Chapter 9
That afternoon, inside Jihyeok’s office.
Eunbin placed the file down carefully with both hands.
“This is the report you requested.”
Jihyeok rested his chin on his hand and opened the file in silence.
In the spacious office, the only sounds were the scratch of a fountain pen on paper and the occasional rustle of pages turning.
It was a silence so dense that even breathing felt intrusive.
Eunbin stood rigidly in front of the desk, waiting solely for his judgment.
But as time passed, the dryness in her chest became impossible to ignore.
Every time Jihyeok’s gaze lingered on the documents, every time his brows furrowed, her heart dropped.
Did it not meet his expectations? Would he ask her to redo it?
Her mind swarmed with countless anxious thoughts.
Thirsty…
Her mouth had gone bone dry from the tension.
Out of habit, Eunbin bit her lower lip. The cracked, sore edges stung painfully.
She wanted to swallow, but even the sound of that might betray her, so she forced herself to hold back.
Clatter.
The sound of a chair sliding broke the silence. Jihyeok had closed the report and stood up.
Eunbin flinched and instinctively hunched her shoulders.
Without a word, Jihyeok headed to the minibar in the corner of the office.
Eunbin cast a sidelong glance, watching his movements carefully.
The fridge door clicked shut, and he walked back toward her.
Startled, Eunbin didn’t know where to look, so she fixed her gaze on the empty space ahead.
At the same time, a large shadow fell over her.
Thud.
Something landed on the desk in front of her.
Eunbin looked up in surprise.
“Drink this first.”
A hefty glass bottle embossed with the YN Hotel logo—premium fresh strawberry latte sold at the hotel.
Jihyeok perched on the edge of the desk, his gaze fixed on her lips.
“You’ll ruin your lips like that.”
“Ah…”
“It hurts, you know? Even I feel it just looking at you.”
At the low, resonant voice, Eunbin released the lip she had been biting and took the bottle almost hypnotically.
The cool touch of the glass in her palm, the soft slosh of pink liquid.
For a moment, her vision blurred, and memories from ten years ago overlapped.
The winter when she was seventeen was particularly bitter and cold.
Her parents’ divorce proceedings had reached a climax, and the house felt like fragile ice ready to shatter.
Her only support, her older brother Woojin, was away on an exchange program overseas.
When she occasionally got a call from him, she forced a cheerful tone, claiming she was fine. But once the call ended, she buried her face in her pillow and sobbed uncontrollably.
She pretended to be okay, fearing she might otherwise hold him back.
But honestly… nothing was okay.
That day was no different.
Frightened by the emptiness and chill of her home, she had run outside, with nowhere to go but the apartment playground.
Eunbin crouched on a rusty swing, head bowed low.
She truly felt utterly alone in the world.
“…Joo Eunbin?”
A low voice fell from above.
She looked up to see Jihyeok standing there.
On that winter night, her breath visible in the cold air, he looked down at her with his hands buried in his black padded jacket pockets.
Even seeing her swollen eyes staring up at him, he neither panicked nor asked why she was crying.
He simply sat down on the adjacent swing and waited silently until she calmed.
When her sobs had quieted, there was a rustling sound.
He reached into his pocket and handed something over.
A pack of strawberry milk from a convenience store, complete with a straw.
“Drink it. You like this the most, right?”
“How did you—?”
“Woojin said to get it for you.”
Eunbin stared blankly at Jihyeok, then accepted the milk. Ah, so that’s why… her brother had asked him to.
As she put the straw to her lips, the sweet liquid filled her mouth.
Her throat, blocked by tears, finally seemed to ease a little.
“…Your brother’s going abroad, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he really have to go?”
“It’s what the family wants. From my experience, I think it won’t hurt him either.”
His indifferent tone made Eunbin ache somewhere inside. She tapped at the dirt with her foot, speaking quietly.
“You must have been busy… why did you come?”
“Who knows.”
Jihyeok let out a small chuckle and roughly ruffled her hair.
“Woojin was just an excuse. I felt sorry seeing you cry.”
“…”
“They say sweets help you feel better.”
A simple, understated comfort.
Not overly tender, not cold either. The utmost consideration someone could show to a best friend’s younger sister.
Eunbin stared at him blankly through the straw.
Did Jihyeok realize that the indifferent warmth he had offered back then had been the only thing keeping her fragile seventeen-year-old world intact?
Even in the biting winter wind, the hair his hand had touched felt hot against her skin.
At that moment, she understood.
I like this person.
And simultaneously, she resigned herself. To Jihyeok, she was just a friend’s little sister to care for.
A fleeting first love, ending as soon as it began.
“Joo Eunbin?”
Jihyeok’s voice pulled her back to the present.
Before her stood not the fresh-faced college student, but a mature, alluring man with rolled-up sleeves.
Ten years had passed, yet his gaze still had that effortless power to shake hearts.
Eunbin suppressed the surge of emotion, gripping the latte bottle tightly.
“…You remembered this?”
Jihyeok studied her trembling eyes quietly.
Eunbin could not decipher the depths of those dark eyes.
Finally, he lifted the corners of his mouth and replied softly.
“How could I forget? That face, like you might start crying at any moment, hasn’t changed at all.”
Jihyeok reached out.
Instead of ruffling her hair like before, his thumb gently brushed the reddened edge of her lips.
The warmth of his hand, tenderly tending to a hurt spot, felt scorching; Eunbin held her breath.
“The only difference now,” he said, nodding toward the luxurious latte bottle with a casual smile,
“is that I’m capable of buying something better than convenience store milk.”
His gaze had deepened far beyond what it had been ten years ago.
It was more than simple kindness; there was an intensity in it.
Eunbin’s heart raced uncontrollably.
“So, relax and drink. Don’t cry.”
Jihyeok leaned down, their eyes meeting. His breath brushed close.
“If you cry, I can’t work.”
Eunbin felt her heart sink to the floor.
Unable to endure the intensity of his gaze any longer, she hid her burning face in her hands.
“Ah… I won’t cry…”
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heartbeat was loud enough to echo in her ears.
Something had clearly broken inside her.
Otherwise, there was no way she could be this helplessly shaken by someone appearing after ten years.
Fourth day of temporary assignment.
Eunbin’s eyes were fixed on the monitor.
Ten years’ worth of sales data and recipe histories.
The amount of information was enormous, yet essential to review before heading to the field.
“Memorize everything perfectly before you go. That way, you won’t be underestimated.”
Jihyeok’s advice was reasonable.
Eunbin massaged her stiff neck while carefully cross-checking the Excel data.
For the success of the project, she couldn’t afford to show any gaps.
Click.
The mahogany door, firmly closed, opened.
“Assistant Joo, come in for a moment.”
He could have used the intercom, but Jihyeok opened the door himself.
It was already the fifth time he had called her that morning.
Eunbin sighed softly as her work was interrupted, then straightened her expression and stood.
“Yes, Director.”
Entering the office, she saw Jihyeok sitting on the sofa, flipping through documents.
He gestured to the seat in front of him.
“Sit.”
“Is there a problem with the documents I submitted for approval?”
“No. The documents are perfect.”
Jihyeok placed the papers on the table and fixed his gaze on her.
“I called you to relax your brows. I could see your tension from the monitor outside.”
“…I was focused on work.”
“Don’t overdo it. If you collapse, I’ll be the one getting blamed by your brother.”
Though he spoke lightly, his gaze carried more concern than playfulness.
He slid the glass of iced water toward her so it was within easy reach.
“Drink this. Your lips are all chapped… did I give you too much work?”
“It’s not that.”
The concern was too gentle to feel like a superior’s reprimand, yet too formal to be a brotherly worry.
Eunbin picked up the cup, feeling an odd mixture of emotions, and brought it to her lips.
As she hurriedly swallowed due to her nerves, Jihyeok’s hand suddenly—but gently—approached.
“…!”
He carefully tucked the hair sticking to her cheek behind her ear.
A touch as delicate as handling a fragile glass doll.
“Drink slowly. No one’s chasing you.”
The warmth brushing her ear was so tender that Eunbin couldn’t help but hold her breath for a moment.
