Usually, Kang Sunghoon wouldn't go out of his way to recall the names of freshly hired staff. Lee Sunoo, though, was different. Something about him lingered in Sunghoon's thoughts from the first morning—a faint voice that fell somewhat short of the intelligence in his eyes.
It was merely because Sunoo had poured wine on Mr. Park, which had caused two days of straight company gossip, he told himself. But it wasn't just that if he was truthful. It was how Sunoo had seemed when he apologized: terrified but still trying to maintain his position.
He really ought not have been giving it thought right now. Though he sat behind his desk examining the daily reports, his mind kept returning to the image of Sunoo's hand shaking as he poured the wine. Almost part of him admired how Sunoo hadn't tried to evade the blame. He simply bowed his head and welcomed Sunghoon's wrath.
Pushing the papers aside, Sunghoon squeezed the bridge of his nose. He looked at the screen as his phone shook on the desk. Weeks he had ignored Yoon Seri's name.
His future wife. The girl his parents had picked for him years before. He had no problems with it really and made sure that the engagement was private. Privacy was the sole means to safeguard anything that counted in his field of expertise. Lately, even he was beginning to question why he kept bypassing her phone calls.
He let out a sluggish breath as the phone stopped vibrating. Feeling restless about an assistant was silly. Sunoo came here simply to work. He had no place in the area of Sunghoon's life Seri belonged to.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Sunoo entered, carrying a fresh pile of papers. His hair fell a little over his forehead, giving him a youthful appearance—almost too delicate for a man.
Sunoo stated, "I have gotten ready the things you requested." His voice was gentle but not welcoming; it was as though he had trained to keep every emotion locked deep behind his ribs.
"Set them here," Sunghoon added. Though his tone came out more rough than he wanted, he tried to maintain a constant tone.
Sunoo set the documents near the desk's edge. He seemed as though he wanted to add something else but decided better of it.
He had a future wife. He had a destiny laid out already for him so he should just focus on that.
Sunoo put the documents toward the desk. He gave the impression that he wanted to say something different but then stopped better of it.
Sunghoon stared him for a moment. "Is something off?"
"No." Sunoo's eyes darted to the floor. "I just... wanted to apologize again for the other night."
"It's done," Sunghoon said. "Don't repeat the same mistake."
"I won't." The stillness dragged on, and Sunghoon felt the painful realization that he was looking at the curve of Sunoo's mouth instead of the records. He looked away and cleared his throat.
"Prepare the board review documents for tomorrow. And—he stumbled; he compelled it steady. "And please choose something more professional."
Sunoo startled, then blinked looking at him. "Professional?"
"Not tight outfits," Sunghoon flatly observed. "You don't have to stare... disturbing,this is a business establishment not a red carpet. Try this next time and I'll personally hand you over you back to Mr. Han."
He regretted the words the instant they departed from his mouth. Sunoo's eyes opened, his cheeks turning pink before he bowed fast. "Understood." "And…be careful."
Sunoo stopped in the opening.
"I will."
When the door closed behind him, Sunghoon leaned back and shut his eyes. He could almost hear his father's voice in his head: A CEO who can't control his own impulses doesn't deserve his position.
Then lately, why did it seem as though everything was already beginning to slip?
.
.
.
.
The doors on the executive level opened. He left, expression under control, and nodded at Manager Choi standing by his office. She trailed behind him, quietly naming shareholder reports, foreign branch inquiries, and Friday's dinner arrangements. He turned and looked over when she stopped.
"And the new assistant?" he asked, trying to seem just rather inquisitive.
"So far, he's competent," Choi said. "A little tense but meticulous." I have seen worse.
Sung-hoon placed his briefcase on the table. "Keep an eye on him."
Choi wavered. "What in particular are you worried about?"
He lifted his gaze to hers, cool and steady. "No," he lied. "Just a hunch."
Once she left, he loosened his tie and sat behind the desk. For a few minutes, he tried to focus on the quarterly earnings, but a stray image kept returning—Sunoo's hands trembling as he poured water into a glass, the way his mouth parted in surprise when Sunghoon spoke his name. He pressed his fingers against his temples, annoyed at himself for even remembering.
This was precisely why he kept people at a distance. One unexpected reaction, one flicker of something he couldn't name, and the lines he'd drawn so carefully began to blur.
Trying to erase the memory of Lee Sunoo's appearance when he finally arrived at his desk—flushed, erratic breathing, hair falling across his eyes—he exhaled slowly. He ought not have seen everything. He had more pressing matters to consider: the impending merger, the impatient investors, and the impending talk with his girlfriend.
Slipping a hand into his inside pocket, he ran the border of the velvet box he had yet to give her. Chosen months ago in an act that felt more like fulfilling a duty than anything else, a ring—small by his family's standards.
Still unknown was the engagement because it hadn't been set for some reasons. That way was simpler; it let me escape questions and gossip. His private life had never been anyone else's affair.
His phone buzzed. He checked the screen and saw a message from the fiancée he hadn't yet publicly acknowledged.
When will you have time to talk?
He started typing a reply—I'll call tonight—but stopped, his thumb hovering over the send button. He thought about how easily someone like Sunoo could slip under a person's guard just in a few days, how harmless he appeared. He'd known men who built empires and lost them over a moment's distraction.
It wouldn't be him.
Sunghoon set the phone aside and opened the next report. No matter how unexpectedly compelling that young man was, he reminded himself, he was still just an employee and nothing more.
And yet, in the back of his mind, he knew this was a lie.