Chapter 6
The man sitting beside her now, President Joo Seok-jin, was the perennial favorite of college girls—a young CEO who had held the top spot in their hearts for years. Beyond that, he was the kind of man women dreamed of marrying, enjoying popularity on par with celebrities and sports stars alike.
“I believe it’s only proper to treat someone to a meal when they’ve done you a favor,” Gaeun said.
“That propriety might get an innocent frog killed by a rock,” Seok-jin replied lightly. “I’ll have to decline.”
Gaeun held out both palms toward him, making her refusal unmistakably clear.
“I’m just… extremely grateful.”
“Well, if it weighs on your mind that much, you could at least add interest when you repay me.”
“…If that’s your wish, I shall.”
Had she been too sharp in refusing?
It didn’t matter. Joo Seok-jin was far too remarkable a man to casually share a meal with. Any entanglement would surely cast her as an insignificant person—or worse, as someone approaching him with impure intentions.
“So, what’s the first item on our schedule?” Seok-jin asked.
“Tom Yum Goong,” Gaeun replied.
“That was the original plan?”
“No, the in-flight meal forced a change. We had planned to get massages first.”
At the word massage, Seok-jin’s lips pressed into a thin line. Observing this, Gaeun realized that “massage” was a weakness of his—a magical word that stirred guilt in him.
This would be her trump card. She resolved silently to wield it to maximum effect.
By the time they discussed the rest of their schedule, they had arrived in Bangkok.
“Will you carry this?” Seok-jin gestured toward the duty-free shopping bag in Gaeun’s hand as they disembarked.
“It’s fine. I can carry something this light.”
“Think of it as me carrying it for the sake of gratitude,” he said, taking hold of the bag.
Refusing further would have looked absurd, so Gaeun handed the bag over. Alone in the vast, labyrinthine Bangkok airport, she might have felt lost—but Seok-jin’s presence gave her an inexplicable sense of security.
“To think I’d live long enough to make a retail CEO my pack mule,” she quipped.
“In life, you never know when or how things will explode,” he replied calmly.
“True. But still, it feels good, doesn’t it, Mr. Joo?”
Gaeun tapped his shoulder with a smug grin. Seok-jin turned to her, his face a mix of surprise and mild exasperation.
“Mr. Joo?”
“Let’s be casual between creditor and debtor. You call me Oh, I’ll call you Joo. It feels warm and personable.”
“I am Joo Seok-jin,” he corrected.
“I know, President Joo Seok-jin. But you realize that if it weren’t for me, you’d be an international lost child, right?”
Seok-jin didn’t respond, walking straight ahead. A twinge of unease settled in her chest—what if he contacted his secretary out of annoyance? Realizing she had pushed him a little too far, Gaeun resolved to restrain herself.
“See you later, then.”
He handed the shopping bag back and nodded lightly.
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m going through the private gate.”
“Private gate… So some Korean citizens queue up for immigration while others breeze through… Unfair.”
“This isn’t Korea, it’s Thailand.”
Gaeun had heard vague news reports—Joo Seok-jin had invested a large sum in Thailand. Naturally, as a major investor in their country, he received special treatment. Still, the thought left Gaeun feeling oddly unsettled.
“Well then, honorable Mr. Joo, go ahead. The insignificant me will wait in line.”
She found the shortest line at immigration and openly displayed her discomfort.
“Oh Gaeun,” Seok-jin called. She turned, relieved to see that he had given up the private gate.
“Here’s a tip: go where there are lots of Asians in line—especially Koreans. That line moves fastest.”
Gaeun thanked him and joined that line, checking to see if he was behind her.
“No loyalty at all,” she muttered. He had given only the tip and was already heading toward the private gate.
“Just wait. I’ll have my revenge.”
Gaeun silently vowed to put Seok-jin through his paces while in Bangkok—how often would she have a chance to hold one of the top ten conglomerates of her country in her hands?
“What if I have to feed him while still being cautious? That’s annoying,” she thought. But then she shrugged. Life was short. This rare opportunity deserved to be enjoyed, like a jackpot. Besides, she had a recording on her phone of Seok-jin asking for a loan—perfect leverage if needed. She smiled wryly at the thought.
“The line’s really moving fast,” she noted aloud. True to his word, her line moved quickly.
Having cleared immigration, she collected her luggage—but Seok-jin was nowhere to be seen. Panic flickered within her. Should she just leave him behind? Surely someone would help him. Even on a personal trip, he wouldn’t become an international lost child.
She tried to slip out unnoticed—
“Why are you coming out so late?” Seok-jin called. Technically, he knew nothing, only acknowledging her presence.
“Thanks to you. The Asian line moves faster? I nearly died waiting,” she quipped.
“Every rule has exceptions. Let’s go.”
Though not wrong, her pride felt slightly bruised. She clenched her fists, watching his back as they headed to a taxi.
They arrived at the hotel, agreed on breakfast for the next day, and parted to their rooms—Seok-jin on the 36th floor, Gaeun on the 34th.
The next morning.
A pounding on the door roused Gaeun.
“Who’s up so early…?”
Rubbing her eyes, she glanced at the clock. 8:10 a.m.—ten minutes past the time she’d promised Seok-jin.
“Oh Gaeun!”
She cracked the door, whispering apologies, promising to wash up quickly and join him.
After a brisk wash, she applied her makeup, donned jeans and a tee, and stepped out.
“Oh, our clothes…” Seok-jin noted.
“Similar, aren’t they?”
Both wore jeans and V-neck white tees. Not an ordinary coincidence—they looked almost deliberately coordinated, enough for an outsider to mistake them for newlyweds or a couple on a trip.
“Let’s just call it uniforms. Sorry for being late; I won’t be next time.”
“You haven’t waited long.”
“I expected you to say you’d waited. Are you trying to be considerate?”
Seok-jin was the kind of person who conveyed facts plainly rather than reading emotions. That he seemed considerate now pleased her.
“I really haven’t waited. I knocked once because I kept calling the room and got no answer.”
She inwardly sighed at his tendency to say unnecessary things, subtracting points from his otherwise good impression.
“Wasn’t your room on the 36th?”
“Oh, the previous room had poor housekeeping. We changed rooms, and yours happened to be next door.”
“Coincidences keep piling up,” Gaeun muttered suspiciously.
“Indeed,” he replied, pressing the elevator button with a blank expression, proving the ‘coincidences’ were genuine.
At breakfast, the buffet was crowded, but they lucked into a window-side table.
“Gaeun, would you like an omelet?”
“Yes.”
“Any ingredients to omit?”
“Mushrooms.”
While waiting for the omelets, Gaeun picked a few light items and brought two glasses of guava juice, placing one at Seok-jin’s spot.
“Coffee too?” she asked, noticing the line for omelets. She decided she’d wait even if she was hungry—she wasn’t like some people.
Finally, Seok-jin returned with their omelets.
“You can eat first—did you wait?”
“Ah, courtesy dictates the elder eat first. I’m polite, you see.”
“You’re holding a fork already.”
Gaeun momentarily forgot that he didn’t understand jokes. He smiled slightly and placed the omelet plate in front of her.
“Enjoy.”
“You too.”
“Thanks for the coffee and guava juice.”
“Just my little touch of sensibility.”
They spent a leisurely breakfast together, exchanging small bites from their plates. Oblivious to the photographer capturing them, they shared an unusually tender, intimate air—one man recording each click with satisfaction.
