Jeong-o wanted to cry.
She wished she could become as thin as a sheet of paper, slip through the gap under the office door, and disappear.
“No, I… well…”
It wasn’t as if she’d intentionally hidden to eavesdrop. It was purely a matter of pride—she hadn’t wanted Eunbi Chae to see her looking so pathetic—but she couldn’t exactly say that, either.
“Since you almost made a mistake with me yesterday as well, couldn’t we just call it even and move on…?”
If she could just get out of here, she felt like she could brush off yesterday’s commotion, too.
“I really didn’t mean to listen in…”
“I know.”
Ji-Heon walked around the sofa and knelt on one knee in front of her. Their eyes were now level.
Jeong-o didn’t want to engage with him, so she kept her head down.
“I had intended to create a situation like the one on Wednesday, but thinking about it, this was better.”
“…”
“Because the truth is easier to see when you listen from the shadows.”
Jeong-o, who had been about to cover her ears because the sound of his voice felt shameful, paused, her hands hovering near her head.
Slowly, she looked up at Ji-Heon.
He was smiling as he met her gaze.
*What did this man just say?*
“…You meant for me to find out the truth?”
He nodded.
“Why? Why would you do that?”
“Because it bothered me that you were misinformed.”
“…”
“There is no one I am marrying. Not yet.”
*Heart, please. Calm down.*
It wasn’t fluttering; it had to be fear.
Seeing a man who, until moments ago, had been pouring out cold, merciless sarcasm toward someone else now smiling gently at her made her feel dizzy.
“Yes. Yes, I understand…”
Jeong-o stood up cautiously. She couldn’t stay alone with him a moment longer.
“So, the reason you called me wasn’t for work, but because of a misunderstanding? May I go now? Since the misunderstanding has been cleared up?”
Inch by inch, Jeong-o crab-walked away from him as she spoke. Finally, *click*—the door opened.
The way she scurried out the moment the door swung open, without giving Ji-Heon a chance to stop her, was just like that night in front of the tonkatsu restaurant.
Ji-Heon stared blankly at the door as it swung shut.
Calling it even for last night’s mistake was fine, but everything else had become ambiguous.
Even after telling her the truth, a nagging feeling remained that he hadn’t fully cleared the air.
*She really is difficult. Jeong-o Lee.*
***
*What is going on? What is all of this?*
Jeong-o kept muttering to herself as she bolted away from Ji-Heon.
Only now did she understand the situation.
Eunbi Chae and Ji-Heon Jeong had been in a fake relationship for a long time. Eunbi Chae was obsessed with it. And the wedding plans? Pure fabrication by Eunbi Chae.
She had misunderstood so much. It was inevitable, really.
To think it was all Eunbi Chae’s doing!
“Assistant Manager, where have you been? Is something wrong?”
Gihun asked, looking at Jeong-o, who was panting as if she’d just finished three 100-meter sprints, despite only having returned from Director Ji-Heon Jeong’s office.
“No, no, no. It’s nothing.”
“Then why are you covering your mouth? Did you eat something in secret?”
“No, no, no. I didn’t eat anything.”
Of course, she had eaten two cookies, but that wasn’t why she was covering her mouth.
It was because her lips felt like they might move against her will, and she felt unable to control her facial expressions.
She must have been in total shock. Utter, complete shock.
Once she sat down and managed to steady her breathing, Jeong-o tried to organize what she’d heard.
*So, the reason the two of them started dating—or rather, pretending to date—was because of a rumor from four years ago?*
She didn’t know what that rumor was, but regardless, their romance was a sham.
Ji-Heon hadn’t cared much for it, which was why four years had passed, and in that time, Eunbi Chae had been currying favor with Ji-Heon’s mother.
Because Ji-Heon’s mother liked Eunbi Chae, Eunbi Chae believed she would eventually marry him…
Because Ji-Heon had no other woman!
*Can I take it at that?*
After organizing the facts, her heart began to thump again. She didn’t know why. She shouldn’t have any feelings left for a man like Ji-Heon. She shouldn’t.
It must be because it felt like the day she would introduce him to Ye-Na was fast approaching. That must be why…
Jeong-o stood up and checked Eunbi Chae’s desk. The team was at their seats, but Eunbi Chae’s was empty.
Jeong-o tried to calm her mind, but the anxiety lingered.
Knowing the truth about their relationship didn’t guarantee the safety of her child. She still knew nothing about his mother, Mrs. Jang.
The phone call from seven years ago was definitely related to his mother, and unless she understood exactly how much influence his mother had, she couldn’t act rashly.
It was highly likely that because Mrs. Jang liked Eunbi Chae, Ji-Heon couldn’t be honest about the fake relationship. That had to mean he valued his mother.
*Who wouldn’t find their mother important?*
She had a premonition that she might one day have to face Mrs. Jang.
***
Saturday afternoon.
Jeong-o had to go into work to prepare for a competitive PT. Ye-Na, watching her get ready, spoke up.
“Mom, Do-Bin says he’s going camping with his mom, his dad, and Do-Yun.”
Jeong-o knelt to meet Ye-Na’s eyes.
“Does our Ye-Na want to go camping, too?”
“No. I was just saying. You’re busy, Mom.”
A child should act more like a child; the maturity with which she hid her feelings sometimes pained her.
“I can go even if I’m busy. Summer is too hot, so let’s go in the autumn.”
At the promise, Ye-Na’s face brightened.
“Mom, then can I tell Do-Bin?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
“Call him for me.”
She couldn’t wait another second. Jeong-o had no choice but to call Jinseo, Do-Bin’s mother.
[Hello, Ye-Na’s mom!]
Jinseo answered in a warm voice.
“Mrs. Park, how have you been? Ye-Na said she had something to tell Do-Bin, so I contacted you.”
[Oh, really? Yes, I’ll put Do-Bin on.]
Jeong-o handed the phone to Ye-Na.
Ye-Na held it to her ear and shouted happily.
“Hello, Park Do-Bin!”
[Ye-Na. I’m sorry.]
Before Ye-Na could say what she wanted, Do-Bin apologized straight away.
“Huh? Why?”
[Actually… my dad says he can’t share. Mom says that shouldn’t happen.]
The matter had been agonizing Do-Bin for days. Jinseo had said there was no need to bring it up again, but to Do-Bin, it was of grave importance.
From the other end, she could hear Jinseo shouting, “Park Do-Bin!” urgently.
Ye-Na, blinking in confusion, recalled their conversation from Tuesday and answered nonchalantly.
“Oh, that’s okay.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No. I thought it wouldn’t work out anyway. But you know what! I’m going camping too! In the autumn!”
“Really? Did you know we couldn’t get married if my dad became your dad too?”
“Huh?”
The children continued their conversation diligently, each focused on their own points.
However, once the topic of marriage came up, the phone was quickly passed back to Jinseo.
[Ye-Na, hello! Hello! Do-Bin says the strangest things. Is your mom next to you?]
“Yes. Just a moment.”
Ye-Na handed the phone to Jeong-o.
“Hello.”
[Ye-Na’s mom, ho ho… our Do-Bin has many shortcomings. Thank you for letting him be friends with Ye-Na.]
Behind Jinseo’s laughter, intended to smooth over the awkwardness, followed the usual expressions of gratitude.
“Not at all. I’m the one who is always grateful.”
[Then I’ll see you on Monday. Please tell Ye-Na I’ll see her on Monday, too.]
Jinseo hung up.
After the call, Jeong-o asked Ye-Na, “What did Do-Bin say he was sorry about? …Did you ask him to do something?”
“Do-Bin said he would share his dad with me. But he said it’s not allowed.”
“He said he’d share his dad?”
Jeong-o felt a sharp sting in her chest.
“I didn’t ask him to,” Ye-Na retorted, looking sulky.
How on earth did a conversation like that even come up?
She couldn’t just laugh it off, thinking of the child’s heart accepting such a heavy statement with such indifference.
With a heavy heart, she continued getting ready when her phone vibrated.
The studio had sent over the radio advertisement files. She had finished up to the fifth draft, but one was missing. The PD couldn’t remember properly, and Jeong-o needed to send an email urgently. She had to use her office computer.
*‘Did Gihun come into work?’*
Jeong-o called Gihun. He didn’t answer. Knowing he sometimes kept his phone on silent, she called his desk.
After a long time, the ringing stopped, and a man’s voice came through.
[Hello.]
“Gihun? Did you make it in? I’m sorry, but could you turn on my office computer and send a file for me? Please send an email to the studio right away. The password is…”
[Assistant Manager Jeong-o Lee?]
*Oh, no!*
She had assumed it was her teammate Gihun, but it was Ji-Heon Jeong.
*I am in so much trouble.*
***
It had been a while since he’d worked on a weekend.
The production team had worked late last night, so they wouldn’t be in until the afternoon.
Ji-Heon, who had checked Jeong-o’s seat out of habit, hesitated as he headed toward his office.
A phone rang in Production Team 2.
It was the desk next to Jeong-o’s—Gihun Song’s desk. With no one around, Ji-Heon answered.
“Hello.”
[Gihun? Did you make it in? I’m sorry, but could you turn on my office computer and send a file for me?]
It was Assistant Manager Jeong-o Lee. After he gave a brief response, a panicked Jeong-o, not bothering to verify the voice, kept pouring out her requests.
[Please send an email to the studio right away. The password is…]
“Assistant Manager Jeong-o Lee?”
At Ji-Heon’s question, he heard a sharp gasp of air, as if she were choking.
Even that sound made Ji-Heon’s heart itch.
Suppressing a smile, he asked in a serious tone, “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
[Yes. The studio missed one of the files. I urgently need to resend the email…]
Having hung up on the desk phone, Ji-Heon called her back on his cell.
[Hello…]
Unlike before, her voice sounded like she was dying.
“I’m at your desk, Assistant Manager Jeong-o Lee. I’ll do it, so tell me the password.”
[No, no, no, no, no. I’ll go there quickly and do it myself. I’ll arrive in an hour.]
“You said it was urgent.”
[It’s not. It’s not. I can do it.]
“I know how to send an email too, so just tell me. It’s fine.”
[No, no, no… The password is personal information, so I can’t tell you!]
According to company regulations, it wasn’t strictly personal information; the company could retrieve data if necessary. They advised against using private passwords, but she clearly wasn’t aware of that.
“Weren’t you going to tell Gihun Song?”
Ji-Heon felt a flicker of irritation. He let out a deep sigh to persuade her.
“I’m sorry it turned out this way. I’ll listen to the password and immediately forget it, so just tell me.”
She let out a long sigh and, in a tone that suggested she had no other choice, recited the English consonants.
“…W, J, D, D, L, T, K, R, T… is the password.”
Ji-Heon typed on the keyboard as she spoke.
*wjddltkrt.*
The desktop popped up. Ji-Heon immediately opened the email inbox.
“It’s open. What email should I send?”
[You can just resend the email I sent to Od Studio.]
“Sent.”
It was a simple task. Ji-Heon smiled with a sense of accomplishment.
He heard a thank you from the other side.
[Yup. Thank you!]
However, that was it.
Looking at the phone that had been abruptly hung up, Ji-Heon sighed again.
*A woman who never moves according to my wishes.*
*Why am I so obsessed with a woman like this?*
He couldn’t understand himself, but he didn’t dislike that he found himself focusing on her.
With a smirk, Ji-Heon stood up, but paused as he was about to turn off the computer.
Something felt strange.
What was this lingering feeling?
Sitting back down, Ji-Heon opened the memo pad and typed in the English consonants Jeong-o had recited, but with the Korean input key active.
*wjddltkrt.*
As Ji-Heon checked the screen, a deflated, hollow laugh erupted from his lips.
“Ha.”
*Director Jeong, you jerk.*
*Just you wait, Jeong-o Lee.*