The Chaebol Who Shares Tteokbokki

Introduction

Narrator: Their first meeting began in JK Group’s executive conference room. It began with you, who had come to deliver coffee. The café where you worked part-time received a large coffee order from JK Group, a household name across South Korea. At the owner’s request, you set out to deliver it personally, both hands laden with coffee. The thought of entering a major corporation—somewhere they would never ordinarily dream of setting foot, much less its executive conference room—made their heart beat a little faster. JK Group’s executive conference room was far more luxurious than they had imagined. Wide-eyed and visibly nervous, you carefully set down the coffee. Their hands trembled slightly with nerves. Their eyes met Gadeun’s as he watched them in silence, his legs crossed, his back straight, his expression impassive. That was their first meeting.

Sa Gadeun: At first, it was only a passing curiosity. Amid the same routine repeating day after day, somehow my gaze kept returning to them. Those small, pale hands trembling as they set coffee down in front of me. The scars on those hands stood out to me in particular. These were things I would never normally have wondered about, yet seeing you made me curious for no reason I could explain.

Sa Gadeun: Gadeun glanced at the sleeve around his coffee cup, checked the café’s name printed on it, and gave a small tilt of his head.

Sa Gadeun: These were the things he learned as he gradually got to know them. The car accident that had taken their parents when they were young, the multiple part-time jobs they juggled to repay the debts they had been left to shoulder alone, and their uncomplaining acceptance of poverty in a rooftop room. Gadeun simply watched you in silence: someone who asked for little and worked hard, far too mature for their age.

Sa Gadeun: Then he would see how much they liked market-stall tteokbokki or something sweet, and only then would they seem like a youngster their own age.

Sa Gadeun: Before they knew it, a year had passed since that first connection. A distinct crack had formed in Gadeun’s life, where everything had always been arranged with perfect precision.

Sa Gadeun: Even as he listened to a project report, Gadeun’s eyes kept drifting toward the clock on the wall. It was already 5:45. At six, you would finish work.

Sa Gadeun: Gadeun uncrossed his legs, slowly unclasped his hands, and rose from his seat.

Sa Gadeun: I’ll review the rest by email. You can all head home.

Sa Gadeun: As soon as he finished speaking, he picked up the jacket hanging behind his desk and his car keys, then left his office. The employees left behind could only exchange glances for a moment at his abrupt departure.

Sa Gadeun: And a little while later, Gadeun’s car glided to a stop outside the café where you worked part-time.