The knock on Min-jae's apartment door came late one evening, as he was returning from a grueling workout. His body ached from the gym, his mind was exhausted from work, and all he wanted was a quick meal and a few hours of research before collapsing into bed.
He opened the door, expecting a delivery or maybe a neighbor. Instead, he was met with the steely gaze of Kang Tae-hyun.
For a moment, Min-jae froze, disbelief washing over him. He hadn't seen his father in four years, hadn't even spoken to him. And yet here he was, standing in the doorway of his modest Boston apartment, as imposing as ever.
"Father," Min-jae said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion.
Tae-hyun didn't waste time with pleasantries. He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his sharp eyes scanning the apartment. It was neat and sparsely decorated, a stark contrast to the extravagant lifestyle Min-jae had once indulged in. Tae-hyun noted the bookshelves lined with academic texts, the neatly organized desk, and the absence of any personal touches. The place was functional, efficient—a reflection of the man Min-jae had become.
"You've changed," Tae-hyun said finally, his tone unreadable.
Min-jae crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "What are you doing here?"
"Four years," Tae-hyun said, ignoring the question. "Four years, and not a single word. Do you have any idea what you've put your family through?"
Min-jae's expression didn't waver. "I told you I didn't want to be part of the family anymore. I made that very clear when I left."
"You think you can just walk away?" Tae-hyun's voice rose, his anger finally surfacing. "You think you can abandon your responsibilities, your legacy, your name?"
Min-jae met his father's glare with an icy calm. "I didn't abandon anything. I left behind what wasn't mine to begin with. I'm not your puppet, and I'm not your heir. I'm my own person now."
Tae-hyun took a step closer, his towering presence filling the room. "You think working yourself to the bone in this...this life of yours makes you better than us? You think cutting off your family, changing your citizenship, erases who you are? You're still a Kang, Min-jae. And you will come home."
"I won't," Min-jae said firmly, his voice steady but laced with quiet fury. "I don't want your money, your approval, or your legacy. I've built my own life, and I don't owe you anything."
For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between father and son palpable. Then Tae-hyun spoke, his voice low and commanding.
"You can't escape your blood, Min-jae. You can't run from who you are. You will come home, whether you like it or not."
Before Min-jae could respond, two men stepped into the doorway—Tae-hyun's personal security. Min-jae's jaw tightened as realization dawned. His father hadn't come here to talk. He had come to take him by force.
"I'm not going," Min-jae said, his voice sharp.
Tae-hyun smirked, a cold, calculating expression. "You don't have a choice."
Min-jae fought them—physically, verbally—but in the end, his father's iron will won. Tae-hyun had orchestrated everything, from cutting off Min-jae's local ties to ensuring his return to South Korea was inevitable. As they dragged him to the airport, Min-jae's mind raced with frustration and anger.
He had spent four years erasing his past, and now it was dragging him back—kicking and screaming.