Chapter 3 || "Professor Kim: A victim. A Survivor. A Saint." || BOOK 2 OF PHOENIX IN HIS ARMS.

 

The dining hall slowly emptied as the clink of silverware and the distant tap of polished shoes faded into the echo of grand halls. The Kim family’s breakfast was over, and with it, the morning theatrics had settled—at least on the surface. Sunlight spilled through the tall arched windows, painting golden streaks across the marble floor as the mansion’s rhythm returned to its usual post-meal routine.

In a practiced dance, the maids entered the dining room, collecting empty plates and glasses, neatly folding the used napkins, and lifting the weight of the family's presence with well-trained grace.

“Careful with that glass, Soojin,” one of the older maids reminded gently as the new recruit fumbled slightly while picking up a delicate crystal.

“Yes, eonni,” the young girl replied quickly, eyes wide and voice nervous, though not from the task at hand. Something else was swirling inside her—curiosity.

She glanced around cautiously before breaking the silence in a hushed voice, her question almost hesitant, as if afraid it might be too bold.

“Um… Young Master Jungkook… he’s so cute,” she began, almost dreamily. “I thought he was still a university student, but he said he’s going to the office today. How? He doesn’t seem that old.”

A chorus of chuckles rippled through the group like a secret wave being passed among sisters.

“Oh, you really are new,” one of the elder maids said with fond amusement. “He’s not much older, you’re right. He just turned twenty-four a few days ago.”

“Twenty-four?” the new maid gasped, her brows rising. “So young… but he already goes to an office?”

The women exchanged glances—some smiled, others sighed nostalgically, the air in the kitchen warming with a shared pride.

Another maid chimed in as they entered the kitchen with stacks of used dishes, setting them gently by the sink. “Young Master Jungkook was very smart from a young age. He finished his studies overseas. One of the top universities, mind you.”

“Overseas?” the new maid repeated, blinking in surprise as she rinsed a fork under warm water. “But then… is he working in some company now? Why not work at the university here? It’s his family’s, after all.”

The women laughed again, louder this time, clearly pleased by the opportunity to tell this tale. One maid, the most expressive of the group, spoke with excitement lighting up her features.

“Because he’s not working for anyone,” she said proudly. “He’s the founder of his own brand.”

The new maid’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?!”

“Yep,” another said, arranging clean dishes onto the drying rack. “Back when he was studying abroad, he won an international-level design competition. Big names, big sponsors. And guess what? He used the prize money to start his own fashion brand right there.”

“He was a business and design student, right?” another added, her voice filled with admiration. “Everyone talked about him after that competition. He was already a little famous overseas.”

“And once the brand took off there,” continued the first, “he started working on bringing the main branch here to Korea, just before his studies ended.”

The new maid was left speechless, her hands stilled mid-wipe as she stared, mouth slightly agape, at the revelation. “That’s… unbelievable. I thought he was just a spoiled heir. But he really did all that?”

One of the maids stepped closer, her tone softening, serious now. She leaned in slightly, as if to share something more confidential—something not everyone was supposed to know.

“That’s the thing,” she said quietly. “He didn’t tell anyone. Not his parents. Not even Young Master Taehyung. He wanted to do it all on his own. Said he wanted to make them proud—really proud.”

The new maid frowned slightly, tilting her head. “But… the Kim family is rich. Why would he struggle like that? They could’ve helped with everything, right?”

“Exactly,” the older maid nodded. “That’s why he didn’t say anything. He knew they’d help. But he didn’t want their money or connections. He didn’t want anything handed to him. He wanted to build something with his name on it, with his effort.”

The group fell into a thoughtful silence, the only sounds the gentle clinking of plates and the soft spray of water.

“He returned a little over half a year ago,” another maid finally spoke, placing cups carefully into a drying rack. “And just dropped the whole surprise like it was nothing. His brand, fully functional, already respected internationally. The whole family was in shock.”

“Master Taehyung…” another maid began with a small sigh. “He was so angry at first. Not because of what Jungkook did, but because he hadn’t told him.”

“He felt guilty,” added another, her tone more tender now. “He never wanted his baby—who’s like a soft feather in a storm—to struggle alone in such a cruel industry. You know how the fashion world is—full of big names, snakes in suits, and shady deals. Jungkook went through that alone, with no backer, no family name to protect him.”

“But he made it,” another said with a smile. “He’s stronger than people think.”

The new maid, now wiping a plate more slowly, looked truly moved. “That’s amazing… He really is something else. Everyone must be so proud.”

“They are,” the older maid confirmed warmly.

“Especially Master Taehyung,” one added. “Once he got over the shock, he wouldn’t stop praising Jungkook. Always talking about how strong his baby is. You should’ve seen him—the proudest husband alive.”

A few maids giggled.

“So,” the newest asked, clearly hooked now, “what’s the name of the brand? The one Jungkook founded?”

A maid near the doorway, placing the last of the dishes into the cupboard, turned around with a bright grin.

“KJ,” she said with pride. “Just two letters. But everyone in the industry knows them now. And it stands for Kim Jungkook.”

The new maid nodded slowly, eyes wide with admiration and newfound respect. She glanced toward the hallway where Jungkook had walked out just an hour ago, his banana smoothie still half-full on the sideboard.

“He really is... more than just a cute face.”

The maids all smiled, pride swelling quietly between them as they returned to their work—rinsing, drying, stacking—carrying on the daily rhythm of the Kim Mansion, now echoing softly with tales of brilliance and quiet resilience.

click on the link below for the next chapter:

https://novelreadingislife.blogspot.com/2025/05/chapter-4-professor-kim-victim-survivor.html

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