Chapter 15
. Challenge: Sitting Next to an Unfamiliar Work Superior
Siwan abruptly stood up from his seat and began walking toward where Hana was sitting.
He could’ve just greeted her from where he was, but it seemed like she hadn’t recognized him.
How awkward would it be if he greeted her, and she still didn’t realize who he was?
He suspected it might be because she wasn’t wearing glasses—and as expected, it was Assistant Manager Joo Hana.
As Siwan approached, Hana’s head lowered further and further.
By the time he was standing right in front of her, she must’ve thought this couldn’t go on any longer, because she started untying and retying her perfectly fine shoelaces.
‘Dear Lord, please let this man just walk away. Pleaaseeee!’
Her desperate prayer was in vain. Siwan stood quietly in front of her, waiting for her to lift her head.
Any more stalling, and she’d just look like someone who didn’t even know how to tie their own shoes.
With a deep breath, Hana straightened up—but kept her gaze firmly fixed on her knees.
Siwan bent slightly forward to look at her and spoke in a gentle tone.
“Assistant Manager Joo Hana, are you on your way to work?”
“Ah, oh—Director! Hello!”
Hana acted like she had just recognized him, feigning surprise. Her acting was very convincing.
Thanks to that, Siwan was fully convinced she simply hadn’t seen him clearly without her glasses.
‘Is her vision that bad?’
Having delivered the greeting he’d come for, Siwan turned to return to his seat.
“Huh?”
Someone was already sitting in the seat across from Hana—where he had originally been.
* * *
In a spacious apartment in central Seoul—arguably too big for one person—Chae Suhwa lived alone.
It wasn’t because she was fiercely independent or anything. She just didn’t want to hear her dad nagging her all the time. Hearing it at work was more than enough.
At home, she wanted to rest her body and soul in peace. That was her reason for moving out.
Of course, she told her father something else.
“I feel like I rely on you too much living together, Dad. I’m an adult now—I should take care of myself.”
Chae Suhwa’s declaration of independence moved her father, Chae Kwonjoo.
He had raised her alone after losing his wife over a decade ago.
They had leaned on each other through life, and their bond was special. Still, he knew he couldn’t keep living with his grown daughter forever.
He’d been struggling with how to bring it up—but she beat him to it. He was so proud.
What she said made perfect sense.
People should take care of themselves.
So Chae Kwonjoo decided not to buy her a home directly. Instead, he bought one in his own name and let her live in it.
On one condition: Suhwa would be responsible for all the utilities.
That was the price of her independence.
In short—Chae Kwonjoo was a doting father through and through.
Early that morning, Suhwa woke up.
She fumbled around her pillow for her phone.
[5:54 AM]
“Ugh!”
Seeing the time, she threw the phone aside.
She had set her alarm for 6:00 AM. Now she’d woken up at this weird, awkward time—too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep.
Today was an important day, and she had to get ready early.
Worried that she might oversleep or snooze through her alarms, she’d set around ten of them—spaced five minutes apart.
But to wake up before even the first one?
“Ugh, this is the worst. If I’d slept six more minutes, I’d be feeling amazing right now.”
Groaning, she crawled over to retrieve her phone from where she’d tossed it.
She needed someone to whine to at this hour—someone who’d listen no matter what.
Only problem was… he rarely picked up on the first call.
She pressed and held speed dial 1.
To call “Siwan Oppa.”
* * *
Sitting side-by-side on the subway with a superior you’re not even close with?
That deserved to be called a challenge, for sure.
Hana was so self-conscious about sitting next to Siwan that she was trying to breathe as quietly and slowly as possible.
‘I should’ve brushed my teeth after eating…’
At least, she thought, it was lucky they were out of kimchi this morning. If she had eaten it, she probably would’ve been too anxious to even breathe.
She glanced sideways. Siwan was sitting politely, knees together, hands placed neatly on top.
But he didn’t look well. When they greeted earlier, he seemed cheerful, but now he looked completely different.
His lips were tightly pressed together.
His eyes wide open and intense.
His sideburns and the tips of his hair were slightly damp.
Come to think of it, he looked rather uncomfortable.
‘Is he feeling sick? He’s even sweating…’
Wondering if it was because the seat was cramped, Hana subtly shifted closer to the armrest to give him more space.
Just as Hana’s thoughtfulness peaked, Siwan was internally battling himself.
‘Assistant Manager Joo smells delicious. Is it coming from her lunchbox? I want to know. I NEED to know. It’s not kimchi fried rice… What is it? It smells amazing!’
A warm, savory, slightly salty aroma was drifting out of the bag on Hana’s lap.
It was so faint that others probably wouldn’t even notice—but to Siwan, it was impossibly tempting.
What on earth had she packed?
His curiosity was driving him mad.
He was fidgeting. His mouth tingled with the urge to ask. His jaw ached from how much he was salivating.
His sharp eyes, already intense by nature, now looked deadly from trying to suppress the urge. People sitting across from him were doing everything they could to avoid eye contact.
No matter how you looked at it, Siwan probably already seemed strange to Hana.
There was the time he asked her for a bite of kimchi fried rice in the break room, despite it being their first meeting. Or the time he randomly praised her jelly in the lobby.
If he now blurted out, “What exactly is in your lunchbox?!” it would only confirm how weird he was.
‘No, I’m already plenty weird. Ugh… What’s wrong with me?’
Acknowledging his own weirdness, Siwan decided to calm himself through meditation.
Closing his eyes would’ve been ideal—but he feared he might actually fall asleep.
And there was no need to show his employee that side of him.
So instead, he fixed his gaze on the floor and slowly drifted into his thoughts.
‘Things to do today: Morning report from department heads. Lunch with the factory executives. Ugh… Right, I have a lunch appointment. I don’t want to go to work.’
Whether this could truly be called meditation was up for debate—but Siwan liked to mentally organize his day and call it “meditation.” So that’s what it was.
‘Lunch with the factory staff… Development HQ is paying, right? What was the restaurant again? Some kind of Japanese place?’
Most Japanese restaurants offer full course meals.
Siwan preferred sushi or sashimi—he could at least tolerate raw food.
So, from that perspective, an excellent choice.
‘Nice work, Secretary Seo!’
There was, however, one food Siwan absolutely loathed—fried food.
And unfortunately, in Japanese course meals, tempura always made an appearance.
First, the smell of oil.
For some reason, the smell of frying oil made Siwan’s stomach churn.
When he bit into fried food and the oil squirted out, it was awful. If it squirted toward the back teeth, it was bearable—but toward the tongue? Pure torture.
Then the greasy feeling on the lips afterward—sticky and slick.
He hated the feeling of his top and bottom lips touching after eating it.
Because of all this, Siwan despised fried food. And its cousin, pan-fried food, too.
The only saving grace was that fried food was usually served in a basket for the whole table—not individually—so no one would notice if he didn’t eat it.
But now something bizarre was happening.
His sharp nose told him the smell wafting from Hana’s bag was unmistakably the scent of pan-fried oil.
‘Why the hell does it smell so good?!’
And not just good—it was mouthwatering.
He had to focus not to make a noise swallowing.
At this point, he couldn’t help but wonder: Who exactly is Joo Hana?
To Siwan, food was merely something to chew and swallow to survive.
But when he ate her kimchi fried rice?
Each spoonful disappearing from the lunchbox left him feeling regretful, empty, and sad.
When he took the final bite, he chewed it over a hundred times—desperately clinging to the experience.
Whatever was in her bag now had to be just as powerful.
They say instinct always beats reason.
‘It’s better to be labeled a weirdo than to die of curiosity. What if this helps me overcome my eating issues?’
Siwan rationalized it every way he could—and finally gave in to instinct.
“Excuse me…”
Just as he opened his mouth—
Hana turned slightly toward him and gave a small, polite bow.
“Director, I’m really sorry.”
Siwan was stunned by the sudden apology.
He prided himself on being perceptive—but right now, he couldn’t grasp her intention in the slightest.
Was she politely asking him to get lost?
Since he had no idea what she meant, he couldn’t just accept the apology blindly.
Sometimes, when you don’t know, the best course is to ask directly.
“What are you apologizing for, exactly?”
Ah, crap.
He instantly regretted his tone.
It sounded too stiff, maybe even confrontational. “Is that so?” would’ve sounded better.
Bzzzzzt.
Just then, the phone in his pocket vibrated.
A long buzz meant a call.
There was only one person rude enough to call this early in the morning.
“Excuse me, Assistant Manager.”
Siwan excused himself and took out his phone.
Tsk.
As expected—it was Chae Suhwa.
He started to put it back into his pocket…
And accidentally hit accept call instead of decline.
