Chapter 09
As soon as Seung-jun left the convenience store, he received a call from Hyo-young.
It wasn’t surprising—it was exactly what he expected.
“What on earth were you thinking?”
The moment he stepped into the house, Hyo-young pointed her finger at him, fuming.
“How could you walk out of a match meeting after only 30 minutes?
Are you trying to embarrass me completely?”
Seung-jun silently stared at Hyo-young.
As a child, he had feared her. In his teenage years, he found her annoying. But now, as an adult, his feelings were complicated.
He could see the circumstances surrounding her, the pressures she couldn’t escape.
Chairman Han constantly scrutinized Seung-jun’s upbringing.
If he ever found anything lacking, Hyo-young bore the brunt of his anger. So, she had no choice but to give her all to raising Seung-jun.
Of course, her “best” effort was from the Chairman’s perspective, not Seung-jun’s.
“If you act like this, how do you think the Chairman will see me? Or you, for that matter?”
Seung-jun watched her, her face flushed with anger.
He was tired of it all. Tired of pretending this family was real.
Tired of playing along with his grandfather’s manipulations.
“Are you still afraid of Grandfather?”
Seung-jun’s question was deliberate, using the word “Grandfather” instead of “Chairman” to provoke her. As expected, Hyo-young’s eyes widened as she took a deep breath.
“W-what are you talking about?”
She was caught off guard. For years, Seung-jun had obediently followed orders without question.
Since he was adopted at seven, he had lived strictly according to their commands.
Now looking at the flustered Hyo-young, Seung-jun brushed his hair back with a hand.
Even he didn’t fully understand himself.
Why did he suddenly leave the matchmaking session? Why did he go to the convenience store only to get slapped?
“I’m sorry. I’m just tired,” he muttered, turning away.
The unusually sharp tone left Hyo-young speechless.
He got into his car and drove aimlessly, speeding down an empty road. Memories from the past crept into his mind like fog.
Since he was seven, there wasn’t a single moment in his life he truly liked.
Now at twenty-seven, there was only one thing he liked: the youngest secretary, who would blush and avoid his gaze whenever she saw him.
She was terrible at her job, and awkward at speaking, yet he couldn’t stop noticing her.
He thought it was love.
Whenever he returned from a scolding by Chairman Han, she’d offer him a warm cup of coffee and try to comfort him.
Sometimes, she’d nervously reach out and hold his hand. Amused by her trembling, he would pull her into an embrace, feeling her whole body shiver.
“If you’re going to comfort me, do it properly,” he would say, covering her lips with his.
She would turn beet red and tightly close her eyes.
He thought it would last forever. That she would always be there for him, prepared to help no matter what.
Never did he imagine she would leave him first, without a word.
Even more so, while carrying his child.
“How do I make her understand my pain? How do I get my broken heart compensated?”
First, he had to bring the child to him. That would be the surest way to retaliate against her while ensuring the child had a secure life.
But he couldn’t do it.
At seven, he lost his mother and his world.
He couldn’t let his child inherit the same life.
Monday Morning.
As Seol-ah arrived at work, she found a chocolate bar on her desk.
She turned her head and met Yumin’s eyes.
“Did you buy this?”
“I stopped by the convenience store because I skipped breakfast. I thought you’d like it since you love chocolate,” Yumin replied with a bright smile.
Seol-ah hesitated, lowering her gaze. Could it be?
She remembered the chocolate in Seung-jun’s hand.
He had left it behind without paying.
No, it couldn’t mean anything. Just a coincidence.
“My grandmother always said that you don’t need big things to make someone smile. It’s the small things that matter,” Yumin added. “I felt so drained this morning, but after eating something from the store, I felt better.
Then I thought of you.”
Seeing Yumin’s cheerful smile, Seol-ah couldn’t help but smile back.
Yumin’s life wasn’t much different from hers. While Seol-ah grew up in an orphanage, Yumin was raised by her grandmother after her parents divorced.
“How’s your grandmother doing?” Seol-ah asked.
“She’s getting better. Only two more rounds of chemotherapy left,” Yumin replied, her optimism intact despite her struggles.
Seol-ah gently patted her on the shoulder, unsure of what else to say. Words felt insufficient for the weight of Yumin’s burden.
“I’m fine. But my contract ends soon. If JK Foods approves us, maybe I’ll have a chance to extend it.”
Her words jolted Seol-ah back to reality.
Unlike Seol-ah, who was a full-time employee, Yumin was on a temporary contract set to expire at the end of the month. If they didn’t pass the JK Foods review, there’d be no reason to keep her on.
“Why did I slap JK’s vice chairman?” Seol-ah thought, filled with regret.
Summoned to the president’s office, Seol-ah’s unease grew. Entering, she froze at the sight of President Moon’s mother, Jung Soonrye, seated inside.
“Are you an employee here? Sit down,” Jung Soonrye said. “I was curious about the company, so I dropped by.
So, what’s the status of the JK Foods review?”
The company started with Jung Soonrye’s homemade dishes, which eventually grew into a business.
Their products, like buckwheat noodles and fermented soybean paste, had gained a good reputation.
“Oh, that? Consider it done,” President Moon said confidently. “The JK Foods vice chairman is my old schoolmate from elementary school.”
Seol-ah almost laughed at the absurdity. There was no way Seung-jun even knew who President Moon was, let alone considered him a friend.
“Call JK’s vice chairman and arrange a meeting this week,” President Moon instructed Seol-ah.
His schedule was likely full for months, and even if it weren’t, Seung-jun would have no reason to meet someone like President Moon.
“I’ll try my best to get the JK Foods review approved,” Seol-ah said firmly, determined to protect Yumin’s job.
