Chapter 199
Chapter 199
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 199
Chapter Title: A Flower Blooms Amid the Ashes
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The glass elevator arrived at the first floor, and the doors slid open smoothly.
The moment Cheon Hye-yeon stepped into the lobby, the air in the bustling space shifted subtly.
In the luxurious lobby where the low melody of a cello flowed, mingling with the scents of coffee and expensive perfume, the gazes of everyone there turned toward her as if by prior agreement.
They weren't overt stares.
Just the discreet sidelong glances of the well-trained upper class, laced with awe, curiosity, and a touch of pity.
'The Goddess of Taesung's Reforms'.
The new moniker attached to her.
Cheon Hye-yeon ignored all those gazes.
Or more precisely, she stepped right over them.
From the moment the door to the hotel suite closed behind her, she was no longer just an individual.
She had become a symbol, a walking icon.
Her eyes precisely locked onto a man standing at the appointed spot beside the massive pillar in the center of the lobby.
Her half-brother, Park Seon-woo.
A diligent and kind scholar who seemed out of place in this opulent space.
Clutching his briefcase in his slightly worn tweed jacket, he looked like a student there on a field trip.
He glanced around, spotted her, and hurried over with a face full of worry.
"Hye-yeon, are you okay? Did you get some sleep?"
His voice carried genuine concern.
At that moment, Cheon Hye-yeon recalled the tight squeeze of the too-small strawberry-patterned bra constricting her body.
And the feel of the cold silk blouse draped over it.
She let a faint, wistful smile play on her lips.
The expression of the 'tragic heroine' that the public adored most.
"Yes, Brother. Thanks to you. Have you been waiting long?"
"No, I just got here. You look pale... Do you really have to do this interview today?"
She observed his sincere worry with detached emotion.
'Pathetically naive.'
Cheon Hye-yeon sneered inwardly.
A fool so ignorant of the world it was hard to believe he shared her father's blood.
Did he really think such innocent goodwill still worked in this world?
But precisely because of that, he would serve as the perfect blade and shield for her revenge.
A blade that could pierce the enemy without a single drop of blood on her own hands—the sharpest and cleanest in the world.
"I have to. You'll be by my side, right, Brother? That's all the strength I need."
She consciously placed her hand lightly on his arm.
At this calculated display of fragility, Park Seon-woo's face hardened further.
He was burning with the mission to protect his little sister.
Just then, the black sedan sent by Han Yura glided to a stop at the hotel entrance.
The driver got out and opened the rear door.
"Let's go, Brother."
Cheon Hye-yeon took the first step.
Behind her, Park Seon-woo followed, steeling his resolve.
The moment they got in the car, Cheon Hye-yeon erased the wistful smile from her face.
The black sedan slipped smoothly through Seoul's morning streets.
Park Seon-woo swallowed dryly as he rifled through the stack of documents on his lap.
His face flickered between a scholar's sense of duty to reveal the truth and anxiety over confronting a massive power.
In contrast, Cheon Hye-yeon stared out the car window without the slightest movement.
Without turning her gaze, she spoke softly.
"Brother."
"...Yes?"
Park Seon-woo replied in a tense voice.
"On the broadcast... don't get too angry."
Her tone was less advice and more command.
"Just be sad. People don't want an angry scholar—they want to see a tormented conscience."
With that, the conversation ended.
Park Seon-woo mulled over her words and fell silent, while Cheon Hye-yeon returned to sketching the stage that awaited in the quiet.
9:45 a.m., in front of B.N.N. broadcasting station.
The moment the car pulled up to the station entrance, the noise of the entire world crashed over them.
Reporters—having gotten wind of it somehow—unleashed a barrage of flashes like a battlefield without gunfire.
"Cheon Hye-yeon!"
"Professor Park Seon-woo! Is the exposé true?!"
In the face of the shouting wave of questions, Park Seon-woo—who had spent his life in the ivory tower—instinctively faltered.
The moment his eyes wavered in confusion.
That very instant, Cheon Hye-yeon's demeanor shifted.
She gripped his arm firmly, yet with the gesture of someone leaning on the world's most fragile support.
Her face, stripped of cold rationality, bore a sacred sorrow as if carrying the tragedies of the world.
Cheon Hye-yeon stared into each camera lens and spoke in the clearest voice.
"Everything I have to say... I'll convey it all through the broadcast. Please watch."
That single sentence parted the crowd.
Station staff rushed out to clear a path, and Cheon Hye-yeon led Park Seon-woo inside.
As if the chaos outside were a lie, the station interior was cold and quiet.
The PD in charge greeted them and guided them down the hallway.
Finally, they reached two doors side by side next to the 'News Live' studio.
"Professor Park, this waiting room for you. Former Executive Director Cheon, this one for you. We'll guide you again ten minutes before the broadcast."
The PD spoke politely, opening each door in turn.
Park Seon-woo glanced worriedly at Cheon Hye-yeon before entering his room.
Cheon Hye-yeon nodded silently and entered hers.
Click.
With the door closed, a perfect sealed chamber separated from the world formed.
A sofa and table, and a large monitor on the wall.
In the utter silence without a hint of presence, the suppressed sensations of her body finally began to scream sharply.
The too-small bra mercilessly crushing her breasts.
The wires digging relentlessly into the red marks he had left last night.
The childish strawberry-patterned panties' band cutting into her buttocks, scraping her nerves with every sit or stand to remind her of its presence.
Cheon Hye-yeon rose from the sofa and straightened her clothes in impeccable posture, even though no one was watching.
She adjusted her jacket's silhouette and smoothed her skirt's waistline.
A subtle act of defiance, taming the evidence of humiliation within her perfect armor.
'Is this meant to keep me from forgetting these sensations?'
This unpleasant tightness on her skin was the invisible shackle that man had fastened on her.
Encouragement in his way to perform the most perfect act on stage, and a warning that he would tolerate no margin for error.
She drove the uncomfortable sensations from her mind with a cold deep breath.
No, more precisely, she sank them into the deepest recesses.
She intended to transform this pain, this humiliation, into her sharpest weapon.
Cheon Hye-yeon stood before the waiting room mirror.
In the reflection stood the perfect, noble 'Goddess of Reforms', without even a trace of her subtle struggle moments ago.
The show was about to begin.
The same day, 10 a.m., B.N.N. 'News Live' studio.
"5, 4, 3, 2..."
As the camera director's countdown signal dropped, the studio air compressed tautly.
Dozens of lights blazed on simultaneously, illuminating the four people seated at the massive round table in the center.
"Good morning. This is Kim Min-jun of 'News Live'."
Korea’s most trusted face, famed for his sharpest questions, announced the live broadcast start in his signature calm voice.
"Today on 'News Live', we aim to discuss the serious issues plaguing Taesung Group, the heart of Korea's economy. Yesterday, Professor Park Seon-woo, eldest son of Taesung Chairman Cheon Myung-hwan and a historian, raised shocking allegations. And joining him is former Taesung Executive Director Cheon Hye-yeon, who witnessed everything from the group's core."
The camera zoomed in sequence on Park Seon-woo and Cheon Hye-yeon's faces.
Park Seon-woo bit his lip with a stern expression, while Cheon Hye-yeon stared straight ahead with a perfectly calculated mix of sorrow and resolve.
Anchor Kim Min-jun gazed at the two briefly, then gripped his pen anew and fired the opening question.
His eyes turned not to Park Seon-woo, but to Cheon Hye-yeon.
"Former Executive Director Cheon Hye-yeon. First, thank you for coming to this difficult stage, and my condolences."
He opened gently, but his eyes gleamed like a predator eyeing prey.
"However, on behalf of our viewers' doubts, I must start with a somewhat uncomfortable question. Recently, you were reassigned as manager of Taesung's Philippines branch. The business world has called this a de facto 'demotion' or 'exile'."
"Regarding the suspicions that this exposé isn't whistleblowing for Taesung's public good, but stems from purely personal revenge against your father, Chairman Cheon Myung-hwan... what are your thoughts?"
From the first question, the blade flew straight to the heart.
Not public good, but private gain.
Not reform, but revenge.
A blatant attack infused with Chairman Cheon Myung-hwan's intent to dismantle all her justifications at once.
The entire studio staff held their breath.
Park Seon-woo's face went pale.
But Cheon Hye-yeon's showed not even the slightest flicker.
Instead, a faint smile rose to her lips, one no one could have anticipated.
A smile mingling sorrow, resignation, and a hint of mockery—utterly beautiful and profoundly sad.
Before the anchor could grasp its meaning, she slowly leaned toward the mic.
Her voice trembled ever so slightly, like a tragic heroine.
"Yes, as you say, Anchor... how could there be no personal feelings?"
The studio air stirred again at this unexpectedly frank admission.
"But those feelings aren't because I was discarded."
She paused, gazing into the camera with eyes brimming with sorrow.
"They're the deep disappointment and sadness I felt as a daughter—and as a Taesung executive—watching the father and Taesung I believed in silence the voices of workers I'd devoted my life to."
She looked Kim Min-jun straight in the eye.
"Just before the Philippines reassignment you mentioned, I was at the Taesung Heavy Industries strike site. Management was refusing all dialogue with the union at the time."
'And those union leaders are probably toasting with that man in a room salon right now, watching this broadcast.'
Cheon Hye-yeon sneered inwardly.
The union chairs whom Kim Cheolsu had set up the board for, sweet-talking them as 'hyungnim' and 'dongsaeng'.
Their statements were already perfectly aligned.
"I just wanted to convey their voices to my father. I hoped he would at least once grasp the hands that had worked molten metal for Taesung for decades. I believed that was the path for the group."
Moisture gathered gradually in her voice.
"And... the answer I got was the Philippines posting. For siding with the union, I went from Taesung heir to a traitor to be cast out."
She steadied her trembling breath and drove in the final nail.
"You asked if it's personal revenge? No, Anchor. This is the sad plea of an abandoned daughter, and the final cry of one human cast out solely for standing with powerless workers... Taesung—whose is it, really?"
Silence fell.
Anchor Kim Min-jun was momentarily speechless.
The 'personal revenge' frame shattered to pieces, and in an instant, Cheon Hye-yeon became the 'tragic hero ousted for devoting herself to labor'.
Park Seon-woo gazed at his sister with eyes mixing awe and pity.
The camera's red light obsessively lit Cheon Hye-yeon's face as she sat composed, holding back tears.
The first round was her perfect victory.