A Season for Lies

Threads of Fate

The defeat felt foreign, like cold metal on the back of his tongue. He was accustomed to calculated victories, to success measured by rising stock prices and the retreat of his competitors. But this defeat was different. This was a defeat against something he couldn't acquire or destroy with logic: a memory.

He walked towards his private bar, not to drink alcohol—he rarely drank alone—but to do something, anything. He poured a glass of cold water, downing it in a single gulp, hoping the water could extinguish the faint fire that had begun to burn in his chest. It failed. The image of her laugh, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at the city lights, was still seared onto his retinas.

So inefficient, he thought to himself, a mantra he always used to banish feelings. Remembering the past yields no profit.

He forced himself to turn away, leaving the window and the ghost that accompanied him there. He glanced at the shrouded grand piano. For a moment, his fingers itched, longing for the touch of the cool black and white keys. Longing for a time when the only thing that mattered was the harmony between melody and silence. But he quickly suppressed the urge. The man who played that piano was long dead. All that remained was Kwon Jin-hyuk, the CEO. And a CEO needed to sleep to function optimally the next day.

Two days later, the storm came.

Not a real storm, but something far more frightening: a phone call from his father, Chairman Kwon Dae-hyun, at 7:30 in the morning. It was a breach of unwritten protocol. His father never called before nine unless there was a crisis.

“Have you read this morning’s news?” his father’s cold voice came from the other end, dispensing with pleasantries.

“Good morning to you too, Abeoji,” Jin-hyuk replied flatly as he tightened his tie.

“Don’t play games with me, Kwon Jin-hyuk. The business gossip columns are already circulating. ‘Dinner Meeting Between K Group and Seoryu Group Ends Awkwardly’. What did you do last night? Chairman Yoon called me this morning. He is deeply offended.”

“I simply stated that his daughter was unsuitable,” Jin-hyuk answered, his eyes staring at his own expressionless reflection in the mirror.

“Unsuitable?!” his father’s voice rose. “This isn’t about choosing a lunch menu! This is about a multi-billion-dollar alliance! This is about the future of the company! Do you want to hand over everything your grandfather built to Ji-han just because some girl doesn’t suit your strange tastes?”

“My decision is final. That marriage would have been a long-term liability,” Jin-hyuk stated firmly. Logic was his only shield.

A heavy sigh came from the other end. His father knew that arguing with Jin-hyuk’s cold logic was like punching a steel wall. “Fine. Forget the Yoon family. You’ve already burned that bridge.” There was a brief pause. “There are still two candidates left. The one from Hansol Group in Jakarta. Han Chae-rin. I’ve already spoken with her father. You will fly there next week to meet her. Consider it an order. Don’t make a mess again.”

The call was unilaterally ended.

Jin-hyuk put down his phone. There was no anger on his face. Only a deepening exhaustion. He had won a small battle against the arranged marriage with Yoon Seo-ah, but he knew he was losing a much larger war. A war against the destiny that had been written for him. Jakarta. Another candidate. Another porcelain doll. The same drama, just a different stage.

Meanwhile, in a small apartment filled with stacks of books and sketches in Jakarta, the atmosphere was far from cold and structured. The atmosphere was one of thick desperation.

Saskia Kirana Putri hadn’t slept for forty-eight hours. Her eyes, usually sparkling, were now swollen and red, surrounded by dark circles. In front of her, her laptop was open with a dozen tabs displayed: airline websites, forums about Korean visas, articles about overseas medical costs, and an online donation page she had tried to create but didn't know how to start.

“There’s no way out, Rin,” Saskia whispered, her voice hoarse. Next to her, Rina was pouring instant coffee into their third cup that morning.

“There has to be a way, Sas. There has to be,” Rina replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

The last two days had been hell. They had tried everything. Calling all their friends for a loan, but the amount needed was too large. Contacting the Tirtayasa Group, begging for an advance on the project fee, but corporate bureaucracy couldn't be broken. The payment would come in thirty days, at the earliest.

Thirty days. A luxury of time that Bima didn't have.

An email notification popped up on Saskia’s laptop. From Dr. Lee Seo-jin, Asan Medical Center. Her heart immediately began to pound. With a trembling hand, she opened it.

The contents were brief, professional, yet every word felt momentous.

“Ms. Putri, Mr. Bima’s post-operative condition is still under close observation. There has been no significant change; he remains unconscious. We are doing our best. Please stay strong.”

Please stay strong. That sentence only made her feel weaker. How could she be strong when she was stranded here?

“What did the doctor say?” Rina asked softly.

“Same as before,” Saskia replied, closing her laptop with frustration. “No change.” She rested her head on the table, her hair, usually full of life, now looking limp and helpless. “I’ve failed, Rin. I’m a failure as a sister.”

Rina rubbed her friend’s back. “You haven’t failed. You’re fighting.” Suddenly, Rina’s eyes caught something on her own still-lit laptop screen. An article from a lifestyle business magazine. “Sas, look at this.”

Saski lifted her head listlessly. On the screen was an article titled: “Hansol Group’s Exclusive Art Exhibition: Where Business Meets Art in Jakarta.” The article featured a photo of Han Chae-rin, the heiress, who would be hosting the event. The event was in two days. A private affair for the upper class.

“So what?” Saski asked, her voice dull.

“The event organizer, Sas. Vespera Events. Isn’t that the EO that wanted to recruit you before you decided to start your own company?” Rina said quickly, an idea beginning to form in her mind. “You know people there. Maybe… maybe you can get a freelance gig for this event? The pay must be insane. Enough for a plane ticket!”

Saskia stared at the screen. A glamorous event. A world that felt so distant from her current problems. But Rina was right. This was her only skill set. This was her only chance, however small it might be. A flicker of hope began to light up in her tired eyes.

In his magnificent office, Kwon Jin-hyuk was staring at a file on his tablet. The profile of Han Chae-rin. A Wharton graduate, just like him. Smart, beautiful, ambitious. A much more promising asset than Yoon Seo-ah.

“Secretary Cha,” he called through the intercom.

“Yes, Daepyo-nim.”

“Book a flight to Jakarta for this Friday. Arrange a meeting with Ms. Han Chae-rin at their art exhibition on Saturday evening.”

“Of course, Daepyo-nim. I’ll prepare everything.”

Jin-hyuk switched off the intercom. He looked at his travel schedule on the screen. Jakarta. A city he had never visited. Another task he had to complete. He had no idea that in the same city, a woman with swollen eyes was desperately typing a job application email—an email that would place her in the exact same room as him on Saturday night.

Fate was weaving its threads in silence, preparing the stage for an inevitable collision.

***

Notes:

Abeoji (아버지): A formal word for "Father".