Ji-Ah stepped into his office and stopped just inside the door.
Clean. Cold. Perfectly arranged. Not a single thing out of place. Of course.
Ha-Joon stood by the window, back to her, hands in his pockets. The city stretched behind him like it belonged to him.
"Late," he said.
The word landed hard.
Her chest tightened. She straightened instinctively. "Sir?"
He turned slowly. Calm face. Unreadable eyes. Not even annoyed—worse. Certain.
"I'm sorry, but I—" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "—I actually arrived earlier than you."
Silence.
He glanced at his watch. Then at her. Slowly. Like he was deciding whether she was joking or simply foolish.
"Doesn't matter," he said flatly. "Late is late."
Her jaw tightened.I was here before you. I almost died getting here. I even bought breakfast.
"I understand," she said instead, voice smooth, professional, polite to the point of pain.
He nodded once. Then, casually—like he was discussing the weather—
"You'll bring me coffee. Every morning. And again at lunch. As soon as it's time."
Her eyes flickered. Just for a second.
"Yes, sir," she said, nodding.
Inside, she screamed. Coffee? I'm an editor, not a barista. What do you think this is—your personal café? Should I foam the milk with my tears too?
"Good," he said. No smile. No reaction. Just cold efficiency.
She stood there, hands clenched behind her back, nails biting into her skin.
"Yes, sir," she repeated, a little stiffer this time.
He dismissed her with a look, already turning back to his desk like she'd never existed.
Ji-Ah walked out slowly, breathing only after the door closed behind her.
She exhaled hard.
Cold. Rude. Power-hungry ice statue. She paused.…Unfortunately attractive ice statue.
Her shoulders slumped."This job," she muttered, "is going to kill me."
The coffee machine hissed like it was offended by her presence.
Ji-Ah stared at it, hair falling over one eye as she leaned in. Buttons. Lights. Too many options.
She pressed one. Nothing. Pressed another.
Steam burst out.
She flinched, ponytail whipping as she jumped back. "Oh—no—no, stop—"
Coffee poured. Fast. Too fast.
She grabbed the cup, hands shaking slightly. The surface rippled dangerously.
Her sleeve brushed the cup. A dark splash bloomed.
She hissed, shaking her hand, hair bouncing wildly. "Great. Perfect. Amazing."
She wiped at it with a napkin, then froze, staring at the cup.
Too full.
She lifted it carefully, elbows stiff, every step slow. Her hair swayed with her movement, tickling her neck. She didn't dare move her head.
At Ha-Joon's office, she inhaled, straightened her posture, and knocked.
"Come in."
She stepped inside. Her hair slipped loose again as she bowed slightly.
He looked up. Once.
His eyes flicked to the cup. Then her sleeve. Then her face.
He took the cup from her hand with ease. Not a drop spilled.
"This," he said, "is not coffee."
Her lips parted. A strand of hair trembled against her cheek. "It… isn't?"
"It's burnt," he replied evenly.
He took a sip. Paused. "And you overfilled it."
Her fingers curled slowly at her sides.
"I'm sorry," she said, smoothing her hair back, jaw tight.
He set the cup down. Looked at her fully now.
"Next time," he said, voice flat, "don't attack the machine."
Her smile twitched. One corner lifted. Dangerous.
"Yes, sir."
One day, she thought, I will replace your coffee with regret.
She turned sharply and walked out, ponytail swinging like punctuation.
Outside, she leaned against the wall for half a second, hair falling loose around her face.
"I hate him," she whispered.
Behind the door—
"And Park."
She snapped upright so fast her hair flew. "Yes, sir?"
"Tomorrow," he said calmly, "hotter."
She bowed stiffly.
"Yes. Sir."
Her eye twitched.
--
Closing time finally came.
Ji-Ah stood, stretching her arms overhead, long black hair slipping free from its tie. She turned to Soo-Min, scribbling her number down.
"Text me," she said. "In case I… get fired."
Soo-Min laughed. "You won't. Probably."
Ji-Ah smiled, waved goodbye, and headed out.
Outside, the evening air was cool. She reached her motorcycle, ran a hand over the seat, and sighed.
"You survived today too, Pip," she murmured.
She hopped on. The engine roared.
Then—brake.
Her boss's car rolled past, smooth and unhurried. Of course. She waited, helmet resting against her hip, jaw tight.
The moment it disappeared, she kicked off and sped away.
On the way home, she stopped for tteokbokki—spicy, simple, comforting. The smell filled the air as she carried it back to her apartment.
Inside, her cat appeared immediately.
"Okay, okay," she said, crouching to pour food into the bowl.
Kibble clinked.
Earth sniffed once, then ate like he'd been starved for years.
She collapsed onto the couch, shoes kicked off, hair spilling over the cushions. Just as she picked up her chopsticks, her phone buzzed.
Min-Jae: How was work?
She stared at the screen. Scoffed. Typed.
Ji-Ah: My boss is cold. Very cold. I've been promoted to coffee delivery.
A second later—
Min-Jae: Wow. Mine's the opposite. Super warm. Brought snacks for everyone.
She rolled her eyes, shoving a rice cake into her mouth.
Ji-Ah: Lucky.
She leaned back, Earth hopping up beside her, the day finally catching up.
Tomorrow… she'd survive again.
Probably.
--
She showered next, steam filling the bathroom. Washed her clothes. Changed into something loose. Comfortable.
Dinner was simple.
Noodles. Too hot at first, then just right. She ate sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly.
Later, she lay back with a novel—one of her usual reads. She frowned after a few pages.
"Cold CEO," she muttered. "Falls in love with the new employee. So original."
She flipped a page. Scoffed. "Predictable."
Right then, Earth hopped onto her lap, warm and heavy, purring like a tiny engine. She smiled despite herself, set the book aside, and stroked his fur slowly.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "Real life isn't that dramatic."
She sighed, lay back, pulled the blanket over them both, and turned off the light.
The room went quiet.
Earth curled closer.
And Ji-Ah drifted into sleep.