I Fell Into a Korean Drama Chapter 13

The Bentley rolled through a gate large enough to serve as the embassy of a small nation. Its red lacquer trim glowed under concealed uplighting. Carved stone lions—symmetrical, polished, intimidating—flanked the entrance like a design choice meant to signal, We can afford this and you can’t.

Inside the property, a courtyard stretched across enough square footage to embarrass several boutique hotels. The gravel had been raked into perfect waves. The precisely manicured pines resembled mathematical models rather than trees.

This was wealth that had stopped pretending to be subtle.

The convoy braked beneath a sweeping glass awning. A line of attendants bowed in sequence, dressed in black coats and white gloves. The timing was perfect enough that either they had rehearsed it or the family hired ex-military for valet work.

My door opened with a respectful flourish.

[Beat Triggered: Core Family Encounter]
[Integration Stability: 58% → Slightly Stabilized]

I stepped out as if my body already knew how the heir of a tech empire was supposed to move—shoulders relaxed, spine straight, chin neutral. Inside, however, my thoughts swarmed like disrupted code.

A steward led me down a covered walkway scented faintly with sandalwood. Recessed lighting cast geometric patterns across the floor. Every footstep landed softly on imported stone designed to absorb sound.

We turned a corner and emerged into the main ceremonial hall.

They were waiting and man was it strange knowing exactly who they were.

Chairman Wang and Madam Chair Wang sat on a raised platform beneath an elegant modern chandelier that resembled a suspended helix of gold filaments—probably symbolic of innovation, legacy, or a designer with too much time on their hands.

Chairman Wang looked to be in his late thirties at most—sharp jawline, carved cheekbones, and eyes that could critique a profit-and-loss sheet from fifty feet away. His complexion hadn’t met stress in over a decade.

Madam Chair Wang looked younger still. Her poise radiated the type of confidence that made board members resign preemptively rather than disappoint her. She wore white and gold, her hair pulled into a sleek, immaculate twist.

Both of them looked far too young to be the parents of a grown man. Genetics or money—probably both—were doing heavy lifting here.

I stopped at the foot of the platform and bowed with the exact degree of deference Ling Wang’s body seemed programmed to recall.

“Father,” I said.

Chairman Wang’s eyes cooled a fraction. “Chairman Wang,” he corrected softly, as though clarifying a misread KPI.

I tried again. “Mother.”

Madam Chair lifted her chin. “Madam Chair will suffice.”

Right. Titles instead of familial roles. This wasn’t a homecoming. It was an evaluation.

Chairman Wang folded his hands. “Ling Wang,” he said, voice like a precise data point, “you have finally returned.”

Madam Chair’s tone was smoother but no warmer. “You turned your back on your inheritance for a woman. You concealed your identity. You subjected yourself to humiliation in a household beneath your station.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Chairman Wang tilted his head slightly, as if recalibrating. “You insisted on that marriage. You insisted that we permit the experiment. You demanded anonymity and freedom. You allowed yourself to be treated as less than staff. That was your choice.”

The words dropped like anvils.

He chose it?

Ling Wang—the man whose body I occupied—had voluntarily walked away from a tech conglomerate worth billions? For five years of low-status suffering? Of emotional abuse? Of mediocrity?

Externally, my expression remained calm. Internally, I was screaming.

Why would anyone volunteer to be a doormat with a multibillion yuan R&D empire behind them? Why choose suffering when you could choose stock options? Who wrote this? Who approved it? Where was HR?

Madam Chair watched me with the focus of a surgeon consulting lab results. “You claimed you needed to prove your heart,” she said. “So you hid your name. You allowed others to judge you. You endured their slights. You let them break you.”

My mouth engaged before my disbelief caught up. “Well,” I said evenly, “it appears I succeeded.”

A shock ripple passed through the hall. An attendant coughed sharply to smother a laugh. Chairman Wang’s mouth shifted by a millimeter—a corporate titan’s version of amusement.

A faint System shimmer entered my sightline.

[Prompt Available]
Negative: Disavow regret.
Neutral: Acknowledge fault with restraint.
Positive: Declare renewed filial intent.

The ASP did not provide answers—only trajectories. Lite mode indeed.

I inhaled slowly and let the exhale steady everything. “Chairman Wang. Madam Chair. I accept responsibility for the consequences of my decision. I am here to correct them.”

[Neutral Selected - Best Choice]
[Willpower +1 | Cognition +1 | Integration Stability +3%]

Madam Chair gave the smallest nod, her expression approving but unreadable. Chairman Wang did not smile, but he no longer looked like he was preparing a performance review.

Madam Chair lifted her hand. A panel slid open with quiet mechanical grace. Three silhouettes entered.

“Meet the women you once turned away,” she said.

Mei Lian — Biotech Healer

She wore ivory and silver modern hanfu, her hair secured with glossed jade pins. Her presence radiated calm expertise—the kind you found only in people who held advanced degrees and compassion in equal measure.

Her eyes rested on me with a gentleness that made something in my ribcage glitch.

“Ling Wang,” she said softly. “You still carry tension in your shoulders. You haven’t changed.”

She smelled faintly of clean cotton and eucalyptus—the aesthetic of someone who solved problems with both brains and empathy.

Zhang Rui — Security Commander

The second woman wore a black tactical qipao paired with combat boots that had definitely kicked someone before. A faint scar traced her cheek in a way that made it look intentional.

Her posture screamed discipline, strength, and “I can break your wrist with two fingers if you disrespect her again.”

She nodded sharply. “You look better without a collar,” she said. “Try not to put one back on.”

Her tone was blunt, honest, and entirely lethal.

Chen Xinyi — CFO Heir

The third woman stepped forward wearing a red power suit tailored with forensic precision. She looked like she could dismantle a corporation with a spreadsheet and win a hostile takeover before lunch.

Her gaze traveled over me like a diagnostic scan. “You have wasted five fiscal years,” she said. “We can still salvage the next five.”

It wasn’t unkind. It was just true—according to her worldview.

And Ling Wang had ignored these three? For a placeholder marriage storyline?

If his consciousness ever resurfaced, I would personally lecture him.

Madam Chair turned toward me. “These women were willing to stand beside you. They possess strength, intelligence, and loyalty. They would have faced this world with you—not behind you. You chose instead to be diminished.”

Mei Lian’s voice softened. “You never needed to hurt yourself to prove sincerity.”

Zhang Rui added, “And if anyone tried to hurt you again, they wouldn’t get a second chance.”

Chen Xinyi crossed her arms. “You can choose construction or destruction. I know which one I prefer.”

The ASP flickered again.

[Prompt Available]
Negative: Deflect with humor.
Neutral: Express gratitude without choosing.
Positive: Choose one now.

Selecting a wife thirty seconds after meeting three extraordinary women and an hour after getting divorced seemed… unwise.

I bowed with measured care. “Madam Chair, Chairman Wang, I am honored by their devotion. I will not insult them by making a decision without understanding the weight of it.”

[Neutral Selected]
[Charisma +1 | Willpower +1 | Integration Stability +2%]

Mei Lian looked relieved. Zhang Rui’s lips twitched into something like a restrained smile. Chen Xinyi’s eyes flickered with subtle approval.

Chairman Wang stood, his suit moving like liquid authority. “This time,” he said, “you will not choose humiliation.”

I absolutely agreed, but wisdom dictated that I not vocalize the sentiment.

“Tomorrow,” he continued, “you will meet with the board. Tonight, you will dine with the family. Afterward, you will speak privately with each of these women. You will remember who you are.”

His gaze sharpened. “And if you do not… the family will remind you.”

I bowed again—because survival was an underrated skill.

As attendants guided me toward a side chamber, I caught the last impressions. of the three woman. There was Mei Lian’s warmth, Zhang Rui’s danger and Chen Xinyi’s clarity.

Inside my carefully neutral expression, I realized something. there was only one chance for this plot to maintain its status quo.

It was for me to let it.