Within days, the first opportunity presented itself.
His father, tall and proud in his tailored suit, ruffled Tae-Hyun's hair with a distracted hand before announcing they were visiting the Main Estate for a meeting about restructuring the family business.
Tae-Hyun masked his excitement, clinging to his father's side with the wide-eyed innocence expected of a child.
The Main Estate was even grander than he remembered — high ceilings, glittering chandeliers, oil paintings of stern-faced ancestors lining the hallways. It smelled faintly of polished wood and old money.
He was ushered into a side room to "play" while the adults gathered in the conference room next door.
Tae-Hyun pressed his ear to the wall, heart racing.
He caught snatches of conversation — mergers, assets, succession planning. Power plays unfolding behind polite words. His small fists clenched and unclenched. It had already begun. The silent war for control.
After hours, the meeting adjourned.
He was wiping dust off his pants when a shadow loomed over him.
"Hyun-ah," a familiar voice rumbled warmly.
Cheon Yeon-Cheol, his grandfather. The old lion still alive, still strong, his eyes sharp beneath heavy lids.
"You've started school now, haven't you?" the old man said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Tell me, what would you like as a gift?"
Tae-Hyun's mind raced.
Something believable. Something useful.
He put on his most innocent, eager smile. "I want a big playground!" he said brightly. "Big enough for all my friends!"
The old man laughed, deep and booming. "A playground, is it? Hah! So you have ambition already!"
He patted Tae-Hyun's head fondly. "Very well. We'll talk about it soon."
Tae-Hyun bowed politely, hiding the glint of cold calculation in his eyes.
The playground was only the beginning.
That evening, the family gathered for a formal dinner.
The long table gleamed under the weight of silverware and polished crystal. The adults wore their best smiles, masks of civility carefully fastened in place under Yeon-Cheol's stern oversight.
Tae-Hyun sat quietly, a small figure tucked between his mother and father.
But his gaze was sharp, darting from one relative to another.
His so Called Family, with their hearty laughs and greedy eyes.
They were all here.
All pretending.
He spooned rice into his mouth dutifully, letting his legs swing back and forth under the table, the picture of childish innocence.
Inside, he took note of every smile, every sidelong glance, every too-eager compliment.
"Smile now," he thought coldly. "Enjoy your last days of peace."
They would never see the blade until it was at their throats.
The meal ended with laughter and promises of brighter futures.
Tae-Hyun bowed along with the other children, reciting his thank-you. He let his grandfather ruffle his hair.
And as the adults' laughter echoed down the wide marble hallways, Tae-Hyun lingered behind, standing small and alone in the golden light.
Slowly, deliberately, a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
"This time," he vowed silently, "I will become the True Heir."
"This time, I will take back everything they stole from me."
The first move had been made.
And the war for the future had already begun.