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Episode 8
Two weeks had passed since Yeoreum’s first day at work.
At first, going to the secretary’s office felt awkward, and interpreting professional terminology in Chinese had been difficult. But slowly, she had grown accustomed to both.
Today, however, Yeoreum wasn’t reporting to Onjo Foods’ headquarters, but to Incheon International Airport.
The company was holding an event to announce a new menu and expand its overseas business. Distributors and industry partners from various countries were invited, and Yeoreum was in charge of interpreting for the Chinese delegation.
Onjo Foods had recently been expanding aggressively—setting up overseas subsidiaries and acquiring local food companies in the U.S., Europe, and Southeast Asia. Among these markets, China was their top priority, and the new product was also set to launch there. That’s why Yeoreum herself—not just a day interpreter—was assigned.
Some of the Chinese attendees had close ties with Onjo’s subsidiary in China, and direct meetings were scheduled. For Yeoreum, this felt like the true start of her career.
The four-day schedule began with a sightseeing tour. With a tour guide prepared by the company, they visited landmarks across Seoul. The itinerary only wrapped up around 7 p.m.
Their last event was a dinner with drinks at the hotel restaurant, and Yeoreum continued interpreting throughout the meal.
As was customary, interpreters didn’t eat during the session, only drank water.
After a while, one of the Chinese businessmen turned to her.
“You hardly ate at lunch either. Why don’t you eat with us?”
“I’m fine. My work isn’t over yet, so I’ll eat afterward.”
“Don’t be like that, join us. The real business starts tomorrow anyway.”
Another joined in, pushing a white porcelain glass of liquor toward her.
The Onjo Foods staff accompanying her gave a reassuring nod. Refusing food and drink repeatedly at a Chinese table was considered rude. Left with no choice, Yeoreum picked up the glass.
They toasted, wishing success, and she drank.
Since she had eaten almost nothing except a light snack in the morning, the liquor hit her stomach hard. Still, she managed, nibbling lightly and downing a few more glasses while translating conversations.
Finally, she escorted the guests to the elevator and bid them good night.
It was past 11 p.m.—she had been working nearly 13 hours straight, from airport pickup to the end of dinner. Relief washed over her as the tension broke, but so did the burning rush of alcohol.
She slipped off her black jacket and draped it over her arm as she headed for the exit to hail a taxi.
That was when a low voice stopped her.
“Is it over now?”
Through her hazy vision, Yeoreum blinked slowly. It didn’t take long for the blurry figure to sharpen into someone unmistakable—Gi Hyunjae.
Yeoreum fastened her seatbelt. Hyunjae was nearby, on a work call. He had just finished a video meeting at the hotel, but still had business unresolved.
Every so often, he glanced at her. Each time, she returned a polite, awkward smile, waiting for him to finish.
At first, she’d assumed he didn’t care much about his role, given how casually he’d treated her working hours. But seeing him now, so focused and exhausted, she realized otherwise.
When she tried to give him only a brief summary of the day, he surprised her by pressing for details: how the Chinese partners conversed, what they focused on, what feedback they gave.
In the middle of her responses, another call came in. He told her they’d continue the discussion on the drive and ushered her into his car.
Too flustered to refuse, she found herself once again in his passenger seat. And somehow, the seat felt almost tailored for her—comfortable, familiar. The air temperature inside was perfect.
Relaxing against the chair, she fought against drooping eyelids.
“I shouldn’t fall asleep…”
But soon her head bobbed forward, her jacket serving as a makeshift blanket.
Hyunjae returned from his call to find her fast asleep. He let out a dry chuckle.
There she was, utterly unaware, sleeping in his car. The irritation from his dragged-out phone meeting eased into something else as he watched.
Without hesitation, he reached out. His fingers brushed aside strands of hair, revealing her closed eye. She didn’t stir.
His fingertips hovered near her lips. A faint breath escaped her slightly parted mouth.
Ha… Look at this. How can you be so defenseless here of all places?
The car’s cabin light dimmed, leaving only the glow of passing streetlamps casting shifting orange shadows across his face.
He started the engine. Even as they neared her neighborhood, Yeoreum didn’t wake.
Remembering she’d drunk several glasses of strong baijiu, he pulled into a convenience store.
Inside, his imposing presence startled the drowsy clerk. Hyunjae picked up hangover pills, a hangover drink, and—on impulse—a carton of strawberry milk.
“This too.”
The clerk blinked. A man who looked like he only drank straight espresso, buying strawberry milk—it was a strange sight.
Leaving without a bag, Hyunjae lit a cigarette outside, exhaling deeply.
Another impulsive act… Lunch with her, driving her home, watching her sleep, touching her lips, buying this stuff.
He looked at the pink carton in his hand.
And you—what are you supposed to mean?
Even he didn’t know why he’d bought it. Instinct, nothing else.
By the time he stubbed out his cigarette and returned to the car, Yeoreum was awake, gazing at him.
“You’re awake?”
He handed her the drinks.
“I thought you should have these.”
She accepted them silently, eyes fixed on him, as if trying to process the gesture.
“Are you in pain?”
She shook her head.
Something inside him tightened. Even that small obedient gesture stirred something raw.
“I’ll take you the rest of the way. But drink this first…”
He reached to open the can for her, but she stopped him by placing her hand over his.
Their hands overlapped, the faint chill of condensation from the milk still lingering on his skin.
In the stillness of the car, their gazes locked.
Hand in hand, eyes meeting in silence.
