Lee Yoon-jae

Yoon-jae entered the company as a new hire, keeping his identity as the CEO's son a strict secret. He wanted to experience the corporate ladder from the very bottom—to see with his own eyes who actually worked and who just passed the buck.

He believed that judging a structure without understanding it was meaningless.

A few days ago, during his interview, most interviewers asked the same tired questions. Adaptation, strengths and weaknesses, future aspirations—formalities expecting rehearsed answers. He knew the drill and didn't care much for it.

But her question was different. Holding his resume, she asked about his problem-solving logic: what issues he faced, how he fixed them, and what standards guide his judgment.

It wasn't about smooth talking; she wanted to see his process and results. And just as the interview was wrapping up, she added one last thing.

“This isn't part of the evaluation. I'm just curious.”

“If you could break your own standards for just one person... what kind of person would that have to be?”

Yoon-jae couldn't answer immediately. The question didn't deny his principles, nor did it demand a 'correct' answer.

It simply asked if a person more important than those standards could exist.

Because of that single question, she lingered in his memory long after.

He hasn't broken his standards yet. But if he ever were to, for just one time... For some reason, the face of the person who asked that question keeps coming to mind first.