IT - 22

22. The Best Man

“What do you mean? Why would Ji-soo…”

Before Eun-ho could finish his sentence, Ji-soo interrupted him with a slightly raised voice.

“I’ll do it. I want to. I’ve never done anything like this before, but it sounds fun. What does being a best man entail?”

A stubborn streak she hadn’t often exercised in her life pushed Ji-soo forward. She’d rarely been the main character in her own story, so she felt confident she could pull off being a supporting role just fine.

“Ji-soo, you don’t have to do this. Yoo-ri was just joking.”

“No, really. People often say I’m an excellent partner.”

If Yoo-ri doubted her, Ji-soo wanted to prove right there at the dining table just how good she was in bed—for her fiancé’s benefit, of course.

Drunk, Ji-soo kept failing to rest her elbow properly on the armrest, letting it slip repeatedly. All the while, Tae-ha’s gaze, which had been indifferent until now, hardened with each passing moment.

She was drunk—she knew that—but she didn’t care to hide it. The alcohol made her vision spin, and an uncontrollable smile escaped her lips. She was certain cracks were forming in Tae-ha’s otherwise stoic expression.

“Are you okay, Ji-soo?”

Eun-ho cautiously steadied Ji-soo’s swaying arm. Though intoxicated, she didn’t want to appear disheveled any longer, so she impulsively grabbed onto Eun-ho’s hand. Just as tightly as she clung to him, Tae-ha’s eyes mercilessly bore into her.

“We’ll get going first. Enjoy your meal.”

With Eun-ho supporting her shoulder, Ji-soo managed a graceful exit. True to Eun-ho’s words, she wanted nothing more than to leave that place quickly. Even after stepping out of the private room, however, she could still feel Tae-ha’s burning gaze following her.

“Thanks to you, we’ve even secured a best man. How should I repay you?”

After the two left, Yoo-ri spoke, staring at the now-empty table.

Repayment, huh? Tae-ha downed the last glass in one gulp, replaying Ji-soo’s absurd antics from moments ago in his mind. If that wasn’t a delightful challenge, he didn’t know what was—and pretending ignorance was no longer an option.

“Leave it to the professionals. Since when did you start worrying about these things?”

Tae-ha set the empty glass down and rose from his seat.

Yoo-ri found Tae-ha’s consistently unpleasant demeanor quite charming. It reminded her of a top-tier luxury item on backorder—something that would eventually arrive and elevate her value over time.

Moreover, the phrase “these things” particularly pleased her. With a bright smile, she cheerfully bid Tae-ha farewell.

---

The taxi carrying the two stopped at the entrance instead of venturing into the dim alleyway. Ji-soo had said she wanted to walk to sober up.

Throughout the ride, Ji-soo stared blankly at the city lights, her face drained of emotion. Eun-ho suppressed the urge to hold her trembling fingers, which occasionally twitched like spasms, allowing her to sink fully into her thoughts as if he weren’t there.

Ji-soo suddenly came to a halt in the middle of the familiar path she’d been leading. Her frail shadow stretched long behind her. When Eun-ho approached from a step behind, she finally sensed his presence and flinched.

Even after leaving the hotel restaurant, sharing a taxi, and being escorted home, Eun-ho hadn’t occupied even a sliver of Ji-soo’s timeline. It dawned on him anew that all the effort he’d put into preparing for his confession had been utterly crushed without a trace today.

“I’ll go the rest of the way alone. You should head back too—it’s late. Thank you.”

“Let me walk you to your door. The neighborhood is too dark.”

Eun-ho had much to say to Ji-soo: discussing the move, asking what had been troubling her recently, explaining why he hadn’t mentioned Yoo-ri was his younger sister. 

“You’ve always been someone I’m grateful for, Team Leader. This isn’t the alcohol talking—it’s my honest feelings. I won’t forget.”

It was Eun-ho’s concise reply to everything he wanted to say. Ji-soo declared she’d remember the gratitude and distance he hoped she’d forget.

Staring at the path ahead shrouded in darkness, Ji-soo exhaled deeply. Perhaps the tropical night had begun; the air was humid and sultry despite nearing dawn.

As her studio apartment came into view, the alcohol abruptly wore off. She wished she could stay tipsy a little longer. It felt as though she was re-entering Han Ji-soo’s reality—a life of solitude wrapped in a hazy, directionless night.

“Ji-soo, rest well. I’ll contact you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? You’ll call me?”

Ji-soo noticed a high-end sedan parked behind her building, incongruous with the neighborhood. Could it be Tae-ha? She shook her head forcefully. He’d been drinking earlier, so there was no way he’d drive. And why would he come here?

Tae-ha’s mention of being on a blind date had shown Ji-soo her place clearly: she was merely an excellent bed partner.

“The new apartment. We agreed to look at places together, didn’t we?”

“Oh, right. Yes, I remember. Got it. Then I’ll head home first.”

Though her sparkling eyes had dulled slightly, Ji-soo’s resolve to treat Eun-ho strictly as a colleague remained firm. She drew a clear line and vowed never to cross it, no matter what.

“Alright.”

Suppressing the urge to ask her to text him upon safe arrival, as he always did, Eun-ho turned to leave.

Entering the studio’s lobby, Ji-soo stared at the closed elevator doors before stepping back outside. She felt she needed more alcohol tonight.

After buying beer from the convenience store, she stood by the elevator again. As the doors opened, a sudden hand shot out, grabbing her arm roughly.

Strong arms enveloped her waist, pulling her close. Even without longing, she instinctively recognized his scent. Desperately avoiding Tae-ha’s descending lips, Ji-soo turned her head just in time, absurdly worried about whether her breath smelled of alcohol.

Watching her trembling white neck as she swallowed hard, Tae-ha smirked and released her. Trapped in the cramped elevator with nowhere to escape, Ji-soo pressed the floor button and retreated.

“Which bastard are you trying to reel in tonight to make another mistake?”

Tae-ha sneered, pointing at the beer in the convenience store bag. Ji-soo bit back the urge to remind him that the words he’d spat at the dining table about people showing their true selves when drinking were spoken by none other than Cha Tae-ha himself.

“I just wanted to drink.”

“Why?”

Her grip tightened on the bag. Why had he come all the way here to act like this? Hoping that satisfying his curiosity might prompt him to leave quickly, Ji-soo hesitantly replied.

“It’s a day I want to get drunk.”

“So why?”

She absolutely did not want Tae-ha inside her apartment. If she let him fill her personal space, she’d think about him endlessly when alone—and she didn’t trust herself to handle that. Work was already overwhelming enough.

“Do I need your permission and explanation for why I drink?”

“Yes.”

Ping—the short answer coincided with a cheerful notification sound. Thinking she might have misheard, Ji-soo looked up at Tae-ha. As the elevator doors opened, he snatched the convenience store bag from her hands and stepped out.

“Give me that, and now go home.”

Standing firmly in the hallway outside the elevator, Ji-soo addressed Tae-ha. He moved with an arrogant expression, as if dismissing her trivial protests. Without hesitation or confusion, he stopped directly in front of her door, tilting his head impatiently for her to unlock it.

“Why are you doing this? Just go.”

“Do I need your permission and explanation for why I’m moving on my own feet?”

Tae-ha mimicked Ji-soo’s earlier words, chuckling teasingly. Irritated at having given him another chance to mock her, Ji-soo bit down hard on her inner cheek.

She didn’t even wonder how Tae-ha knew where she lived. If he set his mind to it, he could easily uncover not only the lake but also the front door’s passcode. Her ominous premonition was spot-on.

“Open it. Or should I open it for you?”

Leaning casually against the doorway, Tae-ha waited for Ji-soo to unlock the door. He could have entered the code himself but feigned consideration with a soft smile.

Approaching cautiously, Ji-soo shielded the keypad with one hand, hiding the fact that his birthday was the password from Tae-ha’s view.

As expected, it was a small studio apartment. Imagining Ji-soo eating, sleeping, and living in a space smaller than his bathroom stirred something within him—a desire to visit this humble place often.

Their eyes darted around, searching for a place to sit, before landing awkwardly on the bed. The chair by the desk doubling as a vanity was too narrow and fragile for Tae-ha’s large frame. Hesitating to suggest the bed, Ji-soo faltered…

“Quite unconventional guest reception, offering the bed.”

Without waiting for her guidance, Tae-ha strode confidently and sat on the bed. His actions were so natural it felt as though this were his own home. When Ji-soo hesitated nearby, he patted the sheets, inviting her to sit beside him.

“It’s cramped and uncomfortable for you. If you have something to say, let’s go outside…”

Hearing her calm and gentle voice, Tae-ha felt as though the Ji-soo he knew had returned. With affectionate intent, he gently stroked the sheets imbued with her scent.

His large hand sensually swept across the bed. The gesture evoked intimate memories in Ji-soo—memories of how he’d persistently tormented her until she gave in, then softly released her, just as he was doing now.

“It’s tight and uncomfortable, but what can I do? I’ll have to adapt.”

Ji-soo’s gaze followed Tae-ha’s movements, trembling slightly. Watching her uneasy eyes, he asked earnestly with a tender smile.

“Is the bed frame sturdy? It won’t break while we’re at it, will it?”

“Director.”

“How’s the soundproofing in here?”

Loosening his tie with long fingers, Tae-ha smiled.

“If noises escape, it doesn’t bother me. But if Han Ji-soo clams up worrying about it, I’ll lose my mind.”

Dropping his tie to the floor, Tae-ha removed his shirt. Ji-soo, who had been deliberately ignoring why he was here and what he wanted, turned her gaze toward the vanity. A B-cut photo of Tae-ha that hadn’t made it into the newsletter was stuck to the mirror.

“I want to drink. Let’s have one more glass.”