The amber glow of the streetlights spilled across the dashboard of the worn Grandeur, tracing the cracks in the faded leather interior.
The veins on the back of Seo-han’s hand stood out in stark relief, while Do-hee pressed her index finger firmly against the splitting faux leather at the edge of the dash.
The engine's vibrations, trapped within the cramped cabin, traveled faintly up through the seat frames and into their spines. Every time Do-hee shifted her posture, the burgundy silk of her dress rustled minutely.
The diamond earrings dangling from her lobes caught the glare of the streetlights outside, shattering the light into fragments that scattered across the dashboard. The dense, sweet scent of roses radiating from her filled every inch of the narrow leather space.
"It’s been a while since I’ve ridden in a car this decrepit," Do-hee said, curving her deep red lips into a slight smirk as she lightly scraped the cracked leather seat with the tip of her nail.
"From a purely rational standpoint, it's the most efficient way to get from one place to another. It’s hard to find a better shell for blocking the gaze of others and maintaining anonymity."
Rising above his black turtleneck, the sharp line of Seo-han’s jaw resembled a sculpture devoid of emotion.
He exuded the cold, sterile air of a bone-dry laboratory—utterly sterile and devoid of warmth.
The vehicle glided smoothly into the pitch-black entrance of Jamwon Hangang Park. A fierce wind blowing from the river battered the windows.
Above the dark surface of the water, the mechanical lines of light emitted by the cityscape bled and shattered against the briny scent of the river.
In a corner of the empty parking lot, the piercing fluorescent light of a convenience store flickered, serving as the sole boundary line against the deep night.
"The news has been flooded with talk that Aether Bio recently raised sixty billion won in investment," Do-hee noted, turning her head to stare intently at Seo-han’s expressionless profile.
His precisely sculpted silhouette formed a brutal contrast with the car's decaying interior.
"With your salary, Dr. Lee, you could afford a fleet of the latest Genesis models in every available color. Why cling to an antique that belongs in a museum? It looks worse than the cars Vice Chairman Jeong’s personal drivers pilot."
"I don't possess the emotional bandwidth to assign meaning to the act of transit beyond its utility," Seo-han replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his voice dry.
There was no self-pity in his tone, no performative humility. Only a ruthless commitment to efficiency.
"The sixty billion won we raised is not my personal wealth; it is the value of a 'future' purchased by investors. Spending that capital on massaging seats or the scent of fresh leather would be an insult to them."
Seo-han’s monotonous voice mingled with the wind howling against the worn window.
"Cutting my own salary to replace a single filter on a mass spectrometer in the lab does far more to increase my survival rate and Aether Bio's chances of success. What I require is not comfort, but the precision of data."
Instead of replying, Do-hee lightly bit her red lips.
She had spent her entire life reading the core mechanics of money and power.
Yet in Seo-han’s response, she detected none of the elitism typical of wealthy asset owners, nor the cheap stinginess of a miser.
Instead, there was a pure, transparent craving—ruthless in its focus—to sprint via the shortest possible distance toward his ultimate destination.
It was less a grand moral conviction and more a biological instinct, a logic akin to a creature desperately gasping for oxygen to stay alive.
The moment she realized that this man’s inhuman achievements were born from such raw deprivation and maniacal focus, a cold shiver ran down the back of her neck.
A moment later, the old Grandeur came to a halt in a deserted parking area near Jamwon Hangang Park.
After parking, Seo-han walked toward a bench buffeted by the chilly river wind, holding two cans of black coffee he had picked up from the nearby convenience store.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
In place of Cheongdam-dong’s opulent chandeliers, only the hazy, dust-filmed light of a solitary streetlight faintly illuminated their silhouettes.
"What is your relationship with Vice Chairman Jeong Hyun-jin?"
Seo-han asked casually, cracking open the tab of his coffee can as if compounding a reagent. The sweet aroma of the coffee scattered into the wind.
"It doesn't seem like a simple transaction between a client and a hostess. Am I miscalculating?"
Do-hee felt the chill of the aluminum can against her palm, her gaze locked on the lights dancing over the dark, undulating river.
A complex array of emotions flickered in her eyes.
"We have a certain level of rapport, but it’s nothing special."
"Your eyes observe far too much for you to play such a cliché, superficial role. The Vice Chairman wouldn't use someone like you as a simple lure."
Seo-han turned his head slowly. His gaze pierced straight into Do-hee's eyes.
It was not the look of a man evaluating an attractive woman.
It was the clinical gaze of a scientist examining a specimen on a laboratory table, dissecting her essence down to the molecular level to uncover the underlying intent.
"Tell me. What did Jeong Hyun-jin order you to find out about me? And what did he promise you in return for executing that role?"
Do-hee avoided answering directly.
Instead, she wrapped both hands around the mild warmth of the coffee can fresh from the plastic bag.
The river wind piercing through her sheer outfit—emblazoned with luxury logos—was sharp enough to cut skin, yet the artificial heat rising from the cheap aluminum can felt strangely intimate.
She savored that warmth for a moment without opening the can, before finally pulling the tab and taking a sip.
The intense hit of processed sugar and cheap caffeine jolted her tongue, awakening her senses.
"You mean his instructions? Of course there were some. How many people in this country can afford to ignore Vice Chairman Jeong Hyun-jin’s demands?"
Do-hee shrugged lightly, crossing her long legs beneath the bench.
The tip of her sleek stiletto tapped rhythmically against the rough asphalt. The sound cut into the silence of the riverbank like a ticking countdown.
"The usual mundane, predictable directives. Capture Dr. Lee’s weaknesses and report back, or seduce him entirely to place him squarely in the Vice Chairman's palm... you know, the kind of stale tactics you only see in movies."
For the briefest instant, something in his carefully ordered reasoning faltered. The hesitation was almost imperceptible.
Do-hee didn't miss that fleeting ripple. She locked her eyes directly onto his.
"But just a moment ago, I threw that childish script into the river."
Seo-han’s gaze lingered on her face. He studied her face with the detached focus of a scientist examining an unfamiliar specimen.
"I don't follow. I assumed you were a woman who moved strictly by the logic of capital."
"I spend my days in sealed rooms where hundreds of luxury bottles exchange hands as a matter of course, and where manufactured smiles hang like a thick fog. Inside the walls of Avalon, everything flows according to an engineered script, tailored strictly to a calculated profit-and-loss statement."
Do-hee leaned slightly toward him.
With her movement, her outfit made a faint rustling sound, the tips of her hair softly brushing the shoulder of his coat.
In place of the heavy perfume that usually choked the airtight rooms of Avalon, the subtle scent of shampoo mingled with the crisp night air.
"But riding in this decrepit Grandeur, drinking convenience store coffee while taking in the damp river wind... this is surprisingly exhilarating. Far more so than that tedious, manufactured play the Vice Chairman ordered."
Seo-han didn't pull away.
Instead, he watched the refraction of the yellow streetlight shimmering within her pupils.
It was not attraction, but the quiet concentration of a scientist studying an unexpected result.
"Excitement is a highly subjective and unscientific metric. Considering the opportunity cost you are sacrificing and your relationship of trust with the Vice Chairman, this block of time is an undeniable operational loss."
"An operational loss? Not at all."
A deep smile spread across Do-hee's lips.
She used the hand holding her coffee can to point toward his old Grandeur, sitting entirely alone beneath a distant streetlight.
"Right now, my pulse is racing significantly faster than it does when I get handed a stack of checks as a tip at Avalon. Doesn't that tell you something? And besides, look at that car."
Do-hee’s gaze drifted back to the worn vehicle.
"Up close, the rear passenger door is crudely dented. But it keeps drawing my eye because it feels like a glimpse into your hidden interior, Dr. Lee.
On the outside, you're a brilliant, pristine scientist, colder than anyone else. But underneath, you’re holding onto something terribly old, stubborn, and perhaps... deeply isolated. Like a lonely relic."
Seo-han’s gaze anchored on her red lips. For the first time in years, desire intruded upon a mind that had always obeyed reason.
It had become something deeper than curiosity—a slow, relentless effort to break through each other's defenses and uncover what lay beneath.
Their breaths tangled in the night air, concentrating a strange, heavy tension.
The distance between them had narrowed dangerously, to the point where even a single can of coffee could scarcely fit between them.
Seo-han downed the rest of his coffee in a single draught. The harsh crunch of the aluminum can collapsing in his grip shattered the silence.
"You interpret data quite sentimentally, Ms. Chae."
"Because the data that truly matters is always found beyond the formulas—or within the anomalies that destroy them."
Do-hee smiled brightly again, tilting her head back.
A place stripped of opulent chandeliers, clinking glasses of high-end whiskey, and Jeong Hyun-jin’s predatory glare.
A moment defined solely by the damp river wind, the sweet tang of cheap canned coffee, and the pulsating breath of this dangerous, enigmatic man.
For the first time in her life, Do-hee tasted a bizarre sense of liberation, as if the mask of 'Avalon's elite hostess' she had worn like a second skin was sloughing away.
This was no minor comfort. It was a lethal biological gamble triggered by raw reality—the first time a woman shaped by the rules of capital had confronted something real.
Instead of answering, Do-hee idly toyed with her empty can, her eyes drifting toward the dark, rolling river.