🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 9
“Damn it.”
Seol Taegun had pulled an all-nighter.
He jumped to his feet, cursing his own foolishness for leaving only a short notice of suspension on his phone window before collapsing into restless sickness.
The bluish shadows under his eyes betrayed his exhaustion.
“Vice President, did you not sleep last night?”
On the way downstairs, Choi Mugil studied Taegun’s pale, haggard face with concern.
“As if. I slept wonderfully.”
Taegun’s reply was curt, clipped, and he stepped out the door without another word.
Choi Mugil squinted at the door that had just slammed shut.
“What on earth does he do every night to look worse with each passing morning? Ah, wait—!”
He hurried to catch up before losing sight of his employer.
On the way to the office, Taegun’s mood swung like a pendulum—one moment humming cheerfully, the next radiating a dark aura.
Sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, Choi Mugil pretended not to notice the shifting storm.
When they arrived, the vice president immediately saw that Han Bom’s desk was empty.
“Secretary Han isn’t here yet?”
“Ah, well…”
Jung Jueun glanced nervously at the vacant seat beside her.
Taegun cleared his throat, once.
“Secretary Han, late to work? Does she have a reason to avoid coming in?”
There was a faint lilt of amusement in his otherwise flat tone. Of course she’d want to avoid him. She must have failed the task he’d given her.
Finally, he would crush Han Bom’s pride.
But just then—
“Vice President, good morning.”
Han Bom appeared from the pantry, holding a crystal vase overflowing with white hyacinths.
While Taegun froze, sizing up the situation, Choi Mugil’s eyes sparkled with delight.
“Secretary Han, did you go to the flower market this early? So diligent.”
“It’s spring. I thought the office could use a little change of atmosphere.”
It wasn’t unusual. Depending on her mood, she often brought flowers—not only for the vice president’s office but also the secretaries’ area and nearby workspaces.
Taegun’s hawk-like gaze studied her expression. It was unchanged, calm as ever.
‘Could this be a bribe? A last desperate gesture after failing?’
“Enough chatter. Back to work.”
He turned toward his office, then stopped and glanced back.
“Oh, Secretary Han. You have something to report, don’t you?”
For just a split second, her shoulders twitched. Taegun did not miss it.
“Yes, I’ll report right away.”
She followed him into his office.
As he slipped off his jacket, he heard the door close behind him.
She had entered, vase in hand.
“…Those shoes.”
The sharp click of red heels echoed on the floor.
Taegun’s eye twitched.
“I distinctly remember telling you… no red heels.”
Han Bom placed the hyacinths on his desk and smiled serenely.
“Red? Vice President.”
“……”
“This isn’t red. It’s Chili Red.”
Before he could argue, she continued.
“I secured the Ahiel Marang tuxedo you requested.”
“What?”
Taegun turned in shock.
“You actually found the Ahiel Marang tuxedo?”
“Yes. You asked me to.”
As though nothing were out of the ordinary, she unzipped the garment bag draped over a hanger and showed him.
When disbelief lingered on his face, she pulled out a gold envelope from the tuxedo’s inner pocket and set it on his desk.
“The certificate of authenticity.”
Opening it, he frowned deeply.
“Don’t tell me someone’s worn it before. I despise secondhand.”
Of course. He had been waiting to pounce on that detail—since anything available in Korea was bound to be pre-owned.
But Han Bom was ready.
“It’s brand-new. Never worn by anyone.”
She explained calmly: Gu Ingyu, a designer’s favorite, often received tuxedos directly from Ahiel Marang. Some he never even touched. Out of gratitude for saving his life, he gifted one to her without hesitation.
Taegun’s voice dropped.
“How on earth did you manage this?”
Han Bom raised her chin, her tone serious.
“Because I am… ex-tra-ordinary.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. Finally he sighed, defeated.
“…Well. You did well.”
“Just well?”
Her voice sharpened with mock offense.
Grinding his jaw, he forced the words out.
“Fine. Very well done.”
She arched her brows in satisfaction.
Clearing his throat needlessly, he muttered, “That’s enough. You can go now.”
But she stayed.
‘What now? Does she expect me to kneel in gratitude?’
“Do you have more to say?”
“Yes. I completed the task you assigned me. Have you completed yours?”
“…What are you talking about?”
“The Ato Beauty color chart. Just now, you mistook my shoes for red again.”
He froze. She was right. He had completely forgotten.
Like a stern teacher scolding a lazy student, she pointed to a box beside his desk.
“What is this?”
Warily, he opened it—half-expecting an explosive device.
Inside was a thick, encyclopedia-sized color chart of Ato Beauty’s products.
‘Why is this thing so huge?’
He nearly choked.
“You said you could memorize it in one day. So tomorrow morning, I’ll check. That works for you, doesn’t it?”
Her teasing tone left him no room to argue. He cursed his past self for boasting so carelessly.
Maybe if he begged, she’d extend the deadline.
“Secretary Han, perhaps we could—”
“I trust you, Vice President. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
She bowed crisply and turned to leave.
Just before the door closed, she popped her head back in, clenched her fists in the air, and grinned.
“Fighting!”
Then she vanished.
Taegun glanced from the door to the massive color chart. Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips.
“Truly impossible, that woman.”
If there was one thing in life he couldn’t handle easily, it was Han Bom. She was the only one.
Later that morning, he was scheduled to visit the Vegan Materials Research Lab.
Forced into an external appointment, Taegun carried the heavy color chart under his arm and climbed into the back of the sedan.
The only free time to study was during travel.
In the passenger seat, Han Bom raised a small hand mirror to sneak a glance at him.
His handsome brow furrowed with intense concentration as he scanned the endless pages.
‘So diligent. He really doesn’t want me to catch him out.’
Watching him strain himself amused her. Perhaps this was why she never quit the exhausting job of being his secretary.
‘Maybe I’m the real masochist here.’
She tapped her phone, sending a thank-you message to Gu Ingyu.
The reply came almost instantly:
[Glad it worked out. Thanks again for yesterday. If you need anything, just ask. Use me however you like.]
Her lips curved softly.
[Not at all. The tuxedo was more than enough repayment. Still, I’d like to at least pay for it.]
Her gratitude ran deep. She owed him her life.
A moment later—
[Then let me collect the tuxedo fee over dinner. Don’t you think we deserve a little celebration after surviving death?]
‘A celebration…’
Sending money via bank transfer alone did feel a little cold. Perhaps a meal, as thanks, would be appropriate.
[All right. Let’s meet for a celebration, then.]
[I’ll be waiting for your call.]
Satisfied, she put her phone down and cracked the window open. The sweet scent of early spring drifted in.
At that moment, Taegun, still buried in the color chart, caught sight of her hair fluttering in the breeze.
Eyes closed, she leaned into the stream of air, her shampoo fragrance filling the car.
‘Spring… has come.’
It was the season he had always been waiting for.
