“Madam, shall I bring in the dessert?”
Secretary Kim smiled warmly, catching Min Yeojin’s attention. She, with a slightly uneasy expression, gave a soft nod and smiled back.
“Hmm, yes. With such kindness, Secretary Kim, your girlfriend must be happy.”
“Girlfriend? No, madam.”
“You don’t have one? How come, with manners like yours?”
“Working at the company, I barely have time to meet anyone.”
“Too busy, is it? Then maybe someone at the office?”
“I don’t think office romance is for me.”
“Shall I set you up, then? I know some lovely ladies.”
After covering her son’s marriage prospects, the mother had even taken interest in her secretary’s love life—clear proof of her boredom at Yeonghwadae.
“Taeon, what do you think?”
“Secretary Kim probably doesn’t have time for leisurely dating.”
“Oh my, how rude! Don’t listen to him, Secretary Kim. You’re at the age where marriage should be on your mind. How long do you plan to keep cleaning up after him?”
“Haha, yes, madam.”
“Anyway…”
Min Yeojin shook her head, then suddenly lit up.
“By the way, how about the second granddaughter of this house? She’s a ballerina.”
“Oh…”
“I’ve met her once or twice. She seems nice. She lives in Seoul, so meeting up would be easy. Have you seen her? Or only the first granddaughter?”
“I think she has a boyfriend.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I saw them having a rather intense kiss right out front yesterday morning.”
Secretary Kim whispered it like a secret.
Min Yeojin’s eyes widened. She muttered something about how bold young people are these days, her expression tinged with regret.
“What a shame. If it weren’t for the limp, I would’ve considered the first granddaughter.”
“Ah…”
“Taeon, don’t you think Yeon Sahee and Secretary Kim would be a good match?”
Taeon looked up and met Min Yeojin’s gaze. The silence hanging over the table made Secretary Kim straighten up instinctively.
“I’m not sure.”
“…”
“I don’t really know.”
It was a loaded moment. Taeon casually took a sip of water.
Looking back, the winter when he first discovered Yeon Sahee wasn’t just significant to him. No matter how beautiful she was, the fact that Min Yeojin’s intuition struck true meant the wind was blowing in a certain direction.
Nine years ago, in winter.
Min Yeojin had come to meet him at the airport then, too. Sitting beside him, she had glanced at the girl outside the car window. The brief scene Taeon saw as the car stopped must’ve stayed with his mother as well.
Considering the past week, unusually sensitive as it was, it became clear they shared the same memory.
Taeon tilted his head slightly and slowly studied Secretary Kim’s face. A charming smile appeared as his subordinate paled under the heavy silence.
“Isn’t Secretary Kim cut from a different cloth than Yeon Sahee?”
“CEO! That’s too much!”
Secretary Kim raised his voice, clearly aggrieved.
Despite his long loyalty, he sounded hurt—as if it all meant nothing. His protest eased the tension at the table, leaving Min Yeojin with little more to say.
She watched the exchange and let out a mirthless laugh.
“Indeed… Our CEO is too much.”
Her tone was light, but her gaze flicked coldly between Taeon and Secretary Kim.
“You mustn’t disappoint those close to you.”
Just then, Taeon’s phone on the table buzzed briefly.
It was already close to 11 PM.
Sahee gulped down the pill with a mouthful of water and slumped into the chair, eyes fixed on the clock. The pill slid down her throat with a raw, unpleasant scrape.
She had messaged him, but there was no reply. Her eyes wandered toward the phone lying on the bed. Without blinking, she turned her chair abruptly.
I need to work.
Recalling the editorial department’s feedback on her new manuscript, she gripped the mouse. Mrs. Chun’s warning still echoed in her mind like a siren.
“No.”
“……”
“No, Sahee.”
Mrs. Chun, who had seemed full of questions, had asked none. She had simply cupped Sahee’s cheeks with both hands to check her temperature. Even on the walk back to the small annex, she hadn’t said a word.
Just that one word—“no.” Like a parent gently guiding a child between right and wrong. And Sahee, not being a child, hadn’t naively asked “why?” She also couldn’t say “it’s not what you think”—because she knew it wouldn’t be believed.
It’s not me.
She had tried to say that—but couldn’t. Mrs. Chun already knew. She could see Sahee was wavering. And she would’ve known it was a lie.
“I know.”
That was all she could say. That she knew everything.
Sahee let out a long sigh and stood up. Whether from the medicine or something else, her limbs felt weak. She climbed onto the bed and fumbled for her phone.
[010-XXXX-XXXX]
An unsaved number. A picture on the blank screen. Still no reply from him.
For her, it had ruined the entire day. For him, it had been nothing more than a glance and a gesture. Even in hindsight, he was someone she shouldn’t have looked back at.
She was about to delete the conversation. Just then, the phone buzzed in her hand.
[Are you asleep?]
Startled, she quickly set it aside. Her heart pounded. Her fingertips prickled with anxiety. She clenched her fist. For a moment, it felt like the bed trembled—an illusion of panic.
She decided: she needed to block CEO Jung Taeon’s number.
With trembling fingers, she reached for her phone. But as she unlocked it, what she saw was a new notification.
[I’ll be there soon.]
Be there soon? Where?
Before she could finish the thought, her hand reached for the bedside lamp.
Click. She turned off the soft light that had dimly lit the room. The phone in her hand glowed bright.
[010-XXXX-XXXX]
Buzz, buzz.
The phone vibrated. Sahee hastily tossed it onto the bed and pulled her knees to her chest. Her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, hands trembling with tension. She pressed her forehead and cheeks against her knees, breathing heavily.
The buzzing stopped. As she stared at the screen now showing a missed call, another message popped up.
[I saw the light go off just now.]
Sahee turned her head toward the closed door. She strained to hear any sound. The phone buzzed again. She held her breath, pretending not to notice. Two missed calls now.
[Answer.]
At the repeated message, Sahee picked up the phone. She sensed movement just beyond the door. The footsteps paused briefly—then came a soft thud.
Buzz.
A third call. Sahee clutched the phone tighter, picturing the uncertain scene outside. If CEO Jung Taeon was sitting on the porch, he must’ve heard the buzzing from inside.
[Are we going to do this all night?]
Ignoring it any longer was pointless. With a sigh, she buried her face against the now-silent phone. Then came another buzz. Sahee pressed the call button with trembling fingers.
“…”
There was silence. Hearing the faint breath on the other end, she shifted her grip on the phone.
She could picture him clearly—legs crossed on the porch, cigarette between his fingers, face shadowed and stern.
— Yeon Sahee.
“Yes…”
— How are you feeling?
“I’m okay.”
— What about your fever?
“It’s gone.”
— Did you turn off the light to sleep?
“…”
— Hmm?
“…Yes.”
— You’re quite the liar, aren’t you, Yeon Sahee.
Can it really be called lying if the truth is so easy to spot? Her stomach twisted. She pressed a fist to her chest.
His voice was gentle. It was something she never noticed when they were face-to-face. She tried to recall his expression, but the eyes that had stared down at her so coldly wouldn’t come to mind.
— I’m sorry for getting angry earlier.
Sahee blinked slowly. His soft voice, carried by the spring night, made her head spin. It had to be a trick.
If it wasn’t, how could he sound so gentle? How could he apologize?
Her heart wouldn’t stop racing. She needed him to frown again. Only in the imagined world where CEO Jung Taeon’s face twisted in irritation could she feel some semblance of calm.
— Yeon Sahee.
“…Yes.”
— Let’s meet for a moment.
“…”
— You don’t want to?
“…No.”
— Alright then.
She expected to be dragged out just for answering, but his reply came surprisingly lightly. Her anxiety began to ease.
— I’ll leave some medicine. Take it.
“I still have some left.”
— Should I bring more when you run out?
There was a teasing edge to his tone. Sahee hurriedly answered no. Taeon let out a short laugh, making her feel even more unsettled.
No matter how many times she experienced it, the unease of seeing him never lessened. She just wished he would leave already.
Resting her forehead on her knees, she closed her eyes.
— You hang up first.
“…It’s fine. You hang up first, CEO.”
— Polite, aren’t we, at times like this?
“…”
— Alright then.
The call ended abruptly, plunging her into silence. Sahee kept the phone pressed to her ear for a moment longer. Only after several seconds did she slowly raise her head.
A call that lasted less than ten minutes had drained her completely. Her lips were dry.
She slumped her shoulders and waited. One minute passed too quickly. But just thinking of him made ten feel like an eternity.
How long had it been? Sahee slowly stood. She wished she could faint, but sleep wouldn’t come tonight. Maybe a bit of fresh air on the porch would help clear her head.
Limp.
Her ankle ached oddly, probably from the prolonged tension. The reflection in the mirror as she passed by was a wreck—pale enough that fainting on the spot wouldn’t be surprising. She decided to take the medicine he left and just lie down.
Pushing open the door with her full weight, she was met with a gaze through the narrow crack.
It didn’t take long to grasp what was happening. Startled as if she’d seen a ghost, Sahee slammed the door shut.
From outside came the sound of Taeon quietly chuckling.
Why. Why was he still there?
She gripped the handle tightly. The porch creaked. His silhouette loomed large through the flower-patterned glass. The moment her hand unknowingly pulled the handle, Taeon knocked.
“I told you I was leaving.”
She could feel him tugging from the other side. Sahee tried to resist, holding tight—but it was no use. As he pulled, her body tipped forward.
“I told you…”
Through the narrow opening, she looked up at him. He seemed even bigger. Taeon met her gaze with a calm expression.
“Did I say that?”
“You did.”
“I said I’d hang up.”
“You said you’d leave the medicine…”
“I never said I was leaving right away, did I?”
“…”
“You need to listen more carefully.”
As her grip on the handle loosened, Taeon opened the door. Sahee tried to block him from entering, but he reached out.
“Take it.”
He handed her the shopping bag he’d brought. Sahee, momentarily flustered, looked back and forth between the heavy-looking bag and Taeon.
As she continued to stare, Taeon bent down and set the bag beside her. Inside, she saw a packet of medicine.
“Did you wash up?”
“Pardon? Yes…”
Sahee quickly nodded, lifting her head. His gaze swept over her slowly, and she instinctively hunched her shoulders and looked away.
“When?”
“Earlier…”
“When exactly? After you sent the message?”
“…Does it matter?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Taeon let out a low chuckle. An awkward silence settled between them, framed by the low doorway.
“Looks like you still have a bit of a fever. Your cheeks are red.”
His words broke the quiet, bringing an inconvenient truth to light. Her cheeks, pale when she left the room, now burned.
Sahee turned her head, eyes drifting over his shoulder into the darkness. She felt the cold touch of his hand on her cheek, and her stomach dipped as though she had the hiccups.
“Did you dislike the kiss?”
“…”
“Oh. Or do you just dislike me?”
His thumb slowly brushed over her flushed cheek.
Sahee’s right shoulder twitched under his hand, her eyelashes fluttering. I’ve grown to dislike you more—she tried to say it, but the words were swallowed by his warmth.
“Please… don’t do that to Mrs. Chun.”
Her voice was barely audible, her plea shaking. That was all she could manage. Taeon smirked, then frowned.
“Should I listen just because you asked?”
“You can be mad at me. But why take it out on someone innocent…”
“I have to see someone to get angry, don’t I? Hmm?”
His fingers lightly scratched behind her ear. A shiver ran down her spine. The hair on her arms stood up. She bit her lower lip to keep the hum rising in her throat from escaping.
“Shall we meet here again tomorrow?”
Her mind blanked.
I know. I know exactly what kind of man he is.
The answer she’d given Mrs. Chun earlier felt meaningless now.
He was Jung Taeon. The main sponsor. A man who was about to get married and soon to leave. It was a tug of war with a foregone conclusion.
So if no one asked, she would bury it. If no one found out, it would be just a passing encounter with a man like that.
Sahee turned away, finally slipping free of his touch. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.
She didn’t want to care what he was thinking. She didn’t want to ask the kind of questions that would make her feel pathetic—What are we?
Just a brief encounter.
A spark of attraction. A flicker of curiosity. Nothing more.
“Only at night.”
“…”
“Come only at night.”
There are moments when words give shape to reality. Sahee finally named what this was. She would be the one to set the beginning and end.
“Will you ignore my messages again during the day?”
Taeon looked at her for a moment, as if trying to read her intent.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
He echoed her response with irritation. Sahee gently pushed him away from the doorway.
“Go now.”
Her fingers trembled like leaves as she reached for the door. Taeon watched her with a faintly amused smile.
“Yeon Sahee.”
She didn’t want to hear what came next.
With a loud thud, she slammed the door shut.
****
“Where have you been?”
As he stepped into the annex, Taeon met Min Yeojin’s gaze. The moment their eyes locked, she smiled warmly.
Gone was the coldness she’d shown during dinner after mentioning Yeon Sahee.
“I went for a walk. Why aren’t you resting?”
Taeon smiled as he approached. Min Yeojin gently touched his arm.
“I felt stifled.”
“Something bothering you?”
“Isn’t my being here already a problem?”
“True.”
Taeon chuckled as he lowered her hand. Maybe the walk had been refreshing enough to forget why he and his mother had come to Yeonghwadae in the first place.
Or maybe it was the absurd request—only at night.
Did she even understand what she was saying?
You, really?
She had made an outrageous offer no man in his right mind would refuse, yet trembled like it was a game of pretend.
Just then, Min Yeojin let out a deep sigh. Taeon, his thoughts still lingering on Sahee, looked toward her. She seemed weighed down by something.
“Your father called. It seems Director Kang Moon-joo will be investigated instead of Taejun.”
“I see.”
“You knew?”
Taeon nodded silently. It was no surprise. Ever since Jung Taejun fell into Chairman Jung’s hands, this outcome had seemed inevitable. What was surprising was his mother’s sensitivity to it.
“I heard Jung Taejun might even be named chairman. And not only that. Today I learned for the first time that Director Kang has a son who’s been preparing for the bar for years. Apparently, he asked your father to find a spot for that second son.”
Taeon exchanged looks with Min Yeojin.
Just as she’d been his mother for thirty-five years, he had lived as her son for thirty-five. He knew what she was implying.
In Chairman Jung’s efforts to protect Taejun, this was a political message—marriage as a shield.
“One causes trouble, another takes the fall. And if talk of early inheritance for Taejun comes up…”
Before she could continue, Taeon pulled her into a firm embrace. She stiffened for a moment. Then he held her tighter.
“You…”
“…”
“Mother.”
“Don’t worry. Chairman Jung has always been like this. There’s no reason for you to shoulder it all.”
Her ragged breathing echoed in his arms. Taeon gently released her and looked into her eyes. Despite the slight tremor, her lips formed a soft smile.
“The wind’s chilly. Shall we go inside?”
“No, I should go in now.”
Min Yeojin took his arm. He escorted her without protest. As they stepped onto the porch, she glanced back.
“Taeon.”
“Yes.”
She looked like she wanted to say more. But instead, with a warm gaze, she said,
“Sleep well.”
“Sweet dreams.”
They smiled at each other and turned away. The air turned cold.
Hanbij Tteokjip. Gwanghwamun Main Store.
Inside the shopping bag CEO Jung Taeon had brought were medicine packets—and rice cakes. Sahee stared at the three packs of honey rice cakes, arranged neatly in five rows.
Honey rice cakes were easy to find in this neighborhood. Unless the ones in Seoul were gilded, there was nothing special about them. He didn’t need to bring them all the way from Gwanghwamun. It felt like a showy gesture.
“…”
I’ll give them to Mrs. Chun tomorrow. Or throw them away.
Sahee lay down, burying her face in the pillow. Her heart pounded so loudly she had to squeeze her eyes shut.
She needed to treat it lightly. She had to think of it as nothing.
She didn’t want to place meaning in anything he left behind.
It was a downhill slope. To avoid being pushed down, she had to stay in control.
She didn’t want to end up at the bottom, alone, with her knees shattered from the fall.