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Episode 07
It had been two weeks since Yeoreum’s first day at work.
What had once felt awkward—coming into the secretary’s office, and interpreting specialized terminology in Chinese—was gradually becoming familiar.
Today, instead of reporting to the Onjo Foods headquarters, Yeoreum went straight to Incheon Airport.
Gi Hyeon-jae had organized an event to announce a new product line and to signal Onjo’s intent to expand its overseas ventures, inviting local distribution buyers and industry figures from various countries.
Yeoreum was assigned as interpreter for the Chinese delegation.
Recently, Onjo Foods had been growing rapidly, establishing overseas subsidiaries and even acquiring food companies in the U.S., Europe, and Southeast Asia.
Among these, China was the key market. Since the new product would also be released there, Yeoreum herself was assigned instead of a temporary interpreter.
Some Chinese delegates also had close ties with Onjo’s Chinese subsidiary, and were scheduled to meet directly with Hyeon-jae.
For Yeoreum, this marked the real start of her work.
The 4-day schedule began with a sightseeing tour on the first day.
Accompanied by a tour guide arranged by Onjo, the group toured Seoul’s landmarks and attractions until nearly 7 p.m.
Dinner at the hotel restaurant, with alcohol included, was Yeoreum’s final task of the day.
As a rule, interpreters don’t eat during these dinners; they only interpret. So Yeoreum simply sipped water.
As the alcohol loosened the atmosphere, one of the guests spoke to her.
“Earlier, you didn’t eat much at lunch either. Why don’t you join us now?”
“I’m fine. Since my work isn’t over yet, I’ll eat afterward.”
“Don’t be like that—eat with us. The important business starts tomorrow anyway.”
“Exactly. You’ve worked hard following us around all day. Have a drink. Don’t worry, the company won’t hold it against you.”
Another guest pushed a round white cup of liquor toward her.
When Yeoreum hesitated, the Onjo staff member beside her gave her a nod of reassurance.
Refusing again and again at the table would be considered rude among Chinese, so she had little choice but to take the cup.
They toasted to good cooperation and drank.
Since she had eaten almost nothing that day aside from a light breakfast, the alcohol burned going down. She put a little food on her plate and kept up the conversation, drinking several more cups.
After finishing dinner without incident, Yeoreum saw the guests off in the elevator, promising to return the next day.
As the surroundings grew quiet, she swept a hand over her face.
From an early morning departure at the airport to finishing at 11 p.m.—she had been tense and focused for nearly 13 hours straight.
Relief at surviving the day mingled with weariness, and the delayed rush of liquor hit her.
I need to get home quickly.
Feeling her body grow hot, she slipped off her black jacket and slung it over her arm.
Since the buses had stopped running, she headed out to catch a taxi.
“Are you finished now?”
In her tipsy haze, she blinked slowly, thinking she had misheard.
Her vision, blurred like a mirage, gradually sharpened.
It didn’t take long to recognize the figure: Gi Hyeon-jae.
Yeoreum fastened her seatbelt across her chest.
Not far from the car, Hyeon-jae was finishing a business call.
He mentioned he had just come from a video meeting at the hotel, and it seemed there was still unfinished discussion.
From time to time, he glanced at her, and Yeoreum returned an awkward smile, waiting for the call to end.
At first, on her first day, she had thought he was uninterested in his work. But that was clearly not the case.
When they met in the hotel lobby, he had looked exhausted.
Since it was late, Yeoreum had intended to give him only a brief report of the day and go home.
But Hyeon-jae asked in detail: about how the Chinese delegates conversed, what they focused on, and what feedback they gave.
While she was answering, his phone rang again. He suggested they continue the talk on the drive home, and ushered her into his car.
Before she could politely decline, he was gone to take the call—leaving her in the passenger seat again.
It was already her third ride in his car, and she was surprised at how comfortable the seat felt, as if it had been made for her.
The temperature inside was just right—not hot, not cold.
Relaxed in the seat, staring blankly ahead, her eyelids grew heavy.
“I shouldn’t fall asleep…”
Her murmur drifted into the air as her head drooped slowly like a ripened stalk of rice.
Within minutes, she was nodding off like a bobblehead doll.
Hyeon-jae finished his call and slid into the driver’s seat, letting out a short laugh at the sight.
Yeoreum had dozed off, using her jacket as a blanket.
He had been irritated earlier, after a fool overseas kept him tied up on a long call, but this unexpected sight took him off guard.
Folding his arms, he indulged in a moment of appreciation.
Just looking wasn’t enough—he wanted to touch. Without hesitation, he reached out.
His long fingers brushed aside her hair, revealing her closed left eye.
She didn’t stir in the slightest.
His fingertips drifted near her lips, grazing the edge. Her lips parted slightly as a faint breath escaped.
Well, look at this. How can you be so defenseless here…?
As the interior light dimmed, shadows filled the car.
Hyeon-jae glanced at his fingers, which had lingered at her lips, and chuckled.
He started the engine.
Streetlamps cast shifting orange shadows over his impassive face as he drove.
He thought she would wake as they neared her home, but she remained fast asleep.
Just before entering her neighborhood, a convenience store’s sign caught his eye.
He remembered her saying she had drunk several glasses of strong baijiu during the dinner.
Though she hadn’t seemed drunk, liquor that strong was hard on the stomach.
He pulled over and went inside.
The part-time clerk, half-asleep, stirred at the sound of the door.
In his black suit and tall frame, Hyeon-jae was an intimidating sight in the small shop.
Without hesitation, he picked up a pack of hangover pills and a chilled hangover drink, setting them on the counter.
Just as he pulled out his card, he noticed the open dairy case beside him.
“Shall I ring these up?”
“And this as well.”
The clerk raised his brows slightly at the sight of the strawberry milk.
A man who looked like he drank nothing but espresso, buying strawberry milk—it was a strange picture.
“Ah, this one’s a buy-one-get-one-free. You’ll need to grab another.”
“I don’t need another. Just ring it up.”
“Uh—yes, sir.”
Before the clerk could even ask about a bag, the man in black had already left.
Hyeon-jae drew deeply on his cigarette, then exhaled like a sigh.
Once again, he had acted on impulse.
Impulsively eating lunch with her, impulsively driving her home, impulsively touching her lips, impulsively buying hangover medicine…
And now this—what the hell is with you?
He squeezed the strawberry milk as if demanding an answer.
But even he didn’t know why he had bought it.
The only explanation was instinct—being drawn.
Noticing the dark alley near her villa and counting how many CCTVs were around—that too, came from the same instinct.
Lost in thought, his cigarette burned down. He stubbed it out and returned to the car.
Yeoreum was awake now, her gaze fixed on him.
“You’re awake?”
He casually handed her the hangover drink and the strawberry milk.
“I thought you should have these.”
She didn’t answer.
She took them, staring at him as if still half-dreaming.
“Are you feeling sick?”
“….”
She shook her head.
That simple gesture tightened something in his chest—and yet, he found it endearing that she listened so well.
“I’ll drive you the rest of the way. Drink that first—”
Seeing she might not touch it otherwise, he reached to open the can himself.
But Yeoreum overlapped her hand with his.
The cool dampness lingering from the milk carton seeped into his skin.
In the silence of the car, their faces only a few centimeters apart—
Their eyes locked.
Their hands clasped together.
