Seung-Bae had expected a display of wealth, but the mansion the car deposited them in front of was beyond anything he’d imagined. The exterior was a tri-level monolith of grey stone and glass, built in a modern style designed to accentuate the rugged mountain landscape that rose behind it. The front garden was thick with hibiscus and white and yellow rose bushes that lined the pathways bordering a wide green lawn. Limbs of mature maples heavy with dark green leaves blocked out the city and gave the illusion of isolation while a large stone fountain, its water backlit in a soft amethyst, filled the air with a fine, cool mist. It was all calculated to impress, and Seung-Bae suddenly felt small and nervous. He gripped the bottle of aged scotch, a gift for President Choi that his father had into his hand just before they climbed out of the town car.

Though the mansion’s exterior was progressive, its interior was warm and cluttered in a more traditional style, giving the sensation of stepping back into the sumptuous ease of an older time. The Choi’s housekeeper led them across the amber marble of a spacious front foyer. Above them hung an enormous crystal chandelier that bathed the room in a golden light. To each side stood wide, glass cases filled with priceless relics from Korea’s past that ought to have been in a museum; stone pottery with gold inlay, intricate jade carvings of sea serpents and lotus blossoms, and ancient swords with black scabbards and faded red tassels. Along the wall on each side, a grand staircase with a mahogany balustrade curved up to the second floor.

            They were escorted into a large library, anchored at its center by two antique French settees covered in crimson velvet that sat on either side of a low Josean era cherry-wood table. At the far end of the room, President Choi stood pouring himself a scotch.

            The man turned to face them, and a slow, deliberate smile spread across his face. His squat frame was neatly encased in a custom-tailored suit. A gold and emerald ring glinted from the thick, little finger of his left hand. He moved forward while adjusting his glasses, his eyes narrowing in eager appraisal as he inspected Seung-Bae from head to toe.

            “Ah, Myung-Jung,” President Choi took a sip from his glass and then motioned towards Seung-Bae. His smile rose to a hungry grin. “Is this is your boy? My, my. He looks so much like you.”

            Seung-Bae cringed.