People don’t care much about a supporting character’s personal story. They want to focus solely on the protagonists’ narrative, not watch a side character’s mundane daily life—what they eat or where they go. If you want to explore a compelling secondary character, you can always spin them off into a separate work.
In Falling Blossoms, In Juhan’s role was significant, but every scene focused on his villainy—how vicious he could be, how cruel his deeds. There was not a shred of space for anything else.
That may suit the “character” In Juhan in the novel, but the “man” In Juhan is different. He’s not someone so obsessed with seizing a company that he’d never live a normal life. Of course he has daily routines.
Like anyone else, he eats, drinks coffee, and sometimes looks out the window to relax. He works out diligently to maintain his physique, and he shops frequently to stay impeccably dressed.
And naturally… he dates.
“What could be so delightful…?”
Cha Gyeoul sat in a corner with a clear view of the table where In Juhan and the woman were seated. He didn’t have to try—just lifting his head revealed the backs of their heads.
They sat side by side like a couple, and somehow their spot looked washed in a rosy glow. The woman in the black dress tapped lightly on Juhan’s bicep without inhibition, nudging him playfully as they laughed and talked. Skinship unimaginable to Cha Gyeoul.
He couldn’t believe someone could treat In Juhan like that. It was like watching a chinchilla birth an arctic dolphin—utterly impossible.
Even the normally taciturn Juhan spoke unceasingly. Clearly these two weren’t casual acquaintances.
‘You have to be that exceptional to date Director In…’
Honestly, they fit perfectly. The cold, razor-sharp alpha and a glamorous yet tasteful, refined woman—like two halves born to each other. Cha Gyeoul couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though he knew he had no business spying on his boss’s love life. Beautiful things naturally draw the eye.
“Excuse me. Here is your Moonlight Eggplant Course.”
Snapping out of his reverie, Cha Gyeoul noticed his own order arriving. Thankfully, the vegetarian menu had enough options that he wouldn’t starve.
“Avocado sushi with yuzu dressing, tofu rolls wrapped in thin daikon, dumplings filled with spinach, mushrooms, and tofu, and—”
The server placed plate after plate before him, offering brief explanations. Yet dishes kept coming without end.
“Why—why so many?! I don’t think I ordered all this….”
Cha Gyeoul stammered, but the server finished setting down the last platter before replying.
“This is indeed the eight-course Moonlight Eggplant Course, sir.”
Nowhere on the menu had that description appeared. He’d simply ordered the sole vegetarian option, yet enough food had arrived for four people.
‘I’m doomed… it must cost a fortune….’
His first thought was worry. This was the priciest Japanese restaurant in one of the country’s top five-star luxury hotels, helmed by a famed Japanese master chef. If it could be booked on such short notice, it had to be astronomically expensive.
Of course, for In Juhan this was no burden—it was as trivial as a local sandwich shop. After all, he oversaw at least three hundred billion won. And Cha Gyeoul was a salaried employee with a predictable income.
Yet no matter his worries, the sumptuous aromas assaulted his hunger. He hadn’t realized he was starving until his stomach growled.
‘Well, since it’s happened, I might as well enjoy it.’
He shook off his anxiety and began eating. Worrying incessantly didn’t suit him. After all, what could be done now?
Fortunately, every dish suited his taste. It amazed him how vegetables could offer such varied textures and flavors. The seasoning was light enough to let each ingredient’s essence shine—exactly what he loved. The dumplings, especially, were divine: the fresh chive fragrance and soft tofu filling in perfect harmony. He wanted another plate.
Knowing he’d probably never return, he savored each bite of dumpling, noting the ingredients with the intention of recreating them at home.
Just then, a chill voice cut through his enjoyment:
“So you were feasting on a banquet alone.”
In Juhan’s voice dropped from above.
Startled, Cha Gyeoul began to choke.
“Cough, gag, glurk…!”
He grabbed for water, tears glistening in his eyes as his face flushed crimson.
“Director… ack! What… cough!”
No one could have deciphered his gasps. He coughed and choked, unable to form words. Tears streamed down as he coughed uncontrollably.
“How many tricks you have.”
Irritated, In Juhan roughly seized Cha Gyeoul’s wrist, yanked him up, and wrapped his arms around Cha Gyeoul’s waist from behind. Cha Gyeoul was too stunned to realize what was happening—he simply froze.
With one fist pressed between Cha Gyeoul’s solar plexus and navel, In Juhan gripped it with his other hand.
“Director… why—cough!—why are you doing this? gasp!”
He tried to protest, but his voice was swallowed by a lump in his throat. When he finally opened his mouth, no words emerged. His mind went blank as In Juhan drove that fist upward with force—so strong that Cha Gyeoul’s feet lifted off the floor.
Then it clicked: In Juhan was performing the Heimlich maneuver—the emergency procedure for clearing a blocked airway. Only when he felt the blow to his abdomen did Cha Gyeoul realize what was happening.
“Still stuck? Strange. They say to press upward with force.”
“Cough! Director…! This is… gag! I—urk!”
Cha Gyeoul tried to speak frantically, but only tortured noises emerged. Then his vision flashed white. The second attempt at the maneuver began.
It wasn’t a true airway blockage—just a coughing fit! Who in their right mind performed the Heimlich on someone coughing?
“Hold on… kuhp! Please… ugh!”
For some reason, each repetition became more forceful, and Cha Gyeoul’s abdomen went numb.
“Got a good grip, it seems.”
Three, four… five tries later, a small piece of carrot popped free from Cha Gyeoul’s mouth. He couldn’t tell whether it had come from his airway or the other direction. Nor did he want to know.
Freed from the embrace, he crawled to a chair and sank into it, glaring at In Juhan with accusation.
“And what’s with that insolent look? Have you already forgotten that I saved your life?”
Cha Gyeoul was dumbfounded. There were so many objections he could make he didn’t know where to begin.
‘He didn’t need the Heimlich for a cough! It wasn’t an emergency, so he didn’t save my life! I’m the victim of being punched in the stomach!’ and so on.
Yet he couldn’t utter a single word. He’d seen something odd in In Juhan’s eyes, something he didn’t want to provoke again.
“Th—thank you….”
He forced out a shaky thank-you, and In Juhan’s expression darkened further. Sometimes Cha Gyeoul felt he’d never fathom his boss’s moods. What could possibly annoy him now?
“Tch. Book a room upstairs and get back to work. A decent room.”
“A room…?”
Only after asking did Cha Gyeoul realize his foolish question. This was a hotel—of course he needed a room. He must be arranging to spend the night with her. There was no other reason.