Chapter 8
“Huh? Who is?”
Ji-seo asked blankly. A coworker? Me? Or Baek Do-hyuk?
“Who do you think? The guy whose car you hit. Hey—dinner, coffee, movie. Classic date course. So? Is he handsome?”
Flustered, Ji-seo shook her head vigorously. No matter how she thought about it, there was no reason someone like Baek Do-hyuk would want to date her.
This wasn’t self-deprecation—it was closer to a general truth. A chaebol man and the daughter of a fried chicken shop owner. An S-rank Guide and a C-rank Esper. There wasn’t a single point where they matched.
“How would I know? I said it’s about a coworker.”
At that, Yeon-seo snorted and scooped up a massive bite of cake. As the soft whipped cream and moist sponge collapsed messily in her mouth, she thought it felt exactly like the foolish younger sister sitting across from her.
“Hey, do you really think someone else would be dumb enough to miss a guy obviously making a move and still ask around about it? That, or this is some next-level humblebrag. And didn’t you show me that expensive car recently and ask what you’d do if you hit it—wait. Oh my god. Don’t tell me it was a Bugatti Veyron. Was it a Bugatti?! Holy shit. You have to date him.”
Ji-seo tried desperately to hold onto the fragments of her sanity as they disintegrated on the spot. Her face flushed—it was basically a confession at this point. Was Baek Do-hyuk really trying to date her?
“No—maybe he just doesn’t have anyone to eat with. Or maybe he’s just messing with her.”
“Who paid for the meals? Did he ask you to pay? If he drives a Bugatti, the food must’ve been fancy.”
“He did. …And yeah, it was good. I don’t even remember what it tasted like, though.”
“You’d really spend time and money just to mess with someone?”
There was nothing she could say to argue back. Ji-seo lowered her gaze, absently sucking on the straw in her iced coffee, which was now nothing but melted ice.
And honestly, this still wasn’t the full story. To complete the consultation properly, she’d have to mention that Baek Do-hyuk had proposed forming a pair—but there was no way she could say that.
In eight or nine cases out of ten, a Guide–Esper pair ended in marriage or something close to it. When one side poured out obsessive affection, the other inevitably became emotionally entangled as well.
But Baek Do-hyuk had tried to buy that relationship with money. And he was someone who was expected to end up with a “properly matched” partner. Admitting that he’d chosen Ji-seo for that reason would push this conversation far beyond what she could handle.
Once the car issue was resolved, she wouldn’t have to see him again anyway. There was no need to bring it up.
So Ji-seo decided to end this awkward “meal mate” relationship as soon as possible.
She’d already consulted with the insurance company.
When she explained that she’d hit a Bugatti Veyron and that the rear—something, maybe the bumper? She honestly didn’t know—had caved in, there was a long silence on the other end of the line.
‘Ah—maybe not caved in. Just a little… a little dented.’
She hurriedly added that she had photos they could check, but that didn’t immediately unstick the representative’s voice either. After a long pause, the response finally came.
—“For high-end supercars like that, repairs are typically handled only through official channels. Often, the vehicle is transported to a country where authorized repairs can be done. After that process, a formal estimate will be issued.”
The explanation that followed was long—and from Ji-seo’s perspective, entirely bewildering. This was her first time dealing with insurance at all. She’d been such a model driver that she’d never even had a minor fender-bender before.
The insurance company advised her to try negotiating with the other party. Given his financial means, sometimes people were willing to take circumstances into account.
In short: this was a disaster beyond what a regular person could handle, so she should try appealing to his goodwill.
Ji-seo let out a silent, hollow laugh.
Her pride aside, her first meeting with Baek Do-hyuk had already gone wrong—and everything afterward had been awkward too. The idea that reality now required her to beg him was something she could only respond to with bitter amusement.
Unaware of any of this, Baek Do-hyuk sent his usual message inviting her to dinner.
[Ms. Lim Ji-seo, if you don’t have any other plans, how is tomorrow evening?]
[There’s a sushi place I’ve been wanting to try.]
[You said you’re fine with raw fish.]
Raw fish was fine.
There were times she’d eaten raw monster meat inside Gates when there was nothing else.
But food had never been the issue.
She simply didn’t want to know—or care—what the chaebol man who’d abruptly proposed pairing actually wanted.
All Ji-seo wanted was for this strange, obligation-free relationship with a man she kept meeting “just to eat” to end.
And doing that was simple.
Once the repair estimate came out, she’d tell him to submit it to the insurance company. They’d pay out up to the limit, and she’d cover the rest with the savings she’d scraped together with blood, sweat, and bones. If that still wasn’t enough, she’d take out a loan or set up installment payments—whatever it took.
Say all that, and it would be over.
So this would be the last supper.
With that thought in mind, Ji-seo accepted the dinner invitation.
The sushi restaurant had an open kitchen, with counter seating where you could watch the chef at work.
As usual, Baek Do-hyuk arrived looking impeccably groomed, every strand of hair gleaming—clearly someone accustomed to professional care.
Seated beside him, Ji-seo ate the sushi placed before her one by one, accepting whatever the elderly chef—who looked the part of a master—set down. In a place like this, all Ji-seo could really say were things like It’s good, No, I’m not busy, No, I haven’t seen that movie.
It wasn’t exactly a setting suited for begging someone over several hundred million won.
She might be C-rank, but her heart only went S-rank inside Gates. Or when rejecting rude chaebol men.
“Ms. Ji-seo, you seem to enjoy the otoro. May we have one more otoro here?”
“……”
Ji-seo thought she’d eaten everything equally, but maybe she’d smiled without realizing it at the rich, buttery finish. Somehow, Baek Do-hyuk had noticed—and that was what surprised her.
He was unusually attentive to her preferences.
Meals with Baek Do-hyuk were always like this.
Ji-seo ate whatever was given without complaint, but the moment she showed the slightest dislike, he caught it instantly. He kept the conversation flowing relentlessly, leaving her barely any time to chew.
Baek Do-hyuk asked the questions. Ji-seo answered.
Looking back, it was obvious enough that she wondered how she’d missed it until now.
“What color do you like, Ms. Lim Ji-seo?”
“Do you prefer hot weather or cold—no, what’s your favorite season?”
“Do you like resort vacations, or cities? Have you been to Las Vegas? Anywhere you want to go?”
“What do you usually do on your days off?”
…And so on.
They were deeply personal questions. And the eyes of the man asking them were warm, gentle—almost overwhelmingly so. That tenderness had been completely overshadowed by the massive financial issue looming between them.
Given the amount involved, it was perhaps only natural that she hadn’t even considered what that gentleness might mean.
“Vice President, aren’t you busy? It doesn’t seem like you’d have time to eat with me like this.”
“Someone told me that no matter how busy I am, I should always make time to eat.”
It wasn’t really an answer.
She’d asked why with me, but the familiarity of the response made Ji-seo smile faintly.
“Oh—right. My parents say the same thing. That everything we do is to survive, so no matter how busy you are, you have to eat. If you eat well, you have more energy and your mood doesn’t sink as much. That’s why even when I’m inside a Gate, I set an alarm and make sure to eat an energy bar at mealtimes.”
People really were all the same, weren’t they?
Ji-seo felt a flicker of familiarity in the philosophy of a chaebol man who otherwise seemed to have nothing in common with her.
“You live with your parents, don’t you?”
“Yes. There are dorms for Espers, but I prefer living with my family. What about you, Vice President?”
At her question, Baek Do-hyuk blinked slowly. Now that she was really looking at him, she noticed how dark his eyes were.
Was I not supposed to ask about his personal life? she wondered—but before she could overthink it, he smiled.
“We’ve met five times now, and this is the first time you’ve asked me anything. Are you finally curious about me?”
“Oh—was it?”
Ji-seo rounded off her words and deflected lightly.
She’d been too preoccupied with when the repair-cost conversation would come up, when she’d have to humble herself, to really focus on anything else.
As if he’d been waiting, Baek Do-hyuk answered her question in detail.
She learned that he had two older brothers, that both parents were alive, and that he lived alone after becoming independent. Apparently, the hardest part of living alone was when he craved things like sweet-and-sour pork, jokbal, or big pots of hearty soup—foods that were difficult to enjoy solo.
It was a worry so utterly typical of someone living alone that she was caught off guard.
“It seems like you’d have plenty of people to eat with.”
“I don’t like eating with strangers.”
Ji-seo froze mid-reach for the final dish—eel.
So then… what was this?
As she glanced at the miso soup and sushi plates neatly aligned in front of them both, Baek Do-hyuk looked away awkwardly and added,
“You’re not a stranger, Ms. Ji-seo.”
Startled, Ji-seo glanced around. If it wasn’t me, then everyone else was a stranger—and before that, what exactly was their relationship supposed to be?
Should she freeze that smiling mouth of his shut before someone overheard and misunderstood?
She hesitated for a moment.
“…So you still haven’t given up on that—pairing thing?”
“Of course not.”
No—but the way he was going about this was really strange.
And what exactly was “of course” about it?
He was seriously confusing her.
