"What are you doing here?"
Doyun's voice was steady, a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside him just hours before. He had made a silent promise to himself in the sanctuary of his office: he would not break again. He was the Director of N Group, and he would act the part.
Chae-won turned toward him, her
expression a fragile mix of embarrassment and hesitation. "Sir... my car broke down," she said, gesturing vaguely toward her vehicle. "I only just found out when I got down here."
Doyun glanced at the stalled car and then back at her, his expression unreadable. "Then you should call a mechanic," he replied coldly. He turned away, his footsteps sharp and rhythmic against the concrete as he headed toward his sleek black sedan.
He was inches from the door when her voice pulled at him. "Sir?"
He paused, his hand hovering over the handle.
"It's already 7:15," she said softly, her eyes scanning the dim, lonely expanse of the garage. "By the time a mechanic gets here and fixes it... it will be very late."
Doyun looked at her over his shoulder. He wanted to tell her that her logistics were not his problem, but the words died in his throat. Something about the way she stood there—small and vulnerable—reminded him of a bird with a broken wing. He found he couldn't say no.
"Get in," he muttered
.
The Drive
The sedan merged into the evening traffic, a silent predator moving at a steady 60 km/h through the veins of the city. The silence inside the cabin was heavy, broken only by the sophisticated hum of the engine and the distant city sounds muffled by the glass.
"Where is your house?" Doyun asked, his eyes fixed strictly on the road ahead.
Instead of an address, Chae-won turned in her seat to look at him. "Sir, have you had dinner yet? You haven't, right?"
Doyun's posture stiffened. "I'm not hungry."
"Let's get something to eat," she insisted, her tone surprisingly bold for a junior.
"I said no—" Doyun started to turn his head to shut her down, but he caught her gaze. She was looking at him with wide, "puppy-like" eyes—an expression so innocent and pleading that his iron resolve crumbled instantly. He let out a sharp, frustrated breath. "Fine."
The Dinner
They stopped at a luxury restaurant that glowed like a jewel against the velvet night sky. After handing his keys to the valet, Doyun followed her inside, his mood darkening with every step. He felt off-balance, annoyed that he was being led around by a woman he barely knew.
As they sat down, Chae-won didn't even open the menu. She began ordering rapidly, her voice confident and clear. She didn't ask him what he wanted; she didn't even glance his way as she listed dish after dish to the waiter.
Doyun sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. How arrogant, he thought, his jaw tightening. She doesn't even have the manners to ask for my preference.
But when the food arrived, the air in his lungs vanished.
Steaming plates were placed between them, and Doyun felt the world go still. Every single dish was one of his favorites. The specific way the beef was seared, the exact side dishes he craved but had lacked the heart to order for two years—even the tea was his specific, preferred blend.
He sat frozen, stunned into a profound silence. A coincidence? he wondered frantically. It has to be. There's no way she could know.
But the aroma was a siren song. For the first time since the accident, the hollow ache in his stomach felt like genuine hunger instead of numbing grief. He began to eat, and to his own shock, he didn't stop until the plates were nearly empty. He hadn't eaten a meal this substantial since that night outside the barbecue place.
After the bill was settled, they walked back out to the curb where the car waited. They slid into the leather seats, the atmosphere between them shifting. The cold
professionalism was gone, replaced by a tension that was far more confusing—and far more dangerous.