* * *

“Oh? It’s past six already. You should head out, Jiyeon.”

“Yeah! Have a good weekend, everyone. See you on Monday!”

“I’m heading out too.”

“Good work, everyone.”

As the team members left like an ebbing tide, the office quickly fell silent.

Finally, Junhee rose slowly and walked to the window, cooling his racing heart in the fresh breeze.

The past lingered behind him like a looming monster, always open-mouthed, ready to consume him.

He remembered, over a decade ago, sitting in a bustling classroom where everyone bragged about their Children’s Day gifts, staring blankly at the chalkboard.

Just like today, where he stared blankly at his monitor.

For Junhee, yesterday and today weren’t all that different.

“Assistant? Aren’t you leaving?”

Junhee thought he was alone, but the junior employee was still there.

“No, I’ll leave soon. What about you, Siwoo?”

“I’m almost done. I still have a bit more work….”

Junhee remembered his own early days, full of late nights.

No one starts out as an expert, and there’s no shortcut other than putting in time until you get the hang of things.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. It’s Friday, so head out early if you can.”

“Thank you! I’ll wrap up and go soon. But, Assistant Yu…”

Siwoo looked a little hesitant, and Junhee figured he must have something to say.

“…Please, take this.”

“What is it?”

Siwoo suddenly held out a white envelope.

“I still can’t fully cover it because of my mom’s hospital bills, but I’ve gathered what I could. I’ll pay the rest back gradually… I’m sorry.”

Siwoo bent his back deeply in apology, and Junhee finally understood—it was about Doyoung’s clothes.

“No need. Mr. Moon Doyoung only asked for the cleaning fee. Why…”

“I actually overheard… He didn’t just ask for cleaning; he demanded a replacement. I was the one who damaged it, so I should be responsible.”

Junhee hadn’t expected him to overhear that, as he had sent Siwoo away before discussing compensation.

“Honestly, yesterday I was selfishly tempted to just cover the cleaning cost and ignore the rest since you didn’t say anything…”

Siwoo murmured quietly, his head lowered as if he were atoning.

“But I couldn’t. I really respect and admire you, Assistant. If I acted like that, I wouldn’t be able to face you at work anymore.”

“…Siwoo.”

“When I talked to my mom about it, she told me that the difference between animals and people is gratitude. I’ll make up the rest somehow, even if I have to take on extra work.”

Junhee took the envelope Siwoo had placed in his hand and looked at it.

“Siwoo, I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.”

“What…?”

“I may not hold a high position, but when I was made Assistant, I took on responsibilities as well. You’ve done your part by apologizing. The rest is on me.”

“But, Assistant, you didn’t…”

“I’m neither incompetent nor irresponsible enough to leave my junior’s mistake unhandled.”

Before Junhee could finish, Siwoo’s eyes filled with tears, and a tear slid down his cheek.

“…I’m not scolding you, so don’t cry.”

“It’s not that… It’s just, with you saying that…”

Junhee patted Siwoo’s back, a little awkwardly, as he listened to him sniffle and stutter.

Then, suddenly, Siwoo began to cry harder, throwing himself into Junhee’s arms.

‘…He must’ve had a rough time.’

Since Junhee didn’t know much about his team members’ personal lives, he hadn’t even known Siwoo’s mom was sick or hospitalized.

He figured Siwoo must be going through a lot, so he waited until Siwoo’s sobbing calmed down, unable to push him away.

He felt his shirt getting slightly damp.

And then, suddenly, he felt a sharp gaze and an unmistakable, forbidden scent—a dangerous pheromone that made him tense up.

Junhee looked up and saw… Ki Taeryu, leaning against the office entrance, watching him with piercing, dark eyes.

---

“The company has good perks. Office romance, too.”

“You’ve misunderstood.”

No sooner had he gotten into the car than the biting sarcasm started.

“Then was it all an illusion? Hugging, comforting… I felt like I’d interrupted a kiss just in time.”

“We were just talking about personal matters. There’s nothing between us.”

Junhee didn’t understand why he even had to explain himself to Ki Taeryu.

The whole situation felt ridiculous.

“Of course. Like in old times when servants shared hardships, comforted each other, and ended up plowing the fields together.”

“Why would you say something so vulgar…?”

“So you admit you almost did something vulgar?”

Ki Taeryu’s relentless push was confusing and unsettling.

“…Did something happen to upset you?”

“Yes, it did.”

Of course, that explained it.

Just like everyone has bad days, Ki Taeryu must be having one of those days too.

Junhee felt a bit relieved, thinking that maybe Ki Taeryu was just taking his frustrations out on him.

“No matter how much you do, there’s always an ungrateful, dark-headed beast.”

“…”

Hearing those words, Junhee’s mouth tightened.

Ki Taeryu leaned closer, making the fabric across his broad shoulders stretch taut.

With his muscular build, he was completely imposing.

“With things like this, I’m losing all my motivation to help. Assistant Yu Junhee.”

“I’m… sorry.”

Junhee managed to stammer an apology, realizing that Ki Taeryu’s mood had indeed soured because of him.

At first, he couldn’t understand the reaction, but then it started to make sense.

‘I did boast that I’d set up the matchmaking date, and I haven’t even set a date yet…’

On top of that, Ki Taeryu had somehow misinterpreted what happened today as an office romance.

No wonder he’d be angry, thinking Junhee was ignoring him to have fun on his own.

“I understand that you’re upset, but it’s really a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“…I was just comforting a colleague. We’ve never met outside work, nor do we have any romantic feelings.”

Junhee felt a bit indignant despite understanding Ki Taeryu’s sarcasm.

“Do you really think you have to meet outside work to start a romance?”

“How could you form feelings without meeting privately? Spending time outside work is how those things usually start, and I assure you, nothing like that has happened.”

At Junhee’s response, Ki Taeryu looked like he wanted to say something but stopped.

His expression was still unreadable.

His eyes held a strange, heated intensity.

The tension was finally broken by Ki Taeryu’s quiet question.

“Then, does that mean you’re into me, Junhee?”

“What the…?”

Junhee barely managed to swallow back the curse.

The shock left him reeling.

“Have you… lost your mind?”

“Deputy Yoo Junhee once said this, remember? That when feelings arise, you start wanting to see that person often, and it naturally leads to personal encounters.”

Just what kind of dreamy brain does it take to make such a jump in logic?

If this was all to throw Junhee off, it worked perfectly.

“A personal encounter? This… No, let me clarify first. I never asked to meet you, Director. You’re the one who asked to see me.”

So flustered, Junhee could barely get the words out.

Watching Junhee lose his usual composure, Taeryu’s eyes curved in a mischievous smile.

“Oh, so that must mean I like you.”

“Are you insane, or… just not in your right mind?”

The last of Junhee’s words disappeared as Taeryu’s breath closed the gap between them.

“Maybe we should confirm it, then,” Taeryu murmured, as he brushed his lips over Junhee’s, teasingly.

Junhee felt trapped, frozen like prey before a Medusa, caught in the grip of a dangerously sweet disaster.

As Taeryu’s fingers trailed into his hair, Junhee fought to gather his thoughts but found he couldn’t even move a finger.

Taeryu’s scent seemed to cloud his mind, stirring up desires within him.

He wanted to taste more, deeper, closer.

The slow, approaching lips finally met his, hot and smooth against his. The scent slipping past his tightly shut teeth made his head feel dizzy with ecstasy.

It was like his brain was melting under the warmth, like ice cream in the sun.

The thought that he could push Taeryu away anytime if he really wanted to, that too melted away.

“Ah…”

Taeryu bit down gently on Junhee’s lower lip, letting a rich, intoxicating taste flood between them.

“You have to open your mouth if you want the real taste,” Taeryu whispered, running his hand through Junhee’s hair and pulling him closer.

As Taeryu’s grip tightened, Junhee’s head tilted back, his lips parting, like a blossoming bud.

Soon, the boundary between them disappeared.

* * *