RR 01
“Money is something only the owner—me—knows about. What would a servant know?”
—Jeong Tae-soo, Chairman of Hanbo Group, casually remarked during a National Assembly hearing.
They call us office workers, salarymen, but in truth, we’re just servants.
I, too, am a servant. But I once gritted my teeth, vowing to one day become a butler.
However, instead of a butler, I ended up as a discarded servant.
And then, I received God’s blessing.
Exactly half of it.
Everything’s fine, but why did it have to be the youngest son?!
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[001] A Servant’s Life – Part 1
“Manager Yoon. What’s taking you so long on the phone?”
The moment I lifted my head from the documents on my desk and put down the receiver, a sharp woman’s voice cut through the air.
I knew exactly who it belonged to, but I deliberately raised my head slowly, as if weighed down by exhaustion.
First, the curved outline of rounded hips resting against the edge of the desk came into view. A little higher, the slender curve of her waistline appeared—that artistic line connecting waist to hips.
Kya—! Deadly.
And the beginning of her waist? Absolutely breathtaking.
The pronounced silhouette of what was unmistakably at least a C-cup stretched against her white blouse.
Those beautiful, voluptuous breasts. If I could just caress them once, I’d die without regrets.
Now, the climax.
The delicate junction where her slender neck met her shoulders—the so-called shoulder line.
If someone wanted to paint a masterpiece, they wouldn’t need to see an actual orchid. Just one look at this woman’s shoulder line would do.
Finally, her small, elegant face came into view.
With such a stunning body and beautiful face, why wasn’t she a celebrity?
“Manager. Stop pretending to be tired and call Line 3. They’re looking for you urgently.”
The past two or three seconds had been heavenly, but the words “Line 3” snapped me back to reality.
“Yeah, got it. I’ll call right away.”
“Hurry. It seems urgent.”
Heaven returned as she walked away.
The sway of her rounded hips with each step.
The firm, toned thighs stretching against her tight skirt, threatening to tear through, and her snow-white calves, smooth as freshly kneaded dough.
If only I could roll around with her just once.
But that would never happen. She was the vice chairman’s secretary.
And not just any secretary—those in the know understood.
She lived in a high-end officetel with a monthly rent over 3 million won and drove a Ferrari. Of course, both the officetel and the Ferrari were company assets.
What did it mean for a mere secretary—neither an executive nor family—to receive such perks? It was obvious.
Damn, I’m jealous.
The moment you’re born as a chaebol’s child, you’re handed the chance to conquer half the world’s beauties.
“Oh! Line 3!”
I quickly grabbed the receiver and dialed the hotline. The moment the ringing stopped, a bored voice answered—hardly what I’d call “urgent.”
“There’s a car parked in Nonhyeon-dong. Clean it up.”
Then, the call ended. This disrespectful little shit.
I picked up the phone again.
“Manager Choi, get to Nonhyeon-dong right now and find out where the car is.”
—Yes, sir.
He didn’t even ask how he was supposed to find the car in the vast expanse of Nonhyeon-dong.
Of course not.
By now, the police and onlookers would have swarmed like locusts.
It was obvious what the bastard—the vice chairman’s son and the chairman’s grandson—had done.
Whether he’d popped pills or downed midday soju, he must’ve been in a daze when he grabbed the wheel. Then, he’d either plowed into a storefront, a tree, or a lamppost.
And of course, he’d abandoned the car and fled before calling me.
This wasn’t his first rodeo, so Manager Choi would handle it in a flash.
All I could hope was that he hadn’t hit anyone and fled.
I swiftly sent out a text:
[This is Yoon Hyun-woo of Sunyang Group. The incident in Nonhyeon-dong is minor. Your cooperation is appreciated.]
Every crime reporter knew exactly what this meant. Depending on the severity, the thickness of the envelope lining their pockets would vary, but one thing was certain—they’d be getting a hefty sum.
The hit-and-run involving a luxury import would only trend on eyewitness SNS posts before vanishing without a trace. Not a single line would appear in the press.
About thirty minutes later, Manager Choi’s text arrived:
[He crashed into a furniture store. They’re demanding 7 million for repairs and damages. Please authorize payment.]
That damn bastard.
I didn’t know why he’d rammed into it, but his explosive temper had just cost him a department head’s annual salary.
Screw it. Not my money anyway.
The chaotic day was finally winding down. Would I make it out on time today? It was my wife’s birthday—I hoped this was the end of it.
If I could at least give her a gift, maybe our already strained relationship wouldn’t get worse.
But of course, things never went my way.
The ringing phone was proof.
I steadied my voice and picked up. It was the chairman’s secretary.
—Manager Yoon. Madam is going shopping. Accompany her.
“Sir, she’ll be at the department store. Do you really need me to—”
—Hey! What nonsense! It’s not our department store—she’s going to L Department Store.
Again?
How could the chairman’s wife prefer a rival department store over the group’s own? It was insane.
“Ah. Understood. My apologies.”
—A new Italian brand just opened at L Department Store. Be there in advance and secure the area. No civilians allowed.
“Yes, sir. I’ll ensure everything runs smoothly.”
I wanted to slam the receiver down.
I didn’t go to college to become a shopping bag carrier, nor did I build my resume to clean up after some spoiled brat.
But I lacked the courage—and the pride—to refuse these absurd tasks.
Suppressing my anger, I rushed to the department store. I had to arrive before Madam and secure the area.
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Two sedans pulled into the VIP parking lot of the department store.
Though in her seventies, the chairman’s wife boasted a slim figure and flawless skin—thanks to money, medicine, and her own relentless efforts.
All that investment was for show.
Dressed in a body-hugging dress and boots, she might have been the envy of her peers and proud of herself, but to younger eyes, she was just bizarre.
“Oh, Manager Yoon! You’re early.”
I gave a slight nod without a word. I’d experienced it countless times—that bright smile would soon twist into irritation.
If the Italian brand’s size 44 clothes didn’t fit her perfectly today, she’d throw the entire department store into chaos.
Three male bodyguards and a female secretary led the way as the chairman’s wife followed.
I sidled up to the secretary and whispered,
“There’s a new face. Who’s that?”
“Shh.”
She shook her head slightly and winked.
“Ah.”
Good grief, this lecherous old witch. She’d already found herself another man.
For a woman in her seventies to still be this lustful—clearly, the chairman’s descendants got their womanizing from her side of the family.
After boarding the VIP elevator, Madam frowned in annoyance.
“Did they just leave the store open to the public? Even though they knew I was coming?”
That remark was aimed at me.
Damn it, I just got the call and rushed over. When was I supposed to clear the place?
“It’ll be handled immediately. My apologies.”
As I dashed off, the entourage began pressuring the staff. I summoned the store manager and snapped,
“You didn’t get the memo about her visit today? Are you out of your mind?”
“Who… who is she?”
The manager looked terrified.
With well-built men in suits surrounding the store and an imperious old woman who reeked of wealth striding in, it was understandable.
“I’m Manager Yoon from Sunyang Group’s Strategy Office. That’s the chairman’s wife. I personally gave the order to block civilians, and you’re playing dumb? Now?”
This tactic always worked.
One mistake with a VIP, and the manager’s position—and career—would be over.
A single high-roller who spent in a day what a hundred ordinary customers would could make or break a store manager’s life.
The manager bowed immediately.
“My apologies, Manager. I’ll take care of it right away.”
He didn’t even realize I was from Sunyang—he must’ve mistaken me for a high-ranking L Group executive.
Once all available staff had blocked off the area, Madam finally smiled in satisfaction and entered the store.
Now, I could relax a little. But the female secretary had to sharpen all her senses to superhuman levels—she had to anticipate Madam’s every glance and touch, timing each presentation perfectly.
Within ten minutes, Madam held three outfits in her hands.
“What do you think? Do they suit me?”
“The colors are a bit strong…”
“Not you.”
She cut off the store manager’s opinion and turned to the newly hired man.
“Mr. Kim?”
The handsome man with the surname Kim simply smiled softly.
“What do I know? If Madam wears it, it becomes fashion.”
What? If she wears it, it becomes fashion?
I nearly snorted in disbelief.
A septuagenarian in loud colors isn’t fashion—it’s ridiculous.
But the old woman, buoyed by the young man’s flattery, beamed. Whether young or old, handsome men’s compliments never failed to make women smile.
“Try it on. I think it’ll look great on you.”
“You think so?”
Madam took the clothes and headed for the fitting room.
“Mr. Kim, could you help me for a second? The zipper’s stuck.”
For a moment, I thought I’d misheard. She was calling a man to help her change? Not her secretary?
This was the moment suspicion turned to certainty.
Mr. Kim wasn’t a bodyguard—he was Madam’s new plaything.
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