SMDS Ch 3

The house was always dark. Entering it sometimes felt like stepping into a long, shadowy tunnel with no end in sight. Most of the time, Jian was numb to it, but there were moments when it felt suffocating, unmistakably so.

‘You’re back?’

Forcing out the stifled breaths, Jian would step inside, greeted by the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the house. A woman with long, disheveled hair tied loosely sat at the dining table, tilting a glass of liquor. Seeing Jian enter, she smiled and staggered toward him.

Her face, so strikingly similar to his own, like looking in a mirror, belonged to his mother.

‘I’m back. You said you’d cut back, but you’re drinking again?’ 

Swallowing such everyday remarks, Jian tilted his head toward his mother, who was shorter than him, requiring him to look down. He steadied his breathing, preparing himself.

‘Why was my son born?’

To remain calm as she tore into him.

‘If only you weren’t here.’

If only you weren’t here, Jian… His mother’s gentle hand caressed his cheek with the utmost tenderness, yet her words stabbed mercilessly with sharp contradiction. She’d forget these cruel words by morning, but they drove a dagger into Jian’s heart.

He didn’t shake off her hand or protest her harsh words. He simply endured, impassively, until her hand, which had been stroking his cheek, fell limply, and she brushed past him into her room.

Until the door shut tightly, as if it would never open again.

“…….”

Jian let out a long breath and opened his eyes. His hand fumbled to wipe his forehead, finding it damp with cold sweat. Slowly calming his heaving chest, he sat up. His body felt as exhausted as if he’d sprinted full speed. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say his mind was weary.

“…It’s that time again, isn’t it?”

No matter how busy he was, forgetting what day or date it was, his body never failed to remember. There was no way he could brush it off lightly. Not even after all these years.

Perhaps it was only natural. He still remembered his first love so vividly, often dreaming of it on rainy days—how could this day be any different?

Covering his face with his palms, he steadied his breathing. A notification chimed, signaling a message. Peering through his fingers, he saw Jung Sehyun’s text on the screen, saying he’d arrive in twenty minutes and to start getting ready.

“…Right.”

Today was the day he was supposed to visit Jung Sehyun’s family. Originally, they’d planned for next weekend, but yesterday, Sehyun had called suddenly, saying something came up for his parents and asking if Jian could make it today, Sunday, instead. Having finished his work and with the day before starting a new job, Jian had planned to sleep all day to recover from accumulated fatigue. But instead of showing any reluctance, he readily agreed.

It was for the best. On a day when he’d had such a dream, if he’d been left alone at home with nothing to do, he’d have surely sunk into brooding thoughts.

His ragged breathing gradually calmed. He brushed his sweat-dampened hair back, wiping his face. The fragile, cracked expression had already settled deep within him.

Jian stood and headed to the bathroom. His pale, bloodless face didn’t look much different from usual, but Jung Sehyun, sharper and more perceptive than most, would likely notice something. Staring at his reflection, Jian turned the shower lever to cold and let the water pour. Despite the midsummer heat, the icy water raised goosebumps across his body.

By the time he finished, he was shivering, teeth chattering, but the cold sharpened his senses, blurring the dream and lifting his mood compared to earlier. This should be enough to slip past even Sehyun’s keen eyes.

“Seo Jian!”

As he towel-dried his wet hair, preparing, a voice called from outside. Checking the clock, thinking time had flown, Jian saw it was still a bit before Sehyun’s expected arrival.

Opening the door quickly, Jian let Jung Sehyun slip inside.

“I looked on my way, but our Yuwol’s not here. Did he hide because of me?”

“He’ll come for food soon.”

“What? You’re still not ready?”

Scanning Jian’s disheveled state while mentioning Yuwol, who’d return for mealtime, Sehyun couldn’t hide his surprise.

“I overslept.”

“Maybe we should’ve picked another day. Aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?”

Jian, who never broke promises, saying he overslept replaced Sehyun’s surprise with concern. He clearly assumed Jian was overworked.

“Should I tell them we’ll meet another day? Want to rest at home?”

“How could I? I’m fine.”

Reassuring a grumbling Sehyun, who muttered that Jian didn’t look fine, Jian chose clothes that would look suitably neat to adults.

“We’ll be late. I’ll change quick—let’s go.”

“Not drying your hair?”

“It’s mostly dry. It’s summer; it’ll dry on the way.”

His naturally curly hair didn’t need a blow-dry to avoid looking messy, so Jian figured it was fine. But Sehyun’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Only then did Jian recall that Sehyun’s hair turned into a bird’s nest without careful drying, and how Sehyun had always envied Jian’s hair when they lived together.

“Wow, that felt a bit smug.”

Muttering about Jian’s enviable hair, Sehyun snorted.

“Oh, I need to feed Yuwol.”

“I’ll do it!”

Sehyun, his face lighting up as if he hadn’t just been glaring, grabbed the bag of cat food from the shoe rack and darted out. Smiling, Jian quickly dressed and followed.

By then, Sehyun had already piled food into the bowl, looking pleased at the cat hideout he’d bought. But his expression also held a hint of scheming, prompting Jian to approach, change his own expression, and snatch the food bag from Sehyun’s hands.

“No way.”

Without Jian saying what, Sehyun, instantly understanding, clicked his tongue and defended himself.

“Listen, Seo Jian. Isn’t feeding him every time a hassle? An automatic feeder would be so convenient. Yuwol could eat whenever he wants if it runs low.”

It wasn’t a bad point, but Jian didn’t bother responding, taking the food bag inside and heading downstairs. Ignored outright, Sehyun ruffled his hair, following with a reluctant expression.

Grumbling the whole way about Jian dismissing his idea, Sehyun’s sulking was half-hearted, and before long, they arrived at his family home.

As always, Jian thought the house was both elegant and refined. Climbing the steps revealed a meticulously tended garden, gleaming under the sunlight.

It was the work of Jung Sehyun’s mother, Lee Nanyoung, whose hobby was gardening. The first time Jian visited, he’d stared in awe, and Sehyun had grumbled about how tedious weeding was to maintain it, shaking his head in exasperation.

Yet, inheriting his mother’s taste, Sehyun had bought and renovated a high-maintenance traditional house into a café, which was ironic in its own way.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Jian, you’re here? My goodness, you didn’t have to bring anything.”

Opening the door, Lee Nanyoung greeted him warmly, then gently scolded him for the fruit basket in his hands.

“It’s been a while, so I couldn’t come empty-handed.”

“Don’t act like a guest; it makes me feel bad.”

“I’ll come empty-handed next time. Have you and Father been well?”

“What could happen to us? We’ve been fine. Oh, look at me—your hands must be tired. Come in.”

She grabbed Jian’s wrist, leading him inside.

“…Mom? Am I still your son?”

Jung Sehyun’s grumbling from behind made Lee Nanyoung finally glance at her son.

“Only showing up now, my ungrateful youngest—get in here.”

It was less a glance and more a glare. Stung, Sehyun rolled his eyes awkwardly, sidling up to her with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh, heavy. Look at this door-sized kid clinging to me.”

“Harsh. Where’s Dad?”

“Hey, son’s here?”

A voice came from somewhere. Turning, Jian saw a massage chair, where Sehyun’s father, Jung Seokwon, was nestled, waving before poking his head out.

“The kids are here—get up already.”

At his wife’s urging, Jung Seokwon reluctantly climbed out of the chair. Jian bowed deeply in greeting.

“Hello.”

“Been a while. But Jian, you look thinner—your cheeks are hollow. Dear, we need to fatten him up today.”

“I was planning to. Everyone hungry? Let’s eat first. Jian, put that basket on the table there; it’ll be taken care of.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Setting the fruit basket where Lee Nanyoung pointed, Jian’s hands finally felt light.

“Mother, should I turn off the TV?”

“Would you?”

Jian picked up the remote next to the basket. It was tuned to a news channel, mid-broadcast.

<…Next news. Following Prime Minister Kim Hee-jung’s resignation announcement on the 3rd, Representatives Jin Soo-hwan, Han Young-joon, and former Speaker Seo Yong-han are being considered as successors, while the Presidential Office has stated…>

“Seo Jian.”

Jung Sehyun’s voice overlapped the anchor’s.

“What’re you staring at?”

“Nothing.”

“Then let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Snatching the remote, Sehyun turned off the TV, tossing it onto the sofa as he pushed Jian’s back.

“Right.”

Pushed along, Jian’s gaze briefly flicked to the now-black TV screen before dropping.

The meal was warm and convivial, like a picture-perfect family.

‘Sehyun, how is it harder to see you than Yuhyun, who’s in the military?’

Lee Nanyoung teased her youngest for rarely showing up despite living in Seoul, saying she saw her eldest, a military doctor, more often. But Sehyun’s playful charm quickly turned her scolding into laughter.

When she insisted Jian wasn’t eating enough and piled more rice onto his plate, he cleaned it all, leaving him so full it felt like food was brimming to his throat.

“You okay?”

Knowing Jian’s usual portions, Sehyun checked his complexion with concern.

“Yeah. The side dishes were so good, I kept eating.”

“I could eat more,” Jian boasted, prompting Sehyun to swat his back, telling him to stop talking nonsense.

“I’m flattered you enjoyed it, even though I only helped while the cook made it.”

Lee Nanyoung, bringing a plate of the fruit Jian had brought, smiled.

“Work going okay?”

“Yes, it’s manageable. I’m fine.”

“Fine? With Sehyun here, you look pale as a ghost. Do you go outside?”

Jung Seokwon, spearing fruit with a fork, clicked his tongue.

“Dad, he barely sleeps or eats.”

Sehyun, who should’ve stopped his father, gleefully fanned the flames. Jian elbowed him to quit, but Sehyun, undeterred, kept tattling.

“You think overworked patients are rare?”

Frowning at his son’s words, Jung Seokwon scolded Jian sternly. Knowing it came from concern, Jian listened obediently, promising to take better care of his health.

“You said no doctor talk at home.”

“I meant to, but how can I not?”

“Jian’s not a kid—he’ll manage.”

Lee Nanyoung intervened, tapping her husband’s shoulder to stop. Sehyun muttered that Jian wasn’t exactly great at managing, but luckily, the bickering couple didn’t hear. When Jian mouthed for him to stop, Sehyun shrugged mischievously but didn’t add more.

“Hey, eat some fruit. Mom and Dad are in their own world.”

Sehyun passed Jian a piece of fruit. With no room left in his stomach, Jian set it on his lap, glancing at the couple across from him.

As Sehyun said, they’d moved on to another topic, seemingly forgetting their son and his friend amid their banter. Jian had seen it before—they’d bicker over trivial things but quickly return to harmony.

“They act like they only need each other but nag me for not calling.”

Used to it, Sehyun shook his head, eating fruit. He didn’t seem truly bothered by their inattention.

“At this rate, I’ll end up raising their youngest too.”

A warm, sunlit home, soft as spring, bright and unshadowed—it was like a painting.

If our family had been like this, or even just an ordinary, functional one, would Mom have greeted me with a radiant smile instead of that shadowed one? Jian tried to imagine, but all he could recall was his mother’s trembling voice, holding young Jian, saying his father wasn’t coming back.

“…….”

Normally, he’d have brushed it off, but the dream made him dwell. Or was it seeing that face? To quell the stirring emotions, Jian bit into the apple he’d been holding. It tasted like nothing.

“Seo Jian?”

Seeing Jian silently chewing, Sehyun tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“…Oh.”

Worried his expression gave him away, Jian rubbed his cheek, searching for an excuse.

“I’m full, so I’m feeling drowsy.”

“No wonder you’re tired.”

Recalling Jian’s grueling workdays, Sehyun nodded, convinced.

“Oh, look at us, talking amongst ourselves with the kids here.”

With Jian starting work tomorrow, maybe we should send him to rest. As Sehyun hesitated, Jung Seokwon and Lee Nanyoung emerged from their bubble.

“Missing our youngest, so I was thinking of dragging Jian to see him?”

“You’ve got no shame with that mouth.”

“Wanting to see my brother is shameful? Dad, I don’t care either way, but I’d prefer a sister.”

“That boy.”

Unable to outtalk his second son, Jung Seokwon clicked his tongue.

“Anyway, Mom, pack the side dishes quick.”

“Already?”

“Yeah, Seo Jian was up all night and looks tired. He’s got work tomorrow—don’t keep him; let him rest. Like Dad said, what if he overworks and ends up your patient?”

“Our son’s got a knack for jinxes. But work?”

Unaware why Jian left his stable job but knowing he freelanced, they perked up at the mention of work.

“It’s temporary. I’m joining a project, and confidentiality requires working on-site. It’ll probably wrap in two or three months.”

“He acts like it’s no big deal, but Seo Jian’s so talented, a big company scouted him. Proud guy.”

“Sehyun, people’d think you’re his parent with that fuss.”

Lee Nanyoung chided Sehyun’s enthusiasm. Jian, agreeing, nodded slightly, only for Sehyun to elbow him as Jian had done earlier.

“You too?”

“At least you’ll have a regular schedule.”

“…Yes. But, Mother, my life’s not that irregular.”

Jian tried to explain, but Lee Nanyoung, busy with her own thoughts, half-listened before bustling off to find the housekeeper.

“Mom, I’ll pick.”

Sehyun followed, saying he’d choose.

“He’s getting more like his mom as he grows.”

As if a storm had passed, Jian rubbed his cheek. Jung Seokwon spoke, and Jian, recalling Sehyun’s fervor over Yuwol’s food and toys, smiled faintly in agreement.

“Really, no struggles?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Your face looks worn. When you’re free, come to the hospital with Sehyun for checkups. I’d feel better with results.”

“Thank you for your concern.”

“…Tch, it’s nothing.”

The aging man waved off Jian’s thanks, flustered. Hesitating, Jian finally voiced words that always lingered on his tongue.

“Always.”

Jung Seokwon caught that it wasn’t just about today, his hand pausing as he reached for his coffee.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it.”

Jung Seokwon looked at his son’s friend.

He recalled the day his youngest, perhaps raised too freely or just naturally meddlesome, called in tears. Help my friend. Please save his mom.

In nineteen years, he’d never heard such a desperate, urgent voice, so Jung Seokwon had no choice but to act.

It was a car accident.

He stood at the operating table to save his son’s friend’s mother, while his wife ran around handling the situation for the dazed boy outside the surgery room. The injuries were too severe, and she didn’t survive a month, with the couple helping with the funeral.

“You’ve thanked us enough.”

The pale, hollow boy standing alone in the empty funeral parlor had weighed on his heart. Checking on him through his son, they’d grown close. Perhaps he’d sensed, from the boy’s blank stare at the ICU, that he couldn’t turn away.

“…Her memorial’s soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Jung Seokwon didn’t add much else. But Jian had already sensed their concern, from the moment they’d called him over under the pretext of picking up side dishes during this time of year, and throughout the day as they quietly but diligently checked on him. It was, after all, an annual ritual of sorts.

“Eat more fruit. It’s sweet.”

“I’m really full now.”

“A grown man eats like a bird and calls that a lot?”

“Hey, Dad, is that pressure? Sounds like old-man talk.”

Jung Sehyun, emerging with armfuls of side dishes, playfully interrupted his father. Jian’s mouth twitched at the sight of enough food to last more than a week, but Sehyun was quicker. Somehow managing the load with one hand, he grabbed Jian’s with the other and pulled him up.

“Let’s go, let’s go. If we stay, my friend’s stomach might burst.”

“You, this…”

“Ugh, heavy. I’ll head out and start the car. Mom, Dad, your youngest is leaving. Can I expect a little sister next time?”

Knowing Jian’s personality wouldn’t let him refuse their kindness, Sehyun bolted, tossing a light jab at his parents to avoid any scolding—like Jian blaming him for not stopping them.

“Hey, hey…!”

Jung Seokwon clicked his tongue, then, as if suddenly remembering Jian, patted his shoulder.

“You must have a hard time being friends with our foolish son.”

“Not at all.”

“Then get going.”

“Yes. Thank you. Mother, I’ll enjoy the side dishes.”

Bowing to Lee Nanyoung, who had approached behind her husband, Jian expressed his gratitude. She smiled, her eyes crinkling.

“No need to thank me. If it’s not enough, just say so. Come back soon, okay?”

“Yes, I’ll visit often.”

“Dear, Jian’s been around Sehyun too long—his words are all flattery now.”

Since Jian rarely visited unless invited, both Lee Nanyoung and Jung Seokwon gave him skeptical looks. Only after Jian insisted he meant it did their expressions soften. A short horn blared, signaling Sehyun’s impatience outside.

Finally, Jian stepped out of the entrance, bid farewell by the couple.

On the way home, an invisible shadow trailed behind.

👓

Fortunately, that night, Jian didn’t dream. Though, rather than saying he didn’t dream, it was more accurate to say he couldn’t—tossing and turning, he barely slept.

“…….”

Jian stood hesitating before a towering building, its top visible only by craning his neck. Countless people had already passed him, entering the building, more than he could count on his fingers.

It was morning, so the heat was milder, but still quintessentially midsummer. Some passersby glanced at Jian, standing idly under the blazing sun. Feeling their gazes, he lingered a while longer before finally resolving to take a step forward.

The first-floor lobby was pleasantly cool. Designed for openness, the center of the building soared high, revealing a mezzanine structure where the second-floor railing was faintly visible. Likely due to the company’s involvement in film production, the dress code was relaxed. Jian tried to compare it to his own brief corporate experience, but those two years had faded into a haze.

“Hello.”

Still taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, Jian approached the information desk.

“Yes. What brings you here?”

The staff member, briefly widening their eyes at Jian, quickly adopted a professional demeanor.

“I’m here to see CEO Cha Jaehwi. My name is Seo Jian.”

Just in case, he pulled out the business card Cha Jaehwi had given him and handed it over.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll check. Please wait a moment.”

After making a call to confirm, the staff member handed Jian a visitor’s pass.

“Tag the gate with the pass and head to the seventh floor. The elevators are over there.”

Bowing to the staff member, who pointed out the direction, Jian walked straight to the elevators. One had just arrived at the first floor, allowing him to board without delay.

His hesitant hand hovered before pressing the button for the seventh floor.

The doors closed, and he felt a floating sensation. He clenched and unclenched his hands for no reason.

The moment, both fleeting and eternal, passed, and the elevator stopped. “Seventh floor,” announced the elevator’s voice as the doors slid open.

Unlike the bustling lobby, the seventh floor was quiet. Before Jian could scan his surroundings, someone approached—likely the person who’d spoken with the front desk.

“Mr. Seo Jian, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You’re early. I’m Yang Junghoon, the secretary. I’ll escort you to the CEO’s office.”

Confirming Jian’s name, Yang Junghoon beckoned him to follow. Jian trailed behind, walking down the corridor. Sunlight streamed through large windows, casting pools of light on the floor. As he stepped softly through the glow, his eyes were drawn to movie posters on the opposite wall, likely distributed since Cha Jaehwi took over. Among them was Lovers, its poster unmistakable. Even from just a silhouette, Won Yujin’s presence was striking.

Come to think of it, they seemed close. Despite the chaos, Jian recalled their casual, unguarded exchanges. Cha Jaehwi’s interviews had mentioned Won Yujin briefly too—as a dear friend, wasn’t it? Back then, Jian had been too busy searching for anything about his first love to dwell on it, but now curiosity stirred.

How close were they? They seemed well-matched—same age, both attractive.

How did they get close? Did Lovers bring them together, or were they friends before, with Cha Jaehwi casting her in mind? Not just Lovers, but the upcoming Won Yujin film, also backed by Floreo—what was their special connection?

Though, considering Won Yujin’s star power, it wasn’t likely just their bond driving the investment.

“…is that so. …Mr. Seo Jian? Mr. Seo Jian?”

Lost in a chain of questions, Jian hadn’t heard the man’s words. Only when his name was called repeatedly did he snap back to reality.

“Any questions about what I said?”

What had he said? Jian couldn’t recall a single word, let alone a sentence. All he remembered was his name being called, but instead of asking for a repeat, he shook his head.

“No.”

Since he was asked about questions, it was likely a simple explanation. Jian could handle it by responding appropriately. He didn’t want to leave a careless first impression, especially with Cha Jaehwi’s secretary.

“The CEO is out due to a sudden matter. Please wait inside; he’ll be here soon.”

“Yes.”

“If you need anything to drink…”

“No, I’m fine.”

Jian waved his hands repeatedly to decline. Yang Junghoon, fulfilling his duties to the end, asked him to wait a bit longer before closing the door.

Click.

The door, silent even when opened, shouldn’t have sounded so loud when shut, yet it echoed sharply. Jian stood still, only moving his head to survey the room.

Like the rest of the building, the CEO’s office had large windows, emphasizing openness, and was so tidy it felt almost sterile. Without the faint scent lingering, the warmth only a person could bring, and the stack of papers on the desk, one might not believe it was used. It was a bit exaggerated, but it felt as if its occupant could leave without a trace at any moment.

That couldn’t be the case, though.

He was part of the owning family. Taking over Floreo at a young age and achieving such results suggested he’d always intended to inherit this role.

“…….”

Jian hesitated before sitting. Unable to lean back, he sat stiffly, eyes fixed on the clock. The thought of facing Cha Jaehwi brought unexpected tension.

They’d met two weeks ago, and he’d heard his voice days earlier. But that was just a call, and the past two weeks had been so intense that their meeting felt like a dream.

Besides, it had been brief. At the café, they’d sat for barely an hour, and at the restaurant, Cha Jaehwi had to leave abruptly due to urgent business.

Jian exhaled deeply, fidgeting with his phone to distract himself.

The gallery was filled with Yuwol’s photos. Sehyun’s daily demands led to one, then two shots, amassing this many. Jian hadn’t noticed daily, but comparing them now, Yuwol had grown since the first photos. Sehyun said he wasn’t fully grown yet, and Jian agreed—he still looked young and would grow more.

He’d need neutering before getting bigger…

Sehyun’s mantra whenever Jian sent Yuwol’s photos came to mind. But Jian couldn’t think of a way to catch the wary cat. Maybe grab him in the hideout Sehyun bought and head to the vet? Pondering options, Jian realized he’d grown more attached to the cat than expected.

That’s why he’d avoided naming it. He’d only meant to feed the hungry stray and leave an umbrella under the eaves during rain—nothing more.

Like he’d been burned, Jian tore his eyes from the gallery and flipped his phone over.

Now he had nothing to do. When would he come? Part of him wished he’d arrive soon, yet another part hoped he’d take his time. Jian couldn’t find the right word for this contradictory feeling.

“…….”

Gazing at his clasped hands, Jian looked out the window. A cloudless, vibrant blue sky stretched wide. Occasionally, a bird flitted across, vanishing from the frame.

It was a serene scene.

Unlike the sweltering outdoors, the room’s balanced temperature and humidity gradually relaxed Jian’s tense body. The problem was his eyelids drooping heavily along with it.

Jian forced his eyes wide.

It was futile. As if weighted, his lashes succumbed to gravity, falling shut.

His eyes closed, opened briefly, then closed again…

“…….”

A faint sound pierced his ears, and when Jian opened his eyes, a blurry figure lingered in his hazy vision.

“Ah!”

Before the figure sharpened in his blinking eyes, his body jolted upright. Cha Jaehwi, flipping through papers across from him, widened his eyes at Jian’s sudden movement.

“You’re awake?”

An apology and greeting tangled in Jian’s mind, leaving him speechless, lips merely twitching. Cha Jaehwi, smiling, spoke first, unfazed. He showed no displeasure at finding his guest dozing in his office.

“…Oh. Yes. I’m sorry.”

Jian stole a glance at the clock. Fortunately or not, only about twenty minutes had passed. The issue was not knowing when Cha Jaehwi arrived or how long he’d waited.

“I just got here.”

Noticing Jian’s glance at the clock, Cha Jaehwi indirectly assured him he hadn’t waited long. But if he’d just arrived, he wouldn’t have been reviewing papers. At least a few minutes had passed since his arrival.

Why hadn’t Jian heard the door? True, it opened and closed quietly, but still. No, he shouldn’t blame the door—he should blame his eyelids for closing unbidden.

Imagining Cha Jaehwi’s bewilderment at finding his guest nodding off, Jian felt both absurd and mortified, his head bowing lower with each thought.

Was it really worth getting this down about?

Cha Jaehwi set down the papers, watching Seo Jian, who couldn’t lift his head, floundering in embarrassment.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t taken aback. When Yang Junghoon called during a meeting, saying Seo Jian had arrived early, Cha Jaehwi instructed him to be escorted to the office, never imagining he’d find him asleep there.

But displeased? Not quite.

Far from it, Jian looked almost pitiable.

Clearly unintentional, he hadn’t even leaned back, dozing in an awkward position. Despite any noise Cha Jaehwi made, Jian only stirred briefly, unable to open his eyes.

‘…The contract’s already finalized, so delaying or canceling isn’t an option.’

When Jian had cautiously asked for a few days’ leeway, explaining his situation, Cha Jaehwi had already sensed his tight schedule. In a clearly uncomfortable space, sleeping in a position even a stranger would find pitiful, Jian didn’t deserve harsh judgment. Cha Jaehwi wasn’t that heartless.

He just shook his head, wondering why Jian slept so vulnerably.

“Doesn’t your neck hurt?”

Cha Jaehwi asked casually, out of concern for the awkward posture, but realized it might sound like mild sarcasm.

“…No. I’m fine.”

As expected, Seo Jian replied dejectedly.

Hmm. Cha Jaehwi let out a soft sound. Wondering if he needed to ease Jian’s anxiety, Yang Junghoon knocked, calling for him.

“Sir, when should I call the HR manager?”

Checking his watch, Cha Jaehwi said ten minutes would be good. As Yang Junghoon left to arrange it, Cha Jaehwi slid the contract toward Seo Jian. Only then did Jian lift his head, which had been bowed like ripe grain.

“It’s the same contract and terms as the proposal. Any parts you’d like to adjust? Except for confidentiality, we’ll accommodate your requests as much as possible.”

Seo Jian took the contract. His hands flipped through the pages lightly, like butterfly wings. Cha Jaehwi quietly observed him, engrossed in the text.

Long lashes cast shadows, and his light brown hair shimmered like golden sand in the sunlight filtering through the blinds.

As Cha Jaehwi had thought before, without those rumors, Jian’s face would suit an actor.

“It’s fine.”

Seo Jian looked up from the contract, setting it down without lingering.

“Once you sign, changes are difficult. Seo Jian, why not think it over more carefully?”

Though he said this, Cha Jaehwi knew his terms were generous. He didn’t care for industry ‘averages’ or ‘norms’—only the best. Having chosen meticulously, he offered fitting conditions.

“Really. As I thought before, it’s more than I deserve for my experience.”

“You might feel underpaid once you start. I’ve seen it happen.”

Recalling someone who’d fumed about being scammed, Cha Jaehwi offered another chance, but Seo Jian stood firm. Instead, he pulled out a pen and signed. His neat, precise handwriting, much like his personality, etched his name letter by letter.

After signing all the required spots, he slid the contract back to Cha Jaehwi. Thought to be merely meek and timid, Jian had a subtle stubbornness. His quick composure, signing decisively after moments of fluster, was surprisingly impressive.

“Should I call this refreshingly bold?”

Cha Jaehwi chuckled, picking up his phone to dial a familiar number.

“Mr. Yang, no need to call the HR manager.”

He’d planned to summon them in case the terms changed, but Jian’s swift signing made it unnecessary. Cutting the call before Yang Junghoon replied, Cha Jaehwi rose from the sofa, extending his hand.

“…….”

Though clearly offering a handshake, Jian didn’t take it. It wasn’t reluctance, but more like a buffering lag.

“Here’s to a good partnership, Mr. Seo Jian.”

The rumors trailing him seemed irrelevant—he was simply shy.

“Your arm’ll hurt.”

Pretending not to notice, Cha Jaehwi lightly shook his outstretched hand. Only then did Jian stand awkwardly, grasping Cha Jaehwi’s hand. His grip was so cautious, it was as if handling delicate glasswork.

Despite his composed facade, his ears, glimpsed briefly, were red.

His fair skin made the flush obvious. Thinking Jian’s body likely showed marks easily, Cha Jaehwi briefly entertained an out-of-place thought before firmly shaking his hand, releasing it with a nod.

“Let me show you where you’ll work.”

“…You, sir?”

Even with a free schedule, Cha Jaehwi hadn’t planned to personally guide him. He had piles of paperwork, and introducing Jian to the team was something Yang Junghoon could handle. But seeing Jian’s wide, rabbit-like eyes, Cha Jaehwi felt an uncharacteristic urge to tease. He could spare a few minutes.

“Yes, me.”

Jian’s eyes wavered like a stormy sea at his reply, nearly making Cha Jaehwi laugh, but he hid it, saying, “Shall we?” and led the way.

Intending to play the guide diligently, Cha Jaehwi remarked that the break area was surely the most important for employees and headed to the rooftop. Jian, fidgeting, followed.

The rooftop, aptly named a sky garden, lived up to its title. Marble tiles formed paths, surrounded by landscaped plants. Vines wove a shaded canopy at the edges, with small tables and chairs beneath. The tables were spaced widely, unlikely to disturb conversations.

On the opposite side was a maze of hedges, taller than most adults, hiding anyone inside from view.

Perfect for lovers. Especially those secretly dating.

“Looks like a good spot for a secret date with a lover, right?”

Jian paused, wondering if he’d voiced his thoughts aloud. But no, it wasn’t him. There was only one person beside him—Cha Jaehwi.

“Oh, yes… I suppose.”

“Keep it in mind. Who knows? You might need it someday, Mr. Seo Jian.”

With a playful smile, Cha Jaehwi whispered as if sharing a secret. The idea of meeting someone in a place he’d only work at for a few months, especially given his orientation, made Jian laugh it off vaguely, his thoughts briefly drifting elsewhere.

Did Cha Jaehwi know about the ‘rumors’ surrounding him?

Though two years old and buried in dust, the industry was small, and malicious gossip clung like a ghost. If Cha Jaehwi wanted to know, it wouldn’t be hard to find out. But his demeanor gave no clues. Asking if he knew felt like scratching an itch that didn’t need scratching.

“It’s definitely hot, being summer. Have we seen enough of the break area? Shall we head down?”

“…….”

“What? Want to look more?”

“No, no. I’ve seen enough. We can go.”

Lost in thought, Jian’s response was delayed. He hadn’t even made up for dozing earlier, and lagging like this was troublesome. He quickly shook off his musings, focusing. The rumors, and the questions they sparked, were pushed far away.

“Now let’s go to where you’ll work starting today, Mr. Seo Jian.”

“…But are you going to keep guiding me, sir?”

Following Cha Jaehwi, Jian asked in a cautious tone. He was indeed conscious of him. But more than that, he was concerned that someone as busy as a CEO was spending time guiding him personally.

“You must be busy, so I’m worried I’m taking up your time unnecessarily.”

“For a valued talent, isn’t it only right to provide a proper escort?”

“Well…”

Unable to find a suitable response, Jian faltered. Cha Jaehwi smiled and pressed the elevator button.

“You’re not saying that because you’re uncomfortable, are you?”

“No, that’s not it…!”

“They say a strong denial is a strong affirmation. Guess I’d better introduce you to the team and step back.”

Jian’s immediate denial was futile. Despite his polished appearance, Cha Jaehwi had a subtly mischievous side. Then, Jian’s thoughts shifted to the word “team” he’d mentioned.

“Team?”

“Hm? Didn’t Mr. Yang tell you anything?”

Seeing Cha Jaehwi tilt his head in question, Jian realized what the secretary had been talking about.

“No, he did mention something.”

Lost in other thoughts at the time, Jian only recalled the question about whether he had any concerns, but he nodded affirmatively for now. As he spoke, fragments of the conversation surfaced, albeit in broken pieces.

At Jian’s response, Cha Jaehwi stroked his chin. The elevator arrived, but instead of boarding, he let it go and turned toward Jian, speaking.

“Mr. Yang’s explanation must have been brief.”

“…….”

“You probably already know that Floreo is preparing to launch an OTT service.”

“Yes.”

That much Jian knew. He’d read articles about Floreo’s global OTT streaming service launch under Cha Jaehwi’s leadership, and the project Cha Jaehwi had offered him involved translating original content for that launch.

“A task force team under my direct supervision has been formed, and you’ll join them for the duration of your contract. We have long-term plans, but for now, there’s no in-house translation team.”

For non-original content, they were outsourcing to translation companies, and Jian might cross paths with them occasionally, Cha Jaehwi explained in detail.

“Of course, even though you’re part of the task force, you’ll only share the office space and won’t directly interact with them.”

Since Jian’s work was separate from theirs, as Cha Jaehwi said, there’d be no need for professional collaboration. Though, updates on progress would likely be shared.

“Is that alright with you?”

Unsure of the question’s context, Jian quickly grasped his intent. Having worked alone as a freelancer for so long, Cha Jaehwi seemed concerned that Jian might feel uneasy sharing a workspace with others.

“Yes, it’s fine.”

Jian’s firm reply prompted Cha Jaehwi to curve his lips into a smile and press the elevator button again. During their conversation, the elevator had gone to the lobby and was now slowly returning.

“The task force uses the floor just below the CEO’s office.”

Boarding the elevator, Cha Jaehwi pressed the button. It was the sixth floor, just below the seventh.

“For employees, the farther from the CEO’s office, the better, right? Less chance of running into the boss.”

Jian clamped his mouth shut, staying silent. A soft chuckle, as if unable to hold back, reached his ears, but he pretended not to notice, staring at the elevator’s display panel. They quickly reached the sixth floor. Jian, ready to step out as the doors opened, hesitated when he saw someone standing there.

It was Cha Jaehwi’s secretary.

“I wanted to personally escort our valued talent to the end, but as you said, my title comes with a pile of work.”

“Oh…”

“Instead, Mr. Yang Junghoon here will guide you.”

As expected, Cha Jaehwi couldn’t possibly be free. Jian had seen the stacks of papers in his office. He’d been overly conscious and concerned, yet now that it was happening, he felt an odd sense of reluctance.

“What, disappointed?”

Without Jian saying a word, Cha Jaehwi picked up on his feelings again.

“No, sir. Thank you for taking the time to guide me despite your busy schedule.”

“No need to thank me.”

Cha Jaehwi shrugged casually, as if it were nothing. Instead of showing his reluctance, Jian quickly composed himself and stepped out of the elevator.

“Mr. Seo Jian, here’s to a good partnership again.”

“I’m the one who should say that.”

“See you soon.”

Releasing the open button, Cha Jaehwi waved lightly and vanished as the doors closed. Jian stared at the elevator ascending back to the seventh floor, letting out a soft sound.

Oh. He forgot to return the umbrella.

The weight of the umbrella in his bag finally registered, but Cha Jaehwi was already gone.

“…….”

Should he give it back next time? Pausing at the thought of a “next time,” Jian realized it had always been implied since accepting the offer, but feeling it now was strangely surreal.

Following Yang Junghoon into the task force office, Jian saw five men and women.

Engaged in work, they looked up at the sound of the door, their gazes shifting to Jian behind the secretary, likely informed in advance.

“This is Mr. Seo Jian, who’ll be working with the task force starting today.”

“Hello, I’m Seo Jian. I look forward to working with you.”

Following Yang Junghoon’s introduction, Jian bowed lightly. Even if they wouldn’t interact much, they’d share the space. For the few months ahead, it’d be better for everyone if they could at least be on cordial terms.

“And this is the space you’ll use, Mr. Seo Jian.”

Yang Junghoon pointed to a private office separated by frosted glass. Likely due to Jian’s work, which might involve playing audio, they’d assigned an enclosed space. It was shared yet isolated, like an island.

“We’ve prepared the necessary equipment, but if you need anything else, you can request it through the general affairs team.”

“Yes.”

“Official work starts tomorrow, so today, you can greet the team and leave at your convenience, per the CEO’s instructions. Your employee ID will be provided through HR tomorrow, so until then, use the visitor’s pass as you did today. I’ll inform the desk in advance.”

“Yes, understood.”

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted comfortably.”

Yang Junghoon delivered his message efficiently, wasting no moment. Having fulfilled Cha Jaehwi’s instructions, he left without lingering.

“…….”

As he exited, silence flooded in. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioner.

“Mr. Yang’s always so busy.”

Breaking the silence was a woman who, judging by her seat, seemed to hold the highest rank. She stood up.

“Let’s do introductions so we can send you off early. I’m Seo Jungyoon, the task force team leader.”

“I’m Seo Jian.”

“Nice to meet you.” Shaking her outstretched hand politely, Jian greeted her.

“Same surname—makes it feel closer.”

She grinned, gripping his hand firmly before letting go quickly.

“The pantry’s over there. We’ve got all sorts of coffee and snacks, but if you want something else, just tell Sujin over there. She’s our snack manager.”

“If you need anything, just let me know.”

Watching the exchange from afar, a woman—presumably holding the corporate card—waved it playfully with a smile. Other team members chimed in with their requests, but she ignored them, tucking the card away protectively.

The team seemed comfortably close with each other.

“I’ll introduce everyone. Our snack manager and youngest, Kim Sujin, was just mentioned. From here, we have Lee Sowon, Park Doyoung, and Moon Hajun.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“We won’t overlap on work, but if you have questions, feel free to ask.”

“Look forward to working with you.”

Their friendly smiles held no trace of disdain or mockery. While one shouldn’t presume others’ intentions, Jian sensed their demeanor was one of goodwill or mild curiosity.

“…I look forward to working with you too.”

Relief washed over him. At least there’d be no awkward tension during his time here. Jian smiled broadly, lifting the corners of his mouth. Oh. Someone gasped. Tch. Another swallowed a breath. When Jian turned toward the sounds, everyone acted innocent, making it impossible to tell who it was.

“The office is bright…”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. Alright, everyone, back to work. Jian, come with me to your room. Everything’s set, but let’s check if you need anything right away.”

“Yes.”

Seo Jungyoon, who’d been murmuring while staring at Jian, shook her head when he asked, quickly dispersing the team. She led Jian into the room, explaining further.

The room, well-lit by sunlight, didn’t fully block outside noise but was fairly quiet. Jian assessed which of his work tools he’d need to bring. Nothing was lacking—almost excessively so—but his familiar equipment would be easier to use.

“How’s it look? Need anything else?”

Lost in thought, Jian reached a conclusion just as Seo Jungyoon asked.

He’d bring his keyboard, which he’d already brought today.

“No, it’s enough.”

“You say that now, but if you need anything, just say so. No pressure.”

Though Jian wasn’t picky about equipment, everything was well-provided. Shaking his head to emphasize he needed nothing more, Seo Jungyoon reiterated to speak up if anything came up.

They were good people.

Jung Sehyun, pleased that Jian would live more regularly, had also worried about him working with others, asking if he’d be okay. Sehyun, too, knew the rumors about Jian, which had fueled his anger over Jian’s past relationship, making his concern natural.

Jian decided he’d tell Sehyun, who’d likely call eagerly tonight, that they seemed like good people, so he shouldn’t worry and could relax.

When Jian smiled again, Seo Jungyoon’s eyes widened, and she muttered that the office brightened up again.

“You’ll figure most things out as you go, but is there anything you’re curious about?”

It was only a few months—barely two seasons—so was there anything worth asking about the company? Still, dismissing it outright would be rude to someone showing kindness, so Jian pretended to think before speaking absently.

“…Does the CEO come by often?”

It was absolutely not intentional.

“Does the CEO come by often?”

Fortunately, his question didn’t seem odd, as Seo Jungyoon stroked her chin, pondering deeply.

“Since we’re his direct team, we see him more than others…?”

“…….”

“I usually report to him, so you probably won’t run into him much.”

“Oh…”

“No need to worry. Seeing the boss often can be a bit daunting, right?”

Saying it’s better to be far from the boss, Seo Jungyoon spoke boldly despite being a team leader herself.

“…Yes.”

“No, wait. Since your work is different, he might stop by occasionally to check on things.”

Jian, soothing a strange sense of disappointment despite Cha Jaehwi’s “see you soon,” gripped his fist tightly at her next words.

“…Hang in there, Jian.”

Seo Jungyoon patted his shoulder lightly, as if consoling him.

“The CEO… he’s not a bad person. Not really. Probably not. …I think? He gives us a generous corporate card for meals and work, and when we report needs, he arranges them without fuss. But if it’s not the best result, he doesn’t care for ‘effort’… He’s a good person. Yeah, definitely.”

Her expression looked strained, unsure if she was defending or critiquing him.

Jian gleaned a few things from her words. Cha Jaehwi was serious and passionate about work. He demanded only the best results. If so, Jian wanted to deliver just that—results Cha Jaehwi would be satisfied with. So that, even after their work ended and they parted, Cha Jaehwi might occasionally think of him.

Even if only rarely. Even if less than once a year.

Not a forgotten, buried past, but—

“I’ll have to work hard.”

—a past worth recalling at least once.

“Team Leader!”

The door burst open, and someone poked their head through. Park Doyoung, was it? That’s how he’d introduced himself.

“Can’t we talk more with Seo Jian?”

“He needs to head home. Why talk with us, Doyoung?”

Seo Jungyoon’s tone carried a subtle anger at obstructing precious quitting time.

“If you want to talk, let’s do it tomorrow, okay?”

“It’s almost lunch—let’s eat nearby and let him leave after.”

Despite the team leader’s firm rejection, Park Doyoung was persistent. Seo Jungyoon, checking her watch, let out a thoughtful hum, already half-swayed.

“…Maybe? We could leave a bit early.”

“Right?”

“What do you think, Jian? Want to grab lunch before you go? Everyone’s eager since we only got to say hi.”

Park Doyoung nodded enthusiastically.

“…….”

At this point, Jian had little say. And since it was just a friendly gesture, refusing on their first meeting felt awkward.

“Yes, sounds good.”

It’d be brief. Plus, Jian’s first impression of them wasn’t bad, so he agreed. Asked if he had any food preferences, Jian said he wasn’t picky and didn’t know good spots since he didn’t live nearby. Park Doyoung darted out, saying he’d discuss options.

It was lively.

A bustle he couldn’t feel working alone. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant.

“…….”

Jian gripped the shape of the umbrella in his bag, then followed the group, who’d quickly picked a restaurant and beckoned him.

👓

Rubbing his eyes after removing his glasses, Jian’s touch was oddly irritable. He slumped, pressing his cheek to the cool desk, letting out a long breath.

Knock, knock.

As he calmed his emotions, Seo Jungyoon mimicked a knock while slipping through the slightly open door. Jian quickly sat up, correcting his slouched posture.

“Jian, not leaving yet?”

Checking the clock, it was just past 7 p.m. Glancing outside, everyone was bustling to leave, seemingly in good spirits, likely due to leaving before dark.

“I’ll stay a bit longer.”

“Today too? …It’s Friday.”

“Yes.”

“Friday?”

“Yes.”

A flicker of pity crossed Seo Jungyoon’s face as she emphasized it was Friday.

“Fine. But go home earlier today. You know you’re always the last to leave, right?”

From Tuesday, when he officially started, to today, Jian had been the last to leave among the team. They worked late due to intense workloads, but no one knew exactly when Jian left—only that he stayed the longest.

“Right, Jian stays way too late. Total overtime king!”

Lee Sowon, quietly joining after finishing her preparations, backed her team leader.

“I’ll leave early today.”

“Good! It’s Friday—gotta enjoy it!”

Sowon launched into a ode to Fridays at Jian’s light agreement.

“Sowon, how about we leave quietly?”

“Yes!”

“Jian, go home early and rest today.”

“I will.”

Seo Jungyoon urged Jian to leave early once more before leading the others out. Waving and wishing everyone a good weekend, they left, and the once-noisy office fell silent.

Jian slumped back onto the desk.

Jung Sehyun’s optimism about Jian living more regularly since starting work was overshadowed by the fact that, from his first official day, Jian became the last to leave the sixth floor. He was the company’s unextinguished light. Though, unlike before, he woke in the morning and slept at night, so it wasn’t entirely irregular.

“…Haa.”

Letting out another long sigh, he dragged himself up to face the monitor.

Progress was slow. Perhaps it was the pressure to do well or the unfamiliarity of video work after so long, but finding the right translation direction took ages. Nothing felt right, leading to endless writing and erasing.

In the quiet office, only the clacking of the keyboard echoed.

After countless revisions, progress finally showed. It might still get scrapped if it didn’t satisfy him, but compared to the past few days, it was a step forward. Rolling his stiff neck from intense focus, Jian noticed the outside was now fully dark and checked the time.

Hours had flown by, nearing midnight.

Normally, he’d pack up around now, but with rare progress and the finish line in sight, he was reluctant to leave. Tomorrow was the weekend, so he could sleep in—staying a bit longer didn’t seem bad.

The deliberation was brief, the decision swift.

Heading to the pantry for a coffee before resuming, Jian hesitated. Americano didn’t appeal anymore. Craving something sweet to jolt him awake, he rummaged but found no instant coffee—apparently, it had run out.

Now that he thought about it, he’d heard it was ordered and would arrive next week.

“Is there even a vending machine…?”