Chapter 14
“…What?”
For a moment, her mind froze as if she’d been struck with a blunt object. Unless she’d misheard, Bae Seonghun had just called her “honey.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Unfortunately, I’m perfectly sane.”
“Then did the ghost of someone who died because they couldn’t go on dates possess you or something?”
“Well, I’m not particularly big on shamanistic beliefs.”
The conversation kept circling the edges in a strange way.
There was no way Bae Seonghun didn’t understand what she was asking—and yet.
Haa…
With a sigh, Jooyoung let go of the doorknob and swept her hair back. Before leaving the office, there was something she needed to clear up with him.
“Have you never been on a date before?”
At her question, Seonghun twitched one eyebrow.
As if to say, Go on. Say more.
“I’m not attacking you. I’m genuinely curious. Why are you so obsessed with dating?”
The contract terms themselves had been strange. Ten dates in exchange for agreeing to marriage.
Choi Jooyoung had even been prepared to offer up part of her CS Department Store shares, on top of Seongun Trading stock.
“Does dating really mean that much to you, Mr. Bae—enough to spend time on it?”
“There’s no way something like that would mean anything to me.”
“Then we’re just wasting each other’s time—”
“But it means a great deal to my family.”
Seonghun cut in before Jooyoung could finish her sentence.
“I’d like this marriage to look like one born of love. I don’t know about your family, Ms. Choi, but mine is old-fashioned. They care a lot about things like that.”
Bae Seonghun’s family.
His father, Bae Seongwon—the man who’d raised Seongun into a top-ten conglomerate.
Though famous for his sharp business instincts, people in the industry had another nickname for him.
The Romantic.
Bae Seongwon and his wife, Min Yooyoung, were widely known as a textbook ‘lovebird couple.’
“If we say we married for love but don’t have even a single dating photo, wouldn’t my claim lose credibility?”
“……”
“We both know we’re busy people. So instead of avoiding it, since we’re meeting anyway—let’s date.”
Since they’d already done that at the restaurant yesterday, dinner could be skipped.
“How about shopping?”
“Fine. Let’s go shopping.”
Children raised by parents who showed affection were different, after all. Even when it was bothersome, they thought of their parents first.
A kind of feeling Choi Jooyoung would never have.
“So that means we have eight dates left now?”
“Do you like getting things for free?”
“…No. That can’t be it.”
Seonghun murmured quietly.
“What are you trying to say? Speak clearly.”
“Storming out of dinner and then counting yesterday as a date is a bit…”
He trailed off, looking at her.
From that single glance, Jooyoung understood what he’d meant by “getting things for free.”
She felt wronged. She hadn’t agreed to that dinner with the intention of ruining it.
Do you know how angry I was yesterday because of someone?
If this were an accident, it’d be mutual fault. But arguing over that would only sour her mood—and worsen her relationship with Bae Seonghun.
Jooyoung grabbed the doorknob and turned it. This time, she didn’t stop halfway and opened the door.
“Fine. Then we have nine dates left.”
Satisfied?
Without a set destination, Jooyoung and Seonghun wandered through the department store, stepping into any shop that caught their interest to browse the displays.
Honestly, this method wasted a lot of time and energy.
That was why department stores had private lounges for VVIPs—and personal shopper systems.
But when the purpose of a date was to be seen by others, privacy wasn’t an option.
Jooyoung lifted a shirt straight off the rack and held it up against Seonghun’s body, nodding as if she liked it.
“It looks good.”
A fairly convincing imitation of a couple.
Perhaps Seonghun thought so too—he quietly curved his lips into a smile.
“Pick another one.”
“Then…”
She scanned the store quickly. Something that could naturally lead to a bit of physical contact.
Pants were too burdensome—out. Shoes had no contact—out.
Then she spotted ties.
“Do you need a tie?”
“There’s no reason not to.”
“Then I’ll pick one.”
They moved to the tie section.
Inside a display case made of fine hardwood, neatly folded ties were lined up. Each had different colors and patterns, yet together they looked like a curated piece of art representing the brand’s identity.
Jooyoung caught the eye of a nearby staff member, who immediately approached.
Pointing at a navy tie, she said,
“May I see this one?”
“Yes, madam.”
The employee took out the tie along with a box embossed with the brand logo. As they were about to place it on a leather tray, Jooyoung stopped them.
“It’s fine. Just hand it to me.”
“Yes. Here you are.”
Gloved hands passed the tie to Jooyoung. The employee bowed politely to the two of them and returned to their original position.
They knew their role—be available at a glance, and step away once their task was done.
“The staff is well-trained.”
“Of course. Someone’s managing them.”
Jooyoung lifted the tie up beneath Seonghun’s neck.
The calm navy color suited him well, softening his sharp features.
“It looks—”
Their eyes met.
Jooyoung might only be realizing it now, but Seonghun had never taken his eyes off her face while she compared the ties.
He recalled the cabbage juice blocking his doorway that morning. The lettering on the wooden box had also been navy.
“Let me ask you one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“The cabbage juice came with the documents. Why did you send it?”
“You don’t seriously think I sent it so you could throw it away.”
Jooyoung flinched.
She remembered telling Secretary Shin to dispose of it as she saw fit.
“I sent it so you’d drink it. They say it’s good for your stomach.”
“Exactly. If it’s good for the stomach—why did you send it?”
“You should know the reason better than anyone. I don’t know why you keep asking such stupid questions.”
Seonghun took the tie from her hand.
“I showed consideration. What you do with it is your responsibility.”
“……”
“If you’re planning to list bereavement as the reason for our divorce, at least give me a heads-up. That way I won’t waste my time dragging busy lawyers into pointless work.”
Jooyoung couldn’t say a word.
Did he notice that what she’d taken yesterday was stomach medicine? Was the brand name written on the packet?
Then was that invitation to dinner—
“I think we’ve been seen enough. Let’s go try things on.”
“…I’ll take you to the lounge.”
Jooyoung pushed away the reckless thoughts forming in her head.
She’d lived her life clearly separating what was necessary from what wasn’t. She had no intention of developing the habit of caring about useless things now.
CS Department Store had two private lounges.
One for VIPs, and another for the top one percent—the VVIP lounge.
The biggest difference between the two was the presence of CCTV.
The VVIP lounge had cameras only at the entrance. Inside, there were none.
It was a promise of absolute privacy for the top one percent.
“These are the items you just viewed, and these are selections similar to them—chosen to suit you as well.”
“Nice.”
“Then I’ll assist you with the fitting.”
Just as the VVIP-exclusive personal shopper lifted a hanger holding a jacket—
“I’ll handle the fitting myself.”
Seonghun stood up from the sofa.
“This body wasn’t made for casual appraisal.”
“…Yes, understood.”
The shopper hesitated for a split second, then recovered and set the jacket down.
“I’ll wait outside.”
The shopper exited.
Thunk—
The thick, soundproofed door closed behind them.
