Chapter 8: Chairman Lee Appears
1428 Words
Chapter 8: Chairman Lee Appears
The morning sun filtered in through heavy velvet curtains, pale and golden, like a whisper against the shadows still clinging to the corners of the room. Hana stirred slowly beneath the silk sheets, her head pounding, her chest tight.
Her lashes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion. Her gaze wandered to the figure beside her.
Sun-Woo.
Still there.
Sitting in the same spot he’d been in last night. Legs crossed. Back against the headboard. A book in hand, he wasn’t reading. His expression was calm, warm, and even. When he noticed her stir, he looked over and smiled like morning itself had risen in her eyes.
“You’re awake,” he said softly, like it mattered more than anything else in the world.
She blinked slowly, confused.
Why was he still here?
Why was he smiling like that?
Why wasn’t he... angry?
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her head throbbed with dull pain, memories like glass pressing against the edges of her mind.
“Headache?” he asked gently.
She nodded.
He reached over to the nightstand and handed her a glass of water, already prepared. The pills were there too. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took them.
“Take it easy today. You’re still recovering.”
Hana looked at him, looked, and saw no trace of last night’s storm in his eyes. Only light. Only care. But underneath the surface, she could feel it. That something—coiled, quiet, waiting.
She sipped the water. Swallowed the pills. Still silent.
Sun-Woo stayed by her side a little longer, talking about nothing in particular. The weather. The movie they'd watched. The shoes she picked out. He chuckled at the stickers she insisted were important.
But not once did he mention last night. Not once did he explain why he shouted. Why did he look at her like she was his prisoner?
And she didn’t ask.
Because part of her didn’t want to know.
“I’ll be gone for a few hours,” he said eventually, standing and fixing the cuffs of his shirt. “But Yeonwha’s here. If you need anything, just ask her.”
He leaned in and—without asking—brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Hana.”
Then he left.
The silence he left behind was colder than his presence.
Moments later, Yeonwha appeared in the doorway, carrying a small tray with a light breakfast.
She didn’t smile.
She looked... nervous.
“Unnie?” Hana called, her voice still hoarse. “What’s going on?”
Yeonwha set the tray down and sat at the edge of the bed.
“Hana... there’s something you should know.”
Hana blinked. Her headache is still pulsing.
“You’re not going to school anymore.”
Hana frowned. “What do you mean?”
Yeonwha hesitated, then dropped the truth like a stone.
“Chairman Lee has hired a personal tutor. You’ll be studying here, at home.”
It took a moment.
The words hit her slowly. And then—like a crack spreading through ice—they shattered everything she’d been hoping for.
“No...”
Yeonwha reached for her hand. “I tried to talk to him, Hana. But he’s already made the arrangements. The tutor arrives tomorrow.”
“No!”
Hana pushed the sheets off and stood, shaky on her feet.
“I was supposed to leave this house—I was supposed to—!”
“Hana, please calm down—”
“No!” she screamed, her voice cracking under pressure. “You don’t understand! I can’t stay here—I don’t want to! I need to leave this house!”
Yeonwha looked stricken. “Hana—”
She kicked the tray off the bed. It crashed to the floor with a clatter. Her breaths were sharp, ragged. The room tilted.
“I can’t stay here! I can’t—!”
Downstairs:
The door opened.
The atmosphere shifted.
Heavy.
All-consuming.
Every staff member in the hallway instantly stopped what they were doing. Spines straightened. Heads bowed low. A current of reverence and fear surged through the air.
The place was quiet, too quiet, as the man, looking like someone in his 40s, walked through the hallway, heading straight to Hana's room.
No one stopped him. All they did was bow to him and greet him.
He was already at the door of Hana's room.
Yeonwha stood quickly, eyes wide. She turned toward the door and bowed.
“Chairman Lee.”
The man stepped into the room like he owned every breath in it.
He didn’t knock.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t need to.
Tall, composed, a quiet storm wrapped in elegance. His long ash-gray hair was tied loosely at his nape, a few strands falling over his brow. He wore a black hanbok-inspired coat over a pressed white shirt, and thin medicated glasses perched on his nose. Everything about him seemed pulled from another time—but sharper, grander, untouchable.
His eyes scanned the room with mild disinterest.
Until he saw her.
Hana.
And then—everything changed.
His eyes lit up. His lips pulled into the kind of smile that made time feel irrelevant.
“There’s my sunshine,” he said with a voice like warm whiskey.
Hana stared at him, confused. Her tears were still wet on her cheeks.
He walked straight to her, ignoring Yeonwha and the guards behind him.
Chairman Lee stopped in front of Hana.
He looked at her like she was a miracle.
“My little flower,” he murmured. “You cried without me again.”
She stiffened. “Who... who are you?”
He laughed gently, like her question amused him beyond words. He cupped her cheeks with gloved hands, thumbs gently wiping away her tears.
“You’ve grown,” he whispered. “You used to fit in the curve of my arm.”
Hana looked at Yeonwha, heart pounding. “What’s going on?”
Yeonwha lowered her head. “This is Chairman Lee. He is a friend of your sponsor. He has also been the one taking care of you after your accident. Your first accident, but you wouldn't remember.”
Chairman Lee smiled wider. “And I’ve done a terrible job if you’re crying like this.”
His tone was light, but the room trembled with it.
Hana pulled away slightly, uncertain. Her hands fisted.
“You’re the one who said I can’t go to school anymore?”
He tilted his head. “You’re still weak, Hana. The world out there isn’t ready for you yet.”
“I don’t care!” she shouted. “I’m not a prisoner!”
A flicker of steel crossed his gaze—but only for a moment. Then the warmth returned.
“No,” he said gently. “You’re not a prisoner. You’re my daughter.”
Her stomach dropped.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” he said. “Maybe not by blood. But by fate.”
He stepped closer, voice velvet and steel.
“This house, this life—it’s not a cage. It’s your home. And everything in it, including the rules, is to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection,” she hissed.
“You don’t remember how much danger you were in. But I do.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t believe you.”
He smiled again—sad this time.
“You will.”
Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead like sealing a promise.
“You can hate me now. But one day, you’ll understand me.”
Hana stood frozen. The scent of him lingered—smoke, pine, and old memories.
He turned and walked to the door.
“Prepare the guest room for Dr. Yoon,” he told a staff member without turning around. “He’ll begin Hana’s therapy tomorrow.”
Then, to Yeonwha: “Stay with her until she calms down. And make sure Sun-Woo doesn’t come near her tonight. Sigh, that boy. He almost killed my darling because of his temper.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
He left as quietly as he came.
But the storm he brought would take much longer to leave.
Hana sat back on the bed, dazed.
Home?
Or prison?
She didn’t know anymore.
She clutched the pillow close to her chest as Yeonwha knelt beside her, rubbing her back.
Outside, the sun shone bright.
But inside, the world had never felt darker.
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To be continued...
- Writer
