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Chapter 1
Prologue
“…Hup.”
Seol Tae-geon let out a stifled groan as his eyes moved down the tablet screen.
The web novel had just reached its climax.
[Secretary Kim perched on the edge of the desk, facing the man seated in the chair. The slit of her beige H-line skirt parted just enough to reveal a pale, voluptuous thigh.
“Working late leaves me famished. What about you, Secretary Kim?”
As though answering him, her crimson enamel heel trailed slowly up his shin, curling toward the inside of his thigh.
“So this is what you meant by hungry… President?”]
Standing at the foot of his bed, Seol Tae-geon’s knees buckled. His body folded in on itself as if someone had struck the back of his legs.
“Haaahp!”
The scene came alive before his eyes—too vivid, too real.
[Click—
Click—
One by one, the buttons of Secretary Kim’s blouse slipped free beneath her fingers.“We can share, can’t we?”
The city lights spilling in through the window cast bold shadows over the deep valley of her breasts.
“Well, President? How do I taste?”]
Gulp.
Tae-geon swallowed reflexively. Heat rushed up his cheeks, burning scarlet.
A heavy, unfamiliar tightness pooled low in his abdomen, leaving his head light and spinning.
“Enough!”
Unable to bear it, he flung the tablet across the bed. His large palm rubbed roughly over his flushed face.
It was humiliating—how it dragged out the shame of his adolescent years, when he’d struggled to contain his own unbridled urges.
“You’re telling me… a secretary actually wrote this?”
Impossible.
Just one month ago, during work hours, he’d been rifling through his secretary Han Bom’s desk in search of urgent documents.
When he found the file he needed and pulled it free, his elbow knocked a takeout cup.
Thud—
Coffee spilled everywhere, soaking into her tablet. He’d rushed to blot it dry, powering the device on to check.
That was when he saw it.
<The President’s Secret Appetite>
A provocative title that seemed to thrum against his frontal lobe, followed by a single line of dialogue:
“Secretary Kim, you know what? You look positively delicious.”
Before he could process what that blinking cursor meant, Han Bom and several staff members had swept into the office.
He dropped the tablet instantly.
Their eyes met.
Her face drained of color as she rushed forward, clutching the device to her chest with trembling hands.
From that day onward, everything changed for Seol Tae-geon.
He could not rid his mind of her—not for an hour, not for a minute.
‘She was definitely writing a manuscript.’
That sticky line of dialogue had hooked him, lured him deeper.
He tracked the novel down at last, and with it, the undeniable clue.
The author’s pseudonym: SecretSpring.
Han Bom—his secretary, the epitome of politeness and composure—was the infamous SecretSpring, the writer of multiple 19+ web novels.
“So this… this was her true self?”
His lips curved crookedly. He’d always known she wasn’t ordinary, but to be hiding such a secret? Unthinkable.
“Han Bom writes erotic secretary romances. My secretary.”
The two images of her clashed violently in his mind: the reserved, capable assistant, and the author of raw, scandalous scenes that laid everything bare.
Still, curiosity overpowered restraint. His eyes fell again to the tablet lying on the bedspread, glowing faintly, whispering wicked temptation.
“Stop it.”
Yet his fingers betrayed him, creeping across the sheets, curling around the edge of the tablet.
“There’s nothing wrong with a thorough investigation.”
Yes. He was reading it only to catch her weakness. That was all.
But the moment he resumed, the words sank into him, pulling him under—until one line froze his gaze in place.
“It was Secretary Kim who provoked me first. You’d better be prepared for the consequences.”
His brows furrowed. He knew this line.
Memory surfaced—an incident not long ago, when he’d ordered punishment for a problematic employee.
Han Bom had objected, calling it excessive. His reply had been sharp:
‘Secretary Han, you’re always challenging me. You’d better be prepared for the consequences.’
And it wasn’t just that.
Another line from earlier in the novel caught his attention.
“So you won’t think of that ex of yours again… I’ll torment you all night.”
In reality, he’d said something similar to her during overtime:
‘So you won’t be distracted… I’ll work you all night instead.’
Now his pulse hammered.
“Secretary Kim stirs my appetite.”
His spine snapped straight. That too was his line.
On business trips or rare shared meals, he had noticed her appetite—how she ate heartily, savoring every bite, unlike the dainty, reluctant diners he usually met.
He’d once told her:
‘You make even a man with no appetite hungry, Secretary Han.’
Every word he had spoken was mirrored back at him—twisted, replayed in lurid, explicit scenes.
Seol Tae-geon clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Don’t tell me… Secretary Han imagined all of this about me?”
If that were true—
His eyes trembled, wide with shock.
