“Here’s the room key and… where did I put it… ah, Director’s card. The car’s been left with valet parking.”
Cha Gyeoul went down to the lobby and booked the suite. The one-night rate was absurdly expensive, but he paid without hesitation—after all, it was the only way to satisfy In Juhan. Besides, it wasn’t his card, so he felt no sting.
Having returned upstairs, he handed Juhan the key and card.
“Sigh.”
But In Juhan only gave him a hollow laugh—an expression that said, “Unbelievable.” Cha Gyeoul rolled his eyes, trying to recall what he’d done wrong this time.
‘I didn’t do anything…’
He’d done exactly as instructed: booked the room and returned. Maybe he should just apologize again?
“What’s the matter?”
“Do you really have no idea why I’m like this?”
“U-uh… no…”
In Juhan fixed him with another glare. Even simply looking at him felt like a glare, so razor-sharp were his eyes.
“Hmm… never mind. Doesn’t seem intentional.”
Cha Gyeoul had no clue what that meant, but he didn’t ask further. Honestly, he wasn’t all that curious. It was pointless to try to understand Juhan’s mind.
Then another voice cut in.
“Who’s this? Juhan, is this your secretary?”
The woman seated next to In Juhan finally noticed Cha Gyeoul. With a face that could rival any celebrity’s, she leaned forward, her clear eyes sparkling. Then she flashed a dazzling smile.
“So cute! Omega? Beta? How old are you? Do you have a partner? How long have you been working?”
“Uh—well, I… um…”
Bombarded by questions, Cha Gyeoul couldn’t answer a single one. No one around spoke so fast or with such high energy; he simply couldn’t adapt on the spot.
One thing was certain: she played as her looks promised. Bright, vivacious, and as cheerful as her pretty face suggested.
“Stop with the pointless attention. Secretary Cha, go on in.”
“How rude… I could introduce you to someone great!”
“Introduce him? To you?”
In Juhan’s voice dripped disdain as if scanning Cha Gyeoul from head to toe. Of course, it was hard to argue with him.
“Don’t talk nonsense or get hopes up. You two are worlds apart.”
‘Worlds apart?’
Cha Gyeoul felt Juhan’s words stick in his chest. Of course it was true. Juhan inhabited an upper world Cha Gyeoul could never approach—people who didn’t even know their own bank balance, bathing in million-won champagne, throwing parties that cost billions.
In contrast, Cha Gyeoul was just an ordinary office worker scraping by on his salary, even if it was at a major corporation. No matter how well he did, he could never mingle with Juhan’s kind. Still… being dismissed twice like that stung. It wasn’t horrific, but it wasn’t pleasant either—like a stray hair brushing your cheek on a hot day, impossible to flick away.
“Well, hurry up and go.”
Perhaps sensing it, the tone suddenly felt like outright expulsion. The arrogance in Juhan’s voice—usually free of any respect—felt strangely personal this time.
“W-well… have a good weekend, Director.”
Quiet as a whisper, Cha Gyeoul mumbled his farewell and turned to leave. Then he remembered Juhan’s threat: say it so no one else could hear, and he’d kill him.
So he shouted:
“Have a good weekend, Director!”
Loud enough to draw every eye in the room to him.
He nodded once and practically bolted from the restaurant. The woman’s booming laughter followed him, deepening his embarrassment.
‘I’m mortified…’
Cha Gyeoul knew his voice carried—but nerves made it impossible to control. Especially in front of Juhan, utter control was beyond him. So he braved the shame for the sake of calm breathing.
‘What must his partner think of me…’
As the elevator doors slid shut, he thumped his head against the wall in self-recrimination. Then he thought:
‘Did Director In even have a partner…?’
In Falling Blossoms, there wasn’t a single line hinting at a lover. Even a villainous supporting character would get some mention of a relationship—so either they’d broken up before the novel’s start, or something happened.
Ding!
His question faded as the doors opened. He didn’t really care about his boss’s love life. It wasn’t the secretary’s business who he dated or slept with. And finally, he could put out of mind the fact that he hadn’t paid for the Moonlight Eggplant Course.
Cha Gyeoul hurried off, praying that his drying bracken and mugwort had survived the rain.