IT - 12

12. A Contract for Sleeping Only

“That’s all I need.”

Ji-soo answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“I could even buy it for you every day, if you really beat me. Anything else?”

Tae-ha suppressed the urge to let her win just to see her happy and nodded instead.

“Oh? Really? Then I’ll have to put in some effort after such a long time. Just watch!”

The thought of sitting across from Tae-ha at the dining table every day filled Ji-soo with genuine energy. She felt confident enough to knock him over right then and there, despite his towering height nearing 190 cm. Did she really believe she could win with her slender arms, easily manipulated by just two fingers? Either Ji-soo had an awful sense for gambling or was overly confident in herself.

“And what about you, Vice President?”

Without hesitation, just as Ji-soo had done, Tae-ha stated his desire.

“I want an exclusive contract where Han Ji-soo uses her impure preferences only on me.”

Though Tae-ha never entertained the idea of losing—even as a joke—he briefly considered letting her win at first, wanting to see her joyful chatter and imagining daily meals together. But now, he absolutely couldn’t lose.

“An exclusive contract?”

Ignoring Ji-soo’s curiosity for an explanation, Tae-ha laid out simple rules for their arm-wrestling match.

“I’ll give you as many tries as you want—hundreds, thousands. If you win even once, the victor is Han Ji-soo. Deal?”

“You’re quite the liar, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you weren’t generous. Anyway, yes, I agree.”

With a serious expression, Ji-soo firmly gripped Tae-ha’s wrist. Her deep, clear eyes gazed intensely at him, nearly causing him to lose his grip.

Ha. Even before they began, she tried to charm him with her face, then swiftly used both hands to press down, attempting to trick him into losing. But no matter how hard she pushed, his arm didn’t budge an inch. Was her confidence rooted in some kind of beauty strategy?

Rising slightly from her seat, Ji-soo grunted, putting her full weight into trying to pin his wrist down—but to no avail. The harder she strained, the more her loosely tied nightgown slipped open, revealing smooth, pale skin that quivered with her movements. Traces of his marks from the previous night were visible around her delicate frame. Her fragile skin, which seemed to bruise like falling flower petals at the slightest touch, pleased him—it felt like marking his territory on her fragile body.

Just a simple arm-wrestling match, yet Tae-ha found himself battling against the distracting assault of her exposed flesh. Meanwhile, Ji-soo seemed utterly oblivious to her unintentional seduction. Had they bet on seduction instead, Tae-ha would’ve lost every single round, no matter how many times they played.

“If my elbow lifts off the table, Han Ji-soo wins.”

He lowered the conditions for victory. By now, the bedroom had transformed from an intimate space for lovers into an arena burning with competitive spirit.

Ji-soo’s efforts were endearing. It made him wonder what kind of misplaced confidence led her to believe she even had a chance of winning.

Still, since it was a bet, he figured he should at least add some excitement and drama.

Tae-ha tilted his hand slightly downward, letting his knuckles graze the table. A flicker of hope brightened Ji-soo’s previously tense face—but only for a fleeting moment.

After giving her a taste of near-victory, Tae-ha suddenly surged forward, slamming her hands down onto the table in defeat.

No matter how many times they tried, the outcome remained the same. Despite knowing from the start that this was an unwinnable bet, Ji-soo stubbornly poured the last of her energy into each attempt, lamenting her losses.

“I don’t want to be the first and last witness to Han Ji-soo collapsing from overexertion during an arm-wrestling match and being carried away by paramedics.”

It was Tae-ha who finally stopped her when she insisted on continuing.

“Is it because your unusual competitiveness can’t accept defeat, or is it that you hate losing to me this much?”

At least she had managed to eat something after standing up. Ji-soo, who had sweated profusely while straining to win, laughed weakly. Rising from his seat, Tae-ha brought her a glass of cold water with ice.

“Drink. This is the generosity of the victor toward the defeated.”

Gulping down the icy water, Ji-soo set the glass down and glanced regretfully at the table again. Was an ancestral spirit haunting her, one who had failed to bring glory to the family through arm wrestling? Tae-ha crossed his long legs and watched her with amused interest.

“I never intended to let you win, so you could never beat me.”

Ji-soo cautiously agreed with his words. Without his permission, she couldn’t do anything.

It had been the same years ago when she confessed to him. He had dismissed her, saying he wasn’t interested, found her annoying, and wanted her to leave. When her confession dragged on too long, he impatiently checked his watch and ordered her to get to the point.

Finishing the rest of her cold water, Ji-soo crunched on the remaining ice cubes, unaware of how loudly she was crushing them due to her nervousness.

Seeing her flustered state, Tae-ha concluded that she had indeed understood the terms of the exclusive contract. Perhaps she was experienced in these matters? Yet, reflecting on last night, Ji-soo had acted strangely at times.

She hadn’t fully enjoyed her climax and hadn’t anticipated the pleasure that followed. Between heated moments, she often blushed and seemed unsure of what to do. Imagining other men seeing her shy, tearful smiles made Tae-ha’s blood boil with possessiveness.

Her smooth, porcelain-like skin suggested she hadn’t been with anyone recently. Tae-ha attributed her unfamiliarity with intimacy to what she had mentioned before: mixing work and personal life with her boss.

“Isn’t it time to claim your prize for the bet?”

Her trembling eyes soon steadied. Pressing her lips tightly together and then parting them, Ji-soo looked up at Tae-ha.

“Does the exclusive contract include sleeping together?”

“That’s all there is to it. Even dating is exhausting, given all the eyes on us.” 

Recalling how it had taken a full month just to get Ji-soo to join him at the dining table, Tae-ha spoke in a detached tone. 

“A contract for sleeping together, huh? That’s what this is.” 

Though she would have coldly rejected any suggestion of holding hands, going on walks, or exchanging gifts on anniversaries like normal couples, she now responded with a lonely look as if personally insulted. 

“Exactly. I want the most efficient and clean relationship possible.” 

“So, for you, Vice President, that means having my body?” 

Ji-soo clutched the hem of her nightgown to hide the trembling of her fingertips on the table. Now that she thought about it, unlike Tae-ha, who was perfectly dressed, she still hadn’t fully emerged from yesterday’s haze. 

A contract just for sleeping together—stranger than their odd bet, the outcome felt bizarre. Ji-soo couldn’t bring herself to speak or swallow, as if she’d swallowed burning coals. Her lips quivered faintly. 

She knew Tae-ha couldn’t stand drawn-out situations like this, but no suitable response came to mind. 

Just sleeping together with him—it felt like holding a shiny, tempting poisoned apple. 

Last night hadn’t been unpleasant for Ji-soo either. Though it was her first time and everything had unfolded quickly and intensely in Tae-ha’s style, the way pain peaked and transformed into pleasure still sent tingles through her body just thinking about it. Sensing heat pooling between her legs, Ji-soo shifted uncomfortably. 

“I need time to think.” 

She feared becoming too attached to Tae-ha through their physical connection, only to face greater heartbreak later. 

“Did other guys drag things out like this, making you wait?” 

“Ah, well…” 

Seeing Ji-soo’s slight frown of discomfort, Tae-ha’s smile grew colder. 

“Fine. It’s your private life after all.” 

As her pale face flushed red, Tae-ha was certain Ji-soo would eventually give him the answer he wanted. Asking for time meant she was already halfway inclined toward him. If she truly disliked the idea, she would’ve flatly rejected it on the spot—Han Ji-soo excelled at drawing boundaries and pushing people away when needed. 

“We’ll set a probationary period. Agreed so far?” 

When she gave a small nod, a faint smile finally crossed his otherwise indifferent face. Watching him, Ji-soo’s vision blurred with heat, and she lowered her head again. 

“The probation period counts as part of the preliminary contract, so I’d like you to focus solely on me.” 

Wide-eyed and innocent, Ji-soo stared at him, not fully understanding. Though Tae-ha seemed to know everything about her, moments like these made her feel as though they’d veered off into an abyss. 

“Focus? What do you mean?” 

“It’s simple. Stay away from anyone else you’re seeing for now. Oh, and don’t cut off contact entirely—there’s always a chance you might see them again later.” 

Despite the lenient phrasing, Tae-ha’s tone carried a warning sharp enough to shatter a phone. 

“If another man touches what’s mine, it’ll ruin my mood.” 

Ji-soo nodded, chilled by his ominous addition. 

“This includes anything you do alone with a man outside of work or official meetings. For instance, going to performances on weekends or talking on the phone after work hours.” 

Ji-soo mulled over his demands and then raised her gaze, suspecting he’d overheard her conversation with Eun-ho in the lounge. 

“The movie tickets were a gift from Team Leader Kang…” 

Tae-ha’s sharp glare cut her off mid-sentence. Ji-soo glanced at the clock on the table, then at the powered-off phone beside it. Perhaps Eun-ho would call soon—or maybe the phone had rung earlier, prompting Tae-ha to turn it off. 

While it was true she didn’t have other men in her life, she couldn’t let Tae-ha misunderstand Eun-ho either. 

“Team Leader Eun-ho is just a good senior colleague. That’s all.” 

Tae-ha, rising from his seat, picked up the phone from the table. 

Who knows if that guy thinks the same way? Seeing Eun-ho’s face when he looked at Ji-soo, Tae-ha realized he saw himself reflected there—and it irked him. 

“Not my business, right? Go ahead and collaborate wonderfully with such a great colleague.” 

Mocking her hesitation, Tae-ha held out the phone. 

“Cancel it. Right now.”