IT - 30

30. Slave to Instinct

For quite some time, they indulged deeply in each other’s lips, lingering as though being consumed entirely was perfectly acceptable. To say they were “swallowed” would be more accurate.

It wasn’t until the peak of the night that Ji-soo realized where they were—in a car parked outside the company, with the windows rolled down no less.

As their tongues untangled and their fervently pressed lips parted, regret flickered across Ji-soo’s face. Even in the dim moonlight, her flustered expression was unmistakable.

“Director… um…”

Just one glance at her face or a note of her voice, and he could guess what she wanted to say. It puzzled and unsettled him how willingly she had let herself succumb to him earlier—how much more would she resist when he tried to get closer?

Tae-ha gently nibbled on Ji-soo’s trembling lips before releasing them, as if hinting at what might happen if she dared speak another word.

“I know—it was a mistake. I seduced you. You’re not delusional enough to think this is anything serious.”

If she were delusional, it would have gone far beyond just a kiss. Tae-ha rubbed his damp lips together and smirked faintly. Her gaze tonight felt unusually warm, prompting Ji-soo to squeeze her eyes shut tightly.

Whenever she was with Tae-ha, rationality and common sense seemed to crumble. Was she always this susceptible to emotion? The usual constraints, the resolve not to burden him, and even her long-cherished love for him—all failed to hold ground. All she wanted now was to keep tasting those sweet kisses. She felt like a slave to instinct.

“Director, there’s something I want to say.”

Tae-ha paused while unbuttoning her blouse and looked up. As glimpses of her fair skin emerged, his steady breathing grew heavier.

“Is it more urgent than this?”

“Yes.”

Watching Ji-soo’s unusually earnest expression from the side, Tae-ha’s lips curved into a refreshing smile. His grin made it easier for her to gather the courage to speak.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”

There was nothing more effective than food to calm the raging beast within him and cool the heated atmosphere. No matter how urgent the situation, feeding Ji-soo always came first for Tae-ha.

He began rebuttoning her blouse. Just as skilled at dressing her as undressing her, he neatly adjusted her appearance before starting the car.

Only after their vehicle pulled away from the company entrance did Eun-ho, who had been watching silently, finally turn to leave with heavy steps.

What exactly had he seen? Recalling the passionate entanglement between the man and woman shrouded in darkness sent a sharp pang through his chest. Though his body was drunk, his mind remained cruelly clear, registering every tremor of unease in his fingertips.

“Yes, I didn’t see wrong. That was definitely Ji-soo, not someone who resembled her.”

Staggering, Eun-ho collapsed onto a taxi stop bench. Did Yoo-ri know? Judging by how sharply Yoo-ri had eyed Ji-soo during their last meal, it seemed likely she suspected something—but since nothing had been said then, perhaps not yet.

---

Even past midnight, the 24-hour sul lung tang restaurant was fairly crowded. The two sat across from each other at a table, settling into their seats. Surrounded by the bustling chatter of diners, Ji-soo found herself glancing around habitually, reminded of lunchtimes spent with Tae-ha.

“Do you really think food will go down smoothly after all that? Shall we move to a private room?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Avoiding secluded spaces should prevent her from falling completely under his spell—or so she hoped. But knowing Tae-ha, boundaries weren’t exactly his forte.

Reassured by her words, Tae-ha stared at her intently. He pushed aside the utensils she reached for and placed only one set in front of himself.

“I’ll soon show you just how not fine Han Ji-soo truly is, despite what she claims.”

“What about my chopsticks?”

“You don’t need two sets.”

What kind of strange mischief was this? Despite considering herself well-versed in Tae-ha’s ways after over a decade of pining for him, lately, she struggled to predict his actions.

When Ji-soo reached again for the utensil holder, Tae-ha swiftly moved it out of reach.

“I’m hungry too, you know.”

“I’ll feed you—just wait.”

His tone mimicked that of a mischievous pet owner dangling a treat bag. If she didn’t fawn over him properly, it seemed unlikely she’d eat anytime soon. Though baffled why eating required submission to Tae-ha, Ji-soo obediently waited as instructed.

Moments later, an employee arrived with steaming bowls of sul lung tang and bibimbap. As Ji-soo reached for the bubbling bowl, Tae-ha intercepted it.

“Are you trying to starve me?”

“Of course not.”

His exaggeratedly innocent reaction only fueled her irritation further.

“If Han Ji-soo grows frail, I’d be the biggest loser. Especially since I can’t fully enjoy myself as it is.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

While cooling the soup, Tae-ha mixed the bibimbap vigorously. Watching the vibrant red seasoning blend made Ji-soo swallow hard.

“For now, hot foods are off-limits unless you’re with me. If you crave them, call me.”

Though tempted to agree to anything for a taste of that deliciously mixed rice, Ji-soo held back and raised her gaze instead.

Tae-ha scooped up a bite-sized portion and extended it toward her. Starving, she almost lunged for the spoon instinctively.

“I’ll eat it.”

Tae-ha was quicker than her hand reaching for the bowl, as always.

“Don’t you know office life is all about fighting over your rice bowl? Here, open up.”

Ji-soo glared at him, narrowing her eyes. How could teasing someone with food feel so manipulative? To avoid embarrassment, she quickly accepted the bite.

The spicy-savory flavors exploded in her mouth, better than expected after fearing starvation.

“How is it?”

“Director, you’re truly unbearable.”

With her cheeks stuffed full, Ji-soo muttered between chews.

“That’s right—I’m unbearable. But remember, meals happen three times a day.”

Startled by the suggestive undertone, Ji-soo froze mid-chew.

“You talk big for someone without the stamina. Careful—it’s hot. Hmm, look at you eating so well. My baby.”

Gulp—the rich broth nearly reversed course in her throat. Was he insane? She was the injured one—why did it feel like his mind had snapped? Or maybe this was his new way of tormenting her.

“It’s my fault you got hurt, so I’ll take responsibility.”

“It’s okay—it was my carelessness.”

Ignoring her protests, Tae-ha continued feeding her spoonfuls of rice. Ji-soo knew surrendering more often led to smoother interactions.

Obediently opening her mouth, she ate from the spoon he offered. As the bibimbap neared its end, Tae-ha’s patience was wearing thin.

Stepping out after their late meal, the humid predawn air greeted them. Tae-ha opened the car door for Ji-soo.

“I already asked the night-duty staff to collect the confidential documents from the meeting room. I’ll drive you home—get in.”

“No, I can go alone. Thank you for taking me to the hospital and treating me to such a delicious meal.”

She couldn’t understand why he insisted on chauffeuring her everywhere. Her burned hand throbbed slightly when moved but otherwise felt fine.

Approaching swiftly, Tae-ha caught Ji-soo’s arm as she bowed politely. Effortlessly guiding her reluctant body into the car, he secured her seatbelt.

“Has there ever been a time I listened to you about things like this?”

After fastening her seatbelt, he slammed the door shut irritably.

---

Yoo-ri picked up her phone while reviewing a script for her next project. Scrolling through manager updates and fan messages, her eyes paused on a familiar name.

[This is Ji-soo’s mom.]

Clicking the title revealed a message from Ae-ran. Attached was a photo of them together, along with a lengthy request: a favor regarding signatures and bringing Jinshim Food products into her upcoming shop.

“The audacity runs in the family.”

Unlike the groveling mother, the daughter exuded confidence.

You insignificant thing—how dare you hurt our Eun-ho? Recalling Ji-soo’s seemingly sincere apologies, Yoo-ri’s lips curled into a bitter smile.

Yoo-ri displayed her displeasure openly. Her finger hovered over the delete button but stopped short.

Ae-ran, having dismantled any barriers, shared unnecessary details about her plans and expressed admiration for Kang Yoo-ri. Mentioning “my fan,” she clearly knew of Yoo-ri’s connection to Jinshim Food.

“I want to erase you.”

But erasure required clean emotional calculations—and hers weren’t finished yet. There was still debt owed. Smirking, Yoo-ri replied:

[Hello, Auntie. This is Yoo-ri, Ji-soo’s friend. DMs are hard to check regularly; texting or calling works better for me. Please share your number, and I’ll contact you soon.]

Handling Ae-ran, whose screws seemed loose, promised to be far more amusing than dealing with Ji-soo’s defiance.

Yoo-ri saved the number immediately after sending her reply, pleased to have another guest for the anniversary event.