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Chapter 33
Ji-hyeok, more surprised by his own action, slowly withdrew his hand and whispered,
“What have you been getting all over your hair?”
Only then did Yoo-eul relax her flustered expression and pat her head briskly with her palm.
“Was there dust on it?”
“Yeah. I wiped it off for you.”
“Thank you. Ah—Director, what would you like to drink?”
Yoo-eul pointed at the menu board on the counter.
“Choose from what’s here. You can pick two if you want.”
Looking at Yoo-eul speaking so generously, Ji-hyeok said,
“What’s the one that takes the least effort?”
“Hey.”
Yoo-eul narrowed her eyes and pointed at the menu again.
“Don’t worry about that. Making something for you isn’t a bother at all. Here—would you like to try our signature latte?”
Ji-hyeok nodded, finding the way she spoke endearing.
“I don’t like sweet things. I’ll have a hot Americano.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Seriously?”
“Mm.”
“This is your last chance.”
In the end, Ji-hyeok asked for the signature latte.
Humming, Yoo-eul went over to the coffee machine.
After pulling one shot from the freshly cleaned machine and discarding it, she pulled a proper shot again.
Then she took out milk, whipped cream, and a container of nuts from the fridge and began fussing over something.
Ji-hyeok leaned his forearms on the counter and watched her from behind in silence.
At first, all he noticed was her small figure diligently making the latte, but gradually the curves of her body caught his eye.
Seeing her attractive figure—slender yet with all the right places filled out—made his heart start to race.
Like someone caught stealing, he cleared his throat for no reason and straightened up.
Just then, Yoo-eul turned around, apparently having finished the signature latte.
“Did you wait long?”
“No.”
She urged him to sit, placed two coffees on a tray, and carried them out to the hall herself.
They sat at a table by the window.
Yoo-eul set a coaster in front of him and placed the coffee down.
Cream topped the latte, and on it was a cute animal design.
Looking closely, it seemed to be a lion.
Crushed nuts were scattered around the lion’s mane.
“You’re good. You even expressed the lion’s mane like this.”
“…No, it’s not a lion.”
“Huh?”
“It’s my grandmother… actually.”
Ji-hyeok was extremely flustered.
How on earth did this look like a person?
Was the part he thought was a mane actually a grandmother with a tight perm?
“Ah. Well. Now that you say it, it does look like a grandmother.”
“Right? That’s exactly what she looked like when she was alive.”
Did her grandmother look like a lion?
He kept the thought to himself and lifted his cup.
“Director, you need to drink it all in one go, down to the coffee underneath, okay?”
Following her instructions, he drank all the way to the coffee at the bottom.
The bitterness of the espresso mixed with a unique, nutty cream milk unlike regular milk filled his mouth.
He rolled it around on his tongue for a few seconds, savoring it.
He didn’t usually like sweet things, but this suited his taste more than he expected.
“At this level of sweetness, I could drink it often.”
“Really? Then tell me whenever you want. I’ll bring my secret milk and ingredients to your place and make it for you.”
“What’s in the secret milk?”
“Wow, are you trying to pry into my trade secrets?”
Ji-hyeok, who had asked out of simple curiosity, flinched and raised both hands.
“Director, could you wait here for a moment?”
Yoo-eul quickly went into the kitchen.
A few minutes later, she returned with bread on a tray.
“This is salt bread and Yoo-eul bread—my favorite, and my coworker’s too. We usually keep one or two set aside, but today we didn’t have time to eat.”
Ji-hyeok looked at the bread on the plate.
The golden, appetizing bread made saliva gather in his mouth.
Maybe it was because he’d only eaten half his sushi, distracted by Han Yoo-eul.
“I’m sorry it’s not freshly baked, but it should still be good. Try it.”
Using a fork and knife, Yoo-eul cut the bread into bite-sized pieces.
Then she speared a piece with the fork and offered it to Ji-hyeok.
Ji-hyeok felt strange.
His heart felt ticklish, yet there was also a hint of melancholy—an odd mix of emotions.
His father had never told him who his biological mother was or what kind of person she had been.
Growing up, he’d heard from his father’s rough-mouthed colleagues that she’d been a woman from the entertainment world.
But during his time studying in the U.S., his older brother Won-jun, who had come to see him, had said:
“Your mom probably wasn’t from that world. Mine was—she was pretty famous, actually. That’s probably why I’ve got so much flair.”
“Then who was my mom?”
“I don’t know. I heard she was Dad’s younger acquaintance from his hometown, but she was very sick. She passed away right after giving birth to you.”
Whether his brother’s words were true or not, one thing was certain: Ji-hyeok had grown up without ever knowing who his mother was, or even what she looked like.
Raised only by his father and an older brother eight years his senior, receiving such attentive care from someone like this felt very unfamiliar.
It felt good—but not entirely good—an odd sensation.
“Director?”
Seeing Ji-hyeok staring blankly at the bread, Yoo-eul asked cautiously.
“Are you okay?”
She set the fork back down on the plate, then placed it in front of Ji-hyeok.
“I’m sorry—I was too much, wasn’t I?”
Watching Yoo-eul flustered and apologetic made Ji-hyeok feel sorry instead.
Realizing his own sense of lack was showing in moments like this, he gave a bitter smile.
“I told you I lost my parents early and was raised by my grandmother, right? She took care of me to an almost excessive degree. She did that for others too. So… I guess I learned that kind of meddling from her.”
Rather than hiding her own shortcomings, Yoo-eul spoke openly, as if to say there was nothing strange about him, and hurriedly tried to explain herself.
“So sometimes I guess I cross the line like this. You’re not my friend or my boyfriend. I’m sorry. You remember the friend you saw at the funeral—Tae-hoon? He told me not to do things like this because it makes people uncomfortable…”
Seeing her try so hard to ease the awkwardness she’d caused, the bitterness in his heart settled, and a flutter of excitement took its place.
The way she empathized with him and cared for him looked incredibly beautiful.
He slowly reached out.
Then, picking up a piece of bread with his own fork, he replied,
“Sounds like that friend likes you.”
“What? No—what are you talking about? We’re completely childhood friends!”
“Want to make a bet?”
At Ji-hyeok’s lowered voice, Yoo-eul blinked, tense.
“On whether that friend sees you as a woman or not.”
Yoo-eul lightly tapped the table near him, overreacting for no reason.
“Ah, haha. Haha. What kind of bet is that?”
Chewing the rest of the bread, Ji-hyeok answered indifferently,
“There’s no man who’d dislike being fed bread by Han Yoo-eul.”
“…What?”
“I mean, that kid put up a barrier so you wouldn’t do that for other men—because he’s afraid you’ll be taken by someone else.”
Yoo-eul laughed it off, saying that was ridiculous.
Then, with a slightly tense expression, she asked,
“…Is that really true?”
“A man understands a man’s heart best.”
“What if you’re wrong? You can’t represent every man’s feelings.”
“Maybe not every man’s—but that friend and I? I think the fact that we both feel that way means there’s some truth to it.”
Yoo-eul’s eyebrows twitched.
“…What?”
“I’m not exactly thrilled imagining you feeding bread to another guy either.”
“…Excuse me?”
“On the other hand.”
Ji-hyeok brought the fork in his hand toward her.
Yoo-eul’s gaze stuck to his long, solid fingers as he offered it.
He withdrew his hand very slowly and said,
“What that means is—”
Her eyes lifted again and met his.
“I like it when you feed me. Want to try again?”
