The golden-orange hue of Seoul’s evening sky painted the skyline as a sleek black luxury car pulled up in front of a towering, modern skyscraper in the heart of Gangnam. From within the car stepped a tall young man, dressed in a long black coat, carrying a single leather briefcase. His face was sharp and composed, with clean-cut features, piercing dark eyes, and a presence that demanded silence rather than attention.

Dr. Kim Jihoon, age 26. The youngest and top-ranking graduate in the history of Harvard Medical School. A prodigy in surgery. After years abroad, he had finally returned to Korea—not for recognition, but for responsibility.

He entered the lobby of his private penthouse residence, where a concierge bowed respectfully.

“Welcome home, Dr. Kim. Everything has been prepared according to your request.”

Without replying, Jihoon offered a slight nod and walked directly into the private elevator that led straight to the top floor.

As the doors of the penthouse opened, the air was pristine. The spacious interior, dressed in shades of white, gray, and black, exuded an elegant coldness—floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a sweeping view of Seoul's city lights. Immaculate. Untouched.

He removed his coat and hung it precisely on the wall rack, setting his briefcase down in the office corner of the room. With a calm, practiced motion, he opened his laptop to review the following day’s surgical schedule. No music played. No TV. Just the silence—and the hum of city life below.

A black ceramic mug of bitter coffee sat beside him—no sugar, no milk. Just like his personality.

His phone buzzed.

[Contact: Director Kim – Father] Text: “Welcome home. Tomorrow at 9 a.m., there's a formal welcome ceremony at the hospital auditorium. The Minister of Health will be attending. Don’t be late.”

Jihoon typed a short reply:

“I came back to save lives. Not for formalities.”

And he turned the phone off.

To Jihoon, home was a place to retreat from the world. The world, to him, existed only within the walls of an operating room—where emotions were silenced, and the only sound was the rhythm of a heartbeat monitor.

He stood by the tall window, gazing over the sparkling city he had once left behind in pursuit of something greater. Now, he had returned.

Not as the heir of a powerful family— But as a surgeon who didn’t believe in compromise.