🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 41
Flip.
A sheet of paper passed through Yoonjae’s hand.
His emotionless, dull eyes read through every word carefully, and each time he flipped a page, Eun-se shifted nervously in her seat.
Gulp.
She sat back on the sofa, legs crossed as if relaxed, but her restless fingers betrayed her unconscious tension.
Flip.
Another page turned.
Finally, irritated by how overly meticulous he was being, Eun-se snapped at him.
“Can you stop already? What are you looking at so hard? It’s all going to—”
“Trash.”
As if to cut her off, he set the document down on the table. It was the proposal she had stubbornly pushed through to final approval.
Her chest tightened.
It was familiar, yet something she could never get used to—Yoonjae’s dismissive behavior.
Normally, documents like that should have already been stamped and approved under her authority. But every single time, his unofficial final approval was required.
Eun-se’s fist trembled visibly as she glared at him.
“You’re doing this on purpose. Whatever I do, you treat it as wrong. You’re ignoring me, holding me in check. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”
But as she lashed out, pointing at the pile of papers split between what to keep and what to discard, Yoonjae, still holding the last sheet, spoke without even looking at her.
“Train your eyes.”
Tap.
“Learn to tell whether what you’re looking at is creativity or just imagination.”
And with that, the last sheet was tossed into the “trash” pile.
Eun-se’s eyes burned.
It was the same thing he always told her. And yet, she was always stuck in the same place. No matter how much she studied or worked, nothing changed.
She had no talent.
Meanwhile, Ha Yoonjae—who had never properly studied abroad or even taken real management courses—was flawless.
Knowing that venting her anger would not move him, Eun-se barely swallowed it down and said,
“Transfer me to the Finance team.”
This was the demand she always pulled out in moments like these. And Yoonjae always had the same answer.
“I thought I told you to come back after meeting the qualifications.”
Qualifications.
From the minimum certifications required to enter the Finance Department, to the other strict criteria—Eun-se knew well that Yeongdo Group’s Finance Team was infamous for its tough entry conditions.
That was why she always had to back down. But today was different.
“So what you’re saying is… the PR Planning Department doesn’t need any conditions at all?”
That jab finally drew his gaze to her.
His sharp eyes made her flinch for a second, but she puffed herself up like a squirrel and sneered.
“Strange. A perfectionist like you… why would you make me department head if I don’t meet any requirements?”
“There is a requirement.”
“…What?”
“Just being the daughter of Yeongdo Group is more than enough PR.”
With a few words, he crushed her.
Reduced to a mere “figurehead,” she couldn’t take it anymore and jumped to her feet.
“You’re so insufferable!”
She spun around and stormed off the sofa, walking fast as if to leave the office. Yoonjae stopped her.
“Ha Eun-se.”
“What!”
“Your bag.”
Shrieking in exasperation, Eun-se froze, then quickly ran back to grab the bag she had placed on the sofa like it was a sacred object.
But then—oops.
[“I’ll gift this to you, Yoonjae said. Please accept it.”]
Of all days, it had to be that bag—the one he had practically forced on her not long ago.
Under his gaze, she blurted out a frantic excuse.
“I—I was going to return it, but they said it was the last one left in Korea and impossible to get! Besides, people notice these things, and—”
Of course, she could’ve simply not used it. But the more she looked at it, the prettier it seemed, and it had quickly become her favorite.
Finally understanding, Yoonjae tilted his head slightly.
“Oh, right. I bought that for you.”
Eun-se’s face, already red with anger, flushed even deeper. But Yoonjae, unbothered, continued speaking.
“Better than the rags you usually carry.”
“Who carries rags?!”
“It suits you.”
A sudden, rare compliment from Yoonjae’s lips.
Eun-se’s mouth snapped shut.
She blinked rapidly, stunned beyond measure. In the meantime, Yoonjae checked the time, stood, and slipped on his jacket.
Alarmed, Eun-se asked,
“W-where are you going?”
He had never once left first in situations like this. The question slipped from her lips unconsciously.
“Hospital.”
The answer was so casually given that it eased her tension. Without thinking, she spoke what came to mind.
“Didn’t you transfer to Busan?”
The words reached his back, and immediately she clapped her hand over her mouth.
In this family, that person didn’t exist. That was the condition under which Yoonjae had been accepted into Yeongdo.
But he gave no reaction. Instead, he simply offered her a piece of advice.
“Turn off the lights when you leave.”
“Oh, over here.”
At the hospital, Joo-ho was waiting for him in the lobby.
Before heading home, he had stayed to wait for Yoonjae. Wasting no time, Yoonjae asked,
“The surgery.”
“It went fine. It was a light procedure anyway.”
“And her condition?”
This time, he wasn’t asking about the 15-minute LASIK operation.
“Come with me.”
They moved to a quieter corner of the lobby.
The reason Yoonjae had scheduled the LASIK here was to create an opportunity for Joo-ho and Ae-jeong to meet naturally.
Even if she was reluctant to formal consultations, at least it would give her a chance to talk.
After a pause, Joo-ho spoke.
“I get what you mean.”
“In what way?”
“She’s solid. Not like someone forcing themselves, or working too hard to appear strong. She’s… truly different. No—she’s not the same.”
Not “different.” Wrong.
It couldn’t be dismissed as “she just seems like a different person.”
It wasn’t a solvable equation, because the assumption itself was wrong.
Not “she seems like someone else,” but rather—“she isn’t the same person.”
“It doesn’t feel like she’s Joo Ae-jeong anymore.”
His words carried certainty. Listening, Yoonjae muttered almost to himself,
“As if another soul has entered her.”
“…What?”
Thinking he misheard, Joo-ho asked again—then chuckled.
“Been reading those kinds of books lately? Astral projection? Shamanism?”
“…”
“You must be getting old. Never thought I’d hear something like that from you.”
From the very beginning, Yoonjae had seemed more machine than man. To hear such mystical words from him was laughable.
Displeased with Joo-ho’s amused face, Yoonjae turned away.
“Which room?”
“Annex, VIP ward, Room 3. Probably the first time anyone booked a VIP suite for LASIK.”
And not even for an overnight stay.
But Yoonjae wasn’t the type to care about such things.
Watching him walk off, Joo-ho muttered quietly, with regret in his tone,
“One door opens, another closes.”
Click.
The door to the hospital room slid open silently. The hinges were so smooth that hardly a sound escaped, yet the patient immediately perked up.
“Someone’s here?”
It was Uri, pale in her hospital gown, eyes still closed.
With her eyes shut, her hearing had sharpened. She must have caught the faint noise that others wouldn’t have noticed.
“Someone’s here. I heard it.”
Her face was a little puffy from the surgery just hours earlier, but she looked healthier than before.
Still, her vision was blurry, so she kept her eyes closed for stability.
“…”
Yoonjae approached quietly, brushing his hair back.
“Ah.”
When he had barely taken a few steps, Uri raised her hand, pointing straight at him.
“Ha Yoonjae.”
She blurted it out in casual speech, lips curling into a smile.
Though he hadn’t hidden himself, all he’d done was walk in silently—yet she recognized him instantly.
Surprised, he asked as he came closer,
“How did you know?”
With her eyes still closed, she turned her face toward him.
“Of course I’d know.”
“…”
“Who else do I have, if not you?”
He froze.
The old saying came to him—a frog gets hit by the stone you throw carelessly.
There she sat, calmly with eyes closed, and he stared at her blankly.
Always hidden behind glasses, now revealed—a delicate, pure woman, unfamiliar yet strangely captivating.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her few words made his heart stir, though she had no way of knowing. Frustrated by his silence, Uri scrunched her nose.
“Ugh, keeping my eyes closed is uncomfortable.”
Bravely, she lifted her eyelids. Slowly, her pupils came into view.
“…”
Though not fully recovered, her vision had improved enough that she could clearly see the man standing close.
Her dark, clear eyes, unshielded, gazed straight at him.
Blink. Blink.
A few more times she opened and closed them, and his image sharpened in her sight.
Then, her wide eyes grew even rounder as she asked, innocently,
“Are you sick? Why’s your face so red?”
Naïve. Carefree.
