Kang Dae-hyun, without a word, reached for a small, ornate device on the side table. It was a voice recorder, a relic from a bygone era of analog technology, yet it served its purpose well. He activated it, and the recording of his recent conversation with CEO Thorne filled the room. The CEO's voice, smooth as silk and laced with honeyed persuasion, echoed through the chamber, outlining the association's concerns and their proposed solution. The chillingly calm articulation of the threat, veiled in polite suggestions, sent another shiver down Dae-hyun's spine. Min-seo squeezed his arm tighter, her knuckles white.
When the recording ended, a heavy silence returned. The only sound was the faint ticking of a grandfather clock in the hallway, each tick a stark reminder of the passage of time, time that was rapidly running out. Kang Dae-hyun turned to Min-seo, his expression grave, the lines etched deep around his eyes. "I am calling Father," he said, his voice low, the words weighed down by the gravity of the situation.
He dialed a number, and after a brief pause, the voice of his father, the previous head of the Kang family, resonated through the room. "Dae-hyun," the voice said, its tone sharp and alert, honed by years of command and unwavering authority. "What is it? It's late. Is everything alright?"
"Father," Dae-hyun began, his voice formal, adhering to the strict protocols ingrained in him since childhood, "I have something you need to hear. It concerns the association and the decision to allow them to establish their headquarters here." He paused, bracing himself. "I believe it necessitates your… guidance." He played the recording again, allowing his father to listen to the World Hunter Association's proposal.
As Thorne's voice filled the room once more, Dae-hyun watched Min-seo. Her expression remained impassive, but he could see the tension radiating from her, the subtle tightening of her jaw, the almost imperceptible tremor in her hand. He knew she understood the implications of this situation even better than he did.
When the recording finished, a prolonged silence followed, a silence so profound it felt like the entire world had held its breath. Then, Kang Dae-hyun spoke, his voice laced with a rare hint of regret, a crack in the carefully constructed facade of stoicism. "Father, you were right," he said, his tone heavy, each word a lead weight dragging him down. "You said it would be a bad decision to allow the family heads to establish their headquarters in Korea. You warned me of the potential for conflicts, for power struggles, for exactly this kind of… interference. I did not listen. I brushed aside your concerns. I was wrong. I apologize."
A brief silence followed, then a sharp intake of breath, almost a gasp. "Dae-hyun…" his father began, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and concern. It was rare for Dae-hyun to admit a mistake, let alone apologize so openly. Something was clearly deeply wrong.
Before he could continue, a sudden, explosive sound erupted from the device. It wasn't an angry outburst, or a frustrated sigh. It was something far more unexpected, far more jarring. A boisterous laugh, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy, filled the room. It was a rolling, booming laugh that shook the very foundations of the Kang estate, a sound so out of place in the oppressive atmosphere that it felt like a hallucination.
Dae-hyun stared at the device in disbelief. His father? Laughing? At a time like this? It was incomprehensible.
The laughter continued, punctuated by snorts and gasps for breath. "Oh, Dae-hyun, Dae-hyun!" the elder Kang managed to choke out between peals of mirth. "You finally admit it! You finally admit I was right!" He sounded less like a worried father and more like a kid who had just won a bet. A very, very long-standing bet.
Min-seo, equally stunned, looked at Dae-hyun with wide eyes. They had both expected anger, disappointment, perhaps even a scathing lecture. They had prepared themselves for recriminations and pronouncements of doom. They had not expected… this.
The laughter continued, escalating in intensity. It was the sound of a man thoroughly enjoying himself, a man reveling in the sweet, sweet taste of vindication.
"Years, Dae-hyun, years I've waited for you to say those words!" the elder Kang roared, his voice thick with amusement. "You stubborn, mule-headed son of mine! Always so sure of himself, so convinced he knew best! And now… ha! Now the chickens have come home to roost!"
Dae-hyun, his face a mask of carefully controlled frustration, was about to speak when another voice cut through the cacophony of laughter.
"Harold! Harold, stop that this instant!" a sharp, clearly irritated voice snapped. It was Dae-hyun's mother, a woman not known for her patience, especially when her husband was being particularly… Harold-esque.
The laughter subsided slightly, replaced by a series of muffled chuckles. "But, darling," Harold Kang protested, his voice still brimming with amusement, "he finally admitted it! He said I was right! After all these years!"
"I heard you the first ten times, Harold," his wife retorted. "Now, show some decorum. Your son is in a difficult situation. Stop acting like a child who just got a new toy."
There was a brief silence, followed by a distinct thwack.
"Ouch!" Harold Kang yelped. "What was that for, Margaret?"
"That was for embarrassing yourself and your son," Margaret Kang replied, her voice dangerously calm. "Now, behave yourself. Dae-hyun, dear, are you still there?"
Dae-hyun, who had been silently reeling from the sheer absurdity of his father's pronouncements, straightened his shoulders. He could practically feel his mother's gaze searing through the comms. "Yes, Mother," he replied, his voice even, carefully devoid of emotion.
"Then come home," Margaret Kang stated firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "Both of you. We will discuss this in person. There is no need for further discussion over the comms. We will leave for America. Your father and I feel it's time we were closer to family. But first, we need to be together, as a family."
Harold Kang groaned dramatically. "America? Margaret, darling, you know I can't stand the humidity!"
Margaret's voice was icy. "Then you should have considered that before you decided to grandstand over the comms. Now, pack your bags, Harold."
"Understood, Mother," Kang Dae-hyun said, ending the call with a decisive click. He turned to Min-seo, who had been standing silently beside him, her expression a complex mixture of concern and resolve. A faint smile played on his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It seems we are going home."