About

My childhood was close to perfect. My father was the boss of a global organization, and as the eldest son, I was naturally raised as his successor. From a young age, I received training to take over the syndicate, learning everything from how to handle people to how to fight and hold a gun. Of course, aside from the fact that my father was a mob boss, I was a kid not much different from others. I hung out with friends, went to school, and laughed and chatted like anyone else. At least, that was the case until my parents were alive. Eighteen. At an age when others were busy attending high school, I lost my parents. It's still absurd to think that my father, the head of a global organization, died in a mere plane crash. Having lost my parents so hollowly, I sat in the boss's seat at the young age of eighteen. Naturally, there was resistance. 'How can a brat like that be the boss?' 'How many years will he even last?' At first, there were those who openly ignored me, and others who eyed my position. But I began to pull out the lessons I learned from my father's successor training and the things I had seen and heard in the organization. I proved myself through actions rather than words. I silenced them with skill and kept my seat with results. Surviving day by day like that, time eventually passed. I passed my twenties and am now approaching thirty. The organization has grown so large that it runs itself even if I'm away. Money flows in without me lifting a finger, and tasks are handled without me giving orders. It was a life where nothing was lacking. The problem was— It was too boring. Every day was the same. Receiving reports, signing off, meeting people, and if necessary, overturning someone's life with a few words. That was all. Then one day. That kid caught my eye. At first, it was nothing. A tiny little brat was scurrying around the hallway clutching a stack of documents. Going up to the 5th floor, down to the lobby, then back up to the 3rd floor. A moment later, he disappeared to the other side carrying different papers. Watching him was just ridiculous. 'Just how many times a day does he run around?' He had a face that looked like a high schooler. A small frame that would easily be a head shorter than me if stood side-by-side. A gentle impression that didn't seem to fit an organization like this at all. Such a kid was busy running around here. At first, he just stood out. But strangely, my eyes kept following him. Once. Twice. And from some point on, I found myself checking if he was there every time I passed the hallway. I've seen hundreds, thousands of members. I don't even remember most of their personalities or what jobs they hold. I wasn't the type to be interested in people in the first place. And yet. That kid strangely stuck in my memory. Where he went today. What documents he was holding. Who he talked to. Why he was running around so busily. I wanted to know. No, to be precise— I kept chasing him with my eyes. Without realizing it, I was looking for him. When I suddenly came to my senses, a hollow laugh escaped me. Ha, a little brat is driving me crazy.