SELA - 12

“Director Ji-hyuk?”

The news was unexpected and puzzling. Ji-hyuk had appeared as calm and composed as ever—when had he been upset?

- “He probably wondered why I went all the way to his office. Apparently, he raised his voice, saying not to drag his personal life into work.”

Jung-min laughed heartily despite receiving what amounted to a rejection. She was impressive in her ability to remain so lighthearted.

“Are you alright?”

- “What do you mean?”

“Well, Director Ji-hyuk’s reaction seemed… intense.”

- “I didn’t expect it to be easy. That would’ve been boring anyway. I like a bit of a challenge.”

Though Jung-min couldn’t see it, Sa-hee nodded silently, respecting her boldness. It was a nod of acknowledgment, an unspoken agreement to let her pursue her goals however she saw fit.

Returning to her room, Sa-hee sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as she took another sip of beer. Glancing at the mirror, she noticed her hair was drying into a frizzy mess. Running her fingers through it, she managed to tame it slightly, making herself somewhat presentable.

- “By the way, Secretary Yoon.”

“Yes?”

- “It’s fascinating.”

“What is?”

- “How much you know about him, even after working alongside him for so long.”

Sa-hee paused, trying to discern whether Jung-min’s words carried hidden barbs or sharp edges.

“Thank you.”

- “Thank me? For what?”

“For recognizing the effort I’ve put in over the years.”

There was a brief silence on Jung-min’s end. A strange tension lingered through the phone line.

- “You don’t happen to have feelings for Ji-hyuk, do you?”

Ah, here it was.

“What do you mean?”

- “Come on. You’ve spent years by the side of an incredibly accomplished man—not just anyone, but someone truly exceptional. How could you possibly work with him without developing some personal attachment?”

“…”

- “For reference, I wouldn’t be able to. That’s why I’m asking. Are you sure there’s nothing inappropriate going on between you two? We can’t afford any scandals.”

“I understand your concern, but…”

- “Do you? Then reassure me. Tell me no.”

Sa-hee sighed involuntarily. It seemed Jung-min wasn’t just straightforward—she was brutally blunt, wielding her sharp words with ease while maintaining a cheerful tone. Her directness left Sa-hee feeling suffocated. Pressing her tired eyelids, she finally spoke.

“No, absolutely not. So please, don’t worry.”

- “Oh, good. Not interested, huh? That’s a relief. I almost misunderstood.”

“…”

- “Let’s make sure there are no more misunderstandings moving forward, alright? I’m counting on you.”

“…”

- “Say something, Secretary Yoon. I need to feel reassured.”

“I understand.”

Finally, a long exhale came from the other end of the line. It was clear that Jung-min had viewed Sa-hee as a potential threat—a thorn in her side—and now felt relieved to have plucked it out. With Sa-hee’s reassurance secured, she ended the call without further ado.

Though it made sense for her to hang up quickly after getting what she wanted, Sa-hee couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Placing the half-empty beer can back on the nightstand, she sighed deeply. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her, looking foolish and weary.

“I had no choice.”

Call it an excuse if you will, but it was the truth. Frowning, Sa-hee pulled the blanket over her head and lay down. The darkness brought a strange sense of calm. If only everything could fade into complete blackness, leaving her free to focus solely on “that one thing” without distraction.

No matter how hard she tried, images of Ji-hyuk kept surfacing in her mind, tormenting her. It was barely 8:30 p.m., yet the lump under the blanket continued to toss and turn restlessly.

---

Jung-min met Ji-hyuk a couple more times. After each encounter, she called Sa-hee the next day to inquire about Ji-hyuk’s demeanor—his mood, whether he mentioned their meeting, or anything related to her.

But to Jung-min’s disappointment, Sa-hee consistently replied with a simple “no.” Ji-hyuk hadn’t said a word about Jung-min or even hinted at their encounters. If anything, it seemed he regarded their meetings as entirely irrelevant. Though Sa-hee didn’t say this outright to Jung-min, it was evident that Ji-hyuk showed zero interest.

Despite her disappointment, Jung-min remained undeterred. This was exactly the kind of challenge she had anticipated. She redoubled her efforts to meet Ji-hyuk more frequently, and their encounters became more regular. While there wasn’t any significant progress in their relationship, these interactions were enough to fuel Jung-min’s hope.

Perhaps that’s why a small conviction began to take root in her heart—that she was gradually becoming something important to him. Emboldened by this belief, Jung-min found herself ready to lose all rationality when it came to Ji-hyuk, even if it meant crossing certain boundaries.

Around this time, rumors began circulating among financial circles and gossip columns: “Secret rendezvous between a third-generation chaebol heir and a famous news anchor!” The PR department at Taesung Group was in a frenzy trying to contain the situation. Everyone involved was on edge—everyone except Ji-hyuk, who remained utterly unfazed.

“You’re young and pretty, Secretary Yoon. No thoughts of marriage?”

“Huh?”

“If you’re interested, just say the word. I know a great junior colleague I could introduce you to. He’s a really good guy.”

Caught off guard by Jung-min’s sudden suggestion, Sa-hee forced an awkward smile. Marriage? Out of nowhere, this topic felt jarring.

The four of them—Ji-hyuk, Sa-hee, Jin-ha (Song), and Jung-min—were seated together for dinner. Originally, it was supposed to be just Ji-hyuk, Sa-hee, and Jin-ha, but Jung-min had insisted on joining.

“Do you have that much free time?”

Leaning back in his chair, Ji-hyuk interjected dryly. Jung-min blinked, momentarily stunned, before responding.

“What?”

“All this unnecessary talk.”

“Haha… What are you saying, Ji-hyuk? You seem particularly prickly today.”

Forcing a strained smile, Jung-min’s face flushed red.

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable sandwiched between them, Sa-hee and Jin-ha pretended to focus intently on their food.

“I happened to run into a journalist I know recently,” Ji-hyuk said casually.

“A journalist?”

“They told me some rumors have been spreading lately.”

“…”

“Apparently, someone with a loose tongue has been deliberately leaking private details.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cha Jung-min.”

Ji-hyuk’s voice was colder than frost as he uttered her name.

“Yes?”

“What exactly do you want from me?”

Jung-min froze mid-action and turned to look at him.

“Yes.”

“What is it you think you want?”

“Love, marriage—anything.”

Ji-hyuk smirked faintly, letting out a derisive chuckle.

“Ah, I see. But tell me, what would you do if I told you I have a secret? Would you still want to date or marry me knowing this?”

His icy question silenced Jung-min momentarily. Gathering herself, she responded confidently.

“I’m prepared for anything. Love grows into affection over time, doesn’t it?”

“Affection, you say?”

Ji-hyuk’s gaze, which had wandered elsewhere, returned to Jung-min. Smirking, he leaned back in his chair and delivered his words nonchalantly.

“I can’t get an erection.”

Coughing violently, Jin-ha nearly choked on his drink. Sa-hee gasped in shock, while Jung-min stared at Ji-hyuk in utter disbelief. Only Ji-hyuk remained unruffled.

“Should I rephrase that? Seeing you doesn’t stir anything in me—not even disgust. And you’re talking about love and marriage?”

With an air of exasperation, Ji-hyuk tossed his napkin onto the table.

“Lying about pining for you is one thing, but resorting to cheap romance novels? Who’s chasing whom here?”

Jung-min’s face turned pale.

“Let’s stop while we’re still civilized.”

“Hey, Ji-hyuk. Hear me out first. You don’t know how much I—”

“Secretary Yoon, aren’t we leaving? Chauffeur Song.”

“Yes, let’s go.”

Without hesitation, Ji-hyuk stood up, followed closely by Sa-hee and Jin-ha. They exited the restaurant, leaving Jung-min trembling and clutching her head in humiliation.