Min-Ji had chosen her timing carefully.
Late enough that most of the house had quieted.
Late enough that footsteps in the hallway were rare.
Late enough that people assumed doors were closed for the night.
She stood inside Ha-Joon's room as if she belonged there.
Elegant silk robe over a fitted night dress, hair brushed loose over one shoulder, perfume soft and expensive in the air.
Ha-Joon stood near the desk, expression already exhausted.
"You shouldn't be here," he said.
"I wanted to see you."
"You saw me downstairs."
"That wasn't private."
His jaw tightened.
"There is no private."
Min-Ji smiled faintly and stepped closer anyway.
"You always say cold things when you're nervous."
"I'm not nervous."
"No," she murmured. "You're avoiding."
She reached up, fingertips grazing the front of his shirt as if straightening a wrinkle that did not exist.
He caught her wrist immediately.
Not rough.
Final.
"Min-Ji."
Before either could say more—
the door opened.
Ji-Ah stepped in carrying a notebook and a pen.
She stopped.
Took in the scene in one clean sweep.
Min-Ji too close.
Ha-Joon holding her wrist.
The smell of perfume strong enough to insult the room.
Silence.
Then Ji-Ah blinked once.
"…Should I come back when the circus ends?"
Min-Ji pulled her hand free at once.
"What are you doing entering without knocking?"
Ji-Ah looked at her calmly.
"What are you doing entering without shame?"
Ha-Joon closed his eyes for half a second.
Min-Ji's face sharpened.
Ji-Ah walked farther inside like nothing was wrong.
"I need to talk to Ha-Joon."
Min-Ji laughed once.
"At this hour?"
Ji-Ah looked at the clock.
"…Interesting question from someone in a silk robe."
Ha-Joon almost coughed to hide a laugh.
Min-Ji turned to him.
"Are you seriously going to entertain this?"
He answered immediately.
"Yes."
Her smile dropped.
He moved toward the door.
"Min-Ji, leave."
She stared between them, anger flashing hot and quick.
Then she lifted her chin.
"This isn't over."
Ji-Ah smiled politely.
"It never starts either."
Min-Ji walked out stiff-backed, brushing past Ha-Joon hard enough to make the door shake when it shut behind her.
Silence.
Ha-Joon looked at Ji-Ah.
Ji-Ah looked at the notebook in her hand.
Blank pages.
No notes.
He narrowed his eyes.
"…You needed to talk?"
She turned and walked into the hallway.
"Come with me."
He followed.
Of course he did.
They ended up in the smaller sitting room near the east balcony.
Moonlight through the curtains.
Quiet.
Far enough from his room.
Far enough from Min-Ji.
Ji-Ah stood by the sofa, pretending to inspect a vase.
Ha-Joon folded his arms.
"What did you need?"
"Nothing."
He stared.
"…Nothing?"
"I panicked."
"You panicked?"
"She was too close to you and I disliked her face."
"That is not a reason."
"It was for me."
For the first time that night, the corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
Ji-Ah noticed and got annoyed.
"Don't smile like you won something."
"I didn't."
"You look smug."
"I look relieved."
That silenced her for a second.
He stepped closer.
Not enough to crowd.
Enough to lower his voice.
"I meant what I said earlier."
She looked away instantly.
"That narrows nothing."
"The apology."
He reached out slowly, giving her time to refuse.
When she didn't move, his fingertips brushed lightly against her sleeve near her wrist.
Soft.
Careful.
"I'm sorry, Ji-Ah."
The room changed every time he sounded sincere.
It was irritating.
She exhaled.
"I heard you the first two times."
"I'll say it until you believe it."
"That sounds exhausting."
"I can afford effort."
She tried not to smile.
Failed slightly.
Then straightened.
"Fine. Maybe I'm considering partial forgiveness."
"Partial?"
"Very partial."
"What do I need for full?"
She turned dramatically.
"You must do something."
His expression sharpened with suspicion.
"…Why do I dislike this already?"
"Because you know I'm brilliant."
"Because you're dangerous."
She pointed at him.
"I want you to attend the family charity gala with me."
"No."
He answered too fast.
She gasped.
"You didn't even think."
"I did. No."
"It's next week."
"No."
"There will be press."
"Absolutely no."
"There will be Min-Ji."
"That almost convinced me to stay home permanently."
Ji-Ah folded her arms.
"You owe me."
"I owe you apology, patience, possibly assets. Not public disaster."
"It would be elegant."
"It would be chaos."
"It would be delicious chaos."
"It would be terrible for you."
She blinked.
"…For me?"
"Yes."
His tone changed.
More serious now.
"They will talk. They'll target you first."
"They already do."
"This would be worse."
"I can survive worse."
"I know."
That came out softer than expected.
"And that," he added, "is exactly why I don't want it."
Ji-Ah's irritation flickered.
Then thinned.
"You think I need protecting?"
"I think you deserve peace."
She stared at him.
That was somehow more dangerous than flirting.
So she did the only sensible thing.
She argued.
"I still want to go."
"No."
"You're impossible."
"You're reckless."
"You're boring."
"You're dramatic."
"I'm memorable."
"You're a headache."
"And yet you followed me."
A pause.
Then his hand lifted again, this time brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face before he seemed to realize he was doing it.
They both froze.
He lowered his hand slowly.
"…I'll make you a different deal," he said.
"I don't trust your deals."
"Dinner. Outside the house. Anywhere you choose."
She narrowed her eyes.
"As apology?"
"As beginning."
That landed too neatly.
Annoying man.
Ji-Ah turned away to hide the warmth climbing her face.
"…I still want the gala."
"No."
"…I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"…You're getting arrogant."
"You started it."
She grabbed a cushion and threw it at him.
He caught it easily.
Then smiled properly this time.
And Ji-Ah, to her own horror, realized she wanted to see that again.
They walked back through the hallway together.
Slowly.
Not close enough to be noticed.
Not far enough to feel distant.
The mansion was quiet now, the kind of late-night silence where footsteps sounded louder than they should.
Ji-Ah walked with her hands behind her back, pretending she wasn't aware of him beside her.
Ha-Joon had returned to that familiar expression of controlled calm.
Cold face.
Straight posture.
The version of him the rest of the world knew.
Only now she knew too well that it wasn't the whole truth.
"I didn't want to quit my job," she said suddenly.
He glanced at her once.
Then forward again.
"I know."
No smile.
No softness.
Just fact.
She frowned.
"You could at least look sad for me."
"I was there."
"That is not emotional support."
"You resigned by throwing your access card at HR."
"It was symbolic."
"It was childish."
"It landed in a plant."
She gasped.
"You remember details when it humiliates me."
"I remember everything that concerns me."
That sentence nearly made her trip.
She recovered immediately.
"Arrogant."
"Accurate."
They kept walking.
Moonlight slipped through the long windows, cutting silver lines across the floor.
Ji-Ah cleared her throat.
"I want to ask something."
"What?"
She slowed.
"…Can I come back to work?"
Ha-Joon stopped walking.
Turned his head slowly.
Raised one eyebrow.
It was somehow more insulting than words.
Ji-Ah frowned instantly.
"Don't eyebrow me."
"I'm considering whether you've lost judgment."
"I miss working."
"You hated it."
"I hated parts of it."
"You declared the printer your enemy."
"It started first."
"You called three meetings 'pointless theatre.'"
"They were."
"You hid during audits."
"I was preserving my spirit."
He resumed walking.
"No."
She hurried after him.
"No?"
"No."
"That's rude."
"That's final."
"I miss the coffee machine."
"You can buy one."
"It wasn't the same coffee machine."
"You miss free coffee."
"I miss the atmosphere."
"You mean gossip."
"I miss Kai."
That made him glance at her.
"Kai?"
"Yes."
"He talks too much."
"He's funny."
"He is inefficient."
"He is delightful."
Ha-Joon's jaw tightened by one invisible degree.
"I miss Do-Yoon too."
"The one who forgets deadlines?"
"He has charm."
"He has incompetence."
"And Seo-Jun."
"The one who flirts with every reflective surface?"
Ji-Ah folded her arms smugly.
"He said my resignation hurt office morale."
"He says that to chairs when they're replaced."
She nearly laughed.
"Anyone special?" he asked flatly.
The question was casual.
Too casual.
Which meant it was not casual at all.
Ji-Ah looked ahead innocently.
"Maybe."
His voice cooled another ten degrees.
"No."
She blinked.
"You already said no."
"I'm reinforcing it."
"You're jealous."
"I'm practical."
"You're jealous."
"I'm your former employer."
"That sounded jealous in a suit."
They reached the staircase landing.
He stopped again.
This time fully facing her.
"No."
She groaned dramatically.
"You are impossible."
"You are impulsive."
"I would be excellent."
"You would be distracting."
She narrowed her eyes.
"…To who?"
He said nothing.
Wrong move.
She smiled slowly.
"Oh."
He regretted silence immediately.
"Oh?" she repeated, delighted now. "Distracting to who, Mr. CEO?"
"Ji-Ah."
"To the staff?"
"Stop."
"To Kai?"
"Enough."
"To you?"
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Enough to end games if he chose.
His voice lowered.
"Yes."
That stole every clever reply she had.
The hallway went still.
Even the air seemed nosy.
He continued, calm as ever.
"You were difficult before."
"I was charming."
"You were chaos."
"I was memorable."
"You are worse now."
Her heartbeat betrayed her.
"…Why?"
"Because now I know you."
That landed so cleanly it left no room to joke.
She looked away first.
Annoying.
He exhaled quietly.
"You want to work?"
"Yes."
"Then not there."
She frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I won't have you back in the main office."
"Dictator."
"It means," he said, ignoring that, "I'm opening the foundation branch downtown next month."
She blinked.
"The charity division?"
"Yes."
"It's smaller."
"It's calmer."
"It pays less."
"It has fewer idiots."
She considered.
"That is tempting."
"It needs someone who argues with suppliers, terrifies lazy staff, and steals everyone's snacks."
"I delegated snacks."
"You stole mine twice."
"Unproven allegations."
The corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
"You can lead operations there," he said.
Ji-Ah stared.
"Lead?"
"Yes."
"You're giving me a promotion after I resigned dramatically?"
"I'm containing a problem strategically."
She smiled despite herself.
"That sounds suspiciously like respect."
"It's paperwork."
"It's affection."
"It's neither."
"It's both."
He sighed the sigh of a man losing slowly.
"Think about it."
"I already accept."
"You don't know the salary."
"I know the coffee machine?"
"New machine."
"I'm in."
He shook his head once.
Then started walking again.
She followed, beaming.
After a few steps she asked sweetly,
"So… if I'm distracting, should I sit far from your office?"
"You won't have an office near mine."
"Should I visit often?"
"No."
"Daily?"
"Ji-Ah."
"Twice daily?"
He opened a nearby door, guided her inside her room with one hand at her shoulder, then shut it before she finished laughing.
From the other side of the door she called out:
"Goodnight, jealous CEO!"
A beat.
Then his voice, calm through the wood:
"Goodnight, troublesome employee."
Ji-Ah grinned at the door long after his footsteps were gone.