"A g-gift? She's making a gift of a super penthouse??"

"Yes sir! Director."

"Insane……."

Ha Donggeon, whose nerves have been raw of late over the brother he had forgotten and that brother's son.

The information his secretary had brought in knocked the wits out of him.

"How much?"

"Around forty-five billion, gift tax included."

"Waaah. The old crone's gone senile. Never put up one won at my own mother's funeral, and she throws forty-five billion at that damned little bastard?"

Sparks flew from Ha Donggeon's eyes.

Grind.

His teeth ground together.

A murderous heat boiled up in him: had the old crone been standing there in front of him he would have laid a slap across her face and trodden her down underfoot.

"That is not all of it. There is talk that madam has begun disposing of every property she holds……."

"The property? All of it? Why?"

Property has not turned down, even with the change of government.

It does not fit at all with the course of a Han Deogim who has raised her wealth out of property her whole life.

"The reason is……."

The secretary let the end of the sentence trail.

There is no telling how Ha Donggeon, with his filthy temper, will take it when he hears.

"Heh heh heh. Now I see it."

Ha Donggeon's reaction, in the small gap where the words broke off, as though he had caught on to something.

"……??"

The secretary looked at him with a question all over his face.

"That little bastard! The old crone is the one looking after him."

"Sorry?"

"It's dementia, that's what it is. Short of that, would some speculating housewife dare put herself into the affairs of the Ha house……? Heh heh."

Ha Donggeon, the fierce cold look in his eyes, was certain of it.

"The old crone always did dote on that little bastard Donghwi. All I ever got out of her was nagging about minding my behaviour……."

In his mother's lifetime, on her visits to the house, Han Deogim was uncommonly fond of Ha Donghwi.

Her eyes on Ha Donggeon,…