TMP Chapter 2: A Gift or a Test

Kangwoo was breathless. Not from exercise, but from the unexpected thrill of seeing Haewon. He quickly composed himself, masking his surprise with an indifferent expression.

He hadn’t expected to run into her so soon. If he had known, he wouldn’t have dragged himself out for an early-morning workout to shake off his jet lag from the overseas trip. And he certainly wouldn’t have met her in these sweat-drenched workout clothes.

This wasn’t exactly the reunion he had hoped for.

Yet, a part of him wondered if this was why he had felt the urge to step outside in the first place. If he hadn’t, he might have missed seeing her altogether.

The absurd thought crossed his mind that he should praise himself for staying awake despite the time difference. Regardless, he was simply glad to see her—even if it was foolishly so.

Lee Haewon. She was the first person, out of anyone—man or woman—to ever captivate him like this.

Haewon blinked her long lashes and looked at him, as if doubting his words about being disappointed that she was no longer a student.

Amusingly enough, even her rebellious gaze looked beautiful. It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Had there ever been a moment when she wasn’t beautiful?

Even back when they had accidentally met at a foundation event, or when he had stood at a distance watching her graduation, Haewon had always shone brilliantly in his eyes.

Perhaps that was why he couldn’t stop smiling. He had to make a conscious effort to keep it from showing.

From the moment he first saw her, she had never left his mind. She slipped into his thoughts at every opportunity, as if she belonged there. And now, she was standing right in front of him—it was only natural for him to react this way.

As Kangwoo silently relished their reunion, Haewon, on the other hand, found his constant smiling nothing short of annoying.

It wasn’t the first time she had sensed something strange in his gaze. Kangwoo had a way of looking at her that changed constantly, and right now was no different.

Whenever he fixed those sharp black eyes on her, it made her heart constrict. There had been countless times when she had wanted to hide—whether it was when he visited the orphanage with Chairwoman Cha or when they crossed paths at foundation events.

“So, should I start calling you Attorney now?”

Kangwoo muttered in a casual tone, almost to himself, before suddenly closing the distance between them.

Caught between the front door and Kangwoo, Haewon found herself wedged in place. Suppressing her unease, she forced her voice to remain calm.

“You don’t have to be so formal. You’ll be my superior now, so feel free to call me whatever you like.”

“Me?”

“Chairwoman Cha offered me a position at Samwoo Group.”

Ha. Kangwoo let out a dry chuckle—but it lasted only a second. His expression quickly hardened, turning cold as his gaze shifted toward the door Haewon had just stepped out of.

The sudden change in his demeanor made her feel as if he was mocking her, belittling her as if she were some naive fool. But what did it matter what he thought of her?

Just as she tried to brush it off, Kangwoo’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“I can’t tell if this is a gift or a test.”

His low murmur was followed by his gaze slowly trailing down her face. His stare was so intense that she felt the urge to say something—anything—but her lips remained sealed.

“Then again, does it even matter?”

Kangwoo tilted his head slightly. The space between them was so narrow that the smallest movement would make their lips brush.

His voice dipped into a hushed whisper as it curled around her ear.

“Lee Haewon, the important thing is… you’ve finally ended up under me.”

A slow smirk stretched across his lips.

The afternoon sunlight poured down on Haewon’s face, making her squint. The heat was relentless, and all she could think about was getting away from this spot.

“I’ll see you at the office, then.”

With a polite nod, she stepped past Kangwoo, who had been blocking her way.

“What about ‘Lee Byun’?”

Haewon stopped in her tracks and turned back, confused by his question. Kangwoo clarified with a slight smirk.

“I mean, as a title.”

“That’s a bit…”

Wasn’t that too familiar? Among her law school peers, they sometimes addressed each other by surname—Kim Byun, Choi Byun—but that was only because they were close.

She and Kangwoo weren’t close. And they never would be. More importantly, they shouldn’t be. The best way to repay Chairwoman Cha Myeonghee’s kindness was to never do anything she disapproved of.

Yet, the words that left Haewon’s lips betrayed her own thoughts.

“Fine, if you insist.”

She had been the one to suggest he call her whatever he liked. It would be petty to backtrack now, claiming it felt too informal or uncomfortable. A bitter smile crossed her lips, tinged with self-mockery.

“Your words and expression don’t seem to match.”

Haewon prided herself on keeping a poker face, but Kangwoo had seen right through her. He was far more perceptive than she had expected. Rather than argue, she chose to stay silent.

“Well, now that we’ve settled the title, shall we go celebrate?”

Haewon shot him a baffled look.

“Celebrate what?”

“You passed the bar exam. That calls for a toast.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’ll pass.”

“It’s a bit early to just ‘appreciate the thought,’ don’t you think?”

How was she supposed to respond to this ridiculous banter?

“Can we put this off for later?”

Haewon barely held back a scoff, but Kangwoo responded as if nothing was amiss.

He had known Haewon since they were young, and she had always been tense—ever watchful, always cautious. The moment someone raised their voice or furrowed their brows, she would shrink away instinctively. It was the kind of self-preservation one developed from their environment.

So, rather than forcing his way in, Kangwoo had decided to wait. If he pushed too hard, she’d retreat like a startled hermit crab. Instead, he would draw her out—slowly, patiently, until she was ready to step into the world on her own.

“Let’s at least move somewhere else. We can’t exactly toast in the middle of the street, can we?”

“I’m sorry, but…”

“Lee Byun.”

The way Kangwoo called her title was so natural that even Haewon didn’t find it awkward.

“You seem to be misunderstanding something. This isn’t a request.”

“Then what is it?”

Haewon tilted her head skeptically. The amused expression faded from Kangwoo’s face, replaced by something unreadable.

For some reason, the shift in his demeanor put her on edge. His sharp gaze locked onto hers, and when he finally spoke, his voice was slow and deliberate.

“My first official order as your superior.”

What kind of nonsense was that?

They both knew it was ridiculous.

Her lips parted slightly in disbelief, but Kangwoo’s eyes naturally drifted down to them.

For the briefest moment, Haewon felt the weight of his stare—intense and unwavering. The realization made her throat tighten. She quickly cleared it with a forced cough and turned away, breaking the moment before it could spiral any further.

Would it be greed or mischief that made him want to prod her even more?

Setting aside his own hidden thoughts for now, Kangwoo took a step forward. Revealing his true feelings now would be premature. He had to take it slow, ever so gradually seeping into her life—

Like a boy deliberately teasing a girl who was happily minding her own business.

✼ ✼ ✼

“Where is this?”

Instead of his usual bar, Kangwoo had brought Haewon to a private room in a hotel.

“Relax. I didn’t bring you here to sleep with you.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

Unless he was busy, Kangwoo frequented this hotel’s rooftop bar almost daily. He knew exactly what kind of guys lurked there, even without looking. And he had no intention of bringing Haewon into that crowd.

“If I took you there, you wouldn’t make it home tonight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Every guy in the room would be swarming you, trying to flirt.”

“You talk as if every man in the world is in love with me.”

Her sharp gaze met his without hesitation—bold, even. Was it the lighting that made her look even more beautiful?

Kangwoo settled onto the sofa and gestured toward the seat across from him. Haewon, still wary, sat down without a word.

“You do know you’re beautiful, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do.”

She might have sounded arrogant, but it was something she had been told endlessly since she was a child.

“Did you hear? She didn’t get adopted again.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s too pretty.”

The hushed voices whispering behind her back were still vivid in her memory.

The day she learned why she had never been chosen for adoption, Haewon had hidden in the orphanage’s backyard and cried until her eyes were swollen shut. She had watched other children leave, hand in hand with their new parents, longing for a family of her own. But that dream had been shattered.

After that, Haewon stopped forcing herself to smile. She avoided making eye contact with visitors. Once she realized she would never be chosen, their attention became nothing but a nuisance.

The prospective adoptive parents who visited the orphanage were always mesmerized by her appearance. Ironically, it was the very thing that made them hesitate.

Her striking looks set her apart too much. They feared that people would easily guess she was adopted, that she wouldn’t blend into their family.

In the end, Haewon was never adopted. When she turned seven, she was transferred to Bobaewon, a facility for older children. Bobaewon was a communal living space where multiple children were cared for by a single guardian, designed to help them build independence while fostering a family-like atmosphere.

It was there that Haewon met Director Lee Jungsook,, who became like a mother to her, and Chairwoman Cha Myeonghee, her benefactor.

“But there must be people who think differently.”

“Men who don’t care about that?”

“Yes. One’s sitting right in front of me.”

Haewon’s gaze met his, unwavering.

How naïve.

“And how can you be so sure?”

Kangwoo’s lips curled into an amused smirk.

 

---

T/N:

“Byun” (변, 邊) is not actually a standalone word in this context—it’s a shortened way to refer to someone as a lawyer in Korean. In legal or professional settings, people often refer to lawyers by their surname + Byun (from byeonhosa, 변호사, meaning “lawyer”)