𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ~𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨

|7|

⚡TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE⚡

Me standing in front of the Lee Group building on a Sunday said enough about my father. On the seventh day, he rested from all his work, that was the last thing my father would live by. The world never stops spinning, he'd tell me when I found him home at his office again going through papers at the crack of dawn. The thick air of cigar smoke and his mussed hair told me he made an all-nighter. The world revolved around money, so he liked earning as much as he possibly could make everyone revolve around him. My father was narcissistic like that.

He'll bend the rules his way. And I have been a shitload of times bent to his will to know he's not kidding. So I like to think I've got my sense of humor from my mother.

To give my father some slack, he didn't know any better. His father was a harsh man, and maybe even worse than my own—if I had to believe my father's words. My grandfather grew up in a country where the economy crashed and had to be built back up. After the 50s, Seoul was nothing more than a pile of ash, burned to the ground by the Japanese.

With every penny he'd got, my grandfather, started a small business to help demolish the battered buildings and clear the grounds. He used the strength of his own back to get his business to grow. As years passed, rough labor changed when more men came to work under him. Muscles got replaced with heavy machinery and that was the moment Lee Demolition carved its name into the city.

Still, Seoul was nothing more than an empty shell, or in my grandfather's eyes a blank canvas. He was hungry for growth, money, and power, and he'd started to envision a Seoul that he could own. There was such a high demand for housing, because people searched for a better future in the ever-growing city, that he took the plunge and started to build instead of demolish. He partnered up with whoever was willing to give him money to let his company flourish; the Chinese, North Americans, Russians, heck even some snobby sheik's son would do. Money had no language barrier.

And working the whole year round was paying off. Buildings popped out of the ground like mushrooms. Zeroes poured into his account that allowed him to pay back his inverters, with a huge sum of interest to keep them close.

My grandfather was a very smart and hardworking man. And for that, I could only respect him, as I respected my father.

Because my father brought the name Lee to a whole other level. Lee Group was my father's doing. He hired young and mostly eager architects to help draw out Seoul as he envisioned it. It was a shared dream because his father spoke non-stop about it. Most of the buildings seen today was built by my old man. Every one of them was a state of the art. He didn't hold back when it came to quality builds. He was a firm believer that in the end, people would pay more for the high quality with the use of premium materials. A good name starts with a good building. In the end, Seoul was still that small city by heart where people talked on the street.