“Nice to meet you. I’m In Sungje, team leader of Global Business.”
Cha Gyeoul snapped back to reality and bolted upright, grabbing Sungje’s outstretched hand with both of his, then bowed deeply.
“Hello!”
Perhaps because the sight was oddly amusing, Cha Gyeoul heard a suppressed chuckle from In Sungje.
“It seems our team assistant made a mistake earlier, so I wanted to apologize on their behalf.”
“Uh—no, you didn’t make any mistake…”
“Our schedule got tangled, and we called you to hassle you instead, so it really was our fault.”
“I see…”
Cha Gyeoul revised his impression of In Sungje. Beyond being handsome, he carried himself with courtesy and clear thinking—hard to believe he shared the same bloodline as In Juhan.
‘Even when you start with the same ingredients, you can turn out so differently…’
From a gentle, reassuring smile to warm words, he seemed almost impossible to resent, no matter what blunder he’d committed.
“It’s really okay.”
“Thank you for understanding. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable I felt throughout the meeting. By the way, here’s something small—please accept it as an apology.”
Sungje placed two paper tickets in Cha Gyeoul’s hand.
“What are these?”
“They’re tickets to a musical my friend is starring in. If you have time, you should go see it. It’s fairly popular, so it won’t be boring.”
“No, really, you didn’t have to…!”
Cha Gyeoul waved his hands as if rejecting a bribe and tried to hand the tickets back, but In Sungje waved him off and was already walking away. Stunned, Cha Gyeoul stared at the tickets in his hand.
‘This man is practically the owner of this Falling Blossoms world—and he just gave me musical tickets?!’
Just a glimpse of his face would have been enough, but this sudden turn felt unreal, like a top star from TV had handed him tickets and vanished. Cha Gyeoul couldn’t take his eyes off Sungje’s retreating figure.
He failed to notice the pair of eyes watching him so intently.
“We’ve arrived, Director.”
After work, Cha Gyeoul accompanied In Juhan to the hotel restaurant he had reserved. It was precious Friday evening—after official hours—but Cha Gyeoul had no real complaint. Overtime simply meant more pay, and he didn’t mind staying late.
Today, though, he wanted to get home early. He’d left bracken and mugwort out to dry in the backyard garden, trusting the sunny forecast—and now raindrops were beginning to fall. If they got wet, he’d have to discard an entire year’s worth of harvest.
“Driver Kim, park and come along. Hand the keys to the secretary.”
“Yes, Director.”
Cha Gyeoul’s stomach twisted at the prospect of night work, but he shrugged internally. None of us get to do only what we want. He could understand Juhan’s position—after all, he might be drinking with an important guest, and a driver was essential.
‘What powerful villainous alpha would ever call for a substitute driver after drinking?’
As Cha Gyeoul wondered whether to wait in the lobby, he heard Juhan call out:
“Secretary Cha, follow me.”
“Huh? Oh, yes—!”
Assuming a task awaited him, Cha Gyeoul trailed behind In Juhan, crossing the lobby, taking the elevator, and even checking the reservation name at the restaurant—yet no instructions came.
Standing awkwardly beside Juhan’s table, Cha Gyeoul was suddenly struck by a ridiculous thought.
‘No way that important person is…me?’
Juhan had only said his dinner companion was someone important, without specifying company or name. Normally he’d have given at least that much. The notion was absurd, yet he had no concrete evidence to dismiss it.
‘Managing over three hundred billion won in slush funds makes you someone important, right…?’
One mistaken guess led to another.
“What is it?”
When Juhan caught his gaze and looked puzzled, it cemented Cha Gyeoul’s suspicion. He couldn’t afford to dawdle, or Juhan’s displeasure would only grow. So he made up his mind.
He would sit.
As Cha Gyeoul slid into the seat opposite, Juhan showed no reaction. Dining with Juhan felt surreal—like a dream. A queasy premonition settled in his stomach.
“Secretary Cha, you really…never fail to surprise.”
Before Cha Gyeoul could compose his expression, Juhan’s words reached him. He assumed it was praise, given the choice of restaurant.
“Thank you…”
“But you’re clueless.”
Had the tone not carried veiled mockery, Cha Gyeoul would have believed it was praise. Realizing too late that something was off, he braced himself.
“Explain why you sat here.”
So it was confirmed: the “important person” was not him.
Cha Gyeoul stood abruptly and straightened the chair. His mind was clearer than ever—as if doused in ice water in midwinter.
“I’m sorry!”
“It’s not an apology I want, but an explanation.”
“I—well….”
Struggling to fabricate a lie, Cha Gyeoul—who led a life far from dishonesty—found it impossible to invent a plausible reason on the spot.
“Could you come…over here for a moment?”
Because it wasn’t a matter to discuss in public, Cha Gyeoul leaned in and whispered into Juhan’s ear, hand over his mouth.
“I manage your slush funds, Director. So I thought the important person you mentioned was me… I apologize.”
He confessed his mistake without reservation. It would have been easier to equivocate, but he preferred humiliation over tangled lies. Pride wasn’t his concern.
Just as he straightened up, a familiar scent seized his senses.
The leather of a well-worn bag, the warmth of autumn sunshine lingering in dried fibers—that was Juhan’s pheromone. The rich aroma gripped his nose, squeezing his breath. With every exhale and intake, the scent seemed to flood his body.
Like after several drinks, warmth rose through him and his mind swam.
“Learned nothing in childhood? Don’t just throw yourself at any alpha.”
But the heat vanished as suddenly as it came. The pheromone was gone, and his head cleared.
“…I’m sorry.”
Not fully grasping his offense, Cha Gyeoul apologized again and backed away. From a safe distance, he noted Juhan’s expression had hardened—his jaw clenched tight.
‘How offended must he be…’
“Enough. I’ve made another reservation under your name. Eat and wait—at the other table.”
Juhan emphasized “other table” as if he couldn’t say it enough.
“An, another table…?”
Just then Cha Gyeoul understood how mortifying it must have been to sit in the wrong seat.
“I—I understand. Thank you.”
As he hesitated, Juhan’s irritated lip twitch sealed the decision: better to comply than incur further wrath.
“In Juhan, what are you doing?”
Just as Cha Gyeoul turned to leave, a sharp female voice cut through.
“Come on, sit down. Secretary Cha, go ahead.”
The woman wore a black off-shoulder gown that hugged her curves, crystal earrings, a diamond choker, and a luxury handbag—all in perfect harmony. Elegant from head to toe, she swept past Cha Gyeoul at lightning speed.
She seamlessly embraced In Juhan.
He, in turn, wrapped his arms around her back.