At the highest floor of Cheolbu Holding, three people were having a peaceful dinner. Formally, they were boss and subordinates. From how they looked, however, it was more like an uncle babysitting two naughty youngsters.
"Do you think they're alright?" the younger male, no older than twenty, whispered lowly above his dessert pudding.
A girl bearing identical face with him slammed the table. "Of course, they are! Don't say stuff that sounds like a flag, Suoh!"
"But it's been hours! We haven't heard anything--even lil birdie is worried!" her twin argued.
"That's why you shouldn't say things that might spread bad luck!"
"I can no longer express worry, now?!"
As usual, they were bickering more than morning birds would. Perhaps that was why their father, Song Yonghwa's chief security, left them to be his charge's headache instead of his own. Since Yonghwa was even there when they were born, it was almost like they were raised by him.
