“De, kamsa-hamnida,” Dr. Do Dongmin said, sighing as he hung up. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore to receive another call from the principal of the international school where his only son was currently enrolled in. Kyungsoo was in grade 12, months away from graduation, and was on the brink of failing his final, final semester in the school if he didn’t pull his average up to at least a B.

The Do Laboratories heir was running his own lucrative clothing line and affiliate businesses at 18 years old... but couldn’t even pass high school with flying colors.

Dr. Do cringed as he saw an incoming call from his wife, who sounded distraught and disappointed.

“Has Kyungsoo’s principal contacted you?” Mrs. Do sobbed over the line, blowing her nose on a tissue. “He’s been skipping classes for 3 days!”

Dr. Do rubbed his throbbing temple. Perhaps he should take one of the Do Laboratories signature pain relievers for his impending migraine. “We should suspend his car privileges.”

“We did that a few times before, after getting him his first car on his birthday, but he always found ways to go wherever he wanted,” Mrs. Do debated. “To the extent of taking public transportation!”

Dr. Do frowned, not wanting to be reminded of that time Kyungsoo was chased down by fans, sasaengs and media reporters when he was spotted in a train station in the middle of the day. As a result, Dr. Do doubled the security team accompanying Kyungsoo but his son always managed to escape the guards every time. “That boy has no regard for his own safety whatsoever. Where could he be right now?”

“His head security said that he’s in the Gravity headquarters, having a meeting with his staff.”

Dr. Do clucked his tongue in irritation, more directed towards his son and the situation. Of all the things to be stressed about... “Try not to worry so much, yeobo. I’ll call Kyungsoo right now. I don’t care how busy he is. I’ll see you at home tonight.”

And with that, he called his son, trying to regain his composure as he listened to the continuous ringing.

“Yeobo-saeyo, Gravity head office.”

“Heechul-ssi? I need to speak to Kyungsoo.”

“Uh, d-de...”  Heechul answered nervously, recognizing the deep, grim voice immediately.  “May I take a message, Dr. Do, because Kyungsoo-ssi is not able to take your call at the—?”

“Let me talk to my son.”

Heechul swallowed, could acutely sense the thinning of Do Laboratories’ CEO’s patience. While Kyungsoo was only half his age, the teenager was still his direct employer and was not in a particularly good mood right now. “Um... joseong-haeyo, Dr. Do. Kyungsoo-ssi is in the middle of—”

“Heechul-ssi...” Dr. Do warned.  “Do I have to repeat myself?”

“A-Aniyo, Dr. Do.  Alget-seumida.” Heechul winced, reluctantly taking Kyungsoo’s cellphone with him, as he heaved several breaths for courage before going into the battle field Gravity’s conference room.

The crown of his head narrowly missed the glass ashtray that Kyungsoo hurled across the room as he went off on a furious tirade on the ten members of his team, who were all grimacing, their bodies rigid and not one of them daring to look at the teenager in the eye.

“You call these inspired work, Jiho-ssi?! An infant can draw better than you!” Kyungsoo snarled, flinging the junior designer’s sketches out of the table. “If you’re just going to rip these designs off from the 90’s, then what the hell am I paying you for?!”

The youngest and shortest,  yet most formidable, person in the room—yes, it was their boss—now noticed the intrusive presence of his secretary in the room.

Those big, round eyes flashed, glaring at their new target. “Heechul-ssi! What did I say about coming into a meeting unannounced?”

Heechul bit his lip. “M-Mianhaeyo, Kyungsoo-ssi.” He pointed at the cellphone in his hand, panicking. “It’s... your father.”

Kyungsoo reflexively rolled his eyes, wondering what earth-shattering event had occurred now that his father just had to call him they were both in their respective workplaces. He grabbed the phone from Heechul and tried to lower his tone of voice before answering, “Abeoji?”

“What are you doing out of school again, huh, adul?”

Kyungsoo clenched his fists, a little more and he would have crushed the phone in his hand.

Principal Lee Sooman was definitely out to get him. His parents weren’t supposed to find out that he hadn’t been attending his classes for days, not after he had bribed a couple of his classmates with fashion show passes if they covered for him. Those useless, good-for-nothing s!

The last thing he needed was to spend his precious time in a boring classroom, when the Winter Fashion Week was almost upon them, and Gravity was only 2/3 done with their collection. 

Kyungsoo had priorities!

“EVERYBODY, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!! NOW!!!” Kyungsoo barked, which made his 10-member team, along with Heechul, seize their laptops, tablets, sketchbooks and coffee, scrambling and squeezing out of the double doors as fast as they could.  “And Jiho-ssi, re-do those ing drawings and submit them to me in an hour!!!”

“Your mother is crying her eyes out as we speak,” Dr. Do told him sternly, undeterred by his son’s rather foul mood. “And we both know you’re the only person in the world who can make her stop.  Kyungsoo-yah, you may think you don’t need to go to school, but how many times do I have to drill into your brain how important education is?  Your mother and I didn’t grow up with the same luxuries as you do.”

There he goes again, Kyungsoo thought bitterly, as his father resorted to the We-grew-up-poor card once more.  

“That’s why we’re sending you to the best school money could pay for, because we want you to have a sense of normalcy and to build some character, and you’re just wasting it away!”

“Abeoji, please,” Kyungsoo replied, sounding defeated.  Who said he wanted to be normal?  He was already earning 2 billion KRW in gross sales from Gravity for two consecutive years now, with a solid social media following and was included in South Korea’s elite fashion network.  Didn’t his parents understand that he had so much going for him?!  “I need to finish my meeting. Can we talk about this later?”

“No, not later, Kyungs—KYUNGSOO-YAH! Don’t you dare! I swear, adul, if you hang up on me—”

Too late. 

The line was already disconnected.

He recognized that his son wasn’t being purposefully rude, but he was still aggravated by the way Kyungsoo was operating on an extremely stubborn, one-track mind—which