[Kei]
Kei knew something was wrong.
Not because of the email.
The email itself was harmless.
Mrs Yoon would like to see you.
Simple.
Professional.
Normal.
The problem was that Mrs Yoon never wanted to see anyone unless she had a reason.
And reasons were dangerous.
So now he was standing outside her office.
Questioning every life decision he'd made in the last month.
Possibly longer.
The assistant glanced up from her desk.
"She's waiting."
Wonderful.
Kei considered turning around.
The assistant pointed at the door...without looking up.
"...Right."
So she already knew.
Great.
He knocked once.
"Come in."
Kei stepped inside.
Mrs Yoon sat behind her desk.
Reading documents.
Not looking at him.
Which somehow felt worse.
"Sit."
He sat.
Silence.
Mrs Yoon turned a page.
Another page.
Another page.
Kei waited.
Because speaking first was a trap.
Everything was a trap.
Five minutes passed.
Possibly six.
He wasn't counting.
He was absolutely counting.
Finally—
Mrs Yoon looked up.
"How have you been?"
Kei blinked.
Immediately suspicious.
"...Fine."
"Hm."
That was not a response.
That was a warning sign.
Mrs Yoon returned to her paperwork.
"I heard you finished recording."
"Yes."
"And the photoshoot?"
"Finished."
"The interviews?"
"Done."
Mrs Yoon nodded.
Then:
"Sleeping well?"
Kei nearly choked.
Not visibly.
Professionally.
Internally.
Very visibly.
"Yes."
"Hm."
Again.
The dangerous hm.
Mrs Yoon placed another document aside.
Then said casually—
"I visited a café recently."
Everything inside Kei stopped.
Completely.
His soul disconnected from his body.
Just briefly.
A tactical retreat.
Mrs Yoon continued reading.
Like she hadn't just detonated a bomb.
"The coffee was decent."
Silence.
"The desserts were acceptable."
More silence.
"The employees were interesting."
Kei stared.
Mrs Yoon flipped another page.
Unbothered.
"I particularly liked one of them."
Kei already knew.
He knew.
He absolutely knew.
There was no universe where this conversation was about coffee.
None.
Mrs Yoon looked up.
"Do you know what she did when I introduced myself?"
Kei did not answer.
Mostly because fear had stolen his ability to speak.
Mrs Yoon smiled slightly.
"Nothing."
"..."
"She looked at me."
"..."
"Like I was a problem she intended to solve."
Kei closed his eyes.
For one second.
Exactly one second.
Because yes.
That sounded like No-Ah.
Painfully.
Perfectly.
Mrs Yoon noticed.
Of course she noticed.
"Interesting girl."
Kei immediately looked at the wall.
The ceiling.
The floor.
Anywhere except her.
Mrs Yoon rested her chin lightly against one hand.
"She's prettier than I expected."
Kei almost died.
Not metaphorically.
Actually.
The cause of death would be listed as:
Embarrassment.
Mrs Yoon watched him carefully.
"Are you ill?"
"No."
"You look ill."
"I'm fine."
"You look worse than fine."
"...Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I gathered."
Mrs Yoon hummed.
Apparently amused.
Which was concerning.
Because Mrs Yoon almost never looked amused.
She usually looked like she was calculating quarterly profits.
Not enjoying human suffering.
Yet here they were.
Kei suffering.
Mrs Yoon enjoying.
A terrible development.
She leaned back slightly.
"She didn't ask about your career."
Kei froze.
The amusement disappeared from her expression.
Not cruel.
Just observant.
"She didn't ask about your schedule."
Silence.
"She didn't ask where you've been."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
Mrs Yoon watched his face carefully.
Then delivered the final blow.
"She didn't ask about you at all."
Kei's stomach dropped.
Ridiculous.
It shouldn't matter.
Logically.
Objectively.
Professionally.
Yet somehow it did.
Mrs Yoon saw it happen.
Saw the split-second disappointment.
The way his shoulders stiffened.
The way he immediately looked away.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because she was fairly certain that wasn't the whole story.
The girl she'd met didn't seem indifferent.
Guarded?
Absolutely.
Stubborn?
Without question.
Indifferent?
Not quite.
But she didn't correct him.
Sometimes people learned more from silence.
Mrs Yoon tapped her pen lightly against the desk.
Then added:
"Although."
Kei looked up.
Against his better judgment.
"She did seem annoyed."
His heart betrayed him instantly.
"What?"
Mrs Yoon raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You said—"
"I heard myself."
Silence.
Mrs Yoon's expression remained perfectly neutral.
Which meant she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Annoyed?" he repeated carefully.
"Hm."
"At what?"
Mrs Yoon smiled.
Tiny.
Dangerous.
"I didn't ask."
Kei wanted to resign.
Not from NOCTIS.
From existence.
Mrs Yoon returned to her paperwork.
Conversation apparently over.
Just like that.
Kei sat there.
Still processing.
Still suffering.
Still regretting every decision that had led him here.
Then Mrs Yoon spoke again.
Without looking up.
"If you collapse during promotions, the paperwork will irritate me."
"..."
"Sleep."
"..."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
Kei rubbed his face.
Slowly.
Defeated.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good."
A pause.
Then:
"And stop taking supplements instead of eating."
His head snapped up.
Mrs Yoon didn't look away from the document.
Not even once.
"How did you—"
"You left the bottle in the practice room."
Silence.
"...Right."
"Embarrassing."
"Extremely."
Mrs Yoon nodded.
Satisfied.
Then pointed at the door.
"Leave."
Kei stood immediately.
Because survival instincts.
He reached the door.
Hand already on the handle.
Then—
"Kei."
He stopped.
Mrs Yoon finally looked up.
Her expression unreadable.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then she said quietly:
"Try not to make yourself miserable over assumptions."
His chest tightened.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Mrs Yoon looked back down at her paperwork.
Conversation over.
Actually over this time.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
Kei left before she could change her mind.
The office door clicked shut behind him.
The hallway felt strangely quiet.
He stood there for a moment.
Thinking.
About the café.
About Mrs Yoon.
About No-Ah.
About the fact that she apparently hadn't asked about him.
And somehow—
that bothered him more than it should have.
Far more.
Meanwhile, several kilometers away—
inside the pocket of No-Ah's jacket—
Mrs Yoon's business card remained folded neatly in half.
Unread.
Unthrown away.
And entirely forgotten.
At least that's what No-Ah kept telling herself.
☆ ☆ ☆