TPWA 14⚽

Chapter 14

Yoon-ah’s gaze wandered unconsciously toward Yeong-won. His expression didn’t look good.

“It’s supposed to be a housewarming. We can’t just use someone else’s place…”

She faltered, stealing another glance at Gi-tae instead.

“You can use mine.”

“…What?”

“Don’t worry about me. Go ahead.”

“…Oh.”

Was this really her housewarming, then? Permission had come unexpectedly fast, but if a housewarming meant celebrating one’s own new home, wasn’t this strange? As Yoon-ah hesitated, Gi-tae chimed in.

“The kitchen here is bigger. Wouldn’t that be more convenient? Besides, Yeong-won hasn’t had a housewarming yet either. Think of it as a joint one, boss.”

“The kitchen…”

The mention of a larger kitchen softened Yoon-ah’s face. Preparing food for four people in her tiny space was indeed a struggle. And since they lived in the same building, moving dishes and cookware wouldn’t be much trouble.

“Then… I’ll just trouble you for Sunday, Yeong-won.”

“Yes.”

When he answered, Yoon-ah’s eyes curved in gratitude. Yeong-won awkwardly dropped his gaze.

Time flew by faster than expected. After finishing classes, she worked at the café, closed up for the night, and by the time she got home, it was always bedtime. The week disappeared in a blink. Suddenly, it was Saturday.

The café had been crowded all day, but with Seo-yeon’s help—her way of paying back for staying over—Yoon-ah even managed to finish bottling apple syrup. She set aside three jars, planning to gift them to guests at tomorrow’s housewarming.

At home, she gathered the necessary cooking utensils. While scrubbing the brand-new hotpot she’d ordered for delivery, her mind wandered back to Yeong-won. Maybe because she would have to visit him before the others arrived.

“Does he… like salty food?”

She tried to recall the notes she had made while they explored the student cafeteria together, but his evaluations had mostly been vague two stars. His voice seemed to echo in her ears: “I’m not really sure.”

Still, he never left food unfinished. That alone made him utterly different from her husband, who used to criticize every dish and often pushed his plate away.

“He’s so easygoing.”

The thought brought an involuntary smile to her lips. Then suddenly, her face went pale.

“Wait… does Yeong-won even have a portable stove?”

She’d been so busy, she had forgotten the most important thing. To enjoy seafood hotpot properly, a gas burner was essential.

Changing the menu was impossible—she’d already had all the ingredients delivered. Eating it alone wasn’t an option either. She wanted to cook something homemade, seasonal, something her friends—most of them living on their own—rarely got to enjoy.

She vaguely recalled overhearing Gi-tae and Yeong-won talking about MT supplies. Hadn’t Yeong-won ended up storing the portable stove because his place was bigger? Or… was it Gi-tae? The memory blurred.

After washing her hands, she picked up her phone. Without Gi-tae’s number, she texted Yeong-won instead: Do you have a gas burner at home?

But even after scrubbing, rinsing, and putting everything away, no reply came.

“It’s already midnight…”

Should she call? Or just rush to the store in the morning? But the market wouldn’t open as early as she needed to start cooking. And staying alone in Yeong-won’s house before he arrived would feel strange.

Seo-yeon had warned her not to wake her up early—told the hosts to handle things on their own.

In the end, she dialed Yeong-won’s number. He didn’t pick up.

“Is he asleep? What do I do…”

But then she remembered him saying he usually went to bed very late. Clinging to that hope, she decided to check in person. His apartment was only two floors above hers.

“I’ll drop off one jar of syrup while I’m at it.”

Grabbing a glass jar from the fridge, she slipped her feet into slippers, apron still tied around her waist, and climbed the stairs.

At his door, she hesitated. The realization hit—she was visiting a man’s apartment late at night. Her heart raced. She took a deep breath and pressed the bell.

Thankfully, she heard movement right away. Not asleep. But when the door opened—

“….”
“….”

Silence.

Yeong-won stood there, filling the doorway in nothing but shorts and a towel.

Yoon-ah’s gaze swept over him involuntarily. She’d known he was tall, broad, but never imagined a body like that. His torso radiated post-shower heat, packed with lean muscle, no softness anywhere.

His thighs were thick—astonishingly so.

Her breath caught as she realized what she’d just done: scanned a half-naked man from head to toe. Her face flamed, and she jerked her head down. Just as she opened her mouth to stammer an excuse, Yeong-won spoke first.

“S-sorry…”

“I thought you were Gi-tae. Sorry, boss.”

His damp skin gave off a strangely familiar fragrance. She frowned, trying to place it.

…Where…?

It struck her then. That lingering scent in her bed. She had brushed it off as some promotional fabric spray. Fresh, clean, oddly comforting. But now she knew—it was his. She must have known all along, deep down. She had smelled it on him at the café, mixed with the sharper aroma of coffee beans.

Her body trembled. Because with that scent came memory.

The freshman welcome party. Drunk beyond reason, she had clung to Yeong-won all the way home. He had tucked her gently into bed—only for her, in her stupor, to lock her arms around him. She remembered pinning him down when he tried to leave, straddling him, even yanking open his shirt.

Worse, her intoxicated mind had recorded sensation.

The searing heat pressed against her hips. The hard bulge unmistakable beneath her.

God, Yoon-ah. You’re insane.

The memory burned as vividly as if projected in 4D.

Startled by his movement now, she fumbled. The jar of apple syrup slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor. Glass and sticky liquid spread around her bare feet.

Yeong-won froze mid-step. His eyes fixed on the shards, on the syrup soaking her skin.

“I’ll… I’ll come back another time…”

She backed away. Crunch. Glass cracked under her heel. There might be splinters inside her slippers. Before panic could rise further, he moved.

She flinched, retreating again, but his calm voice halted her.

“Stay still. Don’t move.”

That low, steady tone carried the same quiet magic it always did, rooting her to the spot.

Only then did he close the distance. And he realized—there was no way to help her without picking her up. He also realized he was half-naked.

After a brief hesitation, he shifted the towel from his waist to his shoulder. Then he lowered his head.

“…I’m sorry, boss.”