Min-jae sat at the polished, glass table in his sleek Seoul office, the same office that had once belonged to his father. His days in the Kang Group were far from easy—every board meeting, every decision, every move was scrutinized. Yet, he thrived in the pressure, his calm, analytical mind perfectly suited for the high-stakes environment of South Korea's premier chaebol.
But there was one issue that loomed over him—an issue that he had avoided addressing for years, but which now demanded his attention: his citizenship.
Since his return to Korea, South Korean officials had been pressuring him to reclaim his South Korean citizenship. There was an unspoken expectation that, as the heir to one of the wealthiest families in the nation, Min-jae would reassert his connection to the country. His father, too, had voiced his displeasure at Min-jae's refusal to take back his citizenship.
But Min-jae had long since made up his mind. He was American now. His life in the U.S. had shaped him in ways that Korea never had. The moment he had renounced his South Korean citizenship, he had been free—free to pursue his own path without the suffocating weight of his family's legacy.
And now, the South Korean government wanted him back, but not on his own terms.
It was a Monday morning when the call came from the Ministry of Justice. The government had sent a representative to meet with Min-jae, urging him to reconsider his decision. South Korea needed him—his business acumen, his fame, his potential.
Sitting across from the representative in a conference room, Min-jae remained calm. The man before him was polite, but the underlying pressure was palpable.
"Mr. Kang, the government has recognized your achievements and is requesting that you claim back your South Korean citizenship," the representative said. "Given your significant role in both the business world and academia, your return to your birthright is seen as vital for the country's economic future."
Min-jae's gaze never wavered. "I've made my decision," he said simply. "I am American, and that is where I want to remain."
The representative's expression tightened, but he pressed on. "Mr. Kang, the country is willing to offer you certain privileges. We believe the time has come for you to reclaim your place in South Korean society."
"I don't need your privileges," Min-jae replied sharply. "I don't need anything that ties me to a past I've left behind."
He paused, leaning forward, his voice low but firm. "However, if you want me to stay here long-term, then I'll consider your proposal—but only if I'm allowed to hold dual citizenship. Until then, I won't be coerced into a decision I've already made."
The representative hesitated, but it was clear that South Korea couldn't afford to lose Min-jae. After a long silence, he finally nodded. "The government will approve dual citizenship for you, Mr. Kang. You are too valuable to let go."
Later that evening, Min-jae returned home, his mood unchanged. He sat in his office once more, reviewing the latest quarterly reports from Kang Group, when his father stormed in, his face flushed with anger.
"You've made a mess of things, Min-jae!" Tae-hyun's voice was loud, shaking with frustration. "You've created this whole fiasco with your citizenship! Why are you making such a fuss? You're South Korean! This is your birthright!"
Min-jae remained seated, his fingers tapping calmly on the edge of his desk. "I'm here because of you, Father," he replied, his tone icy. "If it weren't for you dragging me back to Korea against my will, I would still be in the U.S., living my own life, away from all of this."
Tae-hyun's face contorted with disbelief. "You think I dragged you back? I gave you everything! I gave you opportunities, wealth, and power. What more do you want?"
Min-jae didn't flinch. "You gave me nothing I asked for. Everything I have, I earned on my own. The only reason I'm back here is because you forced me into it. If you want me to stay, then don't bring up my citizenship again. I've made my choice. I'm American, and I'm staying that way."
Tae-hyun's eyes narrowed, a dark cloud of anger settling over him. "So, you'll cut yourself off from everything that has brought you here? Everything that made you who you are?"
"I never needed your approval," Min-jae said, his voice steady. "And I never will."
His father's fists clenched, but he remained silent, the weight of Min-jae's words hanging heavily between them.
Min-jae stood up, his posture straight and composed. "If you want me to continue working in this country, then respect my decision. I'm here for the Kang Group, not for you or anyone else. But don't think I'm going to bow to your ideals or your expectations any longer."
Tae-hyun stared at him for a long moment, the rage boiling in his chest. But he knew deep down that Min-jae was right. There was no turning back now. His son had become someone else—a person who was unbreakable, unwilling to be controlled.
As Min-jae turned away, heading back to his desk, Tae-hyun's anger slowly turned to resignation. Min-jae had won this battle, and perhaps it was time to accept that he would never be the same person he once was.
"Just don't disappear again," Tae-hyun muttered, his voice filled with reluctant acceptance. But Min-jae didn't respond. He didn't need to.