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Chapter 7
Seol Tae-gun couldn’t believe his ears.
“Our Bom?”
That nauseatingly intimate phrase rolled so casually off Seol Gi-hyuk’s tongue that Tae-gun felt his skin crawl.
“I really love it when you make that kind of face.”
Gi-hyuk kept teasing him, but Tae-gun’s mind was elsewhere. What exactly was the relationship between the two of them? He couldn’t guess.
He’d seen Han Bom and Seol Gi-hyuk talking now and then. Naturally, their paths would cross at family gatherings or social events. Unlike himself, both of them were sociable and had no problem striking up conversations with strangers. So sure, maybe they connected on that level.
But to be close enough for him to call her our Bom? That felt like a blow to the back of the head.
Gi-hyuk explained offhandedly:
“Bom was Hye-yeon’s friend. I think I first saw her when Hye-yeon was in her second year of middle school.”
He remembered it clearly. His little sister Hye-yeon, who lived like an outsider, suddenly had a girl trailing along beside her.
A polite but not particularly sweet girl.
A quiet girl who endured noise without complaint and never seemed uneasy in silence.
That was the Han Bom he first remembered—a far cry from her current image.
“Why are you only saying this now?” Tae-gun snapped.
Gi-hyuk leaned back in his chair, laughing in disbelief.
“And when exactly did you ask?”
Embarrassed, Tae-gun fiddled with the collar of his shirt. He drained the rest of his coffee, trying to look casual, then asked as if it were nothing:
“So… what was she like in school?”
Had she been writing even back then? Surely not erotic novels at that age… but had she always been curious about that sort of thing?
Instead of answering, Gi-hyuk shot back a question of his own.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be mine? What’s with all this sudden curiosity?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. And what do you take her for, an object to be passed around?” Tae-gun barked, louder than intended.
The sharper his tone, the more intrigued Gi-hyuk grew.
“Wait. Don’t tell me…”
Tae-gun pressed his lips together.
“…Do you have feelings for Bom?”
“…Feelings?”
Gi-hyuk had expected him to explode in denial. Instead, Tae-gun went strangely quiet, as if turning the word over in his mind.
Feelings.
It sounded foreign, almost like a word he’d never encountered before. Had he ever shown interest in anything outside of his goals? Especially… in another person?
Recently, Bom’s presence had stirred him more than he wanted to admit—lingering in his thoughts, provoking him, confusing him.
Gi-hyuk narrowed his eyes. What had begun as a joke suddenly felt like uncharted territory.
“Yeah,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“I think… I really am interested in her.”
Tae-gun nodded slowly, as though a great truth had just dawned on him. Curious. Irritated. Drawn in despite himself. So this was what it meant to take an interest in someone.
No wonder he’d been so confused—he had never once cared about anyone before.
“What?” Gi-hyuk repeated, his chest tightening.
But Tae-gun looked lighter than ever, as if he had finally solved a puzzle that had plagued him for weeks.
Before Gi-hyuk could press further, Tae-gun stood.
“Where are you going? We’re not done here.”
“Work. Lunch is over.” He dusted his hands off, as if the conversation were complete. “Thanks for the coffee. Not bad, this place. And tell me more about her school days next time.”
Without the faintest trace of regret, he strode out.
Gi-hyuk let out a hollow laugh, but his lips remained stiff. His hand hovered above his fountain pen for a long while, frozen mid-air, unable to find its grip.
* * *
“I’m going to report him to the Ministry of Labor.”
Han Bom jabbed the number into her phone, then hesitated—again.
Her rare moment of peace at lunch had been shattered by Seol Tae-gun’s latest demand:
“For the upcoming collaboration party with Lugal, I want to wear an Ahiel Marang tuxedo.”
At first she thought she’d misheard. But no—he repeated it, again and again.
He’s insane, Bom thought. That tuxedo wasn’t just rare in Korea; it was nearly impossible to find anywhere in the world.
“You’re outstanding, Secretary Han. If anyone can manage it, you can.”
The way he stressed outstanding made her skin crawl. Clearly, he’d overheard the gossip at the café and was now toying with her.
“Petty little tyrant…!” she growled, fists shaking.
Desperate, she grabbed a cab to J Hotel, where she’d heard model-actor Gu In-gyu—the brand’s ambassador—was holding a fan event. If she couldn’t buy the tuxedo, maybe she could beg to borrow it.
But in her rush, she’d forgotten to change shoes. Looking down, she cursed.
“Slippers. Of course.”
She sighed. As if that weren’t enough, today was also her scheduled webnovel update day, and she was behind on the draft.
Still, there was no time to worry about writing now. She pushed deeper into the hotel, following directions given by an acquaintance. But the corridor seemed wrong—piled high with food boxes, no staff in sight.
“Lost again…”
Bom had a fatal flaw: she was hopelessly bad with directions. Without a GPS or prior scouting, she was doomed.
And then—
“Why are you ignoring my calls? Do you hate me?!”
A woman’s shrill voice echoed down the hall. Bom peeked around the corner.
A lovers’ quarrel? she thought instinctively, ears pricking up like always when drama was afoot.
At the far end stood a thin woman, confronting a tall man in a cap and mask. The woman ranted, while the man tried to calm her.
“You can’t do this—it’s harassment!” he pleaded.
“Harassment? Loving you is harassment?!”
He listed her offenses—constant calls, showing up uninvited, even breaking into his home.
She laughed, chillingly.
“Don’t you know? You belong to me. You’re mine.”
Then she pulled a knife.
Bom froze. The sight dredged up a nightmare from her childhood:
“If I can’t have you, I’ll kill you first.”
Her father’s voice, echoing in a damp, suffocating basement, overlayed the present like a phantom.
The woman raised the blade high. The man staggered back, cornered.
Bom’s body moved before her mind could stop it. She burst from hiding and screamed:
“Hey! You crazy bitch!”
