* * *

“Jiyeon, are you okay?”

“I think I got indigestion from quickly scarfing down a few kimbap earlier. I’m really sorry, Assistant Manager.”

Junhee looked down at Jiyeon, who was slumped on a chair in a small waiting room inside the venue, concern evident in his eyes.

“It’s fine. You don’t look well—take some more time to rest. Here, I brought some digestive medicine from the convenience store. Try drinking this for now.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Jiyeon downed the digestive medicine and let out a long sigh.

“I’m so, so sorry, Assistant Manager… You’ve been pulling all-nighters preparing for the event, not to mention your branch trip…”

Jiyeon hung her head in shame.

Her unusually subdued demeanor was pitiful.

“You’ve been a tremendous help throughout. This event wouldn’t have run so smoothly without your support. Don’t worry about it—just focus on recovering.”

Junhee, too, had been swamped with work, though not entirely due to company responsibilities.

Personal matters had also weighed heavily.

The launch show, the mess with Taeryu… it was a lot.

“I think I feel a little better after sitting down. Probably thanks to the medicine. Since the event’s almost over, I’ll step in for the closing remarks—”

“No need. I’ll handle it. You just rest here.”

Jiyeon’s eyes widened, and she waved her hands frantically.

“What? No, Assistant Manager! I was supposed to do the closing. I can’t let you—”

“Jiyeon, if you go out there looking like this, people will think we’re overworking you.”

“…Is it that bad? I even reapplied my lipstick.”

Junhee nodded firmly.

At best, Jiyeon looked like a pale, albeit pretty, ghost.

Her face was so drained of color that even her heavily touched-up lips only made her resemble a character from a horror film.

“Alright… just for today, I’ll leave it to you. But I didn’t print out my script—I just have it on my phone. Should I message it to you?”

“No need. I probably wouldn’t be able to memorize it on the spot, anyway.”

“I’m really sorry. I’m usually the picture of health, but why does this have to happen at such a crucial moment?”

“Let’s just finish the event quickly and get some rest.”

Leaving the apologetic Jiyeon behind, Junhee glanced at the clock.

With Taeryu and Yoonjae making a grand entrance together, the main event began.

Doyoung had clearly noticed Yoonjae, but aside from a peculiar expression, he showed no particular reaction.

That made Junhee even more uneasy, but he could finally breathe once Taeryu was paired with the right partner.

‘He must’ve figured it out.’

When the pairing results were announced, Junhee could feel Taeryu’s eyes on him.

But he pretended not to notice.

Junhee had told Taeryu that the event was a “special occasion” to help him find a partner, urging him to attend.

Though Taeryu had initially seemed indifferent, Junhee had practically begged him to come.

To be honest, he wasn’t sure Taeryu would actually show.

Given his unpredictable nature, Junhee had doubts about whether he’d actually go along with the plan.

However, seeing him show up at the event made Junhee feel a flicker of approval, as if the man at least pretended to respect his role as the assigned manager.

In truth, Junhee’s suggestion to pair Doyoung with Ki Taeryu at the VIP meeting was no coincidence. It was a calculated move.

While fulfilling his last promise to Doyoung, this was also the perfect chance to avoid any private encounters with Ki Taeryu.

Once the main event began, Junhee retreated to the waiting room, avoiding the spotlight entirely.

But his thoughts kept drifting outside.

He hadn’t shown it, but his body wasn’t in great shape either.

Jiyeon’s sudden illness was bad enough, and on top of that…

‘Even with the meds, I still feel like this?’

Being surrounded by VIPs meant their overwhelming pheromones were making his stomach churn.

The only saving grace was that Ki Taeryu’s pheromone scent stood out the strongest, oddly making it bearable.

‘Wait, what? Bearable?’

Junhee’s brows furrowed at his own thoughts.

That scent, which he once found utterly repulsive—when had it become so familiar?

Shaking his head, Junhee abruptly stood.

The event host was already delivering the final lines, signaling it was his turn.

Originally, Jiyeon had wanted to deliver a cool closing speech, but circumstances had changed.

He’d likely be disappointed, though Junhee hoped he could wrap things up well in his stead.

But his mind was blank, like a shell.

‘It’s fine. Just don’t mess up.’

With a deep breath, Junhee walked toward the stage.

He slipped through the door and was immediately greeted by the sight of heavy curtains blocking the banquet hall.

The host, standing on stage, nodded toward the audience before handing Junhee the microphone.

As eyes turned to him, Junhee calmly stepped forward, neither hurried nor hesitant, gripping the microphone firmly.

“About three hours ago, I stood here and expressed my hope that this gathering would help you find meaningful connections. I wonder if that hope has come true for any of you.”

Despite the attention, Junhee felt surprisingly composed. His steady voice resonated through the speakers.

“I’ve been working as a couple manager for quite a while now. When I first started, I was ambitious, convinced I could guarantee a perfect match for every member I handled. Of course, reality humbled me after my very first meeting.”

His light humor drew soft laughter from the audience.

Memories of his first client, their initial meeting, and the wedding invitation they’d sent flooded his mind.

Unlike his stiff opening speech, Junhee’s tone became more personal and genuine.

“One thing I’ve learned in this job is that true connections—what we call fate—do exist.”

He recalled how his own life had veered unexpectedly: a chance encounter with a homeless man, and the old phone he’d received.

Perhaps that, too, had been destiny.

“People say everyone has their own unique ‘temperature.’ Initially, I thought pairing individuals with similar ‘temperatures’ would lead to success. But, once again, I was wrong.”

The audience leaned in, fully absorbed.

Pausing briefly, Junhee swept his gaze across the room before continuing.

“When two people with completely different temperatures meet, they may hurt each other at first, unable to handle the difference. But over time, they adjust and find a shared warmth. That, I believe, is what fate truly is.”

In reality, it wasn’t uncommon for someone’s ideal match to be the last person they’d expect. Life often paired people who seemed incompatible at first.

Junhee marveled at how this job had stripped away his preconceived notions.

Over the years, he’d seen countless couples come together, witnessed their highs and lows, and even stood as a guest at their weddings.

But during those ceremonies, as the wedding march played, he never wished for happiness.

Instead, he braced for the inevitable heartbreak.

‘They’re smiling now, but eventually, they’ll part ways.’

Someone might cheat.

Feelings would fade.

One would leave, and the other would be left behind.

If children were involved?

They could end up like the lonely kids at Hanbit Orphanage.

In his cynical spiral, Junhee arrived at a painful truth:

He, who envisioned others’ misery so vividly, was the most miserable of them all.

And yet, here he was, making a living out of others’ love lives—a bitter irony.

As these thoughts darkened his expression, his gaze caught on something.

At the far edge of the room, there he was.

‘…Ki Taeryu.’

Why did he always linger in Junhee’s mind?

Even in a crowded room, Taeryu had a magnetic pull, effortlessly drawing attention.

It wasn’t just Junhee.

Everyone around Taeryu seemed aware of his presence.

A small comfort, but it didn’t ease the sting.

Doyoung, seated beside Taeryu, leaned in, whispering something into his ear.

‘He said he hated him, yet now they’re all chummy?’

Junhee recalled glimpses of the two getting along far too well lately.

‘Give them a little time, and he’ll drop the formalities, calling him just ‘Doyoung.’’

Annoyance simmered.

Just then, Taeryu responded briefly, making Doyoung laugh.

Their easy rapport made Junhee’s discomfort spike.

Then, Taeryu’s gaze shifted—landing directly on Junhee.

Caught off guard, Junhee’s shoulders stiffened as Taeryu’s lips curved slightly.

And once Taeryu had him in his sights, he didn’t look away.

His relentless stare felt like a hand brushing against Junhee’s skin, rekindling unwanted memories.

Junhee tried to avert his eyes, but Taeryu’s lips moved again.

This time, the words were unmistakably for him.

‘What is he saying?’

Curiosity got the better of him.

Squinting slightly, Junhee focused on deciphering the silent words.

‘Ra…?’

A few more repetitions, and then it clicked.

‘Rabbit.’

“Is he crazy, for real?”

A rush of heat surged to his head, and his ears felt like they were burning.

If it got any hotter, steam might shoot out.

Watching Junhee biting his lip and breathing heavily, Ki Taeryu let out a soft chuckle.

That laugh, as annoying as it was, somehow… carried a sweetness to it.

“…With that, I’ll take my leave. I hope today you all shared warm moments in this space prepared by our team. Thank you.”

With Junhee’s hurried closing remarks, the event came to an end.

---

After sending Jiyeon, who wasn’t feeling well, home, Junhee stayed behind to clean up the banquet hall.

He was about to leave after making one last round to check for any lost items.

Creak—

The door opened, and someone stepped in.

“Junhee, I was wondering why you hadn’t come out yet. Let’s head to the afterparty together!”

…It was Moon Doyoung.

And he wasn’t alone.

* * *