Accidents and Inheritance
Seoul Fashion Arts University, Design Building, fourth-floor workshop.
The clock read 3 a.m., and under the pale wash of fluorescent lights, the only sound filling the silence was the steady whir of a sewing machine.
“Ah...”
Realizing his mistake, Jung Seung-hyun stopped the needle and picked out the loose stitches one by one.
He ran his fingertips over the fabric, checking the weave.
It was silk supplied from his father’s factory.
He had four hours left until his graduation project had to be submitted.
Seung-hyun looked over the other fabric samples laid out on the worktable and stuck out his lower lip.
“Still, there’s a difference between this and the fabric from our factory.”
They were all high-end silk, but the samples lacked the distinctive texture and sheen that only fabric processed by Haesol Textile possessed.
That was why he couldn’t afford a mistake.
“Seung-hyun, how much longer are you planning to keep going?”
At the voice from behind him, he turned and saw Assistant Instructor Kim Min-woo standing there with two cups of coffee.
“Senior... You were still at school at this hour?”
“I was organizing other students’ work. Here.”
Taking the warm Americano Min-woo handed him, Seung-hyun felt some of his exhaustion ease.
During the four years he had studied in the fashion design department, Min-woo had always been a reliable helper.
It had been hard not to grow close in a department where men were a minority.
“What are you working so hard for? You’re not usually the type to put in this much effort. Is there some special meaning behind it? You’ve been overdoing it lately.”
Seung-hyun hesitated for a moment.
They were close, but he had never been the type to talk much about personal matters, so it was hard to bring it up for no reason.
Still, they had known each other for years, and maybe because it was late at night, he found himself opening up under Min-woo’s steady gaze.
“My father’s factory has been having a rough time lately. The rates for subcontracting from the big companies keep dropping, but they’re demanding stricter quality standards than ever.”
Min-woo studied the garment on the worktable.
The silk’s sheen glimmered softly.
“This is from your factory?”
Just as Min-woo reached out to touch the fabric, Seung-hyun blurted out, “Wait!”
Even he was startled by how sudden his reaction had been.
It was as though a powerful instinct was telling him no one should touch this fabric.
“Ahaha, sorry. I just... it isn’t finished yet.”
Min-woo looked puzzled, but he didn’t ask further.
He had learned, after all, that in this department, few people willingly let others handle their work.
Beyond any special reason, there was something naturally sensitive about one’s own creation, and Min-woo understood that well enough.
So he gave Seung-hyun’s shoulder a light pat.
“Don’t push yourself too hard. With your skills, you’ll be fine.”
After Min-woo left, Seung-hyun threw himself back into the work.
Every time he handled the fabric, a strange sensation rose up through his fingertips.
It was as if the cloth were telling him a story.
He had felt that sensation since he was young, but tonight it struck him with unusual force.
Suddenly, he remembered the day in elementary school when he had first visited the factory.
It had been a small factory, but his father had always spoken of it with unmistakable pride.
“Our Haesol may be small, but it’s strong. We’ve spent twenty years focusing on nothing but silk processing. Even the big companies recognize our technical skill.”
Back then, he hadn’t really understood what those words meant.
But now, on the verge of graduation, he felt like he could understand them a little.
Then his phone rang.
The caller ID read: Factory Manager Park.
He was the man who had helped lead Haesol Textile alongside his father for more than ten years.
“Seung-hyun...”
Factory Manager Park’s voice trembled.
“Your father... ”
The sewing machine needle in Seung-hyun’s hand stopped.
A terrible feeling swept through his entire body.
“What happened?”
“He’s been taken to Chung-Ang University Hospital right now... hurry... please, come quickly.”
Factory Manager Park’s choked voice went on.
There was no need for any more words.
Seung-hyun abandoned his graduation project, everything, and ran out of the workshop.
He kept calling from the taxi, but Factory Manager Park didn’t answer.
The roads were empty in the pre-dawn hour, but each traffic light felt like it was crushing Seung-hyun’s chest.
Father, please...
At the emergency room of Chung-Ang University Hospital, he saw Factory Manager Park in the distance.
He wasn’t in his usual neat clothes, but still wearing his work uniform.
Beside him stood the accounting manager, crying, along with several other employees.
“Factory Manager! What happened?”
Factory Manager Park lifted his head, his eyes red.
“Seung-hyun. I’m sorry. We never managed to...”
Before he could finish, Seung-hyun rushed into the emergency room.
A bed covered with a white sheet. Beside it, a doctor was writing down the time.
“We believe it was sudden cardiac death. The main cause appears to be overwork...”
The doctor’s words didn’t reach him.
Seung-hyun approached slowly and took his father’s hand.
It was still warm.
“Ah... Father...”
His throat tightened.
The words he had wanted to say surged hotly in his chest.
The work he had wanted to show him after graduation.
The moments when he had wanted to make him proud.
He could only stand there, blankly, with no thought at all.
The funeral was held over three days.
His father’s acquaintances from the textile industry and his employees kept coming in a steady stream.
Among the mourners was Lee Sang-moo, the department manager from Taesung Apparel, one of the factory’s main clients.
He held Seung-hyun’s hand and offered his condolences for a long while, but for some reason, something about him felt unpleasant.
While keeping vigil, Factory Manager Park said the factory’s situation had grown even worse.
Clients were demanding guarantees of contract performance, and the bank had refused to extend the loan maturity date.
It was only natural that the employees were anxious.
On the last day of the funeral, Factory Manager Park called Seung-hyun over with an exhausted face.
“Seung-hyun. Can we talk for a minute? Want to come by the factory?”
He returned to the factory for the first time in a long while, a place he had often visited as a child.
There were a few more machines than before, but it hadn’t changed much.
Machines worn smooth by years of use, employees whose faces were still familiar, and a factory that was quiet for reasons he couldn’t understand.
Seung-hyun sat with Factory Manager Park in the cafeteria.
It would normally have been crowded with employees at this hour, but now it stood empty.
The moment he sat down, Factory Manager Park let out a long sigh.
“The factory’s in serious trouble. One of our clients has sent notice that they’re terminating the contract. It looks like Taesung Apparel pressured them.”
“...”
“Even payroll is a problem. And there are unpaid accounts from last month...”
Factory Manager Park took out several documents and laid them in front of Seung-hyun.
The debt status and overdue receivables. The numbers were packed in dense rows.
“This may be too much to ask of you, but when the president passed away, his shares automatically came to you through inheritance, so you’re the majority shareholder whether you want to be or not. That means I think you’re the one who has to decide. Whether to liquidate the company, or...”
Seung-hyun couldn’t say a word.
At twenty-five, fresh out of university, he was being asked to decide the fate of a company that supported the livelihoods of fifty people.
“Please give me some time.”
“I’d like to. I’d like to give you as much time as you need. But the world doesn’t care that you’re only twenty-five, or that you’ve lost your father. It only cares about the deadline stamped on the paper. One day. You need to make a decision within at least one day.”
After the funeral home was cleared and late at night had settled in, Seung-hyun headed for the factory.
Asleep in the dark, the factory looked even lonelier.
When he entered the workshop, the familiar smell of fabric brushed past his nose.
On one side, the fabrics that had been judged “defective” were still piled up.
Seung-hyun walked over slowly and touched one of them.
And then it happened.
An intense sensation surged through his fingertips.
The fabric’s quality, the production process, even its marketability. All the information flooded into him like a tide.
Quality Suitability = 98.5%
Market Competitiveness = 95.7%
Projected Demand = 3x current orders
“This... how...?”
Seung-hyun touched the other fabrics one by one.
Every single result was the same.
For something labeled defective, the quality was too perfect.
He opened his father’s notebook.
It was filled with twenty years of technical know-how.
Then his eyes fell on a note on the last page.
Haesol’s true value lies in its technology.
Seung-hyun slowly stood.
It was time to make a decision.
It was close to midnight, but he made the call.
“Uncle.”
“Why are you calling at this hour...?”
“The company... I’ll take it over.”
A silence followed.
“... It’ll be very hard. Do you think you can handle it?”
“Yes. But I have a condition. Factory Manager Park has to help me from here on. And...”
Seung-hyun looked down at the fabric in his hand.
“First, we need to fix this defective classification.”