"Ah!" The goons panicked, clueless.
Just lowlife thugs, they'd bluff and wave weapons.
Less than 100,000 won a month—why risk their lives?
The skinny guy wanted to impress the boss, stand out.
Not everyone was that dumb.
Seeing them cowed, Lee Jin-woo shook his arm, twisting Ahn Jung-hyun's wrist, forcing him to kneel.
"Ready to talk?"
"Y-Yes… Can you let go? Hurts…"
He released him. Instantly, Ahn spun, slashing his abdomen.
"Yah, who do you think you are? You're dead, kid."
Staring at his torn shirt and 10cm gash, Lee Jin-woo pressed the oozing blood, face grim.
Damn, where'd these punks come from?
They actually dared stab. Whose mutts were they?
"Come on, come!" Ahn waved his dagger, crouching provocatively.
"Shibal~" He shed his jacket, tossing it aside.
The hidden neck tattoo flashed into view.
"Oh~" A goon grabbed Ahn, pointing. "Boss, boss."
Ahn's taunting froze.
Lee Jin-woo didn't. A crisp left hook smashed Ahn's cheek.
A clear dent, bloody white bits sprayed from his twisted mouth.
Crack~
Bone snapped, followed by a chilling whoosh.
Ahn hit the ground like a dead dog, still.
Only broken teeth gleamed in the sun.
"Ohh~"
The goons lost it, dropping weapons under his hawk-like glare, kneeling for mercy.
"Brother, mianhaeyo, mianhae." Heads bowed, awaiting judgment.
He grabbed his jacket, dusting it. "Stay put. Move, you're dead, got it?"
Patting a kneeling head, his anger eased.
Pulling his phone, he dialed a deep-memory number.
Noticing a head lift, he barked, "Hey, heads down. Lie flat, flat!"
They obeyed, prostrating, faces turned.
"President Lee…"
He meant to call Chief Ahn to handle it.
But Lee Boo-jin's driver, Driver Seo, interrupted.
"Leave them to me. I'll find out what's up and report."
Seo seemed seasoned at this.
"You sure?"
Sitting on a stone bollard, he wiped his wound with a towel.
"Ne, I'll handle it."
Seo pressed, "Shouldn't you hit a hospital? Infection's bad news."
"It's fine. My driver's coming."
Creak~
The gate opened. He tied his jacket, hiding the wound.
"Jin-woo, what happened?"
The director eyed the suited men, then recalled. "You're from President Cheon? Tell him, I won't sell Angel Garden."
"Jin-woo, you okay? Call the police…"
"Director, I'm fine. They're leaving soon. It's okay."
He found their motive.
Wongok Angel Garden, near Seoul, nestled by hills and water, beside the National Defense University—a prime feng shui spot.
With limited land, urban plans eyed Wongok for a private luxury resort.
Resort, golf course, elite club—perfect for wooing future defense talents.
A 10-minute drive to deal-making venues.
Prime business.
"Jin-woo, it's not that I won't move Angel Garden. Their offer can't buy a new place. Should I take the kids to the countryside?"
"I'm old, I don't care. But why should these kids suffer more? Their lives are hard enough."
She truly raised them as her own.
Otherwise, she'd be retired, living easy.
"Yes, I'll handle it." He hugged her, soothing. "Don't worry, I'll fix it."
"President-ssi, I'm Kim Jung-suk, new company driver." A sturdy, 180cm guy barged in.
"Hm~ See outside?"
"Saw it."
"Handle it with Driver Seo. We'll leave after."
"Ne." Kim Jung-suk left, his decisiveness impressive.
Execution? That'd show soon.
He had a soldier's vibe. Ex-military?
"Kids, bedtime! Hurry, don't make Granny nag. Grab your beds, change, and sleep!"
He clapped, herding the ducklings.
Pigtail Nai ran up, nestling. "Agassi, Nai wants to stay with you."
"Love Agassi that much?"
"Ne~"
"Haha, aigoo, our Nai's so sweet."
Cradling her, he nuzzled her nose. "Agassi'll hold you to sleep, okay?"
"But… if I sleep, Agassi's gone." She clutched his shirt, pitiful, dreading separation.
Abandoned kids craved family in ways most couldn't grasp.
A kind uncle's fatherly warmth was their life's greatest gift.
Once found, how could they let go?
"Uncle's got work, so I can't stay long. But I promise, I'll visit Nai and everyone often."
"Really… Pinky swear." Her pure eyes brimmed with hope, locked on him.
How could he refuse such a cutie?
"Pinky swear, no change for a hundred years."
Coaxing them all to sleep, he was drenched in sweat.
Wiping his brow, he tiptoed out, shutting the door softly.
"Phew~" Sneaking like a mouse, he could finally relax.
"Jin-woo, thanks for your hard work."
The director stood shakily, knees clearly aching.
"Director, you okay?" He supported her.
"Haha, fine, fine. Aigoo, old aches." She tapped her knee, eyes wistful.
Time slipped away unnoticed.
This long, fleeting life.
He gave her his new address for the kids' letters.
Bidding farewell, he vowed to resolve this immediately.
In the Land Rover, Kim Jung-suk reported, "They're under a President Cheon, demolition lead. He handles everything."
"Who's behind him?"
"Unknown. Only Cheon knows—some big shot, they say."
"Big shot? Makes sense."
"How'd you handle them?"
"Talked with Driver Seo. Handed them to the police. Seo pulled strings—minimum five years each."
"Hm." He closed his eyes, relieved.
Clean, no loose ends, and it nipped Angel Garden's trouble.
"Ex-soldier?"
"…Ne."
"Hometown?"
"Busan."
"Busan, huh? Say hi to Chief Ahn for me."
"What?"
He opened his eyes. "Chief Ahn sent you, right? I'm not blind."
"Yes, President… Left Quanzhou, I'm just Kim Jung-suk now. Only your orders."
"Oh? One more time—hometown?"
He hesitated. "I'm a defector."
Defector—escapee from the North to South Korea.
"Served?"
"Yes, three years in a covert unit."
"Face changed?"
"No, not that kind of unit. No one cared about a grunt like me."
"Seen combat?"
"Yes."
"Gifts delivered to the director?"
"Yes."
"Hm, you're on."
"Yes, President. I'll give my all."
Five million won monthly—he'd better.
Else, he'd feel bad spending it.
And if he felt bad, others, like Kim's old boss, Chief Ahn, would too.
"President, you're back." The receptionist stood, holding files.
"Hm, company news?"
"Yes, new trainees. Rep Yoon's interviewing."
"Good work."
In the elevator to the top, he beckoned Ha Joo-hee.
Click, the door shut.
Pent-up rage from earlier had nowhere to vent.
Ten minutes later, Yoon Hye-na barged in.
Seeing him "train the cat," she finally got why Ha Joo-hee wore that lace collar.
"How're the newbies?"
"Two stand out. Here's their info."
His expression shifted at the files.
Nana Lin—yup, it's her.
She started as a pageant model, debuted in a group, then shone in films.
Her beauty and figure were legendary.
The other candidate? Never heard of.
But solid stats—maybe not a breakout, but could make waves locally.
(End of Chapter)