Morning came, but it didn't feel like morning.
It felt like the air forgot how to move.
His mother barely touched her breakfast.Her spoon just scraped the bowl over and over, a soft, shaky sound.
The toddler sat beside her, watching.She didn't look up even once.Her mind was somewhere far, tangled between past and present.
The name she'd tried to bury for years had clawed its way back.
Dojin.
And now there was a knock inside her memory she could no longer ignore.
She finally whispered, voice thin:
"I didn't want you to know any of this… not like this…"
The toddler blinked, waiting.
She swallowed.
"Your father… he wasn't just smart. People wanted him. Big companies. Dangerous ones."Her hands trembled."And now I understand why he kept me a secret. Why he kept us a secret."
Her voice cracked.
"He didn't want us dragged into the world he ran from."
She pressed a shaky hand against her forehead.
"And now… now it's happening anyway…"
The toddler crawled into her lap quietly.He placed his hand on her wrist — a gesture too calm for a child his age.
She hugged him tightly.
"You shouldn't have to deal with this," she whispered.
But he already was.
He had lived through something worse once.He wouldn't let it break them again.
Around 1:45 PM, the hallway suddenly filled with murmuring voices.
Women whispering.Children peeking.Doors cracking open.
Something was happening outside.
His mother stepped to the window cautiously — then froze.
A black luxury sedan had parked right at the entrance of the worn-down building.Glossy.Expensive.Completely out of place.
A man in a suit stepped out and stood beside it.
It wasn't Dojin.
But the man's posture — straight, respectful — told her enough.
He was here for them.
Her knees almost buckled.
"Oh no… he really sent someone…"
She stepped back from the window like she'd touched fire.
The toddler watched her crumble and felt something cold coil inside him.
Dojin wasn't waiting.He wasn't asking.
He was pulling them into his world.Whether they wanted it or not.
"What do I do…?" she whispered."He wants something… Why else send a car? Why be so persistent…?"
She paced the tiny room with her hands over her mouth.
"I can't refuse… he's too powerful… But I can't trust him either… I can't let him take interest in you…"
She turned to her son.
"And I definitely can't let him know you're like… this."
Like this.
A child with an adult's eyes.A child who understood everything.A child who talked in calculated moments.A child who already saw the world as pieces on a board.
He crawled closer and touched her leg.
"Mama."
Just one word.
Her breath hitched.
She knelt down and hugged him, her voice shaking.
"No matter what happens… you stay quiet today, okay? Don't show him anything. Don't say anything strange. Don't act too smart."
She cupped his cheeks gently.
"Please… just be a baby… just for today…"
His chest tightened at her desperation.
He nodded.
For today, he would play the role.
But he wasn't going blind.
He was observing.
Preparing.
Waiting.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Slow.Sharp.Unhurried.
A knock.Firm, polite.
His mother flinched so hard the toddler had to hold her knee to steady her.
She opened the door with shaking hands.
A tall, clean-cut man bowed deeply.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm here under Director Kang Dojin's instruction."
Her voice barely held together.
"Y-Yes… I know…"
"Please take your time," the driver said calmly."We're ready to leave whenever you are."
He stepped slightly back.
Not intimidating.Not threatening.
But signaling something clear:
This meeting is happening.
The toddler stared at the man's shoes.
Clean.Polished.Expensive.
This wasn't just a driver.Probably private security.Someone trained.
Interesting...
When his mother gathered the toddler and stepped outside, the neighbors leaned out of their doors.
"Is that car for HER?""Who picked her up?""Is she dating a rich man?""Is that the boutique owner's car?"
They whispered like hungry insects.
But the driver — perhaps unintentionally — protected her reputation.
He bowed again and said loudly enough for the entire hallway to hear:
"Director Kang is expecting you, Mrs. Seo."
The hallway fell silent.
Complete silence.
Director Kang?That Kang?
People stared as if royalty had arrived.
His mother's face burned with embarrassment.
The toddler saw everything.
Their eyes.Their envy.Their sudden respect.
And he realized:
Power changed everything.Fear changed everything.Money changed everything.
This world wasn't fair.
But he would rule it.
Inside the car, his mother held him so tightly he could feel her heartbeat.
The driver spoke softly from the front.
"Director Kang said he's very grateful you agreed to meet."
His mother lowered her head."I… didn't agree yet…"
A faint smile came from the driver.
"I think he assumed you would. He's very persuasive."
That wasn't comforting.
But the toddler studied the car interior — the security details, the small camera, the reinforced locks.
This wasn't a simple pick-up.
This was a controlled invitation.
A trap disguised as courtesy.
He didn't show any emotion.
But his tiny hand slowly closed into a fist.
When the car arrived at the tall glass building downtown, his mother hesitated at the entrance.
She wasn't dressed for this place.She knew it.Everyone knew it.
Dojin's employees all wore suits, heels, neat hair.
And then there was her —simple clothes, nervous posture, eyes that had seen too much fear.
She held the toddler protectively.
A receptionist bowed and led them toward a private elevator.
The toddler watched their reflection in the elevator door.
Her trembling.His calmness.
Two opposites side by side.
When the doors opened with a soft chime—
Dojin was standing there.
Waiting.Confident.Hands in his pockets.Eyes as sharp as broken glass.
His gaze went straight to the toddler.
Not to his mother.Not to her clothes.Not to her awkwardness.
To him.
And there it was.
The first flicker of something dangerous in Dojin's eyes.
Recognition.
Not of who the child was…but of what he might become.
Something powerful.Something genius.Something he couldn't control yet.
The toddler didn't flinch.Didn't look away.
Their eyes locked.
For the first time:
Dojin didn't see a baby.He saw a rival.
Dojin stepped closer.
Not to greet the mother.
But to study the toddler more closely.
He knelt slowly — not in respect, but in assessment — the way you approach a rare artifact or a dangerous animal.
And in a low voice, barely above a whisper, he said:
"…You have his eyes."
The toddler's breath stilled.
Dojin wasn't talking about the mother.
He was talking about the father.
About the man they both lost.
About the genius whose blood was now in this small child's veins.
This wasn't a meeting.
This was the beginning of a power struggle.
And both sides felt it.