Daniel leaned back in his chair, letting the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wash over him. It had been years since he'd set foot in a place so unpretentious. For someone who had grown up surrounded by crystal chandeliers and silver-plated dinnerware, the worn wooden tables and mismatched chairs of Hana's Rooftop Café felt grounding—almost like an escape from the stifling perfection of his world.
The morning light streamed through the windows, casting soft golden hues across the small space. Daniel stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his thoughts wandering until his phone buzzed on the table, cutting through the quiet. He sighed, already dreading what the interruption would bring. A glance at the screen confirmed his suspicion: Eleanor Kang.
"Hello, Mother," he answered, his tone carefully neutral.
"Daniel, where are you? You're late for the board meeting," Eleanor's voice was sharp and clipped, every word more an order than a question.
"Something came up," he replied vaguely, glancing at the sunlight pooling on the café floor. "I'll be there soon."
"Your father won't tolerate this," she snapped. "Don't test his patience."
The line went dead before Daniel could respond. He set the phone down with a frustrated exhale, staring at it as though it were the source of all his problems. His gaze shifted back to the steaming coffee in his hands. It was rich and slightly bitter, a stark contrast to the overly sweet, designer beverages he usually drank. For a brief moment, he considered skipping the meeting altogether. But years of discipline—and fear—kept him tethered.
Kang Corporation's headquarters loomed like a fortress, all steel and glass reflecting the cold ambition of its owners. Daniel stepped off the elevator into the expansive boardroom, where his father, Chairman Kang, sat at the head of the table. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed Seoul's sprawling skyline, a city shaped by the Kang family's relentless pursuit of power.
"You're late," his father said, not bothering to look up.
"Traffic," Daniel lied, taking a seat near the end of the long table.
The meeting dragged on, a dry discussion of quarterly profits and ambitious new projects. Chairman Kang outlined the company's latest venture: a luxury development in Hongdae. As Daniel listened, his chest tightened.
"Hongdae?" he interrupted, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
Chairman Kang's eyes snapped to his son, sharp and assessing. "Yes. Is there a problem?"
Daniel hesitated, thinking of the café. The warmth, the unassuming charm, and the people who seemed to belong to an entirely different world than his. "No problem," he said finally, his tone carefully even.
His father's gaze lingered a moment longer before he continued. But Daniel's thoughts remained fixed on Hana's Rooftop, the words "rezoning" and "redevelopment" echoing ominously in his mind.
Back at the café, the mood was tense. Joon paced behind the counter, the crumpled notice of rezoning clutched in his hand.
"This is bad," he muttered, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by frustration.
"What's wrong?" Hana asked, stepping out from the kitchen with a dish towel in hand.
Joon thrust the paper at her. "This! The city's planning to rezone the area. If this goes through, we're done for."
Hana unfolded the notice, her stomach sinking as she read. Though the language was formal and vague, its implications were devastating. Rezoning meant redevelopment, and redevelopment meant the end of her café—the end of her father's legacy.
"This place is all we have left of him," she said quietly, her voice trembling with a mix of grief and anger. "I'm not letting anyone take it away."
"We fight," Joon said firmly. "We'll rally the community, make some noise. If enough people push back, they'll have to listen."
Hana nodded, her mind racing with ideas. "We'll need petitions, media coverage, everything. If we can show them how much this place matters, maybe we have a chance."
As they brainstormed, the bell above the door jingled. Hana looked up and froze. Standing there was Daniel Kang, his presence so at odds with the cozy simplicity of the café.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice calm but serious.
Hana exchanged a wary glance with Joon before stepping forward. "About what?"
Daniel hesitated, the weight of his family's plans pressing against him. "The future of this café."
Hana crossed her arms, her expression steely. "If you're here to offer a buyout, don't bother. This café isn't for sale."
Daniel shook his head. "I'm not here to make an offer. I just… I need to understand what this place means to you."
Joon scoffed from behind the counter. "What's there to understand? It's not just a business. It's her father's legacy. It's our home. Something you probably wouldn't get."
Daniel's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He wasn't used to being challenged so directly. "I'm trying to help," he said finally.
"Help?" Hana's voice rose. "Your family's corporation is the reason we're in this mess. What kind of help are you offering? Sympathy?"
The words stung more than Daniel expected. "I didn't choose this," he said quietly.
"Neither did we," Hana shot back. "But we're the ones who have to fight for what's ours."
Daniel glanced around the café, taking in the faded photographs on the walls, the mismatched chairs, the handwritten menu. It was a world apart from the cold, impersonal boardrooms he'd grown up in. For a moment, he wondered what it would have been like to belong to a place like this—a place built on love and resilience, not power and profit.
"I'll see what I can do," he said finally, turning to leave.
"Don't bother unless you're serious," Hana called after him, her voice laced with defiance.
That night, Daniel sat in his high-rise apartment, staring out at the city lights. The blueprints for the Hongdae development lay untouched on his desk. He thought of Hana's words, of the fire in her eyes as she defended her café. For years, he'd been a cog in the Kang machine, doing what was expected, never questioning the cost. But now, for the first time, he felt the weight of what his family's ambitions truly meant.
Picking up his phone, he dialed a number. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
"Mr. Kang," the voice said.
"I need a full report on the Hongdae project," Daniel said, his tone brisk. "Specifically, the impact on local businesses."
The voice on the other end hesitated. "Of course, sir. I'll have it to you by morning."
Daniel ended the call, his chest tight. He didn't know if he could change anything. But for the first time in years, he felt compelled to try.
The next morning, Hana was back at the café, organizing the inventory list for the week. Despite her exhaustion, her determination burned brighter than ever.
"You think he'll actually do anything?" Joon asked as he carried a tray of fresh pastries to the counter.
Hana shook her head. "I don't trust him. But if he's willing to help, I'll hear him out."
The bell above the door jingled, and they both turned. Daniel stepped inside, a stack of documents under his arm.
"I have information you need," he said, his voice steady. "And a proposal."
Hana's eyes narrowed. "This better not be another corporate excuse."
"It's not," Daniel replied. For the first time, there was no trace of arrogance in his voice. "I'm here to fight with you."