RB - 18

Leaving behind the chaos they had caused, Seo-yeon and Jin-hyuk moved to a nearby izakaya. 

It was just the right mix of upscale and casual—a place where a meal for two would cost exactly 300,000 won, as Jin-hyuk had cleverly calculated. 

Seo-yeon let out a soft groan, her gaze fixed on the table in front of her. A vase filled with red roses sat there, framing Jin-hyuk’s handsome features beyond it. 

How am I going to deal with the aftermath when I go to work tomorrow? 

Her mind was tangled with practical concerns, yet Jin-hyuk appeared calm—no, more than calm. He seemed completely at ease. 

There was no trace of the man who had gripped the scissors earlier, radiating murderous intent. It was as if the entire scene had been a figment of Seo-yeon’s imagination. 

When she waved her hand, a server approached. 

“We’ll have the sashimi moriawase for two, the kaisen hot pot, and a bottle of Hwayo. Please slice the lemon thinly.” 

After placing the order, Jin-hyuk asked: 

“Didn’t you say you drove here?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a car. I just made that up because I didn’t want to drink in that atmosphere.” 

Finishing her sentence, Seo-yeon flashed a smile. It seemed infectious, as Jin-hyuk smiled back. 

“Haa… Shin Miss, I shouldn’t be laughing right now. I should be crying and scrambling to fix this mess.” 

Though she spoke with self-deprecation, Jin-hyuk still wore a faint smile as he responded—or rather, provoked her. 

“Miss Han, ask me for help. I’ll assist you.” 

“How can you help? Are you going to fight on my side? No, that’s not it. You’re part of the New Business Strategy Team. And in the company, it’s not about winning fights—it’s about avoiding them altogether.” 

She followed up with a joke: “Ah, I’m doomed. Didn’t you say you’re rich? Lend me some money.” 

It was a nervous attempt to lighten the mood, born from guilt toward the rookie, Shin Jin-hyuk. But Jin-hyuk ignored her jest and replied firmly: 

“Just say one thing: ‘Help me.’ That’s all it takes. It’s not difficult.” 

Seo-yeon flinched at his unexpected assertiveness but felt a flicker of curiosity. 

She was intrigued by the rookie’s naive solution, and besides, they didn’t have much else to talk about. 

“...Help me, Jin-hyuk.” 

In Seo-yeon’s clear eyes, only Shin Jin-hyuk was reflected. He savored the moment, replaying her smooth voice asking for help over and over in his mind. 

After a brief silence, Jin-hyuk pressed a few buttons on his phone and handed it to her. 

“What’s this? …Oh my!” 

Startled, Seo-yeon nearly dropped the phone but caught it with both hands. 

From the phone came the sound of the HR team leader mocking her during their earlier conversation. 

“You recorded this, Jin-hyuk? Since when?” 

“Since before we entered the Chinese restaurant. I figured someone with a history of stealing subordinates’ documents might say reckless things when drunk… I was worried something bad might happen to you.” 

With trembling hands, Seo-yeon handed the phone back to him. Calmly, he began to speak. 

“Miss Han, today you were harassed at work, including sexual harassment. By the HR team leader, no less.” 

Just then, their food arrived. As Seo-yeon listened to Jin-hyuk’s words, she prepared two glasses of on-the-rocks drinks. 

“Miss Han, you met Daniel Shin, the building owner, because of your ‘decent face.’ You go out drinking with reporters every day. And then there’s the suggestion to share the TF team’s achievements with your superiors. If those words reach the audit team, it won’t end with just a warning. This could lead to serious disciplinary action.” 

Nodding in agreement, Seo-yeon slid the glass of on-the-rocks toward Jin-hyuk. 

“Drink up. I made it my way. Add more lemon if you need it.” 

After downing it in one gulp, Jin-hyuk commented, “It’s delicious.” 

Relieved, Seo-yeon smiled and said: 

“I’m glad. It’s an honor to serve a satisfying on-the-rocks to my helper.”

“The HR team leader and Director Jung will both keep quiet about this. If they try to make an issue of your assault, they’ll have to address their own sexual harassment too.” 

“That’s right. If they want to take my flesh, they’ll have to carve out their own bones.” 

“If they dare stir up trouble behind our backs, just tell them you have the recording. Threaten to formally report it to the audit team.” 

Seo-yeon shook her head vigorously, waving her hands in refusal. 

“I really don’t want that. Remember when one of the sales managers got investigated by the audit team? It was unbearable to watch. They went through everything—his laptop, even his sticky notes. That manager wasted away day by day.” 

Seo-yeon exaggerated a look of fear, and Jin-hyuk burst into laughter before picking up his chopsticks. 

“They say there’s always a way out, even if the sky falls. Maybe our ancestors prepared this situation just for us.” Seo-yeon gazed silently at Jin-hyuk as he elegantly ate sashimi with precise chopstick movements. 

What was it about his chopstick technique that exuded such refinement? Jin-hyuk suddenly felt like someone from another world—strangely unfamiliar. 

His noble demeanor seemed innate, as if he wouldn’t dare step foot on ordinary soil. 

But then, without warning, the image of him holding those scissors—and the murderous intent radiating from his body—flashed through her mind. A chill ran down her spine as she observed the seemingly flawless creature before her once more. 

No, she thought. He’s endlessly pure and noble. 

Overwhelmed by a wave of complicated thoughts, Seo-yeon instinctively rubbed her temples. 

Truthfully, Seo-yeon had never planned to slap the HR team leader so hard that it echoed across the room. 

Her original plan was simple: quietly gather her bag and leave. That would’ve been the smartest way to handle a drunk superior’s harassment. 

But the unexpected act of violence? That was entirely because of Jin-hyuk. 

Why had he picked up those scissors at that exact moment? What was behind the murderous glint in his eyes? Honestly, though, it was her fault. 

Why had she imagined him driving those scissors into the HR team leader’s greasy nape? Why had she conjured such a horrifying thought? 

“Still worried?” 

Jin-hyuk’s calm voice interrupted her thoughts. He gently ladled some hot pot into her dish and asked kindly. Unable to hold back, she voiced the question swirling in her mind. 

“...Why did you pick up the scissors earlier?” 

Jin-hyuk could sense it with animalistic intuition. For every 1 part curiosity in her gaze, there were 9 parts fear. 

Anxiety tightened around his heart, and he slowly brought the glass to his lips, moistening his drying mouth. 

When the HR team leader had mocked Seo-yeon, Jin-hyuk had barely restrained himself from imagining ripping out the man’s tongue. Watching Director Jung subtly ignore the situation, he plotted how to ruin the rest of his career. 

When Kim Min-a snickered at Seo-yeon, it didn’t bother him—he’d already paved a hellish path for her to walk on. 

If Seo-yeon hadn’t intervened, the scissors in his hand would’ve undoubtedly ended up somewhere in the HR team leader’s body. The surge of murderous intent had been so overwhelming that it terrified even him. 

Tak. As he placed the glass back on the table, Jin-hyuk managed to put on his composed smile once more. 

“It was to cut the laziyu.” 

“Ah, I see. The laziyu was a bit tough, wasn’t it? And the pieces were large.” 

A lie. Kim Min-a had diligently cut the laziyu and served it onto Jin-hyuk’s plate. 

Seo-yeon didn’t voice her second question: But the laziyu was already cut, wasn’t it? 

Instead, she awkwardly smiled and popped a piece of sashimi into her mouth. Jin-hyuk brought up a newly opened cold noodle shop near the office, and their conversation gradually returned to a peaceful tone. 

They were satisfied with the strategy they had devised to deal with Director Jung and the HR team leader. 

Though neither of them anticipated the ripple effects that Kim Min-a’s scheming—a seemingly insignificant and non-threatening presence—might create. 

At the same time, at Café Le Rêve. 

Jung-hyuk checked his phone. As expected, there was no reply from Seo-yeon.

―”Han Seo-yeon, shall I take you home?” 

His sharp gaze gleamed with intrigue, his features overtaken by an expression of playful curiosity. 

When Ethan teased him—”Hyung, isn’t your girlfriend coming today?”—he immediately corrected him in a firm tone: “It’s not ‘hyung,’ it’s ‘Boss.’ And listen, you need a side gig. I’ll pay you more than what you get from my father, so let’s put on a little act.” 

Before Jung-hyuk even finished his proposal, Ethan jumped up excitedly. 

A member of a small theater troupe in Daehangno, Ethan was an actor by trade, and money was always welcome. There was no reason to refuse. 

A few hours later. 

Seo-yeon trudged down the hallway of her apartment building, glancing outside as she went. 

The dark night sky was dotted with faint stars, and she murmured to herself: 

“Is it because the streetlights are too bright? We used to see so many stars from the orphanage porch.” 

As she lamented the urban landscape, she leaned out into the corridor. 

Jin-hyuk’s sedan was still blinking its headlights. His claim of being wealthy wasn’t just empty boasting—he drove a foreign luxury car as a new employee, and the chauffeur who seemed to be a regular was incredibly polite. 

Beep beep beep. After entering the security code and opening the door with a click, she heard Bi-ryu panting heavily. Frowning, she scolded him: 

“Ah, again? Stop this already!” 

She tossed her handbag onto the sofa and smacked Bi-ryu’s back hard enough to make a sound. 

Sweat dripping, Bi-ryu was scrubbing the floor. Watching the glossy wooden surface shimmer under the light only made Seo-yeon feel more frustrated. 

“If you’re stressed, just play games or watch a movie! Or go exercise! Why do you always do this? It worries me.” 

Ignoring her words completely, Bi-ryu continued scrubbing. 

Wait, where did he learn to do that? He even neatly folded a paper towel to clean the crevices of the dining chairs. 

“Good grief.” 

After glaring at the back of Bi-ryu’s head, Seo-yeon opened her bedroom door with a thud. Just then— 

“...Nuna, did you contact the director? Are you planning to restart that thing with the ‘Finding My Roots’ foundation?” 

She froze like she’d been struck by lightning. 

The roles had reversed; now it was Seo-yeon who fell silent, while Bi-ryu’s trembling voice filled the living room. 

“Don’t do it, Nuna. That will only make things harder for you. Those people who abandoned us... we’re just a nightmare to them. A stain on their lives.” 

Seo-yeon took a slow, deep breath, trying to hide her labored breathing from Bi-ryu. But his words grew sharper. 

“What will you do if you find your biological mother? Do you think she’ll welcome you with open arms? Will she hug you and say, ‘My child, come to me’? She’ll look at you like you’re a monster. She’ll treat you like a zombie or a plague.” 

Finally, Seo-yeon couldn’t hold back any longer and shouted. Her suppressed voice erupted: 

“What does it matter to you?! It’s my family, and I’m the one looking for them! What right do you have to interfere?!” 

Crap. Seo-yeon squeezed her eyes shut, and behind her, Bi-ryu’s trembling voice responded: 

“...Because I’m your family. I only have you. You’re my mom, my dad, my sister, and my little sister all rolled into one.” 

Unable to contain the crumbling weight in her heart, Seo-yeon collapsed to the floor. Tears streamed down her face, pooling at the tip of her sharp chin, and her entire body burned as if scorched by fire. 

From behind her, sobbing echoed loudly. 

Bi-ryu, abandoning the rag and paper towels on the floor, cried bitterly like a child. 

Seo-yeon crawled over and pulled him into her arms. She wiped away his falling tears with the sleeve of her blouse. 

“Stop it! You’re really something else! How are you supposed to study after exhausting yourself cleaning like this? And what’s this nonsense about me being your little sister? You keep climbing up the ladder. Can’t you stop crying already?”

Bi-ryu cried uncontrollably for a long while, and Seo-yeon bit her lip to hold back her anger. 

The search for her biological mother—the director of the orphanage had been against it. When Seo-yeon pushed forward, the director must have called Bi-ryu to intervene. 

Bi-ryu, abandoned by his parents, feared that Seo-yeon finding her original family would mean losing her. The thought of being severed from her—someone with whom he shared no blood—was enough to make his heart ache with dread. 

The revered director, whom Bi-ryu followed like a father figure—a saintly man with silver hair—had stepped in once again. 

Seo-yeon closed her eyes quietly, trying to understand the director’s intentions. The fading echoes of Bi-ryu’s sobs lingered in her ears, buzzing like a distant hum.