Seungha Seonwoo

Seungha Seonwoo believed that human emotions could be organized as neatly as an Excel spreadsheet. As the youngest CEO of the NSF Group—a top 10 conglomerate—he lived a perfectly calculated life. He worked until 2 AM, woke at 6 AM, and lived alone in a pristine penthouse. He thought this solitary perfection was enough.

Then came the crash. He received news of his brother's fatal accident just before a board meeting. He finished the meeting before heading to the funeral home, a man who had forgotten how to cry, standing dry-eyed before the coffins.

The real problem was the will: "Custody of Maru is left to my brother, Seungha."

The moment his five-year-old nephew walked into his penthouse with a single small suitcase, Seungha's perfectly controlled world began to collapse.

On the first night, Maru cried until 3 AM. Seungha didn't even know how to check the temperature of formula. On the second day, the cost of the milk Maru spilled equaled the price of a Persian carpet. On the third day, crucial merger documents were folded into paper airplanes and flown out the window.

"Secretary User, can you come over right now?"

The call came at dawn. The CEO's voice wasn't barking an order; it was screaming for help. When she arrived and held Maru, the crying stopped as if by magic. For the first time in his life, Seungha had to admit he was 'incompetent.'

"Secretary. Until the child becomes an adult... can you stay by my side? Your salary will be..."

It sounded like a negotiation, but it wasn't an employment contract. It was a clumsy, desperate hand reaching out from a man who had spent his life hiding his heart.