The clinking of glasses, rich laughter, expensive perfumes, and strong alcohol. A gazillion people from high society had gathered at the charity event. Han Sung-ha was one of them. His wife walked beside him, and his nine-year-old son hobbled discontentedly nearby.

Exactly 34 years ago, the question of his life was decided. His parents began planning their child's marriage when he was nine, and he was trying to skip grades, just to stand out in high society. As a teenager, twenty years ago, he was introduced to his daughter-in-law. So-yeon was a simply beautiful woman—simple, yet self-sufficient and understanding. They married at 23, and when they were 25, his son, Yeon-ha, was born. From his birth until that moment, Han Sung-ha's entire life had been a vacuum. He obediently followed all demands, set high goals, achieved top positions in business, and his early director title paid off on all fronts.

But the moment he saw this man, everything went to hell. Songha didn't even know his name. This man had appeared in various parts of his life—they'd seen each other in the park near the company's main building, at dinner parties, at business meetings. Yet, it was impossible to even think of him being followed—out of all those times, the man had glanced at him only twice, and then only accidentally, clearly oblivious.

This evening was little different from the previous ones. It was noisy, and the child, quiet and submissive, stood next to his mother and listened to her friends' speeches, occasionally running off to chat with his friends. Songha wasn't bored either—he was surrounded by his business partners, and they were discussing the upcoming summer season. The huge profits from tourism destinations and entertainment companies were unavoidable.

And then, the clink of glasses rang out. A wealthy man of at least 65 stepped out onto the small stage, flanked by marble steps. Gray hair, a wrinkled forehead, and a few age spots around the corners of his eyes. And next to him was the man whom the evening's organizer hadn't rushed to introduce while he thanked everyone for their donations and attendance.

"Who's that behind Mr. Jeong?"

He finally decided to ask, giving his friend a calm but serious look

"Huh? That's his caregiver, I think. Although rumor has it he's an illegitimate son. Anyway, it's unclear. I don't even know his name."

But the answer was not long in coming: the man Sungha had been staring at for months, unsure of his identity, stepped forward and took the microphone from Mr. Jeong.