Chapter 4
“Vice President?”
Han Bom, who had come to deliver the meeting minutes, stopped short.
In front of her stood a very unusual looking Seol Tae-geon.
The normally immaculate man — hair slicked back with pomade, suit pressed to perfection — was a mess.
Someone who nitpicked even his staff’s tie knots now looked as if he’d just come out of a fight.
“What… happened to you?”
“Han, Han-secretary, why are you suddenly—?”
Flustered, Seol Tae-geon hastily smoothed his hair and straightened his clothes.
For a moment, Han Bom thought he might be sick.
“Vice President, are you perhaps…”
She closed the office door behind her and stepped all the way inside.
Bang—!
Startled by the sound, Seol Tae-geon jerked his head up.
“Why—why are you barging in without permission?”
Han Bom came right up to him.
They said a guilty conscience needs no accuser — and right now, Seol Tae-geon felt exactly that, haunted by his earlier thoughts.
“W-What is it?”
Her doubtful gaze made his heart lurch.
“Excuse me,” she said calmly, placing a hand on his forehead.
“You do have a fever.”
“….”
“I’ll push back your schedule by an hour.”
As her hand dropped away, her eyes lingered on his loosened tie.
“I’ll fix your tie.”
He quickly waved his hands.
“N-No, that’s fine.”
Just lowering his gaze brought her face within inches of his.
He froze.
She had tied his tie countless times before.
But this time, he couldn’t breathe.
In The President’s Secret Taste, the main characters’ favorite prop had been the tie.
He had been shocked by its ‘new use.’
‘How can someone with such an innocent face think of something like that?’
Thump—Thump—
His heart raced violently. A tremor rippled through him.
“I-I’ll do it myself!”
He pushed her hand away.
“Han-secretary, from now on, please don’t touch me so suddenly.”
Her puzzled look made him stumble for an excuse.
“I mean… I’m not a child. I can handle this myself.”
“…I apologize.”
His harsh tone didn’t match the guilt in his eyes as he sneaked a glance at her bowed head.
‘She smiles so brightly with others… but with me, her face is always so stiff.’
He often thought she was two-faced — polite and charming with others, cold and blunt with him.
After reading her web novel, he began to wonder if she really did have multiple personalities.
How could that serene expression hide such wild imagination?
Meanwhile, Han Bom’s mind was spinning.
Serving a man as sensitive and sharp as Seol Tae-geon was exhausting — and lately, he’d been worse than ever.
Still, there was always a reason behind his behavior.
‘What on earth is it this time?’
As she pondered, Seol Tae-geon cleared his throat awkwardly.
The fact that he was so aware of her made him feel pathetic.
‘Calm down.’
He straightened his back. “So… why did you come in? I didn’t call you.”
Han Bom raised the folder in her hand.
“I’ve organized the discussion from the meeting with Rugal.”
“You know I don’t need that. It’s already all in my head—”
“I’m fully aware of your brilliant memory, Vice President,” she interrupted smoothly.
Flattering him just enough, she continued,
“I only thought you could check if I missed anything.”
Of course, she hadn’t missed a thing — she recorded every meeting.
She’d only come to observe him.
When she bent slightly, smiling with professional warmth, Seol Tae-geon fiddled nervously with his tie before sitting down.
“Well, fine then. Let’s take a look.”
She placed the folder on his hands — but didn’t let go.
He looked up, startled, and met her serious gaze.
“Vice President, if I may ask you something personal?”
“W-What is it?”
Still holding the folder, she leaned forward, her face suddenly very close.
“Have you… taken up a new nighttime hobby lately?”
He blinked, struggling to breathe as she peered intently at him.
“I—I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’ve been looking quite tired lately. Managing your condition is part of my job, after all.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
Still gripping the folder, he shifted his eyes away.
His face burned as her sharp gaze scanned him up and down like a scanner.
He swallowed hard.
Whenever he faced her now, scenes from that web novel flashed across his mind.
His cheeks heated, his pulse raced.
‘I really have to stop reading that…’
Easier said than done.
Once he’d gotten a taste, it was impossible to quit.
For someone who’d prided himself on his discipline, this was a crisis.
“Could it be…” Her eyes narrowed.
“Every night, you’re doing something… strange?”
A shiver ran down his spine.
“Secretary Han! What kind of ridiculous thoughts are you having?”
“…?”
“What sort of brain comes up with nonsense like that? Honestly—”
While he flared up, Han Bom only blinked in confusion.
“I was just asking if you’ve been exercising late at night,” she said evenly.
She released the folder.
Seol Tae-geon sagged back into his chair as if the tension holding him snapped.
He fanned his face with the folder before burying it in the pages.
Han Bom eyed him with quiet concern.
‘He must be run-down. Maybe I should get him a tonic prescription.’
“Secretary Han, you can go now. I’ll review this myself.”
“Yes, Vice President.”
She bowed politely and turned to leave, mentally flipping through names of famous herbal clinics.
“And Han-secretary,” his voice called out behind her.
“Yes?”
He hesitated, frowning.
“That… those red shoes of yours. Don’t wear them in the office anymore.”
Click.
She glanced down at her shoes, then back at him, incredulous.
A dress code complaint? Here?
Ato Beauty allowed total freedom — sneakers, bright hair, whatever you wanted.
She always dressed neatly but with taste.
For him to pick on her shoes felt petty and personal.
Her lips tightened.
“May I ask exactly what part of my shoes you find unacceptable, Vice President?”
Her tone was polite, but her voice carried an icy edge.
Even her smile had frozen.
“The color, the material, the gloss — everything about that red pair. I don’t like any of it.”
Han Bom looked down at her shoes again.
They were elegant, minimal, with a faint sheen — hardly flashy.
And if he had a problem, he should’ve said something three years ago.
“I’ve been wearing these shoes for three years,” she said evenly.
“About three times a month — roughly seventy-two times in total. I wonder why it only bothers you now.”
They were a gift from her younger siblings — bought with money they’d pooled together.
She rarely wore them, but they were precious.
Now, he was turning even that into a target.
Han Bom straightened her back, daring him to continue.
Seol Tae-geon’s face twisted in discomfort.
He’d only said it because the red reminded him of the novel’s heroine’s shoes.
‘Or maybe… if she’d worn black, it would’ve been even worse?’
He stammered, “W-Whatever. Three years, five years, doesn’t matter.
That red — I hate it! From now on, red is forbidden! Absolutely!”
He was practically throwing a tantrum.
Han Bom didn’t back down.
“You can’t suddenly forbid something I’ve worn for years. And for the record, Vice President—”
“these aren’t red.”
He blinked. “Not red?”
“No. Not just red.”
She met his eyes firmly.
“They’re Brick Rose.”
“…Brick… what?”
