RM 7

Chapter 7

Charge Me Up

A kiss—it was far more astonishing than she had anticipated, or even imagined.

She already knew a kiss wasn’t just two pairs of lips meeting, but as his unexpected breath rushed into her mouth, Bo-bae felt completely lightheaded and dazed.

She had held a man’s hand for the very first time yesterday, and today she was kissing one.

Their progress… was moving way too fast.

From a young age, she had been called a prodigy, skipped grades, and even graduated early from university, but she had never experienced a pace as fast as this. It felt like a surging storm.

Though the lips of the man who had undergone surgery just this morning were quite rough, the warm breath sweeping across her lips was as soft and fine as desert sand, threatening to pull her helplessly under its spell.

It fluttered like a spring breeze, burned hot like midsummer sunshine, refreshed like crisp autumn air, and fluttered with anticipation like the season’s first snowfall.

Kissing was, truly, an enchanting and heart-pounding experience.

Just as Producer Jang had described, her heart felt as if it were dropping with a heavy thud to the floor, leaving her entire body tingling. So this was what it felt like. This exact feeling…

Right in the middle of frantically exchanging ragged breaths with him—

“Is she throwing her body at me because her writing is garbage?”

“I have zero interest in a meager, pitiful body like yours.”

“Don’t lurch after my body with those rotten thoughts. It’s disgusting.”

“Do not approach within a 10-meter radius!”

Baek Ho-rang’s four-piece set of toxic insults flashed through her mind.

Snapping instantly back to her senses, Bo-bae shoved Ho-rang away and slapped him across the cheek.

SLAP! A sharp sound echoed through the air.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

When Bo-bae demanded fiercely, Ho-rang gently cupped his stingingly numb cheek and answered coolly:

“Give.”

“What ‘give’? Give what?! Don’t tell me you’re throwing me a charity bone just because I haven’t been kissed before—like ‘Here, have a kiss’?”

“Was that your first kiss?”

“Who said it was my first?!”

“You just said it was your first.”

“Me? Ha! I’ve done it tons of times, okay? I’m a master of kissing! Men melt like candle wax with just a single kiss from me!”

“It didn’t really feel like that, though.”

“What did you say?!”

As she flared up, Ho-rang’s lips expanded in Bo-bae’s field of vision. Seeing his moistly glistening, red lips made the sensation from moments ago revive vividly in her memory.

Her face flamed hot in an instant, and Bo-bae scrambled to change the subject.

“A-Ah, forget that! Why did you suddenly kiss me?!”

“Didn’t you say ‘give and take’?”

“Ah… that give.”

Watching Bo-bae mutter to herself, a faint smirk tugged at Ho-rang’s lips.

Just seconds ago, she had glared at him with murder in her eyes, but the moment he gave a logical explanation, she became remarkably docile. He had assumed she was just an unhinged lunatic, but she actually had quite an endearing side to her.

Well, of course, that had absolutely nothing to do with him.

“Wasn’t a kiss what you wanted from me?”

“No, it wasn’t!”

“Really? You asked me for a kiss the very first time we met, so I naturally assumed that was what you wanted.”

“There were circumstances back then…”

“I don’t particularly care to hear about your circumstances. Either way, the ‘give’ is done. Is it time for the ‘take’ now?”

Ho-rang spoke arrogantly with the corners of his lips pulled up, as if he had already secured the upper hand. But there was one critical thing he had overlooked: whether it was a ‘give’ or an act of charity, the upper hand belonged entirely to Bo-bae—and her personality was anything but easygoing.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not what I want!”

“What?”

“I’m rejecting this charity—I mean, this ‘give’!”

“You clung to me begging for it, so I dragged myself to do something I hated, and now you’re rejecting it?”

“Who clung to you?! And do you think I liked it? That was literally the worst kiss I’ve ever had in my entire life!”

“Didn’t you just say it was your first kiss?”

“Did you not hear me say I’m a master of kissing?”

“I thought you were a kiss lunatic?”

“Keep talking like that and see if I don’t move past 10 meters away!”

When Bo-bae took wide strides to back away from him, Ho-rang quickly grabbed her IV pole and pulled it toward himself. In the process, Bo-bae’s hand brushed lightly against his fingertips—yet, as expected, no static electricity discharged.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Didn’t you say no approaching within 10 meters?”

“I take that back.”

“Hmph. Everything has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?”

“Throughout my entire life, very few things haven’t gone my way.”

“Then shall I show you what it looks like when things don’t go your way starting right now?”

Bo-bae dragged her IV pole and began to run, and Ho-rang immediately sprinted after her so as not to lose her.

When Bo-bae accelerated, Ho-rang picked up his speed; when Bo-bae darted left and right, Ho-rang swiftly closed the gap.

As the two ran around as if playing a game of tag, neither of them realized:

Following that kiss, Ho-rang’s battery—which had plummeted to 9%—had rapidly recharged all the way to 40%.

Having returned to the hospital room, the two set down to hash out their unfinished discussion.

“So, in exchange for staying by my side, you want me to help you write your script?”

Bo-bae’s plan was to serve as his auxiliary battery for three months, while charging herself with the romance she desperately needed for her script through him.

“Put simply, yes.”

“Help, huh…”

Sitting with his long legs crossed, resting his chin lightly on his fingers as he looked down at her, his gaze appeared thoroughly arrogant. With an attitude that boastful, he should have looked insufferable, but by some bizarre twist, he appeared strangely elegant. Every habit, movement, and word seemed refined and dignified.

That was precisely why Bo-bae needed his help even more. He fit the image of her male lead to a tee.

“The script.”

When Ho-rang reached out his hand and spoke, Bo-bae stared at him with bewildered eyes.

“Why the script?”

“I need to check what level of quality we’re dealing with.”

Ever since he was young, Ho-rang had been thoroughly taught two principles: nothing in this world is free, and you never sign your name blindly.

This woman’s vague request for ‘help with writing a script’ could shift unpredictably and come back to trip him up later. Therefore, it was best to get everything down in black and white.

If the script’s quality was too disastrous, he planned to propose a different deal. It would be a headache if she clung to him later claiming she hadn’t received proper help.

“Why do you need to check the script…”

Bo-bae pouted her lips and pulled out her cell phone.

“I didn’t bring my laptop since I was brought here in an ambulance. I have it saved on my phone, so look at it here.”

Ho-rang took the phone Bo-bae handed him and began reviewing the script.

Over the years, he had personally reviewed over hundreds of scripts while deciding on corporate sponsorships for dramas. Because he loathed wasting money, he checked every single script with painstaking precision. As a result, his eye for scripts was well above average—to the point where he could accurately predict a show’s viewership ratings.

However, this one… was impossible to get a handle on. The script was just as quirky as the woman sitting before him.

After reading for a long while, Ho-rang asked:

“What genre is this supposed to be?”

“Romance. Romantic comedy.”

When Bo-bae answered, Ho-rang shifted his gaze back to the screen.

Bo-bae felt inwardly nervous. Showing her writing to someone was both an exciting and nerve-wracking experience. As she waited for Ho-rang’s reaction with equal parts anticipation and anxiety—

“This isn’t a romantic comedy, it’s just a comedy.”

A scathing evaluation dropped from his mouth.

“This script shouldn’t be sent to the drama department; it belongs in variety entertainment.”

Bo-bae scowled, but Ho-rang continued without batting an eye.

“How can a genre called romance have zero heart-fluttering moments, zero push-and-pull, and zero sweetness? Achieving that is an achievement in itself—there isn’t a single fluttering scene. The main characters’ emotions are consistently as flat as a robot’s. This is hands-down the worst script I have ever read in my entire life.”

At his harsh critique, Bo-bae’s face flushed deep crimson as if it were about to explode.

When Producer Jang roasted her, he at least prefaced it by saying it was entertaining before tearing it apart, but this man just shredded it without mercy or preamble.

“What age rating is this supposed to be?”

Not liking the tone of his question at all, Bo-bae grit her teeth hard and answered:

“Ten!”

At her sharp, heavy emphasis on the number, Ho-rang knit his brows.

“Why does it sound like there’s a lot of personal resentment loaded into that pronunciation?”

“Ah, not ten—eighteen! It’s rated eighteen!”

When Bo-bae threw out the sharp-sounding numbers in rapid succession, Ho-rang shook his head. Well, she certainly wasn’t the type of woman to take that kind of evaluation sitting down.

“Are you really a writer? Have you even debuted?”

“I am a writer! And I have debuted!”

“Is that so? Then why is this written so poorly? The premise is good and the dialogue is snappy, but the emotional arc between the main characters makes zero sense. Have you never dated before? Ah right, you claimed to be a ‘master of kissing.’ But if you write scripts like this, how on earth did you manage to debut? Hey, what’s the title of your debut work? I need to look this up.”

Ho-rang asked while still staring into her phone, but received no answer. Wondering why she was so quiet, he raised his head—only to see Bo-bae packing up her belongings.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going home.”

“What?”

“I take back what I said about helping you.”

Having gathered all her things, Bo-bae snatched the phone right out of Ho-rang’s hand and marched toward the door. The moment she pulled on the handle, Ho-rang reached out from behind her and slammed the door shut.

When Bo-bae turned around, her face came inches away from touching his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t possibly stay here with you in this kind of mood.”

When Bo-bae snapped back and tried to open the door again, Ho-rang raised his other hand and slammed it against the wood as well.

In an instant, Bo-bae found herself completely trapped between the solid door frame and Ho-rang’s two arms.

Ho-rang bent slightly at the waist, bringing their faces close enough for their lips to touch. His warm breath brushed against the crook of Bo-bae’s neck before dispersing.

“You can’t leave like this.”

“Whether I go or stay is my decision to make.”

“No. You can’t leave. Absolutely not.”

At Ho-rang’s firm declaration, Bo-bae glared up at him.

“Why not?”

When Bo-bae asked, Ho-rang tilted his head slightly and leaned in even closer.

His lips filled Bo-bae’s entire field of vision. His deep red lips were moistly glistening, and between them, she caught a glimpse of his tongue.

In an instant, the kiss on the rooftop rushed back to her mind.

The soft texture of his lips and the dizzying sensation of his breath swirling around her felt vividly real once more.

The explosive emotional charge created by physical touch was far greater than she had anticipated. Watching her sharp, bristling defense crumble bit by bit—

“Because…”

As Bo-bae lightly bit her lower lip and looked up at him, Ho-rang’s languid voice settled softly against her ear:

“You have to pass gas before you can leave.”

“…”

“You said you had an appendectomy.”

“!”

Bo-bae’s face flushed bright red in an instant.

Watching him step back with a smug smirk curling his lips, her two fists trembled uncontrollably.

She felt utterly played—he had manipulated her emotions effortlessly, making her question what kind of insufferable jerk he was. But what appalled her even more was her own reaction.

Her heart had fluttered. In that brief moment, she had actually felt her pulse race for this man who had breached her personal space.

This was precisely why physical touch was so potent. To think a person’s heart could be so easily shaken by simple intimacy.

‘I really need to learn this.’

Though her pride was bruised, she had no other choice.

To write a convincing romance script, this man was her best shot. His personality might be utterly dreadful, but he had plenty she could learn from.

In the end, Bo-bae decided to take a step back.

“Fine. I’ll be honest with you.”

“Go ahead.”

“As you saw from reading my script, the romance element is weak. So I want you to teach me about romance.”

“Romance… Why do you think I can teach you romance?”

“Well, you see…”

Though Bo-bae was asking for his help, she hesitated on how to explain her true situation.

She couldn’t bring herself to say: ‘For some reason, whenever my body touches a man, an electric shock fires off. Because of that, I’ve never even gotten near a man—let alone kissed one—my entire thirty years of life. But you’re the exception. So please help me.’ Especially not after boasting earlier that she was a ‘master of kissing.’

Just then, a brilliant idea flashed through Bo-bae’s mind.

“Chaebol!”

“Chaebol?”

“As you can see, my male lead is a chaebol—a third-generation heir. But I’ve never met a chaebol, nor have I ever talked to one. I was feeling completely stuck every time I sat down to write. But you just happen to be a chaebol, right? So help me out.”

“Specifically with what?”

“A chaebol’s romance!”

When Ho-rang knit his brows, Bo-bae quickly corrected herself.

“No—a chaebol’s dating flex!”

“What?”

“Since ancient times, when people think of a chaebol’s romance, they think of throwing money around—I mean, flexing! I want to witness that firsthand.”

When Bo-bae blinked up at him with expectant eyes, Ho-rang turned his head away and answered flatly:

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’d need to actually be dating someone to show you a chaebol’s romance. But I’m single.”

“With that face and that background, why would you be…? Ah, well…”

Finding his single status unexpected given his profile, Bo-bae recalled his terrible personality and instantly understood.

“Well? What do you mean ‘well’?”

When Ho-rang barked at her reaction, Bo-bae smoothly skirted around it.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re not dating anyone right now. You’re engaged, right?”

“No.”

“Not yet? Then you must have an arranged marriage partner picked out by your family?”

“I don’t.”

“Still none? Then what about elders in your family pressuring you to get married?”

“There are none.”

“Then what about rich chaebol heiresses chasing after you because they like you?”

“There aren’t any.”

“Agh, what is wrong with your life?!”

In the end, Bo-bae completely exploded.

Usually, when someone was a chaebol, they were supposed to have a fiancée for an arranged marriage, or be forced into a contract marriage by pushy family elders, or at the very least have some rich heiress clinging to their arm wanting to marry them. How could he have absolutely none of those?

Besides, who was Baek Ho-rang? He was none other than the heir to Taeseong Group—an influential businessman who held power over the country’s economy. Yet he didn’t even have a common cliché like a fiancée. As expected…

“…Did rumors about your awful personality spread everywhere?”

“I can hear you.”

When Ho-rang glared at her fiercely, Bo-bae countered with a sweet, innocent smile.

This was turning out to be quite tricky. She had planned to observe his love life to learn real chaebol romance, but he had zero romantic prospects attached to him.

As she racked her brain for a solution, Ho-rang spoke out of sheer frustration:

“Just ask me for money instead, and write the script on your own.”

“I don’t need money.”

“Why wouldn’t you need money? Isn’t money the ultimate reason anyone writes anyway?”

“Why are you reducing someone’s dream down to money?”

“Aren’t you just dressing up money as a dream?”

Bo-bae found Ho-rang thoroughly obnoxious for linking every single thing to money. Was it because he was so wealthy that he tried to solve everything with cash?

However, money wasn’t what Bo-bae wanted. It wasn’t because she was flush with cash—she was currently struggling to pay the rent on her rooftop room and cover basic living expenses—but that didn’t mean she lacked dreams.

I might lack money, but I don’t lack dreams.

While she was muttering under her breath, a brilliant idea struck her mind.

“Ah! Right! We can just do that!”

“Do what?”

When Ho-rang asked disinterestedly, Bo-bae looked up at him with sparkling eyes and declared:

“Show me a chaebol’s dating flex—on me!”

“What?”

That topic had already been settled. A chaebol’s dating flex was only possible under the premise that Ho-rang was actively dating someone. But he didn’t even have a woman he was flirting with, let alone a girlfriend, so why was she stubbornly pushing an impossible idea?

“Drop that topic and let’s settle this cleanly with money.”

“I told you I don’t need money.”

“Then what do you expect me to do? Create a nonexistent girlfriend out of thin air?”

When Ho-rang asked in an annoyed tone, Bo-bae offered a bright, cheerful smile.

“You can just do it with me.”

Ho-rang froze for a second, wondering if he had misheard her.

“What? Do what with whom?”

“Let’s do it together. Dating!”

At Bo-bae’s unexpected proposal, Ho-rang’s eyes widened in sheer astonishment.

The day before yesterday, she wanted to kiss him. Today, she was asking to date him.

She truly was a woman who kept him guessing—making him far more curious about what she would pull tomorrow than what she did today.