IT - 2

2. Stagnant for Ten Years

The dark pupils, now free of drowsiness, meticulously scanned Ji-soo’s face. His expression was inscrutable, as though he were staring at an alien. His gaze was neither surprised nor amused but rather cold and relentless.

It felt like he was being imprinted on Tae-ha’s mind. Ji-soo had hesitantly placed her hand on his chest—so firm it was hard to believe it belonged to a human—before quickly pulling herself upright.

“Ah, I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t possibly know, but being this close to Tae-ha was incredibly uncomfortable. The coffee she had dropped while being dragged here rolled across the floor.

“I thought you were some beautiful assassin sent by Madam Oh Yoon-mi to slit my throat.”

Oh Yoon-mi was Chairman Cha Geon-wook’s fifth wife. The rigid and principled chairman only recognized Tae-ha, the son of his first wife, as his legitimate heir. Though he had married multiple times and enjoyed relationships with countless women across generations, the bloodline listed in his will and inheritance belonged solely to Cha Tae-ha. To those women, he was nothing short of a public enemy.

Tae-ha casually tossed out that chilling remark as if it were a trivial joke. His gaze then lowered, and Ji-soo followed it, startled to see her own stocking-clad feet. She hurriedly retrieved her shoes from the entrance and slipped them on.

“Hello, Executive Director. I’m Han Ji-soo from the media production team, and I’ll be handling today’s interview.”

“I know who you are, Han Ji-soo.”

His deep yet soft baritone voice was pleasant to listen to, even with its clipped tone. Hearing her name spoken in his voice made Ji-soo instinctively touch her cheek as if it might have flushed red.

Tae-ha straightened his back, which had been sunk deep into the sofa, and checked his watch.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

There was no way she could have eaten anything before meeting Tae-ha officially. Even back in college, she would get nervous from morning onward if they had classes in the same building. Why did she freeze up like this every time she saw him?

“Does arriving earlier than scheduled mean you have some time to spare before the interview?”

“Yes, but...”

Ji-soo watched as Tae-ha abruptly stood up from the sofa, her words trailing off. She stopped talking, feeling as though he controlled both time and attention, and looked up at him. He grabbed his jacket and slid his arms into the sleeves.

Ji-soo quickly realized what Tae-ha wanted to do next. He had likely skipped meals and sleep just to make it to this interview schedule.

“What kind of quick and hassle-free meal options do we have?”

The company cafeteria came to mind, but it would surely be closed by now, well past lunchtime.

“If it’s alright with you, may I guide you? There’s a simple restaurant near the office where we can eat.”

After swiftly cleaning up the spilled coffee, Ji-soo waited for Tae-ha’s response. With a slight nod, he agreed, and Ji-soo confidently led the way out of the waiting room—far more assertively than Tae-ha, who had been pondering how to escort her moments ago.

The place they entered was a narrow, long snack bar with only a single row of tables against the wall and five chairs. The modest establishment was aptly named “Tteum Tteum,” fitting its cozy interior.

Though Tae-ha had requested something quick and simple, Ji-soo added a touch of flavor to their choice. This humble spot boasted clean tastes and reasonable prices. It was Ji-soo’s personal hideout—a place to fill her stomach during the day or enjoy a drink alone after work.

But the moment they stepped inside with Tae-ha, doubts crept in. His towering frame seemed out of place here, like Gulliver in Lilliput, his head almost brushing the ceiling. The roof, which Ji-soo adored for the rhythmic pitter-patter it made on rainy days, suddenly felt inadequate.

“Executive Director, are you uncomfortable? Should we change seats?”

Tae-ha sent Ji-soo to the corner seat before taking his own. He glanced up at the sparse menu board.

“Order whatever you want.”

“Can I really order anything I feel like eating?”

Tae-ha gave her an odd look, as if he’d heard something strange. Despite sitting so close to him under his intense gaze, Ji-soo still couldn’t quite believe she was here alone with him.

“Of course. Anything you want.”

“Tteum Tteum Ramyun, stir-fried ramyun, flat dumplings, and two rolls of kimbap, please.”

Tae-ha tilted his head slightly when Ji-soo skipped ordering the tricolor pancake at the bottom of the menu.

“Oh, that one’s too delicious to eat right now—it makes me crave alcohol.”

“Then let’s save it for next time.”

Ji-soo’s heart pounded so loudly she barely registered the meaning behind his words. Next time? With Tae-ha? Before she could dwell on the flutter those words stirred, the food arrived, filling the small table meant for two.

At first puzzled by the unconventional ramyun, Tae-ha soon followed Ji-soo’s lead and began clearing his bowl. He wrapped a flat dumpling in the stir-fried ramyun and slurped it down.

Despite his polished appearance, Tae-ha ate surprisingly well—as if he’d starved himself during his overseas business trip. Watching him devour such casual fare with such seriousness and ease was oddly fascinating.

“I left my card, wallet, and phone in the waiting room.”

Standing at the counter, Tae-ha patted himself down as he spoke. Ji-soo was similarly empty-handed but didn’t seem particularly flustered. Without hesitation, she pulled out the ledger from behind the counter and called toward the kitchen.

“Auntie, I’ll put this on my tab!”

“Alright!”

Tae-ha quickly scanned the page marked “Han Ji-soo.” The entries, filled with solo meals, resembled less of a credit ledger and more of an attendance record. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he read through it.

“Since I enjoyed a delicious meal thanks to Han Ji-soo today, I’ll treat you next time.”

Inside the elevator heading back to the studio, Tae-ha suddenly spoke.

Again with the “next time.” Such a commonplace phrase shouldn’t feel so special, yet Ji-soo’s heart raced wildly, as if broken, at the mere suggestion of sharing another meal together someday.

“Yes, understood.”

Ji-soo responded politely. After all, there wouldn’t be a next time for them. Still, she couldn’t help but glance up at him, drawn to his refreshing scent. There was something she’d wanted to ask since earlier. Would he remember me?

They had attended the same university, but their paths rarely crossed—not enough for her to even introduce herself as his junior. Once, drunk on courage, she had confessed her feelings to him, only to be immediately rejected. Surely, he wouldn’t remember that. Every semester overflowed with juniors professing their love to him.

Yet, from the very first day of work, Tae-ha had been the one to recognize Ji-soo and approach her with a greeting. Over four years at university and six years at the company, that single interaction was the entirety of their “exchange.”

When the elevator doors opened on the third floor, their schedule secretary and Eun-ho were waiting for them.

“Executive Director, the Fantasy Studio matter has been resolved, and I’ve sent you the detailed agreement via text.”

As Tae-ha listened to the report and headed toward the waiting room, he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket. The sharp gaze checking his messages now seemed worlds apart from the man who had just moments ago been eating dumplings wrapped in ramen with her.

But the phone had definitely come out of his pocket just now. Ji-soo tilted her head, puzzled. Something didn’t add up—either she hadn’t heard him correctly at the snack bar or she’d seen wrong.

The interview, initially scheduled to last an hour, ended in just 40 minutes thanks to Tae-ha’s concise and precise answers. It felt surreal to sit across from him in an official setting, exchanging words and making eye contact.

Perhaps that was why Ji-soo, uncharacteristically, found herself breaking her usual icy demeanor and smiling often. Even when she tried to suppress it, a smile would unconsciously bloom on her lips—it was as if her face refused not to smile. And every time Tae-ha shot her one of his piercing glances, it sent a thrilling jolt through her.

Suddenly, doubts crept in: had staying at this company been the right decision? Was it purely because she wanted to see him that she’d renewed her contract? He was always the man who gave her endless things to ponder.

“Now, we’ll take a few natural shots of Executive Director Tae-ha. Please continue your conversation comfortably.”

In truth, Tae-ha was anything but comfortable in casual conversation. Unintentionally, he exuded a cold and imposing aura, and there weren’t many topics they could discuss without formality.

But since she’d been assigned to capture warm, friendly photos instead of merely conducting a written interview, Ji-soo, as a salaried employee, decided to speak up.

“What do you do in your free time, Executive Director? After work, or on weekends and vacations?”

Recently, he’d been leading overseas business expansions and hadn’t had much leisure time. The meal at the snack bar, where they focused solely on eating without discussing work, had been a rare occurrence.

“I work.”

Everyone expected such a bland answer, and Tae-ha delivered precisely that. Only Ji-soo responded with a polite, capitalist smile, showing respect for the future leader of the company.

“And what about you, Han Ji-soo?”

“I do have something special, but since I’m in front of you, Executive Director, I’ll say I work too.”

“Whatever that special thing is, let’s do it together.”

The lighthearted atmosphere meant to capture cheerful photos suddenly grew tense with this unexpected proposal. Even without looking, Ji-soo could feel the production team members’ panic ripple through the air.

“What about during school? You must have studied hard, played well, and been popular too, right?”

“Don’t you, as my junior, already know how boring my school days were?”

Click-click. Cameras buzzed busily around them.

“We’re done. How about one more photo together as a keepsake?”

With the commemorative photo session over, the interview fueled by Ji-soo’s one-sided affection came to an end. The schedule secretary left to prepare for the next location, and the staff began clearing the area.

“Was I really that popular?”

As Tae-ha stood up, he suddenly asked, his tone softer now. Ji-soo’s heart fluttered, but she tried hard not to read too much into it. To mask her reluctance to part ways, she forced an even brighter smile.

“Oh, you didn’t know? There were countless classmates who said they came to school just to see your face.”

“And you?”

His previously formal speech abruptly dropped its honorifics. The shortened tone made it feel as though they were closer than ever, sending Ji-soo’s heart racing.

By now, the two of them were alone in the studio.

“Of course, I was included among those countless classmates.”

“And now?”