SMDS Ch 2

His mouth kept drying out.

Jian reached for his coffee but let out a small groan. Having sipped every time his mouth felt parched, only unmelted ice now rattled in the cup. Reluctantly, he crunched on a piece of ice and recalled the phone call from a couple of days ago.

‘I know this is sudden. But I thought it would be better to discuss this in person rather than over the phone. Oh, and of course, we’ll schedule it entirely at your convenience, Seo Jian.’

Unlike Jian, who could only move his lips in flustered silence at the unexpected call, Cha Jaehwi guided the conversation with remarkable ease. His tone, proposing a meeting, was confident, as if he didn’t entertain the possibility of refusal, yet it didn’t come across as rude or arrogant.

‘Since you’ll likely need to check your schedule, please get back to me after you’ve looked it over. I’ll be waiting for your call.’

As Jian stammered, unable to form a response, Cha Jaehwi concluded the call by asking him to reply after checking his availability. Checking the blinking call duration on the screen, Jian saw it had barely lasted five minutes. After hanging up, he half-wondered if it was a dream, even asking Jung Sehyun, distracted by the cat, to pinch his cheek to confirm…

“…….”

Rubbing his cheek, which still seemed to tingle two days later, Jian checked the time.

Less than an hour remained until the appointed time. Worried about traffic or some unforeseen delay, he’d hurried out, only to arrive not late but far too early.

Figuring another coffee wouldn’t hurt, he stood up.

“Iced Americano, large, please. With two extra shots.”

“That’ll be 6,500 won. Are you dining in?”

“Yes.”

Ordering another coffee less than thirty minutes after arriving felt awkward, but the staff, perhaps used to such customers, rang it up smoothly, processed the payment, and handed him a buzzer. Tucking away his card and the buzzer, Jian was heading back to his seat when his phone chimed with a series of notifications.

He didn’t need to check to know who it was.

[Seo Jian, look at this. Don’t you think Yuwol would love it?]

Jung Sehyun didn’t seem to need Jian’s response, treating the messenger app like his personal notepad.

[(Photo)]

[How about this one? They say cats go crazy for it.]

[(Photo)]

[This looks pretty good too, doesn’t it?]

[Oh, they say you need to brush cats’ teeth too.]

[I’ll send these to your place, so just accept them.]

Jian stared at the chat window filled with links, screenshots, and Sehyun’s rambling, letting out a small groan. Toys, treats, even a cat toothbrush. He’s sending all this… Swallowing a sigh, Jian called Sehyun immediately.

—What? I was just about to order… Is there anything else we need to get?

“Sehyun.”

—Yeah?

“To cut to the chase, the treats you’ve ordered the past two days are more than enough, and most importantly, there’s no way Yuwol will let us brush his teeth.”

A cat who wouldn’t even play with a toy—brushing his teeth was out of the question.

—Oh.

Seeming to recall Yuwol’s high wariness, Sehyun let out a short exclamation.

—Still, it might come in handy someday, right?

“…….”

—Alright, I’ll take it out. We can buy it later if needed.

Muttering about how cats get tartar and need their teeth brushed, Sehyun’s voice was tinged with reluctance. Already fond of animals, Sehyun had fallen head over heels for the black cat he met at Jian’s place.

‘You’ve been feeding him since June? Hmm, how about Yuwol? Yuwol.’

‘…Good thing he didn’t show up in July or August.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Outraged that Jian had been calling the cat “meow” and hadn’t named him despite meeting him two months ago, Sehyun promptly named him Yuwol.

—So, minus the toothbrush, the rest is fine, right? Treats get eaten fast, and we need to figure out his preferences.

He was ready to stock up on cat supplies again.

If Yuwol hadn’t fled from Sehyun’s attempts to get close that day, Sehyun probably would’ve taken him home and treated him like royalty.

But Yuwol had hissed and run off, and the memory must have been vivid, as he grew wary of Jian too. He still came for meal times, but if Jian was visible, he’d flatten his ears and dart away, checking for others. Jian wasn’t hurt by the renewed wariness but rather felt a tender ache, imagining how tough Yuwol’s life on the streets must have been.

“…Fine. But no more additions.”

—Oh, just one more hideout.

“…Alright, but that’s it.”

A hideout wouldn’t take up space indoors, and it’d be better for Yuwol than the makeshift box house, so after a brief pause, Jian relented. Sehyun’s voice lit up with joy. The faint click of a mouse over the phone suggested he was already shopping for the hideout.

—Oh, it’s about time for Yuwol’s meal. Could you snap a photo and send it?

With Yuwol now warier of Jian, approaching might scare him off entirely. Concerned, Sehyun, unable to visit, asked for a photo instead. Jian had already sent about ten photos over the past two days. Sehyun complained it wasn’t enough, but Jian was doing his best.

“I’m out right now, so maybe tonight.”

—Huh? Did we have a plan I forgot about?

Knowing Jian rarely left home unless work demanded it and kept his circle small, Sehyun’s voice carried a question mark.

“…I’ve got a friend…”

—Besides me?

Since that wasn’t the case, Jian fell silent, and Sehyun chuckled at his pause.

“I’m out for a meeting.”

—Didn’t I tell you to take it easy?

Sehyun clicked his tongue.

—And play with Yuwol a bit. Get closer!

“…Sure, sure.”

Answering halfheartedly, Jian noticed the buzzer flashing and vibrating loudly.

“I’ve got to go.”

—Alright. Don’t forget Yuwol’s photo when you’re home. Don’t blow it off.

Ending the call with Sehyun, who was still nagging about the photo, Jian stood. Taking the empty cup, now just rattling ice, to the pickup counter, he saw several trays lined up.

“Give me the empty cup, and I’ll take care of it.”

The staff took the buzzing buzzer and cup, sliding a tray toward him. Jian grabbed it and turned to head back to his seat.

The heart is a fickle thing. Just moments ago, he’d been desperate to gulp down the coffee to soothe his parched mouth, but talking with Sehyun had eased his tension. As the meeting time approached, his mouth would likely dry up again, as if it had never been fine.

About to check the time, Jian realized he’d left his phone on the table while grabbing the buzzer and cup. Too busy berating himself, he didn’t notice the doorbell or the shadow looming ahead.

By the time Jian’s eyes caught the other’s shoes, it was too late to step back.

“Oh…!”

The tray bumped against the other person. As Jian lost his balance and stumbled, the coffee wobbled, threatening to spill. To avoid splashing the other, he needed to twist his body further, but his body couldn’t keep up with his mind. I’m going to fall. Bracing for disaster, Jian instinctively squeezed his eyes shut, only to slowly open them as a firm grip steadied his arm.

“…….”

The coffee had sloshed onto the tray but only slightly. It hadn’t splashed the other’s clothes or the floor. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jian raised his head to thank the person who’d caught him.

“Thank you…”

But upon seeing the other’s face, he froze mid-sentence.

“…sir.”

With effort, he forced his stiff lips to finish.

“Seo Jian?”

Recognizing Jian as the one he’d caught, Cha Jaehwi glanced at his watch.

“There’s still quite a bit of time until our meeting. You’re early.”

In Cha Jaehwi’s smiling face, Jian keenly caught a fleeting hint of discomfort from arriving later than him. Jian carefully chose a response to ease his burden.

“The roads were clearer than I expected…”

“If I’d known, I would’ve come earlier.”

Even if Cha Jaehwi had arrived early, he wouldn’t have been waiting before Jian. Knowing this, Jian gave a small smile and shook his head slightly.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Still…”

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re in the way of other customers. Could you step aside a bit?”

Interrupting Cha Jaehwi was a staff member, cautiously stepping in as the conversation stretched on. Jian realized they were blocking the path to the pickup counter, obstructing others.

“Go take a seat, and I’ll join you after ordering.”

Realizing the spot wasn’t ideal for talking, Cha Jaehwi told Jian to sit and turned to order.

“…….”

Jian stared blankly at his retreating figure for a while before finally moving. Each step felt creaky, like rusted machinery.

Lingering near the pickup counter, likely to grab his drink and avoid extra trips, Cha Jaehwi stood a head taller than others, easily visible from afar. The sight felt strangely foreign, stirring regret in Jian.

Though Cha Jaehwi had set the time, Jian chose the place. Grateful for him accommodating his schedule, Jian had agreed when Cha Jaehwi insisted he pick the location. He’d searched for a suitable café near Cha Jaehwi’s company, but seeing him now, Jian wondered if he should’ve chosen a place with private rooms.

While Jian inwardly regretted his choice, Cha Jaehwi, tray in hand, approached confidently. Watching him close the distance with long, model-like strides, the brief calm Jian felt washed away like a sandcastle swept by waves, leaving only a residue of helpless emotions.

Setting down an espresso topped with whipped cream, Cha Jaehwi sat across from Jian, gesturing toward his drink.

“I should’ve treated you.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Did you wait long?”

“I just got here myself.”

Seeing Cha Jaehwi’s concern despite arriving early himself, Jian fudged the truth. Knowing it would only burden him, there was no need to be overly honest.

Cha Jaehwi couldn’t know this was Jian’s second order. Perhaps because they’d bumped into each other at the pickup, he smiled with relief, erasing the earlier awkwardness.

“I didn’t get to greet you properly earlier. It’s a bit awkward since we’ve already spoken on the phone, but I’m Cha Jaehwi from Floreo.”

His smile sent ripples through Jian’s heart, leaving him blinking. Cha Jaehwi offered a business card while introducing himself. Finally regaining his composure, Jian accepted it.

Floreo CEO Cha Jaehwi.

The crisp white card, with only his name and title in holographic print, was simple. Yet its simplicity made it perfect, as if no embellishment was needed to define him.

“I don’t have a card to offer… I’m Seo Jian.”

Lately, he mostly exchanged contact info via email, so he hadn’t bothered with business cards. His empty hands suddenly felt inadequate.

“I already have your card, so it’s fine.”

“My card?”

He’d made cards when he worked at a company years ago, but he rarely used them. How could Cha Jaehwi have his card?

“Yes, several of them.”

“How…”

“Your translated works are your business cards, aren’t they?”

Funnily, his words made Jian’s hands feel less inadequate. A ticklish warmth bloomed in his chest, and Jian tightly clasped his hands on his lap. Cha Jaehwi, watching Jian’s flustered reaction, smiled faintly and lifted his coffee.

“It’s not far from the office, but I’m surprised I didn’t know about this place. The coffee’s great.”

“…Isn’t it too noisy?”

“Cafés around lunchtime are usually like this, aren’t they?”

“Oh.”

“Thanks to you, I’ve found a great spot.”

Jian had been inwardly anxious about choosing the wrong place, but his words, however slyly, brought relief. Following Cha Jaehwi’s lead, Jian sipped his coffee to moisten his dry lips. Perhaps because of the praise, it tasted especially good.

“…….”

Halfway through his cup, Jian found himself unconsciously observing Cha Jaehwi. Sipping his whipped cream-topped espresso without getting any on his lips, he wasn’t much different from a decade ago—or, more precisely, from the image Jian had occasionally conjured in his mind.

Jet-black hair neatly combed with pomade, long eyes without double lids blinking to reveal irises as dark as a starless night, smooth yet sharp features… Perhaps because the youthful softness had fully faded, he seemed far more solid and composed than before.

Then it struck Jian as absurd. The time they’d spent together back then was barely ten minutes, yet he’d mulled it over, imagined it, and now projected it onto the man he’d reunited with.

As he gazed quietly, Cha Jaehwi suddenly wiped his own lips.

“Just checking, in case something was on my face and you were too polite to say.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Good to know I didn’t embarrass myself.”

At the playful remark, Jian averted his gaze. Cha Jaehwi, curiously eyeing Jian’s now slightly flushed earlobe, called his name.

“Seo Jian.”

To spare Jian’s unnecessary embarrassment and shift the topic, he decided to get to the point. With a stack of tasks awaiting, he couldn’t linger here long.

“After seeing you at the premiere, I looked into your past work. Books, films, oh, and documentaries too.”

Jian, dazed by the embarrassment of being caught staring and the shame of it, struggled to regain his composure.

The purpose of this meeting was clear from the start. When Cha Jaehwi contacted him through the Assistant Director, Jian had suspected it was work-related. Otherwise, there’d be no reason for him to seek his number.

“…The films must’ve been hard to track down.”

Most of Jian’s work was for international film festivals, many of which never screened publicly. Even for an industry insider like Cha Jaehwi, finding them years later wouldn’t have been easy.

“I had to hustle, no exaggeration. It was tough.”

Though it wasn’t something to apologize for, Jian wondered if he should. His eyes darted, and if Cha Jaehwi hadn’t continued, he might’ve blurted out an apology.

“I got curious while tracking down the films.”

Those were projects from years ago, when Jian was far less polished. There were bound to be rough, imperfect parts due to his inexperience, so the praise left him flustered—especially coming from Cha Jaehwi.

“I know you’ve focused on publishing translation for the past two years, but if you’re still interested in video translation, I’d like to propose you for a drama we’re preparing to launch on our platform.”

Cha Jaehwi steered the conversation smoothly, just as he had on the phone—confident, as if refusal wasn’t an option, yet not overbearing. Even as Jian hesitated, carefully choosing his words, Cha Jaehwi waited patiently without pressing for an answer.

“…It’s a very generous and flattering offer, but may I ask why?”

There were countless translators, many highly skilled. Jian, who studied others’ work in his spare time, could name several. There were even translators audiences trusted implicitly. None would likely turn down a Floreo offer.

So why would Cha Jaehwi, the CEO, personally approach someone like Jian, a relative novice in experience and credentials?

“Hmm. The reason, the reason.”

Cha Jaehwi tilted his head slightly, tapping his knee.

“It might seem flimsy to some, but at the premiere, you reacted to the same moments in the film as I did.”

“What does that mean…”

The statement was vague, hard to grasp.

“It’s just my personal view, but I believe good translation captures the essence of the original while ensuring the audience isn’t distracted. Ideally, they shouldn’t even notice they’re reading subtitles.”

Cha Jaehwi elaborated with a steady, clear tone, addressing Jian’s confusion. Jian, sharing some of this view and aspiring to it, nodded unconsciously in agreement.

To Jian, translation was about dismantling and reassembling a world. He aimed to preserve the original as much as possible while ensuring the audience didn’t feel alienated, blending it seamlessly within the cultural context. It could be challenging, but delivering the original’s message across languages and cultures brought immense satisfaction.

“Seeing your work, I became convinced we share similar goals.”

“…….”

“That’s why I’m making this offer to you.”

Handing over a document envelope, he asked Jian to review the contract and terms in writing. Though Jian had anticipated the meeting’s purpose, it still felt surreal.

“We’ll accommodate you as much as possible, except for non-negotiable terms.”

Jian glanced between the business card and the crisp envelope on the table.

“Of course, I’m not expecting an answer right now.”

It wasn’t a decision to make on the spot. Cha Jaehwi didn’t rush him.

“…Yes, I’ll review it and get back to you soon.”

Hesitating, Jian deferred his response. Nodding, Cha Jaehwi’s gaze fell on Jian’s now-empty cup. Jian, in turn, noticed Cha Jaehwi’s cup was empty too. Having achieved the meeting’s purpose, it seemed time to part. Jian wondered if he should say something when Cha Jaehwi leaned slightly toward him.

“By the way, have you eaten?”

Startled by the sudden closeness, Jian floundered as Cha Jaehwi asked something out of the blue.

“What? …No, not yet.”

Calming down after leaning back, Jian processed the question and answered. Having come out so early, he hadn’t eaten, and tension had dulled his hunger.

“If you don’t have plans afterward, shall we grab a meal?”

“What?”

“I invited you to meet, but not treating you to even a cup of coffee has been nagging at me. Plus, I’m feeling a bit peckish myself since I haven’t eaten.”

With him right in front of him, Jian felt like food wouldn’t go down easily. But Cha Jaehwi’s mention of being hungry on an empty stomach tugged at Jian’s heart, and without realizing it, he nodded and responded.

“I don’t have any plans.”

“Then shall we go?”

Smiling, Cha Jaehwi stood up. Jian, watching him, rose as if entranced.

Though he’d gotten up impulsively at the suggestion of a meal, Jian hadn’t considered that it would mean riding in Cha Jaehwi’s car. Throughout the roughly thirty-minute drive, surrounded by the faint scent of Cha Jaehwi’s cologne, Jian was at a loss. When they arrived, he let out a discreet sigh of relief.

“Shall we head in?”

While Jian steadied his breathing, Cha Jaehwi, having handed the keys to the valet, led the way.

Only then could Jian take in his surroundings. They had arrived at a traditional hanok residence with a sign written in elegant calligraphy. The valet service and the refined exterior alone suggested it was no ordinary place. Without even glancing at the menu, Jian could tell it was somewhere he wouldn’t typically visit.

“…This feels like too much.”

It already felt overwhelming. At Jian’s whisper, Cha Jaehwi looked at him, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Hospitality is most effective when it makes the guest feel a bit overwhelmed.”

“…….”

“And I’ve already given the keys to the staff, so it’s too late to turn back.”

Saying they could just ask for the keys back would be pointless. It would clearly be a slight to Cha Jaehwi’s dignity. Jian caught the subtext in his words, realizing they were a strategic move to ensure he couldn’t refuse. Swallowing a sigh, Jian tried to shake off the burden.

Guided courteously by a staff member, they stepped into the hanok.

Perhaps to protect the privacy of its guests, the interior was composed entirely of private rooms. Unlike the traditional exterior, it was sleek and modern yet retained the refined charm of a hanok. As they followed the staff, Jian glanced at Cha Jaehwi. His steps were confident, as if he came here often. Unlike Jian, he didn’t look around. Then their eyes met as Cha Jaehwi looked down at him.

“The layout’s a bit intricate and secluded, isn’t it?”

Jian hadn’t been looking because of the complex path, but he couldn’t say that outright. And, as Cha Jaehwi noted, it did feel a bit like a maze.

“It’s probably because a lot of people sensitive to attention come here.”

The place clearly had a high barrier to entry, and Jian could guess who might frequent it without needing elaboration. Cha Jaehwi added further.

“I come here often because the food suits my taste.”

“You must like Korean cuisine.”

“Yes. That, and I missed Korean food while living abroad. Even famous Korean restaurants overseas didn’t taste like what you get in Korea. So I eat as much as I can when I’m here.”

Listening, Jian recalled Cha Jaehwi’s background from his online search. Right after high school, he’d studied at a foreign university, then joined a global consulting firm before founding his own investment company. He’d returned to Korea two years ago to take the helm at Floreo.

Reflecting on that timeline, Jian realized how much of a coincidence and miracle it was that Cha Jaehwi had once handed him an umbrella. Though the reason for his return was unclear, back then, he’d already been abroad for studies.

“You must’ve lived abroad for a long time.”

Though Jian knew his history, he didn’t want to reveal he’d looked it up. There was also a part of him that wanted to keep the conversation going.

“Yes. Right after high school—oh, this must be the room.”

Cha Jaehwi’s sentence trailed off. Seeing the door opened by the staff, he paused and gestured for Jian to enter first. Hesitating, Jian slipped off his shoes and stepped onto the stone platform. Surveying the understated, tidy room, he took a seat discreetly.

“The dishes will be served in order.”

“Please do. Oh, I should’ve asked earlier, but are there any ingredients you need to avoid?”

“Well, if there’s anything with nuts, could you leave those out?”

It was just a mild reaction, but recalling how it could show on his skin, Jian added the request.

“Yes, I’ll inform the kitchen.”

The staff, noting Jian’s request, closed the door and left, leaving the two alone. To break the quiet atmosphere, Jian reached out, but Cha Jaehwi was quicker. He poured water into Jian’s empty cup, then filled his own. Jian placed his now-idle hands neatly on his lap.

“I ordered my usual menu, but I’m not sure if it’ll suit your taste.”

“I eat pretty much anything.”

“That’s a relief. I was worried I’d been too presumptuous, hoping you’d consider my proposal favorably through this hospitality.”

“No, not at all.”

Hospitality—it felt like an overly grand word for him.

“If I add any more pressure, you might choke on your food. Shall I stop?”

Jian was about to nod eagerly when a knock preceded a staff member bringing in the appetizer: abalone porridge served delicately in white porcelain. Jian picked up his spoon as Cha Jaehwi did, following his lead. The warm porridge, perfectly seasoned, suited Jian’s taste exactly.

Having had nothing but coffee, Jian’s stomach had been empty but not hungry. He’d worried the pressure might upset his stomach, but after one spoonful, hunger kicked in. Eating slowly but steadily, he soon scraped the bottom of the small portion.

“You’re eating well, thankfully.”

Looking up, Jian saw Cha Jaehwi had only eaten about half.

“Should I ask them to bring the next dish faster?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Waving both hands, Jian’s ears flushed red. Seeing this, Cha Jaehwi wondered if he shouldn’t have commented on his eating. But Jian, who’d seemed indifferent to food, ate so eagerly it was almost tempting to offer his own portion. His tense expression softened momentarily, though it stiffened again when Cha Jaehwi spoke.

“The abalone porridge is delicious. You should eat too, sir—uh, I mean, take your time.”

Correcting himself mid-sentence, worried he’d sounded pushy, Jian made Cha Jaehwi swallow a laugh. If the next appetizer hadn’t arrived, he might’ve chuckled. Jian tried to eat slowly, mindful of Cha Jaehwi, but his spoon occasionally sped up despite his efforts.

Cha Jaehwi, picking at his food casually, observed Jian as Jian had done earlier.

His skin was so pale it seemed untouched by sunlight, with slightly curly light brown hair. Each blink of his double-lidded eyes cast long lashes that shadowed his cheeks. From the first meeting, Cha Jaehwi had noted his pretty face. It made sense that Won Yujin, with her discerning taste, had once grabbed Jian and asked if he’d considered debuting.

Then, a sudden sense of déjà vu hit.

“Seo Jian. Have we met somewhere before?”

The question slipped out unexpectedly.

He knew it was unlikely. They hadn’t attended school together, and Cha Jaehwi had left for abroad right after high school, staying over a decade. There was no way he’d seen Seo Jian. The surprise in Jian’s widened eyes confirmed the question was baseless.

Trrrr—

Regretting the pointless remark, Cha Jaehwi was about to speak when his phone rang. Checking the caller, he ignored it and flipped the phone over, but it rang again. Tapping the table, he chose to pick it up instead.

“I need to take this call outside…”

“Go ahead.”

Excusing himself, Cha Jaehwi stepped out with the phone. His voice, answering, faded as the door opened and closed. Only then could Jian set down his spoon and exhale deeply.

Ignoring the probing gaze, Jian had been eating without knowing if the food went in his nose or mouth, and then that sudden question. But from Cha Jaehwi’s expression, it was clear he didn’t actually remember Jian.

Of course he wouldn’t. How significant could that meeting have been? Yet, when he asked if they’d met, beneath Jian’s surprise was a faint, undeniable gladness.

“…….”

The realization that the meeting hadn’t been meaningful only to him stirred a fleeting emotion that soon faded.

“Excuse me.”

A staff member entered cautiously, setting the main course on the table. Even after arranging an array of dishes and leaving, Cha Jaehwi didn’t return.

With him absent, Jian had no intention of touching the food, reaching for water instead when the sliding door opened again. Cha Jaehwi returned with a troubled expression, and Jian quickly guessed why.

A call he’d ignored but kept coming, and the discomfort on his face after taking it—Jian could piece it together.

“Looks like something urgent came up.”

“Yes, a bit.”

“I’m fine, so you should go.”

Jian spoke first, considerate of any burden Cha Jaehwi might feel.

“I invited you to eat and now I’m being rude. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m really okay.”

“Thank you for understanding. I’ve settled the bill, so take your time eating.”

“Yes. I’ll enjoy the meal.”

The portions seemed daunting to eat alone, but… Jian answered for now. As Cha Jaehwi said, he could eat slowly, taking only what he wanted.

“Oh, and take this.”

He handed Jian an umbrella. For a moment, Jian froze, the past overlapping with the present, but he slowly accepted it.

“It’s raining. It’s probably just a passing shower, but just in case.”

“…Thank you.”

“I’d like to get this umbrella back with a positive answer.”

“Yes.”

Smiling at Jian’s response, Cha Jaehwi said he really had to go and stepped back. Jian stood. Cha Jaehwi waved it off, but Jian didn’t hesitate. Seeing him off as he strode away, Jian looked at the umbrella in his hand, then opened his bag. Beneath the document envelope from earlier, another umbrella sat alone.

“…….”

Staring at it, Jian zipped the bag shut, gripping the new umbrella tightly. He kept it in sight while eating.

Contrary to Cha Jaehwi’s prediction of a brief shower, the rain didn’t stop even after Jian leisurely finished his meal.

“Oh…”

Stepping outside with a courteous send-off, Jian sighed as he tried to find his way home. Having ridden in Cha Jaehwi’s car, he had no idea where he was.

Standing under the eaves as heavy rain poured, he pulled out his phone to check the route home. Setting the restaurant as the starting point and his address as the destination, Jian rubbed his cheek. It was about an hour’s trip—not too far, but public transport was inconvenient.

There was no nearby station, so he’d have to walk twenty minutes to a bus stop. On an unfamiliar route, in this downpour, it might take even longer.

His pant hems would get wet, but it was better than sweltering heat. With no plans today, there was no rush to get home. Reviewing the route to the bus stop on the map, Jian frowned briefly at a new notification but, seeing the name, accepted the call.

—Jian! You picked up quick.

“I was just looking at my phone. Hello, Assistant Director.”

—I’m doing fine. Or maybe not, busy enough to wish I could split into twelve. Are you outside? I hear rain.

“Yes. I just finished eating and was about to head home.”

—It’s pouring. That’s gonna be a hassle.

“It’s not that bad. I’m in Seongbuk-gu, so it’s not too far from home.”

—Oh? Where in Seongbuk-gu? I’m nearby. If it’s on my way, I’ll give you a lift.

“That’d be too much trouble.”

—Trouble? I’m just picking you up en route. But heads-up, I can’t take you all the way home. Just to a station.

“Still…”

—And however troublesome, could it compare to how you helped me out? Where are you? Tell me.

The Assistant Director pressed despite Jian’s reluctance. Though they hadn’t known each other long, Jian knew he’d keep pushing, so he gave the restaurant’s name. Saying he was nearby and would arrive in ten minutes, the Assistant Director hung up.

Leaning against the wall, Jian listened to the rain while waiting. Seeing him standing idly under the eaves, a staff member asked if he needed a taxi. Jian mentioned he was waiting for someone, and they suggested waiting inside. Just as he was about to decline, a car pulled up, and a hand waved at him through the window.

“Thank you for coming all this way.”

Bowing to the staff, Jian climbed into the passenger seat, expressing his gratitude.

“No big deal. I was nearby.”

“You must’ve had work.”

“Yeah, scouting for a new film. The rain wouldn’t stop, so I was heading back. What brought you here, Jian? This place looks pricey… Oh?”

“Yes. I met with CEO Cha. He had to leave early for something urgent.”

The Assistant Director’s face lit up with curiosity.

“You met? You seemed so overwhelmed last time, I worried I’d been too hasty giving out your number without asking. Actually, that’s why I called today.”

Oh. Jian let out a short sigh, recalling when Cha Jaehwi first called. Right after their conversation, Jian had called the Assistant Director.

‘CEO Cha already called? I gave him your number today—man, he’s quick. After the premiere, at the afterparty, he asked about you, then called this morning asking for a contact. So I gave it to him… Did I mess up?’

When Cha Jaehwi called to arrange a meeting, Jian deferred his response and immediately contacted the Assistant Director. Elated at first, he’d lowered his voice, sensing Jian’s hesitation. Jian had later thanked him, promising to treat him to a meal, but it seemed he hadn’t fully believed it.

“I thought I was helping you out, but reflecting, I realized I acted on my own assumptions. I’ve been kicking myself since. Really.”

“It’s really okay.”

“If you say so, I’m grateful…”

The Assistant Director’s expression lightened.

“So, what’d CEO Cha say? Oh, is that rude to ask?”

His curiosity had been obvious since Jian mentioned the meeting, and he’d held back longer than expected. Jian glanced at the passing scenery, fidgeting with the umbrella in his hand, and spoke.

“He asked if I could take on translation for a new project they’re launching.”

“I think I know the one. He wanted you for that?”

Since it wasn’t a secret and Jian wanted advice, he was honest. The Assistant Director, forgetting he was driving, turned to Jian.

“Oh, sorry. Just surprised. Looks like CEO Cha really sees something in you.”

From his reaction, the project Cha Jaehwi offered seemed significant.

“You know CEO Cha took over Floreo two years ago, right?”

“Yes.”

Jian had seen the year Cha Jaehwi joined and quietly wished he’d still been doing video translation. As if it mattered whether Jian knew, the Assistant Director continued.

“Before CEO Cha, Floreo wasn’t doing well. Every project they produced or invested in flopped. It was like they were on life support, barely hanging on. There were even rumors in the industry that Hwawoo was going to sell Floreo. Then CEO Cha took over.”

“…….”

“He’s the owner’s son, and, as you can see, pretty young. People called it a parachute appointment, a formality to wrap things up. But the first film he personally reviewed and invested in was a massive hit. The next one did well too. And you’ve probably heard of Lovers.”

Jian nodded. Jung Sehyun had dragged him to see it in theaters, and back then, every portal search was flooded with Lovers news—when it would hit ten million, what its final box office would be. Beyond that, its story, direction, and acting were flawless, leaving a lasting impression.

“That was a project CEO Cha was involved in from the planning stage. The first could be called luck, but after a few more, it wasn’t just luck anymore. Skepticism vanished. It took about a year or so. He’s really something.”

The Assistant Director marveled, saying he could never do what Cha Jaehwi did. Jian partly agreed. He also felt a quiet fondness, imagining the effort it took to earn that recognition without seeing those days himself.

“That’s not what I meant to say—I got sidetracked. …Jian.”

Stopping at a signal, the Assistant Director looked at Jian, his eyes serious.

“I know this might be meddling or overstepping, but I think you should accept the offer.”

“…….”

“It’s a great opportunity. Really.”

He was right. Rejecting it would be foolish—it was a chance that could only benefit Jian’s career. Hadn’t Jian himself thought it was more than he deserved?

But because it involved Cha Jaehwi, he grew cautious.

“I know it’s a great opportunity. I’ll think it over carefully and decide.”

“Good, good. CEO Cha wouldn’t have called me at the crack of dawn for your number without reason. Have confidence, okay?”

Unable to explain his hesitation, Jian didn’t correct the Assistant Director’s assumption that he felt burdened by the offer.

“Thanks for the advice. And I really owe you a meal sometime.”

“Oh, come on. No need.”

“No, really. This opportunity came because of you.”

“Alright, then? I won’t say no to something pricey.”

Not entirely opposed to Jian’s insistence, the Assistant Director tapped the steering wheel and laughed heartily. Jian was genuinely grateful for his sincere care.

“Oh, Assistant Director, you can drop me off here.”

“Already?”

“Yes. I’m grateful enough for the ride this far.”

“It’s pouring—stay in.”

“I need to grab something too. Thanks for the lift. I’ll be in touch.”

Though he’d said he’d only drop Jian at a station, he seemed ready to drive him home. With no real errands, Jian used it as an excuse to stop him. The Assistant Director didn’t press further. Flashing the hazards and pulling over, he received Jian’s thanks as Jian opened the door.

Bowing once more, Jian watched the car drive off, then stepped through puddles into the subway station. Avoiding the crowd, he stood in a corner and pulled out his phone. About to call, he recalled Cha Jaehwi’s hurried departure and instead typed a message carefully, letter by letter.

“…….”

He still wasn’t sure what the right decision was. But one thing was clear.

[When can I return the umbrella?]

He wanted to see Cha Jaehwi again. That was why he pressed the send button.

👓

Leaning at an angle against the island bar, Jung Sehyun furrowed his brow and clicked his tongue. His gaze was fixed on Jian, who was holed up in a sunless corner, staring intently at his monitor. That guy, that guy—he’s going to work himself to death like that. No matter how much Sehyun nagged, it only worked momentarily. Jian would pretend to listen but let it all slide.

But Sehyun couldn’t exactly tear him away.

It would be overstepping, but beyond that, Sehyun knew better than anyone why Seo Jian buried himself in work—the shackles that bound his ankles.

Even so, wasn’t Jian human, not a statue? Sitting so still like that, didn’t his back ache? Then again, thinking back, even in high school, once Jian focused on something, he wouldn’t budge until Sehyun dragged him away to rest.

“Boss.”

A voice snapped Jung Sehyun out of his head-shaking at Jian’s fierce concentration. Turning, he saw Yoon Haeyoung holding out two cups of coffee and a plate of dessert that Sehyun hadn’t ordered.

It obviously wasn’t an invitation for a cozy tea time between the two of them…

“…….”

Quickly grasping the implication, Jung Sehyun gave Yoon Haeyoung an odd look.

He’d once half-jokingly asked Seo Jian if Yoon Haeyoung might have a thing for him. Haeyoung was efficient at work, but even calling him reserved would be generous—blunt was more fitting. Seeing him go out of his way for someone wasn’t common.

Jian had firmly denied it, and Sehyun hadn’t meant it seriously, so he’d let it go. But now, the scales were tipping slightly toward it not being a joke.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

Unsettled by Sehyun’s silent, peculiar stare, Yoon Haeyoung took a step back.

“Haeyoung.”

“Yes?”

“This hyung has a very open mind. You know that, right?”

Thinking of Seo Jian’s ex, Yoon Haeyoung wasn’t a bad choice. Far from it—he might even be too good.

“Oh… Yes.”

Though suspicion lingered, it wasn’t something to confirm lightly, nor could Sehyun casually speculate about someone’s orientation. After careful thought, he spoke indirectly, but Haeyoung nodded with a lukewarm expression, as if dismissing Sehyun’s words as nonsense.

So much for the boss’s authority. But who was to blame now? While not overly sociable, Haeyoung hadn’t always looked at him like that. Sehyun was probably eighty percent responsible for the change. And if Haeyoung suddenly treated him formally as the boss, that would feel awkward and disappointing in its own way.

“I’ll enjoy it.”

Playing matchmaker wasn’t urgent, and this worked out anyway. It gave him an excuse to put a temporary brake on Seo Jian, who was acting like a workaholic.

Carrying the tray, Sehyun stepped lightly. Whether it was the soft music filling the room drowning out his footsteps, Jian’s intense focus, or a mix of all those reasons, Jian didn’t even look up as Sehyun stood before him.

“…….”

Even as a shadow fell over him, Jian kept staring at the monitor, only raising his head when the shadow lingered, finding it odd.

“Seo Jian. You’ve got a cute little life to take care of now, so you need to stay healthy and take it easy.”

Grumbling as he sat, Sehyun watched Jian obediently push his laptop aside and remove his glasses. His hand slowly rubbed his eyes, likely dry from staring at the screen for so long.

“Thanks. I was just craving coffee.”

“Not me. Thank Haeyoung.”

Oh. Jian let out a deflated sound and turned his head. Seeing Yoon Haeyoung glance their way and nod, Jian turned too, but Haeyoung promptly walked off in another direction.

“Tch. I almost feel like our kid’s too good for you…”

Young, diligent, subtly considerate despite pretending otherwise. And that wasn’t all—good-looking and tall to boot. Of course, Seo Jian wasn’t lacking either, but he had a certain aloofness despite appearances.

He seemed gentle at a glance, but he had boundaries. He rarely let anyone cross the lines he’d drawn, and he felt no lingering attachment to those who walked away. Take his last relationship—Sehyun had been furious for ages over what Jian went through, but Jian himself had quickly relegated it to a distant fragment of the past.

“Tastes good.”

While Sehyun was lost in thought, Jian had already downed half his coffee.

“I’ll admit I hired Haeyoung for his coffee skills… but when are you ever free?”

“Want this? You like these, don’t you, Sehyun?”

Sensing the start of a lecture, Jian swiftly stuffed a cookie in Sehyun’s mouth. It happened to be his favorite, so he couldn’t spit it out, chewing and swallowing while Jian, ignoring the dessert between them, took another sip of coffee.

“Seo Jian, don’t dodge the question. Seriously, take it easy.”

The debt forced upon you, eating away at your youth—is it still endless? Sehyun wanted to say he was worried that Jian, racing forward like a horse that never looks back, might one day collapse from exhaustion. But those words caught in his throat, unspoken.

Instead, Sehyun vented by aggressively chewing the innocent cookie.

“I was planning to rest this time.”

“You?”

Sehyun snorted at Jian’s words, his reaction dripping with disbelief.

“I’m serious.”

Jian protested, trying to convey his grievance.

Originally, his schedule wasn’t this packed. Even without Sehyun’s nagging about collapsing, Jian was starting to feel his limits.

So, intending to catch his breath and study other works, he’d carefully considered his schedule and finances before replying to requests. As a result, he was supposed to have a month of breathing room.

“But a translation request came from Hwawoo for a new project, and that messed up my schedule.”

Without the variable of Cha Jaehwi’s offer, it would’ve been fine.

The project he proposed would take two to three months at most. Barring extensions or special circumstances, it wouldn’t spill into next year. But he couldn’t neglect his current work for it.

‘I understand my proposal was sudden, Seo Jian. Please don’t overdo it, but how about we meet in two weeks to sign the contract and start work?’

When Jian briefly explained his situation and asked for some leeway, he received a fortunately accommodating response.

Two weeks was tight if anything, but Jian knew it was the best Cha Jaehwi could offer. Without complaint, Jian agreed, sacrificing sleep to make time for work.

After ten days of this, his previously grueling schedule started feeling leisurely by comparison. He even wondered if he could handle another round of the workload he’d thought had pushed him to his limit.

But what could he do? It was his choice, and even if he could go back, he wouldn’t change it.

“Anyway, once this is done…”

He meant to say he’d take a breather. The contract terms suggested he’d work in-office, so there’d be no more round-the-clock grind for a while, allowing a regular routine. Of course, once he settled in, he’d pick up a few side projects, but that wasn’t something to mention to Sehyun, who’d glare daggers, so he kept it to himself.

“Hwawoo?”

But Sehyun cut in before Jian could finish.

“You’re starting video translation again?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then?”

Why take it if it wasn’t that? During the project, taking other freelance work would be nearly impossible. Sehyun knew how hard Jian had worked to establish himself. It took two years to build his current stability, but it could crumble in an instant.

Beyond that, there was another reason for Sehyun’s reaction.

“…Just because.”

“There’s no ‘just because.’ Come on, I know you.”

Grumbling at the vague response, Sehyun’s tone was sharp. Saying it was for his first love felt too embarrassing, so Jian laughed it off, stuffing another cookie in Sehyun’s mouth.

Sehyun glared, annoyed, but chewed and swallowed, his expression gradually softening as the cookie suited his taste. Seeing this, Jian subtly pulled his laptop back, only to get a swat on the hand.

“Rest more. More.”

“I’m almost done…”

“Then you can rest even more.”

“Wouldn’t it be more efficient to finish and then rest?”

“…Maybe?”

Sehyun’s puzzled expression suggested he was half-convinced.

“Boss.”

Are you just going to keep sitting there? Right on cue, Yoon Haeyoung called for Sehyun. Watching him reluctantly stand, Jian stealthily pulled the laptop closer.

“…Two hours from now, we’re getting food. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.”

If Jian refused, Sehyun looked ready to snatch the laptop. Only then did Jian nod emphatically. Still looking displeased, Sehyun finally got up. Jian, watching him walk away, slipped his glasses back on over eyes heavy with layered fatigue.

As if he’d set an alarm, Sehyun returned exactly two hours later, his approach as commanding as a general marching to battle. To avoid his nagging, Jian had to close his laptop.

Saying he was almost done wasn’t a lie. If work had been truly piled up, he wouldn’t have had the leeway to leave the house. Anyway, the project was nearly complete—just one final review before sending—so Jian could eat with a relatively light heart.

During the meal, he endured relentless probing about what changed his mind to accept Hwawoo’s offer. Sehyun could be subtly persistent, and he had his reasons. Knowing he’d keep at it if Jian didn’t answer, Jian, after much thought, said it was for the money.

‘…Oh, money. Right. That’s important…’

Sehyun, momentarily speechless, lips twitching, finally nodded and focused on eating. More accurately, he pretended to focus, swallowing the questions he wanted to ask.

‘I’m almost done paying it off.’

Knowing what Sehyun held back, Jian added casually. Sehyun, who’d been practically buried in his plate, snapped his head up to stare at Jian. His eyes asked if it was true, and Jian nodded again, urging him to eat.

Jian learned for the first time that lively chopstick movements could carry joy.

“…You’re that happy about it?”

It wasn’t even Sehyun’s debt. To put it coldly, it was just someone else’s business.

Jian himself felt no particular thrill. Or did he? On reflection, it was a relief. He’d paid steadily, so debt collectors hadn’t come around in years, but the thought of never dealing with their harassing calls again felt undeniably good.

Then again, Sehyun had once seen Jian get slapped by a debt collector during a visit on a hundred-day leave. Witnessing that would make anyone worry.

In any case, a visibly cheered-up Sehyun was all smiles, suggesting just before parting that his mother had made Jian’s favorite side dishes and they should visit his family soon.

‘Mom says she never sees you unless she does this, so you better come get the food.’

The affectionate scolding came with it.

Sehyun had helped Jian a lot, but his parents’ support was immeasurable. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say their kindness powered Jian through his toughest times.

Sehyun grumbled that his mom seemed to like Jian more than him but still pressed him to come before the food spoiled. Jian replied he’d match their availability.

Sehyun said he’d check, so a response would likely come today.

What should he bring? They’d probably chide him for not coming empty-handed, but bringing something would ease his heart a little.

[Mom says next weekend for lunch works.]

Even after confirming it was fine, Sehyun insisted Jian ride with him to avoid the heat, practically shoving him into the car. Barely thirty minutes after being dropped off, a message arrived.

Jian could picture Sehyun calling his mom the moment he left to set the date.

His efficiency was second to none. Sehyun was always exceptional—breaking up with a girlfriend and enlisting on a drunken whim, only to get a draft notice a month later, or quitting a job within a year, declaring it wasn’t his path, and opening a café without looking back.

The enlistment was Sehyun’s dark history, though, and mentioning it would get Jian throttled.

[I’m good with that.]

A weekend day was manageable, so Jian replied positively, adding a half-threatening note that if Sehyun wanted Yuwol’s photos, he’d better focus on driving.

That should keep him off the phone.

Still holding his phone, Jian flopped onto the bed.

Maybe it was the meal, but he felt drowsy. The hot weather probably didn’t help. He’d lie down a bit longer and get up. A couple of hours of indulgence wouldn’t derail anything.

“…….”

Lying down, blinking slowly, he counted the days.

Soon, he’d face Cha Jaehwi again. When he’d gotten the two-week buffer, he’d been too swamped to think, but now, nearing completion with some breathing room, his thoughts tilted toward it.

His heart grew restless.

If this was how it felt, maybe work was better. Rubbing his chest absently, he reached for the floor to get up when the phone rang. Jian frowned. They’d said everything, and he’d told Sehyun to focus on driving—why was he calling?

“I told you not to touch your phone while driving. I’m really not sending Yuwol’s photos.”

—I’m not driving right now, but I’ll keep that in mind when I am.

After a brief silence, the amused response wasn’t Sehyun’s. Only then did Jian check the screen, his face paling as he shot upright. He banged his leg on the bed frame in his haste, but the pain didn’t register.

“Oh… Sir.”

He usually checked the caller unless it was urgent, so why hadn’t he today? Jian bit his lip.

“I thought it was a friend… You must be startled. I’m sorry.”

—It’s fine. Using the phone while driving is dangerous, right?

A playful tone lingered in his voice. Though he didn’t seem offended, Jian couldn’t hide his embarrassment. Rubbing the back of his neck, he realized belatedly he hadn’t even greeted him, swallowing a sigh lest it carry over.

“Oh… Hello.”

—Haha. Yes, hello, Seo Jian.

We’re a bit late for greetings, though, Cha Jaehwi’s voice still carried a smile.

“So, what’s the matter…?”

Asking how he’d been would be too personal for their professional, distant relationship. After racking his brain, asking the purpose was the most appropriate. Besides, Jian couldn’t think of another reason for Cha Jaehwi to call.

—Oh, we can’t call unless there’s business?

“…….”

—That’s a bit hurtful.

“No, that’s not what I meant…!”

No one was watching, but Jian frantically waved his hands as if Cha Jaehwi could see. He didn’t need a mirror to know his expression was a sight.

—Kidding, kidding. I’m calling to check if there’s any change in the schedule.

Jian’s fluster must’ve carried over, as Cha Jaehwi mercifully moved to the point. Calming down, Jian processed his words. So, with the appointed time nearing, Cha Jaehwi was calling to confirm—a gentle nudge.

“Yes, yes. No changes. Thanks to your consideration.”

Was it the subtext? Jian regained his composure and gave the answer Cha Jaehwi wanted.

—Consideration? I’m the ruthless employer who didn’t account for your schedule.

“No, you’ve been plenty considerate… Thank you.”

—It feels like you’re bowing low, but thanks to you, I’m a lot less worried.

Bowing low? Not at all. Sudden calls demanding schedule changes due to urgent needs were common, often without regard for Jian’s plans. By comparison, Cha Jaehwi had been more than considerate.

—Then I’ll see you next Monday.

“…Yes.”

He knew the time was close, but Cha Jaehwi’s reminder made it sink in.

Jian lowered his eyes briefly, then looked up at the shoe rack. In the umbrella stand, the two umbrellas Cha Jaehwi had given him sat neatly folded.

“I’ll see you then.”

Staring at them, he set his sights on two days later.

“…….”

A strange feeling stirred.

After pondering it, Jian decided to call it excitement.

Though aloof, there was an unmistakable warmth in it. Watching the call end button blink, Cha Jaehwi tapped his desk with his fingers.

“Girlfriend?”

It felt too casual for that, though. Well, whether Jian had a girlfriend wasn’t important to Cha Jaehwi.

Then he chuckled. The moment Jian heard his voice, there’d been a clatter, followed by undisguised embarrassment as he fumbled an apology.

At the premiere, Jian’s demeanor had been professional, so Cha Jaehwi hadn’t noticed, but like last time, there was a clumsy side to him.

“He’s kind of cute like this.”

Maybe because it was a rare type around him. It felt novel.

“Uh… Sir?”

A voice called him. Only then did Cha Jaehwi realize Yang Junghoon was standing in front of him. Looking up from his phone, he summarized what he’d heard.

“There shouldn’t be any issues with the schedule.”

“Yes. I’ll tell HR to prepare the contract.”

Nodding, Yang Junghoon added the task to his tablet.

“…But are you sure about this?”

Setting the tablet down, he asked cautiously. Without a clear subject, Cha Jaehwi realized he meant Seo Jian.

“What’s there to worry about? As long as a translator does their job well, that’s enough.”

I’m not in entertainment trying to debut him. Sure, Seo Jian not entering showbiz was a loss of talent for that industry, but with reputation and rumors mattering so much there, he wasn’t suited for it.

“You’re right, sir.”

Yang Junghoon agreed but still seemed uneasy.

After receiving a rather charming affirmative response asking when he could return the umbrella, Cha Jaehwi looked into Seo Jian’s background. Although checking references after the decision was already made felt a bit late, it was, so to speak, a formality.

In the process, he learned a few rumors surrounding Seo Jian. For instance, the fact that he liked men could be dismissed as a matter of personal preference. However, the rumor that he had been in a relationship with a married man certainly raised ethical concerns. But Cha Jaehwi figured he wouldn’t have cared even if he’d known earlier.

“Mr. Yang, take note. Whether it’s an affair or an orgy, as long as it doesn’t interfere with Seo Jian’s work, it’s irrelevant.”

“…Yes. Understood.”

For a brief moment, Yang Junghoon’s gaze turned slightly insolent at the CEO’s bold statement that only criminal matters would be an issue, not mere immorality. But he quickly resumed the proper demeanor of a secretary.

“Sir, the meeting is about to start.”

A glance at the clock showed less than ten minutes remained. It seemed he’d spent more time on the call than intended, probably because the immediate reactions were quite amusing.

Recalling the conversation again, Cha Jaehwi subtly raised the corner of his mouth. But before Yang Junghoon turned to face him, he composed his expression as if nothing had happened, straightened his clothes, and adjusted his attire. As he headed to the meeting room, the things that had made him smile were quickly forgotten, fading into the background.