Hae-Rin's first day as the Chairman's Special Projects Liaison was marked by a series of subtle, positive disruptions—the divine intervention manifesting as immaculate intuition. Her mission was to break Min-Joon's cycle of ruthless efficiency, which, in the previous timeline, had led him to view marriage as a corporate merger.
Her first act was small, exactly as Min-Joon had requested. Secretary Kang walked into the office to take Min-Joon's standard order: cold pressed barley tea, brewed at precisely 65^\circ\text{C}.
"The Chairman will require something different today," Hae-Rin intervened softly, her presence in the office corner immediately drawing the secretary's complete, unresisting attention. "He requires Chrysanthemum tea, brewed with a hint of cinnamon. It will soothe the residual tension from his sleep."
Secretary Kang, who had never deviated from Min-Joon's strict orders in five years, found herself nodding automatically, feeling a sudden, intense belief that this was the only correct choice.
Min-Joon took the tea, sniffed it, and was instantly taken aback. The floral, warm scent immediately cut through the dull ache in his head, a direct echo of the calmness Hae-Rin's presence provided.
"How did you know?" Min-Joon asked, genuinely startled. "Nobody, not even my mother, knows about the headaches when I'm stressed."
"Divine intuition," Hae-Rin whispered, settling into her new, small, meticulously organized desk outside his office. "Or perhaps, I just noticed the faint crease near your left eyebrow that signifies a poor night's rest." She paused, a gentle smile touching her lips. "But on the corporate level, let's call it Advanced Stress Mitigation."
Min-Joon took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through him. He leaned back, his curiosity now piqued, battling his ingrained skepticism. "Advanced Stress Mitigation. I'll allow it... for now. But don't mistake intuition for data, Liaison. In this office, data rules."
Her interventions quickly escalated from tea to business strategy.
Min-Joon was scheduled to review a major merger proposal—the acquisition of a mid-sized IT firm, "Nexus Tech." This acquisition, Min-Joon knew from his nightmare, was a disaster that led to years of corporate headaches and massive financial loss.
He spread the voluminous financial reports across his desk. "Hae-Rin, look at this. Nexus Tech. On paper, the metrics are sound. High growth potential, low debt. Logic dictates we acquire."
He watched her intently, expecting her to fumble with the dense spreadsheets.
Hae-Rin didn't touch the reports. She simply closed her eyes for a moment, letting the chaotic, negative energy surrounding the deal flow over her.
"Chairman Kim," she said, opening her eyes, which held a fleeting sorrow. "The numbers are logical. But the heart of this company is rotten. Their founder, Mr. Choi, is obsessed with the illusion of success. He has hidden liabilities that are not financial, but moral. He will poison your team. If you acquire Nexus, you are acquiring a massive drain on your spiritual and corporate well-being. It is a mistake that will sever many good threads at K.M. Holdings."
Min-Joon frowned, his ambition clashing with the profound calm her words induced. "That's qualitative nonsense, Hae-Rin. Nexus offers a 30% projected ROI. My analysts spent months compiling this data. Are you suggesting you have a better grasp of the market based on... a feeling?"
"The return on investment is irrelevant if the investment costs you your soul," she countered gently. "Profit margins will not compensate for the years of internal discord and legal battles that follow bad faith acquisitions, Chairman. This acquisition has the energy of ruin."
Min-Joon slammed his hand lightly on the desk, his voice sharp with professional frustration. "Ruin? Show me the column on the balance sheet that says 'Ruin,' Liaison! This is a multi-million dollar decision, not a fortune-telling session!"
"Instead," she continued, completely unfazed by his outburst, "look at the firm listed on page 42, the small, struggling one. 'Skyline Innovations.' Their metrics are weak, but their founder is driven by passion, not profit. They have a good heart."
Min-Joon, against all his professional instincts, pulled the Skyline file. It was a ridiculously small company, dismissed by his analysts. Yet, the memory of his past failure with Nexus was too fresh. He decided to test her.
"Skyline. A two-man operation. Their projected ROI is negligible, perhaps 5% on a good year. If I choose this path over Nexus, I would be laughed out of the boardroom. Give me one concrete, logical reason why I should waste K.M. Holdings' time on a passion project," Min-Joon challenged, leaning forward.
Hae-Rin met his gaze, her expression serene. "Because, Chairman, you are not just building wealth. You are building an empire. An empire must have a strong ethical foundation. Investing in passion is investing in loyalty and innovation that money alone cannot buy. It is the long-term, true ROI."
He called his mergers team. "Hold the Nexus review. Prepare a preliminary analysis for a small investment in Skyline Innovations instead. I want to meet their founder tomorrow."
The mergers team was in chaos. Min-Joon never reversed a decision based on 'feelings.' The disruption was immediate and significant.
The next day, Min-Joon met the founder of Skyline, a young engineer named Yoon, who spoke with genuine, infectious passion about his product, ignoring the money. Min-Joon felt a spark of interest that was completely divorced from calculation. He invested, not acquired.
Hae-Rin's intervention was successful. Min-Joon had avoided a catastrophic corporate mistake (Nexus Tech) and, more importantly, had engaged with a project driven by passion, not pure profit. She was gently nudging his life onto a path defined by the 'heart,' not the 'ledger.'
As Min-Joon watched the young engineer leave, a strange sense of satisfaction settled over him. He looked toward his liaison's desk. Hae-Rin was typing diligently, seemingly unaware of the corporate earthquake she had just caused. He felt a chilling certainty: she was either the most intuitive analyst he had ever encountered, or something far more impossible.