Chapter 13:
Joon stepped back as the men lunged, instinct and adrenaline kicking in. His body remembered the battles of past lives—defending a stage from a mob of fans, parrying blades as a samurai, even dodging flaming debris as a firefighter.
But this wasn't a battlefield. It was Seoul's polished corporate district, and his enemies weren't armed with swords or flames—they carried brute force and cold intention.
The first man grabbed for Joon's arm. He sidestepped, wrenching free with a sharp twist. The second swung a fist toward him, but Joon ducked, his mind racing for a plan.
He couldn't fight them outright. These men weren't just muscle; they were a warning.
Joon bolted toward the nearest alley, weaving through the maze of city streets. The men chased him, their heavy footsteps echoing in the night.
His breath came in sharp bursts, his suit jacket flapping as he ran. He rounded a corner, his mind calculating every turn. He needed an edge—something to even the odds.
The alley opened into a construction site. Joon darted inside, the skeletal frames of half-built skyscrapers looming above him.
He found a metal pipe lying on the ground and gripped it tightly. The men entered moments later, their shadows stretching long in the dim light.
"You can't run forever, Park!" one of them shouted.
Joon stepped into the open, the pipe raised defensively. "I'm not running."
The first man charged, but Joon swung the pipe with precision, striking his arm and forcing him back. The second tried to flank him, but Joon anticipated the move, pivoting and delivering a kick to his knee.
The fight was messy, unrefined, but effective. Joon's body remembered what his mind didn't—how to survive.
Eventually, the men retreated, bruised and winded.
"This isn't over," one of them growled before disappearing into the night.
Joon collapsed against a wall, his chest heaving. He'd won the fight, but he knew the war was far from over.
Joon arrived at the office bruised but determined. Eunseo gasped when she saw him.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice a mix of concern and fear.
"An ambush," Joon replied curtly. "But I'm fine."
Eunseo wasn't convinced, but she didn't press further. Instead, she handed him a folder. "Hyunseok found more evidence. You need to see this."
Joon opened the folder, his eyes scanning the documents. Bank transfers, falsified reports, and internal communications—all pointing to the same group of conspirators.
At the center of it all was a name that made Joon's stomach turn: Chairman Kim, the man who had once mentored him.
Chairman Kim had been a father figure to Joon, guiding him through the early days of his corporate career. To discover he was behind the coup felt like a knife to the heart.
Joon called an emergency board meeting, presenting the evidence to the stunned executives.
"This company was built on trust and integrity," he said, his voice steady but charged with emotion. "Chairman Kim has betrayed that trust."
The room erupted into chaos, but Joon remained calm, fielding questions and defending his actions.
Chairman Kim, however, was absent.
That evening, Joon confronted Chairman Kim in his private office. The older man sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his expression unreadable.
"You've come far, Joon," Kim said, his tone almost amused. "But you still have so much to learn."
Joon placed the evidence on the desk. "Why? You had everything. Why sabotage the company you helped build?"
Kim leaned back, a faint smile on his lips. "Power is a game, Joon. You can't win by playing fair."
Joon's fists clenched, but he forced himself to stay composed. "You've lost, Chairman. The board knows, and the authorities will too."
Kim's smile faltered, replaced by a steely glare. "Do you really think this will end with me? You're naïve if you believe that."
The fallout was swift. Chairman Kim was removed from his position, and the conspirators were exposed. Joon's decisive actions earned him the admiration of his employees and cemented his reputation as a leader who wouldn't back down.
But the victory came at a cost. The threats didn't stop, and Joon knew he had made powerful enemies.
One evening, as he walked home, he felt the familiar chill of being watched. Turning a corner, he saw a figure waiting for him—a man in a dark coat, his face obscured.
The glint of a blade caught Joon's eye too late.
Pain exploded in his chest as the knife found its mark. He staggered back, his vision blurring.
The man disappeared into the night, leaving Joon to collapse onto the cold pavement.
When Joon opened his eyes again, the smell of earth and fresh air filled his senses. He was lying in a field, the morning sun warming his skin.
A sharp bark drew his attention. He turned to see a golden retriever bounding toward him, its tail wagging furiously.
"Good boy, Lucky!" a voice called.
Joon sat up, his eyes widening as a small child ran past him, giggling. The child stopped, looking back at him with a grin.
"Come on, Dad! We're going to be late for the festival!"
Joon blinked, his heart skipping a beat. Dad?
He looked down at himself—simple clothes, calloused hands. A life far removed from the corporate towers of Seoul.
A life he had yet to understand.