The growing closeness between Min-Joon and Ji-A was not without its divine challenges. Hae-Rin knew that Min-Joon's controlling nature was a deep-seated flaw that had to be addressed before he could truly love.
One afternoon, Min-Joon called Ji-A to inform her that he had personally authorized a massive, state-of-the-art climate control system for the institute's storage facility, using his own K.M. Holdings security team to manage the installation.
"It's a gift," Min-Joon told her, proud of his efficient solution. "The Collection is priceless, and your old systems were frankly a liability. This new climate control is integrated with our K.M. Holdings network—absolute, 24/7 protection. Think of the peace of mind."
Ji-A, however, arrived at their meeting with a rare look of anger. She didn't even greet him; she slammed a heavy cloth bag onto the table.
"Peace of mind, Mr. Kim? Try utter chaos!" Ji-A burst out, throwing the cloth bag onto the table. "Do you know what this is?" She yanked the bag open, revealing several rolls of meticulously dyed silk fabric, now mottled with irregular, brownish patches.
"It looks like damaged fabric," Min-Joon observed coolly, though a flicker of unease crossed his face.
"It is three days of specialized Hwang Chil dye work! Ruined!" she declared, her voice sharp with suppressed fury. "Your control system installation temporarily shut down my main working space and caused a violent, unpredicted temperature and humidity swing! You didn't ask, you didn't consult; you simply deployed your team! We had delicate dye work in progress, work that is hyper-sensitive to the slightest environmental shift, and the sudden change ruined three days of labor! Three irreplaceable days!"
Min-Joon was stunned. He had paid for a solution; he expected gratitude and compliance. "I was ensuring the integrity of your investment! I have a right to protect my stake! The value of the artifacts far outweighs a few ruined practice pieces, Ms. Han. My concern is the Collection."
"Your concern is control, Mr. Kim! And you are fundamentally misunderstanding the value!" Ji-A retorted fiercely. "Your stake is in the result—my work, my knowledge—not in my working space! You treat my institute like a subsidiary! You bypassed my authority, ignored my professional schedule, and ruined my work! I am your partner, Mr. Kim, not your employee! Do you truly believe K.M. Holdings' security protocols are superior to a conservator's specialized knowledge?"
Hae-Rin, sitting silently, knew this was the moment of truth.
Min-Joon's face tightened, the old CEO coldness returning, a formidable wall of arrogance rising to mask his confusion. "You will not speak to me with that tone, Ms. Han. I invested 500 million won! I am providing a superior solution! This behavior is unacceptable. Show some professional courtesy!"
"Courtesy? Where was your courtesy when you unilaterally ordered a shutdown of my workspace?" Ji-A challenged, standing up, her eyes blazing with integrity. "Your 500 million won gives you a right to monitor, not to manage! Your superior solution was a catastrophic intervention! Take your 500 million won back, Mr. Kim! I mean it! I would rather lose the Collection than surrender my authority and professional dignity to a partner who doesn't respect my expertise! This is not just about the dye work; this is about autonomy!"
Min-Joon was momentarily paralyzed. This was a challenge he had not faced since he was a fledgling CEO fighting off his father's old guards. In his previous life, this defiance would have resulted in immediate termination and total social ruin. He would have crushed her financially and professionally for daring to speak to him this way.
"You're being impulsive, Ji-A," he managed, the formality of her name slipping away, replaced by a desperate intimacy. "You haven't thought this through. Do you understand the implications of returning that money? The Collection will be uninsured, unprotected..."
"I understand everything, Min-Joon," she cut him off, using his given name with a devastating steadiness. "The Collection means nothing if I have to sacrifice my integrity to save it. You buy things, Mr. Kim. You acquire companies. You think you can acquire me, too. I won't be acquired."
Now, faced with Ji-A's sincere willingness to lose everything—her life's work—for her professional dignity, Min-Joon felt a devastating wave of self-reproach. The echo of Seo-Yun's silent, weary resignation filled his mind, a sharp contrast to Ji-A's fiery honesty.
Hae-Rin spoke then, her voice cutting through the tension with a gentle, hypnotic firmness. "Chairman Kim, look at the ruined silk. Look at Ms. Han. You chose to help her because of her sincerity—her devotion to this work, this history. By controlling her space, by imposing your will without consultation, you are attempting to acquire her sincerity as a possession, to manage her devotion as a corporate asset. You are repeating the most fundamental mistake of your past. You are trying to turn Pyar into a takeover."
The word 'takeover' struck Min-Joon like a physical blow, reminding him of the suffocating, silent control he had placed over Seo-Yun, dictating her friends, her schedule, her very existence—a control that had driven her to catastrophic betrayal just to breathe.
He looked at Ji-A's furious, sincere face, then back at the mottled, ruined silk on the table. He realized his "perfect solution" had been a perfect replication of his past flaw: substituting his own will for respect.
"No," Min-Joon whispered, the sound raw and thick. He lowered his eyes, his imposing posture slumping slightly. "No, Hae-Rin. You're right. Ji-A, you are absolutely right. I saw a problem and imposed my solution, assuming my authority was greater than your expertise. That was arrogant, disrespectful, and frankly, a terrible lapse in judgment."
"Ms. Han," Min-Joon said, his voice dropping, tinged with a painful sincerity. "I... I was wrong. I apologize. Truly. There is no excuse for bypassing your authority. I acted like a financier dictating terms, not a partner respecting your professional life. The equipment will be removed immediately. Every component. My security team will be put on stand-by, and any future intervention, even if purely preventative, will be preceded by a formal proposal and require your explicit, written approval. They will report to you for instructions regarding the facility's day-to-day security, not to me. Your expertise is the core value of this partnership, and I will respect it absolutely."
Ji-A, caught off guard by his sudden, complete, and sincere apology, slowly sat back down. The anger drained out, replaced by a deep, wary trust. "Mr. Kim," she said, the heat leaving her voice. "I appreciate that. More than you know. It's not about the money, or even just the fabric. It's about being seen. I don't need your control. I need your commitment to the process."
"You have it," Min-Joon affirmed, meeting her eyes, the CEO's cold mask gone, replaced by a man learning humility. "Total commitment. No control."
The obstacle of the past was overcome. Min-Joon had chosen commitment over control, a victory for the Goddess of Love.