Sahee stood still and grabbed Mrs. Chun’s arm as she caught her breath. The smell of grilled fish wafted from her.
Mrs. Chun glanced at Lee Hyungu and Chae Hyunji behind Sahee, then shook her head as if it didn’t matter.
“You, come here. Quickly.”
“What…”
“No, now!”
Mrs. Chun clutched Sahee’s hand tightly and led her away.
It was lunchtime. Mrs. Chun prided herself on the flavor of Yeonghwadae’s food—all of it coming from her hands.
Even when she was sick, she was more upset about not being able to serve the madam and the CEO for a whole month than about her own illness. So what made her abandon that pride and rush out like this? A vague sense of foreboding.
Dragged into Mrs. Chun’s room in an instant, Sahee looked at her back as she locked the door with a strange expression. She even glanced around as she stepped in.
Mrs. Chun walked up to Sahee, who instinctively leaned back a little.
“You, Sahee. What happened while I was bedridden?”
“…What?”
Sahee blinked, genuinely clueless.
Mrs. Chun’s lips trembled slightly. When Sahee took her hand, her fingers were ice-cold.
“What’s going on?”
“……”
“If it’s urgent, why are you stalling? Is lunch ready?”
Impatient, Sahee gave Mrs. Chun’s hand a slight shake. Her face crumpled like she might burst into tears.
After hesitating for a long moment, Mrs. Chun finally parted her rough lips and spoke.
“The CEO wants to have lunch at the annex.”
“He often eats alone at the annex.”
Is that unusual? It’s happened several times just this week.
The man was busy. Uncle Bang often delivered his meals there, since he didn’t care to stick to regular hours.
There was no reason to get so worked up over something so trivial. Sahee tilted her head, confused, when Mrs. Chun tightened her grip.
“No, with you…”
“……”
“He wants your meal prepared too. He said he wants you to join him.”
“……”
“He says he owes you something, but I… I can’t believe that…”
****
“…CEO Jung, I’m coming in.”
It came after a brief knock. Mrs. Chun’s voice was calm, but the anxiety that had gripped her while holding Sahee’s hand still lingered underneath.
Though Sahee had tried to explain it was nothing, Mrs. Chun didn’t seem convinced. Her expression was still tense as she handed Sahee over.
No one would believe there were pure intentions behind inviting Yeon Sahee alone. But Sahee pretended not to notice. Whatever the man had in mind—as long as it wasn’t about her—it was fine. Just a meal to get through.
If he wanted to repay a debt, let him. Even if it meant bowing her head.
Sahee followed Mrs. Chun, who pushed a cart ahead of her. The faint fever in her forehead still throbbed. The man, mid-call, glanced at them and then walked over.
Mrs. Chun began placing side dishes onto the table from the cart. The scent of sesame oil on spring vegetables filled the air. Sahee stood awkwardly by.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I grilled thick yellow croaker today. You like fish, don’t you? The meat’s tender and seasoned well. You’ll enjoy it.”
She placed the large plate of grilled yellow croaker in the center and brushed her hands clean.
A heavy silence followed. She needed to leave—but with Sahee still there, she hesitated.
CEO Jung Taeon watched silently, then took off his suit jacket and hung it on the chair. Sitting down, he gestured for Sahee to do the same, leaving no room for protest.
“Yeon Sahee. Sit.”
“…Yes.”
She pulled out the chair across from him and sat. Though Mrs. Chun hovered beside her, the man said nothing.
“Do you like grilled yellow croaker?”
His tone was casual, like balancing on a tightrope over Mrs. Chun’s unease.
The events of the night before felt like a distant dream. Even tossing the empty beer can in the trash that morning seemed surreal. CEO Jung Taeon looked unaffected.
“You don’t seem to. I owe you a lot, Yeon Sahee.”
“…No, I like it.”
“That’s good. Eat comfortably.”
She lowered her head and picked up her chopsticks. Gathering some glossy rice, she took a bite, then slowly chewed some seasoned bean sprouts.
Taeon just watched. He hadn’t touched his utensils, eyes fixed on her.
“…CEO, I’ll serve you some yellow croaker separately.”
Unable to bear it, Mrs. Chun placed a portion on a smaller plate and brought it over. But Taeon didn’t move.
Was it because of what he said yesterday?
The way he looked at her—it felt like she was being sold. Her shame surged, heating her forehead.
Then Taeon picked up his chopsticks. His large, clean hands separated them and picked up seasoned eggplant.
“Are you a picky eater?”
Was he teasing her? The glossy eggplant landed on her rice. At that moment, she wished Mrs. Chun would just leave. She understood her concern, but…
A man who didn’t hide the fact he wanted to toy with her. And her, unable to even be angry. She wanted to carry this burden herself.
“Eat.”
“…”
Tears welled in Sahee’s eyes as she glared at him. Taeon leaned back and nodded at her with his chin.
She tightened her grip on the chopsticks. Just as she took a breath, Taeon spoke to Mrs. Chun.
“Are you staying?”
“Oh, no. I’ll go. Dessert…”
His eyes brushed over Sahee’s tight lips.
“I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“…Yes, CEO.”
Mrs. Chun left in a hurry. Only then did Sahee let out a bitter laugh. A tear slipped onto her clenched fist. Taeon stared.
“Getting you to eat is harder than I thought.”
“That’s not true.”
“You must be close to someone. To react this strongly.”
“I told you clearly yesterday—I didn’t want to.”
“No. You told me to seduce you.”
Taeon frowned and pulled the grilled croaker closer. He deftly deboned it with his chopsticks.
Sahee bit her lip, staring at the white flesh now sitting on her plate. He clicked his tongue and wiped his hands with a napkin.
“Eat.”
“What should I do with all this gratitude? Strip now?”
Taeon eyed her. A smile, half amused and half irritated, tugged at his lips.
“Do you want to?”
“…”
“Then go ahead. Strip and lie down.”
“…”
“Why that look? You don’t even have to use the bed. Convenient, right?”
Sahee’s eyes trembled. Tears overflowed.
Taeon stood. As he approached, Sahee flinched and pushed her chair back. He caught the tilting chair with one hand and looked down at her.
“Trying to pick a fight?”
“……”
“Yeon Sahee.”
His shadow darkened her face. His sharp gaze swept across her tear-streaked cheeks. Pale and trembling, she still held her chin high. Taeon’s brows twitched.
But before fear could set in, he let out a hollow smile. Like he’d given up on something. He straightened, and light poured across her face again.
“You can go. Tell them to clean up.”
Sahee quickly turned her head, wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, and stood. But dizziness struck, and her knees buckled.
Taeon caught her again. She tried to shake him off, but he held firm.
“Let me go.”
“You.”
“No.”
Despite her denial, he lifted her as if pulling her from water and sat her back down.
Her body sagged. His cold hand touched her forehead, and his expression darkened.
“How long have you been like this?”
“I’m fine…”
“Yeah, sure. Damn it.”
Taeon returned to his seat and took his phone from his jacket. He called his secretary for medicine, his eyes never leaving Sahee.
When he came back, he had the medicine in hand. Sahee sat quietly, listening to the muffled voices behind the door, asking if she was unwell.
Taeon opened the packets and handed them over with water. After a long pause, she swallowed them.
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and looked at him. His fierce gaze had softened, like someone trying to comfort a crying child.
“…I want to go.”
The air, which had been stifling, cooled—leaving only tension behind. Taeon stepped aside wordlessly.
This time, she stood properly, leaning on the table. She took a step, watching him.
He followed.
When she turned, Taeon met her eyes.
“Go.”
“…”
Sahee opened the door and stepped into the hallway, ignoring the sound of footsteps just behind her. His presence, barely a step away, weighed heavily on her mind.
As she sat on the porch to put on her sneakers, she glanced several times at Taeon’s long shadow. Only when she stood up did she feel a faint sense of relief.
I need to get back.
That was the only thought pounding in her head.
“Madam! You’re back early?”
Mrs. Chun’s sharp voice cut through her tangled thoughts. It rang out with urgency, as if meant to reach every corner of the annex.
Sahee’s heart sank. She turned to look at Taeon. Their eyes met in the air—like guilty parties caught red-handed. Her lips, unconsciously pursed, felt dry.
“Didn’t you like the meal? I made your favorite Jeju yellow croaker today.”
Mrs. Chun sounded anxious. Her efforts to buy time rang sharply in Sahee’s ears.
There was no escape route in the annex. The only way out was the door—unless she could jump a wall taller than herself or find a place to hide…
“Did you commit a crime?”
Taeon whispered softly.
Looking into his eyes, it suddenly felt like Park Jisun’s thick hand was slapping her cheek. Mrs. Chun was there too.
How dare you.
The same sharp gaze that had pierced Sahee now turned on Mrs. Chun.
Mrs. Chun, how could you.
Sahee could survive leaving Yeonghwadae, but Mrs. Chun had a beloved granddaughter she cherished like her own life.
Her legs moved first, desperate to hide somewhere—anywhere—but her wrist was caught. Her breath hitched. The man’s calm eyes seemed to wish this secret encounter would be exposed.
Sahee shook her head violently. Taeon ignored her and pulled her close. His cold hand slid over the back of hers, threading through her fingers, locking them firmly together.
“…Please.”
In that close space where it felt like she might be embraced, her thin voice pleaded.
The voices were getting closer. Footsteps clung like barnacles to stone.
Sahee tightened her grip on his hand—desperate, as if begging on her knees.
Please.
“Just this once.”
She didn’t know what he was being so generous about. She just let herself be led by his firm hand.
Of all times. Of all times.
“These flowers are lovely. That grapefruit color is so refreshing. Mrs. Chun, you really have a gift.”
“Oh, you’re too kind.”
Hearing the affectionate exchange, Sahee exhaled a hot breath. Her neck burned as if under the midday sun.
In the narrow space between the wall and the annex, he stepped in first and pulled her along. They hid before Mrs. Min and Mrs. Chun entered the yard, but there was no relief. The distance between them was far too close.
“…”
“…”
Barely a centimeter of air separated them. Even as the spring breeze brushed her neck, the heat wouldn’t fade.
Sahee, eyes fixed on the narrow gap, finally looked up. Their eyes met—as if he’d been watching her all along.
“By the way, did CEO Jung eat?”
“I brought his meal to the room earlier. I was just about to clean up, but I’m not sure if he’s finished.”
“Honestly, I can’t even see my only son during meals. Work, work, work. I don’t like it. Make sure he gets some dessert. The yakgwa today was delicious. Not too sweet, not sticky. Perfect.”
“Of course. When I heard you were coming, I ordered the yakgwa specially from a place I trust.”
Determined, Sahee met his gaze—but she was the first to look away.
Taeon let out a soft laugh. Startled, Sahee grabbed his sleeve, worried the sound might carry into the yard.
Taeon glanced at the sleeve she had grabbed. She quickly let go, but he was faster—he caught her retreating hand and pulled her close.
Startled, Sahee leaned toward him, panting, unsure what to do. His large hand gently cupped her cheek.
“…”
“…”
His calloused thumb traced her face. Heat bloomed under his slow, deliberate touch. She tried to turn away, but he held her chin in place.
“It’s good having Mrs. Chun around. I should get her a tonic to show my thanks. Why insist on cleaning this place herself and getting sick, when she could just hire someone?”
“I feel at ease doing it myself. You know that.”
“That’s why I like Mrs. Chun.”
Her pulse pounded under her skin. When his fingers touched her lips—the spot his gaze had lingered on—a tingling sensation spread below her navel. It was a terrifying, vulnerable feeling, like they might be discovered at any moment.
She felt him slowly lowering his head. Sahee shut her eyes tightly.
But nothing happened. Only the sound of their breathing filled the air.
Then, as soon as she opened her eyes, Taeon met her gaze—and kissed her.
Their lips met, as if devouring one another, yet the kiss was sweet and slow.
Taeon found her trembling and kissed her deeper. It was hard to believe someone like him could have lips this soft—yet the sensation of being thoroughly kissed by him made her breath catch.
“Hmph.”
A soft moan escaped Sahee’s lips before she even realized it, snapping her back to her senses. She twisted her head away, pushing him off. Trembling, she glanced around in a panic—but his firm arm was already around her waist.
“Ms. Chun, let’s go inside and talk. Cleaning can wait.”
“…Shall we?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The voice near her ear faded like a breeze. Time seemed suspended. When Sahee looked up, Taeon leaned in again. Their lips met, and her shoulders flinched as if burned. Taeon frowned, a displeased crease between his brows. Silence pressed in around them.
Sahee pressed her back to the wall, tense, but Taeon’s arm around her waist only grew bolder. His hand slowly trailed upward and cupped her face—steady, unyielding.
The voices outside had vanished completely.
“Yeon Sahee.”
“I-I really need to go.”
Min Yeojin had left, but the space between her and Taeon hadn’t grown. If anything, their bodies were pressed even more tightly together. Her flat stomach yielded slightly under his weight.
The realization made her lips part slightly. She wasn’t a child. She knew exactly what this was.
Since when?
The tension suffocated her.
How could anyone—how could a person—
Unable to grasp it, Sahee looked up at Taeon with frightened eyes. But there was no hesitation in his gaze. Even his questions came casually, like observations.
“Hard to breathe?”
“…”
“Is this your first time?”
Taeon’s fingers brushed over her damp lips. If not for the heat pressing down on her, the tone might have seemed like a joke. But Taeon remained entirely unaffected—while Sahee couldn’t even pretend.
“Of course not… That’s ridiculous.”
“Oh, is it?”
Infuriating.
The way he said it—flat and detached—made her ears burn with heat.
Taeon pressed his thumb gently to her lower lip.
“Ah…”
As her lips parted helplessly, his finger slipped inside. A sharp gasp escaped as he pushed it in deeper—completely unbothered by the intimacy of such an invasion.
Saliva pooled in Sahee’s mouth, the wet sounds echoing in her ears. When Taeon’s finger reached deep enough to brush the back of her throat, her breath hitched painfully. Her head felt like it might burst, yet the man’s expression remained calm, unreadable.
Drool slid down her chin. Overwhelmed by confusion and unable to grasp Taeon’s intentions, tears welled in her eyes. Taeon let out a crooked chuckle.
“Want to open up a little more?”
In that instant, Sahee bit down on his finger with all her strength. A stifled gasp escaped her lips, and a faint metallic taste of blood touched her tongue.
Yet Taeon, though bitten, merely frowned slightly—his lips curving in amusement.
“You’re insane.”
At her bitter accusation, he nodded faintly, almost as if agreeing. Looking oddly satisfied, he smeared the blood from his lip onto hers.
“Perverted bastard…”
Even Sahee’s sharp words didn’t faze him. Instead, Taeon lowered his head, licking along her jaw where her drool had trailed down.
At the same time, he caught her wrist and guided her hand around his neck. His voice was calm, almost instructional.
“Don’t bite your lips.”
“…”
“My mother—the one you seem to fear so much—is very perceptive.”
Then everything went dark.
What had happened up to this point felt like child’s play compared to the kiss that followed. It was searing. Overwhelming. As if she were being consumed. Sahee clung to his shoulders in desperation.
Though she tried to stifle her faint whimpers, Taeon’s presence only intensified with every touch, each one striking like a spark flaring into flame.
“Just go already.”
Sahee turned away sharply, scolding him.
Still, he trailed behind her all the way to the small annex. Only Sahee seemed worried about being seen.
He had followed her far enough—shouldn’t that be enough?
With his shadow still looming, Sahee bristled and glared. Taeon extended a hand.
“Take it.”
“No, thank you.”
“This seems simpler than kissing, doesn’t it?”
His face was shameless, one brow arched as if asking permission. It was absurd.
Sahee didn’t have the energy to argue. Letting out a sigh, she turned away—but he grabbed her arm. At the contact, fine hairs along her skin stood on end.
“You’re fine, huh…?”
“Just grab it before I pull it off myself.”
With that chilling remark, he guided her hand—placing it firmly on his arm. Under the soft white shirt, his muscles were hard.
“Take care of yourself,” Taeon murmured.
Then his large hand cupped her cheek, and a brief kiss brushed her forehead.
So warm.
That thought slipped through her mind as her fingers clumsily grazed the front of his shirt, prompting him to chuckle softly.
“Stop glaring.”
“…?”
“I’ll leave.”
Sahee let go of his arm as if burned. Sitting on the porch, she hastily yanked off her sneakers, hooking her finger in the heel. As she stood up, her eyes locked with Taeon’s—he hadn’t moved an inch.
After all that talk of holding onto her—of it being easier than a kiss—now he just stood there, watching silently.
Even when she glared, her lower belly still warm from the encounter, Taeon merely shrugged with a smirk.
Bang!
Sahee slammed the door and stumbled into the room, breath ragged. She didn’t even check if he was still outside. She dropped onto the bed and buried her face in her hands.
Her cheeks were burning. Even her breath felt scalding. She didn’t need a mirror to know her face must be as red as an apple.
It was just a kiss.
Nothing between them had changed—nothing should have changed.
Yet it felt like her entire world had flipped.
There was no helping it. Everything about this was a first for her.
Sahee pressed the back of her hand to her aching lips. Even there, her pulse throbbed wildly.
When Taeon returned to the annex, everything was pristine.
Too pristine.
The awkward guilt clinging to the staff, who must’ve scrambled to clean up, was obvious. The usual cheerful smiles had been replaced with nervous, babysitting expressions.
Not entirely inaccurate.
Even something as simple as getting a meal seemed needlessly difficult.
Taeon scowled as he stepped into the bedroom. Dropping onto the sofa beside the bed, he let out a low, hollow laugh. The heat still lingered in his body—unmistakable.
He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek and unbuckled his belt, one hand wrapping around himself as a short laugh slipped out.
He had pried open her heated lips, taken her in—and it hadn’t been enough.
Now, he felt the urge to call her back.
His hand moved slowly at first, then faster, recalling the weight of her hesitant hand on his arm. The memory of her soft grip stirred something low and urgent in his gut.
Even in his younger, more reckless days, he hadn’t indulged in anything like this.
He used to scoff at that raw, unpolished lust his peers flaunted. And yet now—here he was, swallowed whole by a craving that stripped him of pride.
“Ha…”
He exhaled heavily, tilting his head back. Eyes fixed on the wooden beams of the ceiling, his pace quickened, chasing the release clawing at his insides.
He knew this wasn’t some fleeting whim.
Even if this memory were to be locked away, buried in dust—when it came to her, there would always be exceptions.
He could still feel it.
As if he were sitting in that car.
A cold winter.
A snowy country road.
A girl bundled up in thick layers by the roadside.
Through the chaotic fumbling of hands, a girl with plump cheeks flushed red walked briskly over, her steps rhythmic. She leaned close, knocking loudly on the car window.
The window slid open without resistance—and the girl’s face suddenly morphed into Sahee’s, her gaze dripping with contempt.
“Hah.”
This… goddamn.
He came on her face.
His seed dripped down Sahee’s eyelashes, tracing a path down her cheek. As he smeared and ground his tip over her tightly shut lips, the mess spread until she was coated. His lingering excitement spilled out in one final spasm.
Taeon let out a muffled laugh and closed his eyes. Bright sunlight pressed against his lids. The midday air was crisp, and the sound of wind chimes in the breeze rang sharp and clear.
It was only after dousing himself with cold water that he erased any trace of the sordid release.
Taeon lazily rolled his neck and fastened his watch onto his wrist. As he left the dressing room and headed toward the study, a knock at the door interrupted his steps.
The faint hallucination of a knock on the car window briefly clouded his vision—but the clear voice that followed quickly snapped him back.
****
“Director Jung.”
Hm?
Min Yeojin stood before him, tilting her head slightly at the change in his outfit since morning.
Clothes suit the man, they say. The perfect creation she had brought into this world never dulled—no matter how extravagant the outfit. Whatever he wore, he looked striking. He wasn’t even particularly picky, but the most fastidious personal shoppers and renowned tailors always sang his praises.
“Was something wrong with the clothes?”
“I guess so.”
Taeon shrugged and gestured toward a seat. Min Yeojin sat down in the main chair, clicking her tongue with a frown.
“‘I guess so’? That’s not an answer.”
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Hah.”
Min Yeojin placed the back of her hand against her forehead, watching her son smile faintly even as she scolded him.
“No coffee. I’m busy, so I’ll be direct and go. Sit.”
She nodded at the chair beside her. Taeon gave a small nod and sat. As their eyes met, Min Yeojin’s gaze softened. She smiled with her eyes.
“It’s time to fulfill your promise, dear son.”
“Ah…”
“‘Ah’? You—!”
His reaction made it obvious to anyone that he’d forgotten. As expected.
Min Yeojin sighed, though she hadn’t expected much in the first place.
“It’s next week. They said they’d adjust as much as possible for our schedule.”
From her bag, she pulled a thin envelope and handed it to him. Taeon raised an eyebrow as he took it and checked the contents.
Two photographs and a profile.
The same materials were likely sent to the other woman as well. This woman or that—either way, it was all just hollow formality.
“You know Jisoo, right? She’s grown into a stunning young lady.”
“Of course, Hanseong.”
Taeon slid the documents neatly back into the envelope and dropped it onto the table with a casual flick of his hand.
Han Jisoo. To be honest, he didn’t remember her well.
If they’d met, it was likely at some past party or event. What interested him more than the faint name was what benefits her background might offer him.
“She’s flying back to Korea just to meet you. Be polite. Even if you’re not interested, at least glance through it.”
“I will.”
“Jung Taeon.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I’ve shortlisted a few more. Think it’s worth meeting two?”
At her bluntness, Taeon let out a dry laugh.
“Hmm?”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“The chairman wants this too, so try to cooperate. The more people you meet, the more rumors spread. Wouldn’t it be nice if you met through a family introduction, fell in love at first sight, and had a lovely marriage?”
Right? Min Yeojin smiled softly as she stood up. As Taeon rose and approached, she gave him a fond look.
“My son.”
Min Yeojin gently adjusted his already flawless tie and then hugged him. Taeon, used to the gesture, returned the hug.
“I’m so proud of you. Honestly, I didn’t like your father when we first met. I wanted a kind man.”
“You’re nothing if not consistent.”
“People don’t change easily. I still don’t like him, but if I could go back, I’d still marry him. I had to meet you.”
Min Yeojin slowly stepped back from the hug and gazed at Taeon’s face. He returned her gaze steadily.
She smiled brightly, gave his arm a light pat, and signaled her departure.
“I’m off. Read it properly. Jisoo’s really excited to see you. She said you were her first love?”
Taeon gave a crooked smile at the bait she dangled to stir his interest.
“I can’t stand kids.”
“What?”
“I understand.”
“I’m serious! Don’t be rude!”
Min Yeojin shouted after him as he casually turned away.
Clatter, clatter.
Sahee avoided the sharp gaze as she did the dishes.
She had finally made it to the kitchen. She had thought about calling in sick, but knowing Mrs. Chun, the woman would come running, so she just took medicine.
Fortunately, her fever hadn’t worsened, but she’d been on edge the whole time preparing dinner. Mrs. Chun’s gaze trailed her like a shadow, full of unspoken questions.
“Auntie, I’m going to get some fresh air.”
“Sure. Everything’s just about done. We just need to plate it. Smells great.”
Ignoring Mrs. Chun, who had clearly been waiting to talk, Sahee stepped out.
The kitchen had been filled with thick food aromas, so the air outside felt refreshing. Sahee caught her breath and wiped her wet hands on her apron. Then she reached into her pocket for her phone.
“Oh!”
Sahee’s expression hardened at the familiar voice above her bowed head.
She hadn’t expected to run into them here. As her gaze shifted between CEO Jung Taeon and Secretary Kim, her heart pounded from the memory of their earlier encounter.
“Hello.”
“Oh, hello… I didn’t know you worked in the kitchen too.”
Maybe it was just her imagination, but Secretary Kim—usually warm and smiling—seemed oddly stiff around her.
“Yes.”
“Wow, really! You seem very versatile.”
“……”
Cleaning and cooking? Versatile? She constantly received criticism. Apparently, basic politeness was a mandatory skill when assisting someone like him.
Sahee averted her gaze without responding. Ever since that brief exchange with Secretary Kim, she’d felt a cold stare. He seemed displeased, though she couldn’t tell why.
“Yeon Sahee! You, girl! Oh my goodness!”
Mrs. Chun’s sudden outburst made her flinch.
…What a mess.
It was clear Mrs. Chun hadn’t expected to see Taeon and was flustered. She quickly bowed.
“CEO, you’re here. Why did you come this way? Please, come inside. I made spicy radish soup today.”
Mrs. Chun nudged Sahee under her bowed head. Sahee glanced at him, then followed Mrs. Chun’s lead and bowed deeply.
She bowed—and subtly stepped away from him. It wasn’t just the two of them now; Mrs. Chun and his secretary were also present.
But clearly, Taeon didn’t care. He stared silently at Sahee for a long moment, then let out a soft scoff, as if incredulous. His expression was a blend of mockery and irritation.
“Yeon Sahee.”
He called her name.
Not “Yeon Sahee-ssi”—just “Yeon Sahee.”
The distance she had managed to create crumbled in an instant. It felt as if he was mocking her for trying, yet also furious that she had.
“Listen to me.”
No doubt about it—he was angry.
Mrs. Chun and the secretary now turned their heads away, feigning ignorance. As if they were guarding an illicit rendezvous rather than witnessing an accidental meeting.
“…I took the medicine.”
“Impressive.”
Taeon smirked and placed his hand on her forehead, checking her temperature. Sahee shivered and took a deep breath. Clutching her phone, her hands instinctively lowered to her abdomen.
Taeon looked down at her—from her rounded forehead to her thick lashes and smooth, small nose. His gaze paused on her unusually red and swollen lips.
“What about dinner?”
“…”
“Dinner?”
“I’ll… eat soon.”
“Why should I believe that?”
Why did he care if she ate or not? Sahee clenched her jaw, looked up with a flash of anger, then sighed through her nose and dropped her gaze again.
This was meaningless. Just a tantrum—like a golf ball rolling to her feet. He was upset because she had stepped away. It was childish, almost like he wanted the whole world to know.
“Madam, we always eat together after preparing the CEO’s meal.”
“Really?”
This time, CEO Jung Taeon turned to his witness. Mrs. Chun, who had been pretending to admire the mountains, turned her head quickly.
“Yes, yes!”
Without hesitation, Taeon reached out and snatched Sahee’s phone.
“…!”
He held it up to her face to unlock it. Without hesitation, he dialed a number and hit call.
“Send a picture of what you ate to this number.”
Taeon pulled out his own phone and checked the number, then handed hers back.
“Yeonghwadae, with its 2 billion won annual budget, only has Yeon Sahee doing all the chores—limping or feverish. At the very least, the main sponsor, Jungmun, should take responsibility.”
“…”
“You’re valuable, aren’t you?”
His eyes were locked on Mrs. Chun now.
Sahee stepped in front of her protectively, scowling. She snatched the phone from his hand. Only then did he turn away.
“Send it.”
His voice was cold as their shoulders brushed.
****
Dinner was lively. Taeon leaned back in his chair, listening to Min Yeojin and Secretary Kim chat. He casually checked his phone, which remained silent.
If he’d asked her to send a message, she would have thrown her phone at the ground. Judging by the way she’d glared at him, she might’ve buried it in the dirt.
Even if he took her side—damn it.
Taeon aimlessly scrolled through the messaging app. As he set his phone down on the table, Min Yeojin glanced at him.