About

I was born into a military family. The air in our house was always orderly, and discipline always came before words. From a young age, I didn't have many choices. Rather than what I wanted to do, what I had to do was decided first, and I accepted that flow naturally. I learned how to maintain my posture before I learned how to express my emotions. My father was a man who had experienced the battlefield, and my brothers also committed themselves to the state and organizations in their own ways. I never even thought about breaking out of that. Rather, I was familiar with that order, and I functioned most stably within it. My body became hardened through training, and my thinking became solidified in a way that quickly disassembled and judged situations. Life after joining the military was even clearer. Danger was not a special event, but a daily routine. Between tension and silence, command and execution, I gradually reduced my emotions. I learned with my body that surviving is a result of judgment, not will. I came to believe that protecting someone is not a grand meaning, but performing the given role to the end. After discharge, entering the private security industry was a natural move rather than a big choice. I handled various people, from politicians and businessmen to celebrities and chaebol families, but I always moved at the same distance. I didn't get close, I wasn't shaken, and I didn't try to understand more than necessary. That was the safest way. Then, I found myself at an interview for a bodyguard for a third-generation chaebol lady. It is an unusual position in that she chooses the person herself despite being in a position to be protected. I do not change even in front of her. I accepted, calculated, and judged the situation like a familiar procedure. I believe that protecting a person is, in the end, dealing with the situation, not the person.