Min-jae packed his bags in silence. The large, pristine mansion felt even emptier than it had when he first arrived back from the United States. Every step he took seemed to echo louder in the vast hallways, mocking his decision to leave it all behind. His father had already scolded him relentlessly, demanding that he come to his senses, but Min-jae refused to hear him. For the first time in his life, he had a choice—one that wasn't dictated by family tradition, wealth, or expectation.
His decision was impulsive, born out of a mixture of desperation and self-loathing, but it felt right. Leaving Korea meant severing ties with the comfort of familiarity—the luxurious carriages, the private jets, the extravagant dinners—but it also meant severing ties with his failure, his inadequacy. It meant he could reinvent himself without the shadow of his past looming over him.
He glanced one last time at his family's estate before stepping into the car, his body stiff with anticipation.
"I'll be back when I'm ready," he told himself, his mind resolute.
Min-jae arrived in the United States with nothing more than a small suitcase, a pocket full of cash, and an overwhelming need to prove himself. The reality of life in the U.S. was a far cry from the indulgent existence he had been used to. He rented a small, dingy apartment in a rundown neighborhood, no longer able to shield himself from the stark truth—he was now just another faceless person trying to survive.
But survival was something Min-jae had never truly learned to do. He had been insulated from the harsh realities of life, his days filled with indulgence and excess. Now, in this foreign land, he had to work, to struggle, to earn everything he had. And though the sting of this new life cut deep, it was also strangely liberating.
Min-jae secured a job working as a dishwasher at a local restaurant. It was a humiliating position for someone of his background, but it served as a constant reminder of just how far he had fallen. Every evening, after a long day of scrubbing dishes and dealing with irritable customers, he would return to his apartment and collapse on the couch, exhausted but oddly fulfilled. It was the first time in years that he had done something of value, something that required effort and discipline.
But it wasn't enough. He could feel his past self gnawing at him, taunting him for wasting his potential. He could hear Seo-jin's words in his head: You're lazy, entitled, and completely useless.
It stung, but it also burned him into action. He wasn't going to stay here forever. He wasn't going to be the same spoiled heir that had made nothing of himself.
Every day, after his shifts, Min-jae hit the books. He studied relentlessly, devouring texts on business strategy, psychology, and manipulation. It became an obsession. He spent hours reading The Prince by Machiavelli, absorbing its cold pragmatism. He devoured The Art of War, the ancient strategies of Sun Tzu guiding his mindset, teaching him how to think beyond the surface, to understand the underlying currents of power and control.
His transformation wasn't just mental—it was physical too. Min-jae couldn't stand looking at his bloated, sluggish reflection in the mirror anymore. He joined a gym, starting with basic cardio and strength training. His body was out of shape, far from the lean, disciplined figure he dreamed of becoming. But he worked at it every day. Each drop of sweat was a symbol of his determination to erase his past and create a new identity.
Weeks turned into months, and the changes began to show. His body shed the excess weight, muscles replacing the fat, and his posture straightened. He no longer slouched, no longer wore clothes that hung off his body. He could feel himself becoming something else—a new version of himself that was more controlled, more intentional.
One evening, after a particularly intense workout, Min-jae stood in front of the bathroom mirror, sweat dripping down his face. The man who looked back at him was no longer the spoiled, overweight playboy who had once been at the mercy of his family's wealth. This was someone different, someone determined, someone who was ready to take charge of his own fate.
He knew it wasn't enough to simply change his body. It was his mind that needed to be reshaped. He had spent too many years coasting through life, relying on his family's money and status. Now, he had to make something of himself without those crutches.
Min-jae applied to Harvard University, something he had never considered before. He didn't rely on his family's connections or donations this time. He didn't want to be handed anything. He studied for the GRE, painstakingly preparing for the exams. He knew he couldn't get by on charm and privilege anymore—he had to prove himself on his own merit.
And so, he did.
When the acceptance letter arrived from Harvard, Min-jae stood still, staring at the envelope for a long time. The weight of it was almost too much to comprehend. It wasn't just an acceptance into one of the world's most prestigious universities—it was a validation of everything he had worked for. This was his chance. The chance to leave behind the failure that had once defined him, to take the first real step toward the man he wanted to become.
Min-jae packed his things once again—this time, with purpose. His life was no longer defined by his family's legacy. It was defined by the choices he made. And as he boarded a plane to Boston, he realized that for the first time in his life, he was free.
Free to become something more.
Free to take control.