Snip. Snip.

A great house in Seongbuk-dong.

The stretch of the season has gone past spring and arrived at summer's threshold.

The small branches of a pine bonsai, full of the spring, are cut away.

A slow, fine hand, and an unhesitating one.

The pine that had been reaching out vigorously has held its breath too.

It is a natural thing that cannot resist, though the new-grown branch is cut off without mercy.

Hold out the way a human does and the base itself might come away.

The white-haired old man in his eighties moved his hands with a strength that put the years to shame.

White hair, neatly set.

It is the face of a man who has lived long years, and it is not soft in the least.

The spirit of a man in his middle years, the force in him still ringing, comes off him.

When he has things to put in order he passes the time trimming the bonsai.

Today in particular his mind will not go quiet.

Enough that the bonsai gives a faint tremor where his hand touches it.

"Chairman."

The chief of the secretariat called him from behind.

A short man in thick horn-rimmed glasses.

He too has come into old age now, and the wrinkles are set all over his face.

He is in a neat navy suit, with both hands brought together respectfully.

"And what is it today?"

The old man, in seclusion since last month's public apology to the nation, asked it without turning.

This is Ha Cheolgon, the true owner of Haryun Group, which stands among the country's ten great groups.

From the voice alone of a chief of secretariat who has shared thirty years of hardship and ease with him, he saw at once that something had happened.

"……My apologies."

An Donghyeon, chief of the secretariat and the Haryun Group chairman's right arm, bent from the waist.

He came into a bond with Ha Cheolgon in his forties and has kept the place at his side as the right arm ever since.

From Ha Cheolgon's taking office as…