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Episode 12
All four pairs of eyes were fixed on Hyeonjae, who was standing there.
Startled, the secretaries rose awkwardly to greet him, and Yeoreum also got up.
He had said there was work he had to look over—was it already finished?
She hadn’t expected him to return to the office so quickly. Quietly, she slipped the sandwich in her hand onto a tissue, out of Hyeonjae’s line of sight.
Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice and instead asked Myeongjun,
“You’re having a team dinner?”
“Yes. Since Ms. Ryu Yeoreum just joined our team, I thought it would be good to get together for some bonding, so we were trying to coordinate schedules.”
“Team bonding. That’s good. Secretary Choi, check my schedule and try to match it with theirs.”
“What? You mean… you’re attending too, Director?”
Myeongjun could hardly believe it.
And no wonder—Hyeonjae had never attended a staff dinner, not even gatherings with executives including the CEO. Even for business-related events, he was reluctant to give much time. So for him to say he would match his schedule to join them was shocking.
“Of course. I’m the one who needs to bond the most with Ms. Ryu here. How could I be absent? Don’t you agree, Ms. Ryu?”
Suddenly put on the spot, Yeoreum reluctantly nodded.
Triumphant, Hyeonjae lifted his chin toward Myeongjun.
The secretaries all chimed in with half-hearted enthusiasm, their expressions stiff and forced. Only Myeongjun calmly said he would check the schedule.
Acknowledging this, Hyeonjae went into his office.
Yeoreum hesitated over the half-eaten sandwich. Should she throw it away? Finish it? Then she pulled out the other one in the box and held it out to Myeongjun.
“Secretary Choi, would you like this? There’s one left.”
He had eaten the first one so quickly, looking a little regretful, that she had meant to offer him the other anyway.
Just as Myeongjun was about to accept gratefully, the director’s office door opened again.
“Are you heading to headquarters?”
“I am. I left some documents in my office and came to get them.”
“I see.”
Though the conversation was over, Hyeonjae didn’t leave. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Myeongjun.
More precisely—on the sandwich in his hand.
“Also, Ms. Ryu.”
“Yes?”
“On a day like today, I won’t criticize you for eating breakfast during work hours. Please eat comfortably. I gave that to you, after all.”
“Ah…”
She thought she’d hidden it well, but apparently he had noticed.
Having refused at first, only to be caught eating it right away—her stomach twisted with guilt.
Meanwhile, Myeongjun looked visibly stricken.
“How is it? Does it taste good?”
“Yes. It’s delicious.”
“Good. Enjoy it.”
The fleeting smile and soft voice directed at her made Yeoreum smile back despite herself.
The secretaries only sat back down with a sigh once Hyeonjae disappeared into the elevator.
One whispered, cautiously glancing toward where he’d gone,
“Wait… that sandwich came from the director?”
“Yes.”
“…Ah.”
That single word of surprise carried layers of meaning.
Yeoreum, with only two weeks in the company, took it as simple astonishment. But for Myeongjun and the others, it meant far more.
Myeongjun handed the sandwich back to Yeoreum.
“Didn’t you say you wanted this?”
“I realized it’s almost lunchtime. No need to fill up on a sandwich.”
“Then maybe later—”
“No, thank you. It’s better if you eat it, Ms. Ryu.”
He even waved his hands, firmly declining.
Not because of that cold, sharp look Hyeonjae had shot him earlier, of course.
Even offers of coffee were turned down, and the same from the other secretaries.
The afternoon meeting room buzzed with tension.
With Chinese delegates present, everyone from Onjo Foods was working frantically to balance attention between them and their top executive, Hyeonjae.
“At convenience stores and large marts, yes, but we should also consider local distribution routes tailored to the unique features of each Chinese region. For example—”
In the thin metallic rim of Hyeonjae’s glasses, Yeoreum’s figure reflected clearly as she stood at the mic.
She was swiftly interpreting for the staff member giving the presentation, relaying everything to the delegates.
From adding small gestures for clarity, to adjusting her pacing according to the flow of the dialogue, she identified the key points instantly.
Even the mic adjustments she made to avoid static noise showed how seamlessly she managed the situation.
He couldn’t understand all the Chinese, but the satisfied faces of the delegates spoke for themselves.
It was a stark contrast to how they’d looked with previous interpreters.
And that—bothered him.
It should only be my eyes that find her beautiful. But everyone else does too.
Hyeonjae’s thoughts drifted back to the morning.
At the restaurant, while she translated between them, there had been too much laughter—too much ease.
Surely, it wasn’t his words they were laughing at.
Wedged in between them, he had felt mute.
More discomfort than convenience.
In the past, he’d wished interpreters could just handle all the talking for him. Now it was the opposite.
He wanted to know exactly what Yeoreum was saying—what made those old men smile like fools.
I need to learn Chinese.
That thought consumed him throughout breakfast.
Even when he briefly returned to his office before heading out again, it lingered.
The secretary’s office, normally quiet, had been oddly cheerful from a distance.
And to make it worse—they had eaten his sandwiches together while discussing a team dinner.
That’s not why I bought them.
He despised socializing, yet if Yeoreum was going, he had to go too.
Especially now that he knew how she looked when drunk—eyes soft like a puppy’s, pale skin glowing with a peachy blush. He couldn’t possibly leave her alone.
Recalling the night before, his eyes locked on her lips moving busily at the mic.
She never avoided his gaze when interpreting. If anything, she focused harder on him, studying his words with total attention.
Arms crossed, one leg over the other, he stared at her.
Her confident eyes almost seemed to challenge him.
What would she look like in bed?
Would it be the swollen, dumpling-like eyes from that first night? Or eyes like now—sharp and unwavering, as if ready to devour him?
Even as he responded smoothly to employees’ questions, his mind swirled with private images of her.
Polished suit on top, but below the desk, his body burned with desire.
Pathetic. Getting hard in the middle of a meeting. What a crazy bastard.
Between self-reproach and restless craving, his mind swung back and forth all day.
He told himself it was just physical need—that once satisfied, Yeoreum would mean nothing.
A justification he never would have allowed himself before. But it repeated endlessly throughout the meeting.
“Let’s go together. I’ll drive you home.”
“Thank you, but no. You’ve already helped me enough.”
As she prepared to leave work, Hyeonjae blocked her way again.
Yeoreum pressed her lips together and silently hit the close button in the elevator.
Though she saw that the basement parking button was already lit, she deliberately pressed the 1st floor.
The back of her neck prickled with tension.
When the doors opened on the ground floor, she turned to him with a polite bow.
“Then I’ll be going. Good night.”
“Alright. Get home safe.”
His voice came out calm—almost indifferent.
His expression said, Do as you please.
Had she just imagined the urgency when he’d rushed after her?
Feeling a little awkward, she stepped out.
The doors closed, and Yeoreum made her way to the bus stop as usual.
All that week, every evening, Hyeonjae offered to drive her home.
And each time, Yeoreum declined.
This evening was no different. She had turned him down again and was now walking back to her villa.
Someone was standing out front, smoking.
She recognized it instantly.
The unmistakable glow of a Bugatti Chiron.
