The evening air carried the soft hum of conversation as everyone gathered at the resort's outdoor dining hall. The tables were beautifully arranged under fairy lights, the scent of grilled meat and jasmine wine mingling with the crisp mountain breeze.
Hye-rin sat across Park Se-hee, her gaze flickering between Joon-hyuk — seated beside her — and Choi Min-jae, who had somehow taken the seat right beside Park Se-hee, across Joon-hyuk.
Of course he did.
Joon-hyuk's expression was unreadable, his posture sharp and composed as he poured himself a glass of wine. Across from him, Min-jae looked effortless as ever — brown hair tousled, shirt sleeves rolled up, a casual charm that drew attention without trying.
"So, Mr. Choi," one of the U.S. investors began cheerfully, "we've heard a lot about your company's progress in smart security systems."
Min-jae smiled, leaning back slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Philip. We've been working hard to merge precision with efficiency — especially since Soungjin Group first opened its doors."
The mention of Soungjin Group made the air shift. Subtle, but noticeable.
Hye-rin's hand stilled around her fork.
Joon-hyuk's voice cut through the calm, smooth but cool. "Yes. Soungjin was quite the foundation." He swirled his wine slowly, eyes fixed on Min-jae. "Though, some of us prefer building something new rather than inheriting someone else's success."
Min-jae chuckled softly, but his gaze sharpened. "And some of us know loyalty doesn't make us weaker, cousin. It's called respecting where you came from."
Cousin. The word dropped like glass on stone.
Hye-rin blinked, her eyes darting between the two men. Cousins? The realization hit her like a splash of cold water.
Across the table, Park Se-hee looked equally startled. She leaned toward Hye-rin, whispering, "No one told you they're related?"
Hye-rin shook her head slightly, her pulse picking up.
The investors tried to keep the mood light, but the tension simmered — quiet, electric. Every exchange between the two men carried too much meaning in too few words.
"LJ Group's independence was… admirable," Min-jae continued, lifting his glass. "Though I can't help but think Soungjin's resources might've made your journey less… turbulent."
"Growth without turbulence is complacency," Joon-hyuk replied evenly. His eyes glinted — calm, dangerous. "And you know how I feel about complacency."
The silence that followed was thick enough to cut.
Se-hee cleared her throat nervously, trying to change the subject. "Um, these dishes look amazing, don't they? So traditional!"
Her voice was bright — too bright — but no one moved right away.
Finally, Mr. Philip, who'd been watching the exchange with mild confusion, chuckled diplomatically. "Gentlemen, I trust there's no problem between you?"
Joon-hyuk smiled — that polished, CEO-perfect smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Of course not," he said smoothly. "We're simply discussing legacy."
Min-jae lifted his glass in mock salute. "Exactly. Family legacy."
The two men clinked glasses, their polite smiles sharper than any words.
Hye-rin felt the weight in her chest tighten. Beneath the polite laughter and glittering lights, something about tonight had shifted — something fragile, dangerous, and far too personal.
And for the first time, she realized that being caught between these two men wasn't just awkward anymore. It was about to become war.