IT - 6

6. “Be With Me Today”

“Han Ji-soo. Isn’t that still ongoing?” 

“What?” 

Ji-soo clenched her trembling lips with great effort. Only when Tae-ha asked did she recall saying something like that. How far had she gone under the influence of alcohol? Her mind raced, trying to figure out how to explain herself. 

“You said you’ve liked me for ten years, right? Is this really the proper attitude toward someone you claim to have unrequited feelings for?” 

Though it was Ji-soo who felt hurt and sorrowful from the wounds left by last night’s encounter, Tae-ha’s face now looked more pained. She reminded herself that no expectations meant no disappointment or heartbreak. She didn’t want to feel that kind of pain again—the same foolish pride that had pushed her to confess in the first place now urged her to retreat. 

“I forgot to mention earlier, but that’s just my drunken habit. I always confess to random people when I drink. Please consider what I said last night as nothing more than drunken rambling or a college junior’s silly antics.” 

“So after confessing to anyone and everyone, what happens next? Do you end up clinging to men in such a disheveled state, like you did last night?” 

The silence in the office was deafening. Though no sound could be heard, Ji-soo felt buried under an overwhelming roar of noise. She wanted to erase every memory of last night—even the moments she had cherished so deeply with Tae-ha. 

“I… It’s time for work, so I should get going. Thank you for your time.” 

Ji-soo gently detached Tae-ha’s hand from her wrist and left the office. 

It was absurd—fragile little Han Ji-soo, who seemed like she might break at the slightest touch, had ended up beaten down like dust on a rainy day. Yet she vividly remembered trembling and reaching climax multiple times under his hands and gaze. And now she was calling it a mistake? An inconvenience? Apologizing? 

Tae-ha stood there motionless, like someone who had lost all sense of direction and purpose, before finally walking over to his desk. 

Before getting hit with Ji-soo’s verbal bomb, he picked up the box he had painstakingly prepared, even tying a ribbon around it himself. The effort he had poured into it since dawn now felt pathetic and laughable. 

Why had he thought of buying a scarf for Han Ji-soo, who would undoubtedly wrap her neck tightly on her own anyway? What made him think it would look good on her? 

After letting Ji-soo go, he had spent the entire night unable to sleep and left the house early. The item had been obtained through relentless pestering of a designer friend. 

He had pitied the exposed nape of her neck the previous night and thought a necklace might suit her delicate white skin. His friend had suggested a practical scarf instead, and he had agreed, thinking it was an excellent choice, before heading to the office. 

Feeling ridiculous for wasting the morning on such foolishness, Tae-ha tossed the box adorned with an elegant ribbon into the trash can. 

---

The two met again a month later, when the draft for the newsletter Sangchun was completed. To be precise, Tae-ha had deliberately set a trap to summon Ji-soo. 

“It’d be better if you’d just point out what’s wrong instead of vaguely saying it’s under review and not giving any feedback. Even the planning department is tiptoeing around Vice President Cha.” 

The person in charge of planning and managing Sangchun shook their head and sighed in frustration. 

“At this rate, the spring newsletter will turn into an autumn one. Nothing’s moving forward. Should we change the title to Ipchu?” 

Ever since leaving Tae-ha’s office that day, Ji-soo’s life had fallen into chaos. Eun-ho had seriously suggested taking sick leave for a few days. 

She brushed it off, claiming she couldn’t afford to stop working, but the constant tension of possibly running into Tae-ha at the office had left her with indigestion and headaches. As a result, she skipped lunch most days and distanced herself from social interactions. 

Today’s lunch meeting had been proposed by the person in charge of the newsletter, hoping Ji-soo would vent her frustrations. But no matter what she ate, her mouth felt dry, and she absentmindedly put down her chopsticks. 

“Why don’t you step in, Ji-soo? I heard you’re close to Vice President Cha.” 

“Me? Not at all.” 

“What do you mean? Didn’t Vice President Cha take care of you during the interview? The next day, the company bulletin boards were buzzing with rumors about whether this was some secret office romance. Of course, we all know Vice President Cha’s taste is closer to bleach-level sterility.” 

The chilling joke made Ji-soo pale. She reached for her glass of warm water to hide her expression. 

“I’m not even asking you to tell me what the issues are. Just get him to approve the budget so we can move forward. Why don’t you talk to Vice President Cha? The outsourcing companies haven’t been paid for a month now because of the delay. What are we supposed to do?” 

After refusing several times, Ji-soo reluctantly agreed. She knew she was the root cause of the hold-up. 

[Today I feel like drinking. Last time I contacted you...] 

Back at her desk, with just an hour left until quitting time, Ji-soo typed this message, hesitated, then deleted it. Moments later, realizing it hadn’t been fully erased, she panicked and grabbed her phone again. 

[Today I feel like drinking.] 

She nearly swallowed her phone in shock upon realizing the message had already been sent—but then Tae-ha’s reply arrived immediately. 

---

The Hera Hotel, perched on a mountainside with a panoramic view of the city, was a subsidiary that had been spun off from the Taeseong Group a few years ago. Rumors had circulated that Tae-ha would take charge of it soon, as it was a promising business undergoing overseas expansion. 

Ji-soo remembered that time vividly. It was shortly after she had started working, and she had eagerly anticipated catching a glimpse of Tae-ha when news spread that his office was moving to the hotel. 

But the unsubstantiated rumors died down a few days later when Tae-ha was transferred to the Media Division—a move that surprised many within the company. Most considered the position of Media Division Head too modest for him. Later, he moved to the Innovation Strategy Division, where he wielded real power. 

Lost in these tangled thoughts, the taxi carrying Ji-soo stopped in front of the Hera Hotel. She was already 30 minutes late for the time Tae-ha had specified. 

As Ji-soo entered the hotel lobby, she realized her visit wasn’t solely about pushing for approval of the newsletter. She had come because she wanted to see him, curious about his reaction. It was an impure, deeply personal curiosity. 

In front of the mirror at the entrance to the Sky Lounge, she adjusted her outfit and fluffed her scarf. 

A month had passed since their impulsive kiss, but faint traces still lingered around her neck. Though they wouldn’t be visible in the dim lighting of the Sky Lounge, she didn’t want to risk being caught remembering that night so vividly. 

As Ji-soo stepped inside, the manager approached her with a polite greeting.

“The Vice President is waiting for you.” 

Ji-soo followed the manager through the quiet hall, nearly empty of guests. Through the glass walls of a private room, she saw Tae-ha sitting alone. On the table were several lunch boxes that seemed out of place in the Sky Lounge, accompanied by a bottle of wine. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. The roads were congested.” 

Without expression, Tae-ha glanced at her briefly and gave a short nod, gesturing for her to sit. He poured wine into an empty glass for her. Ji-soo hung up her coat and took her seat as if it were her designated spot. 

“Let’s eat first.” 

“Are you just having dinner now?” 

The spread was extravagant—Korean, Chinese, Western, Japanese, and even snack-style dishes. The variety made Ji-soo wonder if someone else was expected to join them. 

“You probably came straight from work, so Han Ji-soo, you haven’t had dinner yet either, right?” 

“Yes.” 

Despite having only eaten a light lunch, facing Tae-ha in this quiet space left her with no appetite. 

“I’ll enjoy the meal,” Ji-soo said politely, forcing a professional smile as she chose the Korean lunch box with bulgogi. 

In contrast to the lavish feast he had prepared, Tae-ha didn’t touch the food. Instead, he leisurely held his wine glass, gripping its stem so tightly it seemed like he might snap it, then releasing it repeatedly. His persistent gaze lingered on her red lips moving while she ate and the elegant scarf wrapped around her neck. 

Had she spent another hot night with some other man yesterday? Didn’t she say she had a different man for each day of the week? He wanted to ask, bitterly, which number he was. 

From the moment he felt betrayed by Ji-soo—perfectly composed, flawlessly neat, and refined as always—she appeared to him in an entirely different light. Perhaps he should track down all the men who had shared countless nights with her. That might help soothe his wounded pride. 

Even as she felt Tae-ha’s piercing stare, Ji-soo quietly continued eating, placing bite after bite into her mouth. 

“Is it good?” 

“Yes. It’s delicious.” 

Tae-ha set down his empty glass and refilled it to the brim with wine. Each time he swirled the glass, the wine swayed precariously, threatening to spill over. 

“Aren’t you eating?” 

Instead of answering, he asked an unexpected question. 

“Have you been well? Over the past month?” 

Over the past month… How had she been? She had made uncharacteristic mistakes and avoided the restaurant where she’d gone with Tae-ha. As a result, her solitary drinking nights at home had increased, and her tolerance for alcohol had grown stronger. 

“Yes.” 

Swallowing the words she couldn’t truthfully convey, Ji-soo summoned every ounce of acting ability to respond. 

“You seem to be doing well. You’ve become even more beautiful.” 

Ji-soo paused her forced movements and set down her chopsticks. Staring blankly at the wine Tae-ha had poured for her, she finally raised her head. Meeting his cold gaze, she instinctively wanted to look away but found herself trapped by the intensity of his eyes. 

“It’s so convenient for you. The person who turned my world upside down says they’ve been fine. Don’t you think relationships are so unfair?” 

It was hard for Ji-soo to decipher the meaning behind Tae-ha’s words. She had always thought herself the victim, silently pining for him and suffering alone. Watching the subtle ripples in her wine glass caused by her faint exhale, she finally spoke. 

“Let me tell you why I asked to meet today.” 

With a faint smile, Tae-ha firmly shook his head. 

“First, finish eating. Have a glass of wine. What’s worrying you so much that it can’t wait?” 

“I thought you might be busy…” 

“Not me. Are you busy because you’re meeting some guy who’s ‘on duty’ tonight?” 

Once again, Ji-soo had to scramble mentally to make sense of Tae-ha’s words. Only belatedly did she realize he was referring to the excuse she had hastily fabricated last time—that she confessed drunkenly to anyone and everyone. It was too late to clarify now. 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Stay with me today. If you do, I’ll believe you.” 

Lost in thought, weighing how to respond, Ji-soo downed her glass of wine in one gulp. The sharp, biting aroma filled her mouth—a taste devoid of sweetness, leaving only bitterness.