Soo-bin returned to school.
Min-jae resumed traveling for work.
But the little girl kept the video.
And her father never forgot the voice.
Now, three years later, that same voice was filling the private dining room at Haneul.
Nia stood beside the table, her hands trembling slightly beneath the ties of her gray apron.
Min-jae was standing.
His eyes were wet.
The other Korean executives had risen out of respect for his sudden emotion, though several still didn't understand what had happened.
Grant Holloway remained seated, his face twisted with confusion.
"Would somebody explain this?" he demanded.
Min-jae ignored him.
He looked toward Nia.
"์๋น์ด๊ฐ ๊ทธ๋ ๊ณ์ ๋น์ ์ด์ผ๊ธฐ๋ฅผ ํ์ต๋๋ค."
Soo-bin talked about you constantly after that day.
Nia swallowed.
"์ ์ง๋ด๊ณ ์๋์?"
Is she doing well?
The businessman nodded.
Then laughed through tears.
"๋ค. ์ ์ง๋ด์."
Yes. She's doing well.
For a moment, Nia closed her eyes.
She hadn't realized how badly she wanted to know.
Min-jae continued.
"๋น์ ์ ์ฐพ์ผ๋ ค๊ณ ํ์ด์."
We tried to find you.
Nia looked up.
"์ ๋ง์?"
Really?
He nodded.
His expression softened.
"My daughter has remembered your voice for three years."
Grant Holloway shifted in his chair.
For the first time that evening, nobody seemed interested in entertaining him.
He looked toward the check.
Then toward Nia.
His smile had disappeared.
But his pride remained.
"All right," he said sharply. "It's a touching story. But we still have business to discuss."
Min-jae turned toward him.
The Korean executive's expression became cold.
"Mr. Holloway, the woman standing here helped my daughter during one of the most frightening experiences of her life."
Holloway shrugged.
"Then thank her. Give her a tip."
The room fell silent again.
Min-jae stared.
For several seconds, he seemed unable to believe what he'd heard.
Then he looked toward the check lying on the table.
"Five hundred thousand dollars," he said quietly.
Holloway shifted.
"Yes, well, it was a joke."
Min-jae looked directly at him.
"Then perhaps you should explain why humiliating an employee seemed amusing."
Nobody answered.
And for the first time that night, Grant Holloway began to understand that the man whose investment he wanted was no longer evaluating him only as a businessman.
He was evaluating his character.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Grant Holloway had spent thirty years becoming accustomed to people laughing when he laughed. He donated to museums, attended exclusive charity events, and sat on boards where his opinions were treated as practical wisdom even when they were little more than personal preferences.