Chapter 16: Feels
Just as Min-Jun was reviewing a report, a soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," he said.
His assistant entered quietly. "There's someone here to see you. Ji-Hyun. She said you met last night at your father's dinner."
Min-Jun's eyes darkened for a brief moment. He leaned back in his chair. "Send her in."
Moments later, Ji-Hyun stepped into his office, her presence just as polished as it had been at the dinner. Today, she wore a light beige blazer over a silk blouse, her long hair styled in soft waves.
"Min-Jun," she greeted with a polite smile, not quite warm, but not unfriendly either. "Thank you for seeing me."
He stood, hands tucked into his pockets, expression unreadable. "I wasn't aware we scheduled anything."
"We didn't," she said, stepping closer. "I just wanted to say thank you — for not making last night more awkward than it already was."
His lips twitched with a trace of irony. "You should thank my self-control."
She laughed — a light, practiced sound. "Well, your father tried, didn't he?"
Min-Jun didn't respond. He motioned for her to sit, though he remained standing.
"I'm not here to push anything," Ji-Hyun added, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "I just thought it would be good to start on more honest terms. No pressure, no matchmaking — just conversation."
He watched her carefully, but said nothing for a long moment.
And as she talked — small pleasantries, political gossip, and references to their elite circles — his mind drifted to someone else entirely. Someone who didn't belong in this world, yet somehow fit into his chaos perfectly.
Seo-Ah.
Last night, she'd seen him — not the heir, not the CEO, but the man behind the armor.
Ji-Hyun's voice faded a little as Min-Jun's eyes slipped toward the window, where the sun had finally risen.
"…I know what people expect of us," Ji-Hyun said, her tone turning slightly more genuine. "But I don't want to be someone's checklist. I want to choose my life — not have it handed to me."
Min-Jun regarded her more closely. For a moment, he respected her honesty.
"I understand that," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "Too well."
A soft silence stretched between them. Not cold — just distant. A mutual understanding that neither of them was truly interested in what their parents wanted.
She stood, adjusting her blazer. "You don't have to worry about me chasing after some fairytale. We're adults. If anything, I admire what you've built — on your own terms."
He gave her a nod. "Thanks for stopping by."
With a light smile, Ji-Hyun turned to leave. As the door clicked shut behind her, Min-Jun exhaled slowly and returned to his desk — but he didn't open the file again. Instead, his thoughts drifted.
Last night. Seo-Ah.
Her voice still echoed in his mind, filled with quiet fire and broken pride. She had seen too much of him — yet he hadn't pushed her away.
---
Meanwhile…
The sunlight poured through thin curtains, drawing golden lines across Seo-Ah's face.
She stirred slowly, her fingers curling into the sheets. Her head throbbed lightly, but it wasn't just sleepiness — it was the weight of the night before. The rawness of everything she'd heard from Min-Jun, the things he rarely let anyone see.
Sitting up in bed, she touched her cheek gently. She'd cried. He'd seen it.
Her phone buzzed. A message from her friend.
"You okay? You didn't text back last night."
Seo-Ah typed, then deleted. Then typed again.
"I'm okay. Just... complicated."
She stood and crossed to the mirror. Her hair was slightly tousled, eyes still swollen from tears. But there was a strange strength inside her — a whisper telling her that something had shifted between them. Even if he didn't say it out loud.
Even if today, he pretended it didn't happen.
She picked up her bag, her expression composed now.
It was a new day. And she wasn't going to let herself fade quietly.
*************
The office was already buzzing by the time Seo-Ah arrived. She stepped out of the elevator with her usual calm poise, though inside, the events of the previous night still lingered like a pulse beneath her skin.
She greeted her team with a polite nod and settled into her desk. Work flooded in quickly — meetings, financial reports, and a tense email from a partner firm. Everything demanded her attention, but Min-Jun's voice kept breaking through her focus. That low, bitter tone when he spoke about his father. The sudden vulnerability in his eyes.
Was that the first time he'd let anyone see that side of him?
A sharp knock on her desk snapped her out of it. It was Do-Hyun from Strategy.
"There's an emergency meeting with the CEO in ten minutes. You're included."
Seo-Ah blinked. "Me?"
"Apparently, yes." He glanced at her curiously, but didn't ask questions.
She stood quickly, smoothing down her blouse. Her heart beat a little faster — not out of nerves, but anticipation. Things were different now. Not defined, not spoken aloud — but different.
As she walked to the executive floor, she caught sight of Min-Jun through the glass wall of his office. He was standing, arms folded, giving instructions to his assistant. He didn't glance her way.
She didn't expect warmth. She didn't expect a smile.
But when he finally turned and saw her approaching, his eyes lingered — just for a second too long.
______________
The boardroom felt colder than usual, though sunlight spilled across the polished table. Seo-Ah took her seat toward the middle, away from the head of the table where Min-Jun stood, reviewing a document with one hand on his hip.
When he finally looked up, the room fell silent.
"We have an issue with the Song Group merger," he said, his voice clipped and businesslike. "I'll need projections on the restructuring plan redone by end of day."
He pointed to different team leads, issuing orders with precise calm. When his eyes landed on Seo-Ah, they didn't waver.
"Seo-Ah, stay after."
It wasn't a question.
The meeting ended quickly, the room clearing in minutes. She stayed seated, fingers clasped tightly in her lap. When the door finally closed behind the last executive, she rose slowly.
"You wanted to see me?"
Min-Jun walked to the window, hands in his pockets. "That presentation you prepared on regional investment risks — it was good. Sharp. You anticipated issues no one else saw."
She was surprised by the compliment, but she didn't smile. "Thank you."
He turned to face her. "But don't let that go to your head. You're still under evaluation."
She almost laughed. "Of course."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Then, softer, "Last night… I don't usually talk like that."
"I figured."
"You're not going to use it against me, are you?" he asked, voice low.
Seo-Ah met his gaze. "Why would I? You were just being human."
Min-Jun stared at her for a moment, like he was trying to read something in her expression he couldn't quite name. Then he nodded once, sharply.
"That's all."
She turned to leave — but paused at the door.
"You don't have to keep pretending with me," she said without turning around. "Not all the time."
And then she was gone.