Unseondang lacked flashy lighting; instead, soft, amber glows spilled from lanterns hung on every pillar.
Ji Yeonwoo, completely at sea regarding Seongheon’s cryptic talk of “requests” and “impulse buys,” stood rigid, her torso turned slightly toward him. She hesitated, struggling to find a response, and Seongheon continued.
“I have a request for you, Ji Yeonwoo-ssi.”
The word *request* hung in the air. Yeonwoo’s eyes widened, the statement struggling to find purchase in her mind.
“A request? For me? Ah, yes. A request.”
Even though he was the one asking, it was Yeonwoo whose posture reflexively slumped into an even deeper, more submissive stance. Regardless of the circumstances that brought her to Domyeongjae, she had been the one to ask for work. She realized quickly that refusing him wouldn’t be an option. She could only pray that his demand fell within the scope of what she could handle.
*What kind of request could it be?*
She waited in the silence.
Seongheon paused, choosing his words with care. A faint scent of alcohol clung to him—he wasn’t drunk, but the evidence of a recent drink was clear.
“I would like you to spare some time this coming weekend.”
“Pardon?”
Her voice climbed an octave. At the suggestion of giving up her weekend, a cold stone dropped into the pit of her stomach.
Seongheon added more, his tone turning dry. The subtle warmth that had flickered around him only moments ago vanished.
“Some people from the architecture industry are arriving from France. It’s a bit much for me to handle alone.”
“Ah…”
“I need someone to smile in my stead.”
Yeonwoo blinked, her eyelids heavy. “You need someone to… smile? In place of the Managing Director?”
“That is correct.”
“This coming weekend?”
“That is correct.”
Yeonwoo stood in a state of hesitation. Her vocabulary seemed to have evaporated. She couldn’t tell if she should press him for details or simply offer an immediate, terrified acceptance. Summoning her courage, she looked up. Seongheon’s gaze was a physical weight, an intense demand for an answer.
“I would like to fulfill your request, Managing Director,” she said, her voice strained and low, “but I think you have mistaken me for someone else.”
“……”
“As you can see, I am not a person who smiles easily.”
Seongheon tilted his head, his posture shifting. “No, you aren’t. But I saw you smiling well.”
“……”
“Like someone who had just reclaimed their lost country. You smiled very well.”
*I smiled well? Me?*
The assertion was absurd. She had no memory of ever smiling in his presence. She couldn’t fathom what he meant.
“Could you have mistaken me for someone else? That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“It is you.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever smiled.”
“Of course. That is true when you are in front of me.”
That was the very thing that irritated him. Seongheon swallowed the rest of his retort, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Yeonwoo’s look of confusion only seemed to deepen his frustration.
In truth, he had seen her with her cousin. She had smiled, and the image had burned itself into his memory. But to explain that felt petty. Seongheon let out a short, sharp breath.
“Requests come with a price. A request made without considering the cost one must pay oneself is nothing but selfishness.”
It was a warning: since he had granted her wish to stay, she did not have the luxury of refusing his.
Yeonwoo pressed her lips together, the point landing with inescapable force. She had no ground to stand on. Seeing the defeat register on her face, Seongheon lifted his chin, looming over her.
“I would be grateful if you could consider this part of your duties. I will compensate you sufficiently.”
He turned to leave, signaling the end of the conversation, but Yeonwoo hurried to interject.
“No matter how I think about it, I am not the right person for this, Managing Director. I’m not confident. It sounds like an important event—perhaps you should look for someone else…”
“There is no one else.”
Seongheon pivoted, pinning her with his eyes. “I have no intention of looking. And I don’t want to look.”
With a curt nod, he walked into the heart of Unseondang. Yeonwoo stood alone in the lantern light, nibbling her lip.
*
The next day, the morning air was sharp.
Seongheon entered the main building. Breakfast was a steaming bowl of cod soup, the perfect remedy for the night’s drinking. He took a spoonful, ignoring the heat, his movements quiet and precise. Manager Moon hovered near, attentive as always, while Yeonwoo, having just returned from the front gate with the mail, slipped into the room. She had hurried, hoping to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s forced proximity.
“Where have you been while the Managing Director is eating?”
Eun-ja, ever eager for a grievance, barked the question at her. Yeonwoo set the mail down without a word, and Eun-ja gestured toward the dining room with a sharp tilt of her head.
Yeonwoo entered, stepping tentatively. Seongheon was finishing his meal; Manager Moon was pouring water. After taking a sip and dabbing his mouth, Seongheon looked toward the manager.
“Manager Moon.”
“Yes, Managing Director.”
Seongheon’s gaze shifted to Yeonwoo. “Ji Yeonwoo-ssi is unavailable for routine weekend duty. Handle it accordingly.”
Manager Moon looked surprised, Eun-ja’s expression hardened, and Yeonwoo lowered her gaze to the floor.
“Ji Yeonwoo-ssi will be away for the weekend. She is accompanying me for work purposes.”
“Yes, I understand, Managing Director.”
Manager Moon’s response was immediate. Questions were not allowed; if Seongheon said it, it was law. She had learned that the hard way.
“What business does the Managing Director have with a new hire…” Eun-ja muttered, her mouth moving faster than her brain.
Manager Moon glared at her, but it was too late. Seongheon leaned back, staring at Eun-ja.
“There is a dinner meeting with overseas architecture associates. I need an assistant.”
“Ah. Yes. An assistant,” Eun-ja replied, her tone tactless. She should have stopped there, but she continued. “An assistant needs to know things. What kind of help could a new hire who only washes dishes possibly provide to the Managing Director?”
Manager Moon tapped Eun-ja’s arm, desperate for silence, but the damage was done. Seongheon didn’t look away. The intensity in his eyes was enough to make Eun-ja shrink back, yet her tongue wouldn’t be still.
“There must be plenty of employees in Seoul who would come down if the Managing Director made a single phone call.”
Seongheon remained silent, his stillness more unnerving than a shout. Eun-ja finally began to panic, sensing her overreach.
“That is… what I mean is, I was just worried about how a new hire could be of any help in the big tasks you handle, so please don’t pay any mind to…”
“Ji Yeonwoo-ssi has previous experience working as a secretary at a company. I took that into account.”
It was a convenient fabrication, culled from the resume Yeonwoo had left behind. Seongheon stood up, walking until he stood right in front of Eun-ja.
“Headquarters employees prioritize work-life balance. It’s a world where the lowest-ranking employee is the most terrifying. It’s difficult to call them in on weekends.”
“Ah, yes, well…”
Seongheon scanned Eun-ja’s name tag, then looked back into her eyes. “It’s a shame, but what can be done? I cannot take Manager Moon, and I cannot take Do Eun-ja-ssi either.”
“Oh, what could I possibly do if I went? It’s obvious I’d only be a burden instead of a help.”
“That is exactly it. If one cannot be a great help, one should at least not be a burden.”
“……”
“Isn’t that right?”
For the first time that morning, Eun-ja clamped her mouth shut.
Satisfied, Seongheon glanced at Manager Moon, then at Yeonwoo, who remained staring at the floor, perfectly still. She looked as if she were a statue, entirely removed from the conversation revolving around her.
“Manager Moon, see to it that a proper formal gown is arranged for Ji Yeonwoo-ssi.”
“Managing Director? A formal gown, what kind…?”
“Something she hasn’t worn before—something she won’t be comfortable in should suffice.”
“I understand, Managing Director.”
Seongheon exited the main building. Only when the crisp *clack-clack* of his leather shoes faded into the distance did Eun-ja grab the hem of Manager Moon’s sleeve.
“Eonni, what did he mean by the Seoul employees? Work-life? What is that? Do they dance on weekends?”
Manager Moon shook her off, clicking her tongue. “Unless you put a lock on your pie-hole, you won’t have a natural death. You’re practically asking to be beaten.”
“Oh, you’re so heartless! It’s just how I am.”
When the two of them returned to the dining room, Yeonwoo was already clearing the dishes. Eun-ja flopped into a chair and watched her back.
“Hey, newbie. You worked as a secretary in Seoul? That must have been a cool job, huh?”
“No, it just happened that way for a little while.”
Yeonwoo kept her head down, clearing the plates.
*A world where everyone but me is cool,* Eun-ja thought, letting out a long, listless sigh. She turned to Manager Moon. “Anyway, Eonni, what kind of clothes? Are we supposed to scour the Yeosongsan valley and find a fairy’s feathered robe for her?”
Yeonwoo, ears flushed a burning red, continued to move between the kitchen and the dining hall. Manager Moon tapped the table, fixing her gaze on Eun-ja.
“Call there. Tell them to come to Domyeongjae today.”
“Where? Ah, *that* place?”
Eun-ja pulled out her phone, their minds clearly in sync. “That’s right. That’s the only place that sells gowns, isn’t it? Our Eonni’s brain is still fast! My goodness, Newbie! You should feel honored! Thanks to Manager Moon, you’ll be wearing a fairy’s robe and living in luxury!”
Eun-ja dialed, her fingers fumbling with excitement. A moment later, her voice echoed through the room.
“H-hello? Is that the Domyeong Boutique? Is this Director Hong Geum-Soon’s phone?”