Chapter 8 đ„
The streets were littered with posters for part-time jobs, but none of them offered decent pay. Milim eyed them with a deep sense of distaste. They were too ordinary, too uninspiring. Nothing caught her attentionâuntil she passed a lavish hotel.
Its glass doors gleamed under the sun, reflecting the sky like polished mirrors. A grand courtyard separated the entrance from the main roadâwide and luxurious, clearly designed for the wealthy elite. Milim tilted her head and read the name aloud, "Kia Castle Hotel." The name sounded elegant and foreign.
She had worked as a waitress the previous summerâlow pay, but decent work. Still, she had grown tired of it. "Do I want to become a waitress again?" she wondered.
Standing before the gleaming doors, she hesitated. Deciding not to overthink it, she pulled out a coin from her pocket. Heads, I go in. She flipped it into the air, its silver surface catching the sunlight.
But as she raised her hand to catch it, the sun's rays blinded her. Ah! My coin! she cried and chased after it as it rolled across the pavement.
The coin bounced and rolled before finally slowing to a stop. Milim crouched to retrieve itâonly for a polished leather shoe to step on it. Her hand froze mid-air.
"You stepped on my money, sir," she said with a scowl. Normally, anyone would move their foot after such a statement, but the man didn't budge. His shoes gleamed so brightly that Milim could see her reflection in them.
She looked up, her breath catching as her eyes met his. Her fierce expression melted into stunned silence. It was Dylan.
Louis XIII Dylan. The same man whose mood today could kill.
But her comment seemed to strike a nerve. His expression darkened.
"I'm worth only two bottles of Louis XIII in your eyes?"
Milim blushed. "S-Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Can you please move? My coin's under your foot."
Dylan narrowed his eyes. "What does it mean if it doesn't mean that? You think so little of me after I spent money on you?"
"That's not fair!" Milim shot back, quickly standing as the pavement scorched her legs. "I earned that money fair and square! I didn't even know you were the one who had me fired!"
She dusted off her skirt, cheeks flushed from heat and frustration. "If I had a family to feed, wouldn't your conscience hurt for getting me fired?"
"It's ridiculous. Trying to support your family while working in a club?" Dylan muttered. The sun blazed above them. He didn't know why he was still arguing with this unfamiliar, annoying girl. It felt childish.
"Forget it," he said at last, sighing. "There's no point in talking."
He turned and began to walk away. Milim watched him go, cheeks puffed in annoyance. When he finally moved his foot, she dove for her coin with a small cheer.
Heads. I should go in.
She remembered her resolve and followed after him. Dylan didn't even have to look to know it was her. Sighing internally, he continued walking. At the hotel entrance, he finally turned and asked, voice laced with confusion and a bit of pride, "Why are you following me?"
"Did you finally realize you've missed out on a good man?"
Milim snorted. "You're so full of yourself," she muttered, then ran ahead of him into the hotel.
Dylan watched her slender figure disappear inside, his mood worsening by the second. Why do I keep getting treated like this by the same girl? he wondered.
At the front desk, Milim approached the receptionist with a hopeful smile. "Hi, are you hiring waiters?"
The receptionist, elegant in her well-fitted uniform and rosy makeup, smiled politely. "I'm sorry, we're not hiring at the moment."
Milim's face fell slightly, though she wasn't too disappointed. She had only asked on a whim. "Alright, thank you."
"Looking for a part-time job?" a cool voice spoke behind her.
Milim turned. Of course, it was Dylan.
"I asked someone to fire you. I can offer you a job in return," he said casually.
Surprised, Milim watched as Dylan pulled a pen from his coat and requested paper from the receptionist. He scribbled something and handed it to her.
It was a phone number.
"9 to 5. $158 monthly. Call if you're not satisfied with your current options."
Milim stared. "Where?"
"The law firm. Hayes. You've seen him before."
Her mind lit up. The gentle one? She remembered a man from that nightâcalm, polite, the kind of man many girls dreamed of.
Dylan nodded. "That's him. I'm busy, so you'll have to find him yourself."
With that, he turned and strode off like a man who owned the world.
"Wait, Mr. Dylan," Milim called. "Why are you helping me?"
He paused but didn't turn around. "Didn't I just say? I'm the one who got you fired."
"But... I don't blame you," Milim said honestly. "Even if you hadn't, I would've realized eventually that working there wasn't right for me."
Her words surprised himâbut not enough to stop him. Dylan nodded. "I know what kind of person you are. Goodbye."
Milim stood there, watching his retreating figure. His back straight, shoulders broad, every step filled with natural grace. He reminded her of the noblemen on TVâso composed, so unreachable.
Maybe that's why she had accepted what happened between them. Dylan was excellent. But that was also exactly why she had to stop there.
She never called the number he gave her.
Instead, after wasting more time than she wanted, she applied at a nearby bakery. The pay wasn't much, but it was steady, and she was learning to bake.
Two days after the college entrance exam results were released, Milim was in the kitchen preparing cookies and milk for her younger brother when her mother asked, "How did you do on the test?"
Milim froze. "I... haven't checked yet."
Her mother, May, raised an eyebrow. "Check now. Get your admission ticket."
Milim sighed and searched for it. She wasn't the academic type, and she knew it. She'd poured most of her time into working lately.
May, knowing this, kept her expectations low. "Even if you don't pass this time, you can take it again. Just finish school, get a decent job, and live a stable life."
When Milim finally checked her score, it was slightly better than her mock examsâa small victory for her, though May still looked disheartened.
"This score... not great," May said. "But maybe you can still get into a second-tier school."
May and her husband James were both top-tier university graduates with high-paying jobs, though the company had been under strain lately. Financial stress piled up: Milim's brother was entering college, the eldest daughter was applying for grad school abroad, and rumors of their company being bought out added more worry.
May quietly stood and left the room. "You eat. I'm going to lie down."
Milim's little brother, Lin, turned to her with a frown. "What's wrong with Mom?"
"She was probably shocked by my score," Milim replied dryly.
"No way. Her standards are too high for your lousy results to surprise her anymore," he teased.
Milim laughed, stuffing a milk-soaked cookie into his mouth. "Only I can disappoint our family like this."
Though she joked, she felt a pang of uselessness. May was rightâgo to the second-tier school, graduate, find a $100 job, maybe $150 if lucky. No business skills, no special talents.
But she could bake.
Maybe, someday... I'll open my own pastry shop.
With that small dream in mind, Milim headed to work the next day full of energy.
Meanwhile, across the city, Dylan was feeling increasingly uneasy. He had expected Hayes to call about Milimâbut days passed in silence.
Finally, he called himself.
"Cough... Hello?" Hayes sounded surprised. Dylan rarely initiated contact.
"What's going on? Are you opening a business? Getting married?" Hayes teased.
Dylan sighed. "No. Have you hired anyone recently?"
Hayes blinked in confusion. Dylan never cared about stuff like that.
Unbeknownst to Hayes, Dylan was grappling with a sense of powerlessnessâa feeling he didn't experience often.