Then a quiet sigh.
"I suppose it was bound to come up," Mr. Oh murmured, rubbing his temple. "Jae-Hyun and I… we're working together."
Jae-Suk frowned. "Working together? Like a project?"
Mr. Oh's expression was solemn as he explained, "I left my previous job to work under Jae-Hyun. He… he's now the chairman of a group, and I'm leading one of his companies as the CEO."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Jae-Suk blinked. Once. Twice. "…Chairman?"
His father's eyes softened, watching the realization sink in. "Yes."
The disbelief on Jae-Suk's face was almost comical. "You're telling me that you — my dad — work for him?"
Mr. Oh gave a small, almost proud smile. "You sound just like your mother when I first told her."
Jae-Suk was dumbfounded.
"I know it's a lot to take in, but that's the reality." Mr. Oh said gently, seeing the shock in his son's eyes. "Jae-Hyun is exceptionally talented, and thanks to him, I now have the opportunity to lead a rising company."
"But—he's my age!" Jae-Suk exclaimed, pacing. "How—how does that even—"
"Because he's not like others your age," Mr. Oh interrupted gently. "He's a strategist. A prodigy. His mind… works differently. You'll see it when you spend more time with him."
Jae-Suk sank onto the couch, his thoughts spiraling. Chairman Jae-Hyun. My classmate. My friend?
Mr. Oh leaned forward, his tone quiet but firm. "You should treat him with respect, Jae-Suk. Not because of his position, but because he's earned it."
"I…" Jae-Suk hesitated, voice low. "I will. I promise."
"Good," Mr. Oh reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "That's all I ask, Jae-Suk. He's someone who can open doors and create opportunities—not just for me, but for everyone around him."
Jae-Suk nodded slowly, still in shock.
And don't be intimidated. He's young — but he values loyalty and honesty more than status."
Jae-Suk managed a weak smile. "Guess I'll need to rethink a few things."
His father chuckled softly. "That's part of growing up."
When Jae-Suk left the study, the weight of the conversation followed him. Upstairs, lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, the name looping in his mind — Jae-Hyun. Chairman. Sixteen.
The room felt too quiet, the world suddenly too big. Somewhere in the city, a boy his age was running a company — and his own father was working for him.
Outside, a soft breeze rustled the curtains, and for a long while, he just lay there — caught between disbelief and admiration, as the world around him quietly changed.
That same night, while Jae-Suk was still reeling from the revelation, the NovaSec servers glowed faintly in the dark—blue light spilling across Jae-Hyun's face.
On one screen, a file labeled "Operation: Hwaseong Dynamics" opened.On another, a live feed flickered for half a second—an unfamiliar IP pinging from somewhere inside Hwaseong's internal network.
Jae-Hyun's expression didn't change.
He just leaned back, eyes reflecting the screen's pale light.
"Right on time," he murmured.
The cursor blinked once.Then the system came alive.
[Unnie — is a Korean term used by a younger girl to address an older sister or an older female she's close to.]