Annoying student

Chapter 1: The Heiress Protocol

Jennie

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The elevator chimed soft as a whisper, and Jennie stepped out onto the fifty-seventh floor.

The scent hit her first-cedarwood and bergamot, the signature fragrance the building's designers had installed to impress clients. It smelled like money. Like power. Like everything she'd grown up breathing.

She adjusted the cuff of her cream silk blouse, her heels clicking against the polished marble in a rhythm she'd perfected since she was twenty-two and fresh out of business school. Two steps past the elevator bank, the floor-to-ceiling windows of the executive wing opened up before her, showcasing the Seoul skyline in all its grey-and-glass glory.

The city hummed below, oblivious to the fact that Jennie Kim was running fifteen minutes late.

"Miss Kim." A young assistant, barely older than twenty-one, scrambled to her feet. "Your father-I mean, Chairman Kim-he's in the boardroom with the Hana Financial team. He asked me to remind you about the 9:30 briefing."

"I'm aware, Sooyoung." Jennie didn't break stride. "Get me an Americano. Double shot. And pull the Q4 projections for the logistics division. I want them on my desk before I walk into that room."

"Yes, Miss Kim."

The assistant scurried off, and Jennie allowed herself the smallest exhale. The corridors of KIM Holdings were a labyrinth of glass walls and minimalist art, each piece curated by her mother-a woman who believed that aesthetics were as important as assets.

Jennie passed the marketing department. Heads bent over screens. Phones ringing. A junior executive nearly spilled his coffee when he saw her coming.

"Good morning, Miss Kim."

"Morning, Jae-min. Fix your tie."

He fumbled with it. She kept walking.

It wasn't that she enjoyed the fear. She didn't. But there was a certain efficiency to it-the way people parted when she walked, the way conversations hushed when she entered a room. She'd learned, early on, that a Kim didn't need to raise her voice. She just needed to be seen.

Her office was on the corner of the floor, a glass box with a view that made lesser men weep. Jennie pushed the door open and set her bag down on the leather chair-the one her father had custom-ordered from Italy because she'd complained her back hurt.

"You work too hard, Jennie-yah," he'd said, patting her head like she was still twelve.

"Someone has to," she'd replied.

She wasn't wrong.

---

The boardroom was a fishbowl of tension when she entered, exactly eight minutes later.

Her father sat at the head of the table, silver-haired and distinguished, the kind of man who commanded attention without ever demanding it. Park Jiyong was his name on the books, but everyone called him Chairman Kim-he'd taken her mother's surname when they married, a scandal that had nearly cost him his family's inheritance.

He'd chosen love.

Jennie had always admired that about him, even when she didn't understand it.

"Jennie-ah." His face softened when he saw her. "There she is. We were just discussing the distribution delays."

"I have the numbers." She moved to her seat, flipping open the tablet she'd retrieved from her office. The Hana Financial representatives watched her with the careful neutrality of men who'd been burned by her before. "Logistics division's Q4 projections show a 4.2% increase in operational costs if we continue with our current supplier. However, if we switch to the Busan-based alternative, we can reduce that to 1.8%."