Ha-Joon straightened from his chair.
"Mrs. Yuna," he said evenly. "Mr. Kang ."
The woman—elegant, poised, every movement deliberate—rose from the seat near the window.
Her fitted blazer caught the light as she smiled, polished and effortless.
Kang stood beside her, tall and relaxed, hands slipping casually into his pockets like the room belonged to him too.
"We'll wait for your confirmation," Yuna said, voice light but confident.
Ha-Joon nodded once. "Seo-Jun."
Seo-Jun stepped forward immediately. "This way, please."
As they moved toward the door, Yuna's heels clicked softly against the floor.
Kang leaned in to say something to her, their quiet laughter following them out.
The door closed behind them with a muted click.
Silence settled.
Ji-Ah finally breathed.
She shifted her weight and turned to Ha-Joon, clutching the empty tray a little tighter than necessary.
"Sir… may I go too? It's lunch—"
"No."
The word was calm. Flat. Final.
She stopped.
Ha-Joon picked up his coffee cup and took a slow sip.
His brows drew together slightly. "It's cold."
Because time passed, her mind snapped. And gravity exists. And you made me stand here like a coat rack.
She kept her expression neutral.
"I need you to revise the Meridian presentation," he continued, already walking back toward his desk.
"Slide four. Slide seven. The spacing is sloppy."
Sloppy? I aligned those pixels with my soul.
"And prepare a condensed visual summary for tomorrow's meeting."
Her shoulders stiffened.
"Yes, sir."
A pause.
Then—
"Stop insulting me in your head."
Her eyes widened.
"…Excuse me?"
He finally looked at her. Just once.
Dark eyes sharp, unreadable. "Your face gives everything away."
Her stomach dropped.
Oh no. I've been betrayed by my own eyebrows.
"I—I wasn't—" she started.
"Dismissed," he said calmly, already turning back to his screen.
Ji-Ah bowed quickly and escaped the room, heels clicking faster than dignity preferred.
The moment she reached her desk, she collapsed into her chair, hair slipping loose as she exhaled hard.
She reopened the presentation, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Somewhere deep down, beneath the stress and sarcasm, she knew one thing for sure—
This job wasn't going to let her breathe easily.
Not even once.
--
Ji-Ah stared at her screen, eyes narrowing in concentration as she fixed the slides.
Slide four—graph moved.Slide seven—spacing adjusted.
Her fingers moved fast now, confidence slowly settling in.
"Wow," a voice said from beside her, "you disappeared for a whole century.
Ji-Ah looked up to see Soo-Min, Hae-In, Do-Yoon, and Min-Kyung gathered near her desk, curiosity written all over their faces.
"Did the boss eat you?" Hae-In asked.
Ji-Ah sighed, rubbing her temple. "Worse. He criticized my coffee and my slides in the same breath."
Do-Yoon winced. "That's brutal."
"So why did it take so long?" Min-Kyung leaned in.
Ji-Ah shrugged. "Models. Meetings. Me standing there like a decorative lamp."
Soo-Min laughed softly. "Need help fixing the rest?"
Ji-Ah smiled, appreciative but firm. "I'm okay. Really. I just want to finish this before he finds another flaw."
Soo-Min nodded. "Suit yourself. Don't overwork."
Just then—
Ha-Joon's door swung open.
The office atmosphere shifted instantly.
He walked straight toward the exit, expression unreadable, steps steady and unhurried.
Chairs scraped.
People began packing up quickly, shutting down computers, gathering bags.
Ji-Ah leaned toward Soo-Min. "Want me to drop you off with Pip?"
Soo-Min shook her head. "No, you need rest more than I do. I'll take the bus."
Ji-Ah hesitated, then nodded. "Okay… text me when you get home."
She shut down her computer, slid her documents into her bag, and stood, muscles aching slightly as the long day finally caught up with her.
As she packed, one thought lingered in her mind—
Tomorrow was coming far too fast.
Pip's engine hummed steadily beneath Ji-Ah as she rode home, the city lights blurring past her tired eyes.
She sighed, shoulders finally loosening now that work was behind her.
Halfway home, her stomach growled.
"…Traitor," she muttered, patting it lightly.
She slowed when she spotted a small restaurant tucked between two buildings—warm lights, steamed windows, the comforting smell of food drifting into the street.
Perfect.
She parked Pip, patted the handle like a loyal companion, and stepped inside.
The place was quiet. Cozy.
A few customers scattered around.
She chose a corner seat, dropped her bag beside her feet, and ordered something simple—nothing fancy, just food that felt safe after a long day.
She had barely settled in when—
An arm suddenly wrapped around her shoulders.
A quick kiss landed on her cheek.
Ji-Ah flinched hard.
"What—?!"
She spun around, eyes blazing."Min-Soo?!"
The man standing there grinned, completely unbothered. Familiar face. Same lazy smile. Same irritating confidence.
"What was that for?!" she hissed. "Why would you do that?! We're done—years ago!"
Min-Soo shrugged, hands slipping into his pockets. "Relax. We're friends, aren't we?"
Friends.
Ji-Ah stared at him for a long second, disbelief flashing across her face.
"…Right," she said flatly.
She stood up, grabbed her bag, and slid the chair back with a sharp scrape. No shouting. No scene. Just a quiet, firm decision.
"Enjoy your meal," she added coolly—and walked away, leaving him there mid-smile.
What Ji-Ah didn't know—
Was that at a table near the window, partially hidden by shadow, Ha-Joon sat silently.
He had arrived earlier.
Ordered coffee.
Hadn't touched it.
His eyes followed everything.
The arm.The kiss.Her reaction.
His expression didn't change. Not even slightly.
But his fingers tightened slowly around the coffee cup.
And for the first time that day—
Ha-Joon looked unmistakably displeased.
Ji-Ah stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against her cheeks.
She swung her leg over Pip, helmet tucked under her arm—then froze.
A black SUV sat across the street.
Parked too neatly. Too quietly. Too familiar.
Her eyes narrowed.
"…Boss?" she whispered. "What is he doing here?"
Before she could think any further, a shadow passed close behind her.
She felt it—someone walking by.
She turned quickly. "Hey—"
No one.
The street was empty. Silent.
A strange chill crept up her spine.
She turned back toward the SUV just in time to see a door shut—smooth, decisive.
The engine purred.
The car pulled away, disappearing into traffic like it had never been there.
Ji-Ah stared after it, heart thumping once… twice.
"…I'm officially exhausted," she muttered, shaking her head.
She slid on her helmet, patted Pip reassuringly, and started the engine.
The roar filled the quiet street as she rode off—unaware that the night had just tangled her life eve