Episode 2:The ceo called Elena
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02:00 KST. LUMIÈRE Korea Temporary Office, Cheongdam-dong.
The building across from MJ Tower is glass and steel, sixty-one floors to MJ’s sixty. Han Tae-oh bought it at 16:07. It was vacant by 18:00. Money moves fast when you’re angry.
Seo-yeon stands on the 55th floor. The office is empty except for a single drafting table, a laptop, and the Seoul skyline. MJ Tower dominates the view. On the 59th floor, the lights in Kang Min-jae’s office are still on.
She hasn’t slept in thirty-one hours.
The elevator dings. Tae-oh walks in carrying two coffees and a thick legal folder. He’s in a charcoal suit, tie loosened, sleeves rolled to the elbow. At twenty-nine, Han Tae-oh looks like the Kwon Industries COO on every business cover. He looks nothing like the boy who used to walk Seo-yeon home from school so the neighborhood men wouldn’t stare.
“You dropped a wedding ring in the trash,” he says, setting a coffee on the drafting table. “Security fished it out. Thought it was evidence.”
“Was it?” Seo-yeon doesn’t turn from the window.
“They ran the inscription. YKM – YSY. 07.04.” He slides the velvet box across the table. “Do you want it back?”
She finally looks at him. “Melt it. Use it for the first prototype.”
Tae-oh nods once. No questions. That’s why she called him and not a lawyer. Tae-oh doesn’t ask why. He asks how.
He opens the folder. “LUMIÈRE Korea is incorporated as of 20:30. You’re listed as Chief Design Officer. I’m CEO. Paperwork says Elena Yoo returned from London to expand operations.” He pauses. “No one at MJ Group knows Elena Yoo is Yoo Seo-yeon.”
“Good.” She takes the coffee. Black. No sugar. She learned to drink it that way in the textile factory. “Status on the lawsuit?”
Tae-oh’s mouth ticks. The only sign he’s satisfied. “Filed at 21:15. Yoo Seo-yeon vs. Kang Min-jae and Cha Ji-won. Bigamy, forgery of legal documents, fraud. The annulment paper has your signature. Forensics will prove it’s fake in forty-eight hours.”
“What’s the ask?”
“Freeze MJ Group’s IPO. 4.3 trillion won. Scheduled for next month.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “If we win, MJ Group loses its valuation overnight. Chairman Kang’s old board members will gut Min-jae to save their stock.”
Seo-yeon closes her eyes. For three years she designed clothes to make women feel powerful. Now she’s designing ruin.
“Collateral damage?” she asks.
“Twenty thousand employees. Suppliers. Contract factories.” Tae-oh doesn’t sugarcoat. “Ji-won’s father is on the National Assembly Finance Committee. He’ll call this an attack on the Korean economy.”
“And if we don’t file?”
“Then Kang Min-jae spends his life thinking you left him. And Cha Ji-won gets away with stealing your name.”
Seo-yeon opens her eyes. MJ Tower reflects in the window, superimposed over her face.
“File it,” she says.
09:00 KST. MJ Group Headquarters, 59th Floor.
Kang Min-jae has a headache.
The anniversary party ran late. Ji-won drank too much champagne and cried about her father’s approval ratings. The Seoul Daily ran photos of them kissing this morning with the headline: MR. & MRS. KANG: KOREA’S POWER COUPLE.
His assistant, Secretary Kim, knocks once and enters without waiting. Her face is bloodless.
“Legal just called. You’ve been served.”
Min-jae doesn’t look up from the Q3 projections. “What is it this time? Factory union?”
“Personal.” She sets a tablet on his desk. The screen shows a scanned court document.
Plaintiff: Yoo Seo-yeon
Defendant: Kang Min-jae
Charge: Bigamy. Articles 810, 815 of the Civil Act.
The headache becomes a spike behind his eyes.
Yoo Seo-yeon.
He hasn’t said her name aloud in two years. His grandfather’s lawyers told him she filed for annulment from London. That she wanted money and citizenship and to never come back. He’d believed them because the alternative was that he’d failed to keep one person safe.
“Impossible,” he says. His voice sounds like someone else’s. “She’s in London. She—”
“Security pulled camera footage from yesterday.” Secretary Kim swipes. A still image fills the screen.
The lobby. 15:47.
A woman in a black wool coat stands by the floral arrangement. Her face is turned toward the elevator, toward him and Ji-won. The image is grainy, but Min-jae would know her silhouette anywhere. He drew it in his textbooks at seventeen.
The timestamp is seven minutes before he kissed Ji-won.
He stands so fast his chair hits the wall.
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know. The filing came from Bae, Kim & Lee. They’re repping a LUMIÈRE corporation. New tech-fashion house. CEO is Han Tae-oh.”
Tae-oh.
His university roommate. His only friend. The boy who punched a senior for calling Seo-yeon “the kimbap girl.”
The intercom buzzes. Ji-won’s voice, sharp. “Min-jae, Seoul Daily is here for the follow-up interview. They want to ask about the IPO. And your wife.”
Your wife.
Min-jae looks at the tablet. At Seo-yeon’s name typed in legal font. At the photo of her watching him commit bigamy in real time.
For the first time in three years, Kang Min-jae feels something colder than pride.
Fear.
12:00 KST. LUMIÈRE Korea. Press Conference.
The room is standing only. One hundred reporters. No chairs. No water. Power move.
Seo-yeon adjusts the cuff of her white blazer. Custom LUMIÈRE. The fabric shifts color under the lights — her patented algorithm. It’s the first time Korean media has seen it.
Tae-oh leans into the mic. “LUMIÈRE will launch our flagship store in Seoul next quarter. We specialize in AI-driven luxury. Personalized. Sustainable. Ethical.”
A reporter from Seoul Daily stands. Choi Woo-jin. Thirty-one, known for taking down chaebols. “Ms. Yoo, you’re Elena Yoo? The London founder?”
Seo-yeon steps to the mic. She hasn’t spoken to Korean press in three years. Her voice is steady.
“Yes.”
“MJ Group just announced you’re suing their CEO for bigamy. Kang Min-jae claims he was legally divorced. Comment?”
Cameras flash. Tae-oh tenses beside her.
Seo-yeon looks directly into the main camera. She knows Min-jae will be watching.
“I was twenty-one when I married Kang Min-jae,” she says. “I was sent to London two weeks later. I was told to wait. I waited three years.” She lets the silence hang. “I returned yesterday. For my anniversary.”
The room is dead quiet.
“There was cake,” she continues. “It said Happy 2nd Anniversary Mr. & Mrs. Kang. The Mrs. was not me.”
A murmur runs through the reporters.
Choi Woo-jin doesn’t blink. “So you’re saying Kang Min-jae is still legally your husband?”
Seo-yeon lifts her left hand. No ring. The tan line is gone. Three years of London sun erased it.
“I’m saying MJ Group’s CEO is a bigamist. And LUMIÈRE does not do business with criminals.”
She steps back from the mic.
Across the street, on the 59th floor of MJ Tower, Kang Min-jae watches the live feed. Cha Ji-won is screaming at the PR team.
On the screen, Yoo Seo-yeon looks nothing like the girl who sold kimbap.
She looks like a CEO.
She looks like war.
Last line of the broadcast: LUMIÈRE’s logo fills the screen. It’s a minimalist design. A single line that becomes a flame.
Under it, a tagline appears:
THREE YEARS TOO LATE.
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