Sunoo woke before dawn the next morning; the city outside was yet wrapped in a somnolent blue mist. Feeling the weight of too many ideas pressing down on his chest, he rested in bed for a while staring up. It had been just a few days, but he already felt as though he had been living this lie for decades.
He walked cautiously not to reveal the weariness entrenched in his bones by his limbs. Following a rapid shower, he donned a crisp white shirt and pale gray trousers—nothing too snug, nothing that could seem like he was trying too hard to draw attention. Although he understood Mr. Han's desires, he couldn't yet take the initiative again not after how .
At his desk, he found a sealed envelope bearing Sunghoon's initials. For a second, his stomach dipped—he half-expected it to contain a dismissal letter. But when he tore it open, he saw only a neatly typed schedule. The final line, in bolder print than the rest, read:
10:00 AM – Meeting in my office. Do not be late.
Sunoo swallowed and set the paper down, pressing a hand lightly over his stomach, willing the tension to ease. He had a job to do. If he let himself hesitate, even for a moment, he'd lose the thread of the role he'd promised to play.
Just before ten, he gathered his files and traveled the hall to Sunghoon's office. He gently knocked before entering through the open door.
Sunghoon raised his gaze from a file with unreadable expression. "You're early," he said.
Sunoo said, "I thought it would be better to be prepared."
Sunghoon's gaze swerved over him, lingered slightly at his throat, then went back to his eyes. "Prepared," he repeated as though savoring the term. He motioned toward the seat across from his desk. "Sit."
Sunoo descended deliberately, each motion measured. Unsettling in a way he still hadn't found words for, he could feel the heat of the other man's look.
"You've made a particular impression," Sunghoon said finally. His voice was calm, but something sharper edged underneath. "Some of the board members are curious about you."
Sunoo forced a polite smile. "I hope it was a good impression."
A humorless laugh slipped past Sunghoon's lips. "That depends who you ask. One of them called you 'unpredictable.' Another called you 'refreshing.' I haven't decided which I agree with."
Silence fell broken only by the weak murmur of traffic far beneath. Sunoo snatched the folder on his leg, the weight of his secret squeezing every breath. Unable to maintain that gaze without revealing too much, Sunoo turned away. He could hear Sunghoon approaching through him, and his pulse pounded in his ears.
"Is there anything else you required from me?" he said at last, praying his voice would not quake.
Sunghoon's lips curled, not totally into a grin. "Not at the moment. You can go."
As Sunoo stood, he felt the other guy's gaze tracking him—deliberate, evaluative, like the weight of an invisible hand between his shoulder blades. With a breath he had not realized he was holding, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
With his cheeks still burning, Sunoo left the office. Mortified all over once more by how Sunghoon's eyes had swept over his attire, he pressed a hand to his face. Tight slacks? he thought morosely. Why did I pay Mr. Han attention?
Though he didn't even know if Sunghoon had been irritated or simply amused, either way it left him feeling totally naked. He stared at the floor as he moved down the hall, yearning no one could detect his disorientation.
He pushed his back against the door and closed it quietly as he arrived at his little office to compose himself. Before he heard muted sounds passing across the glass panel, he had hardly taken a breath.
"Told you he'd be a disaster," a female's low, gossipy voice said.
Another said with a gentle chuckle, "I heard he went to that dinner with the Director last two or three evenings and spilled wine all over Mr. Park, like an actual child."
Sunoo's stomach flipped. He edged toward the door, just enough to hear plainly.
"He's sufficiently attractive to warm the CEO's bed, I guess," a third voice said with a sarcastic sweetness. "Not smart enough, though, to keep up with actual work."
The first woman said, "That's why no serious person seeks an assistant chosen by strangers." "Mr. Kang must be furious." He despises inefficiency."
Heat crept up Sunoo's neck. He stared down at his hands, flexing them to halt the quaking.
"He probably believes he can just bat his lashes and receive free pass," the second lady stated. He is not here.
Something in Sunoo snapped. He jerked the door open before he could stop himself. Eyes wide, the three women backed away.
" Yahh!, do you bishes actually believe this shit huh! ? he asked, his voice strong yet tightly controlled. "That I don't belong here huh!?" "That I am only some kind of decor hmm?" Their mouths opened, staring at him, clearly confused whether to deny it or openly state it out.
Sunoo forced the shame down by raising his chin. "You can say it to my face if you have something to share about me. I mismanaged dinner—excellent. I still have learning to do. But you better not come outside my office and snarl like you knew anything about me... Shibal!.
The corridor went silent. No one dared to make a remark.
He swallowed and hoped his pulse would slow down. He kept on, his voice slightly shaking, "Next time you're so curious about how incompetent I am, I would be delighted to show you my reports." Alternately, you might keep whispering like cowards. It's your call. "
Nobody answered.
He exhaled erratically and then shut the door tightly behind him back into his office. This time, he locked it.
Sunoo pressed both hands flat against the cool metal and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to tell himself it didnt matter what they thought. It shouldnt. But the sting in his chest wouldnt fade.
One month, he reminded himself, clutching the front of his shirt as if he could steady his heart that way. I just have to last one month. And then
But he didnt finish the thought.
Instead, he crossed the room and sank into his chair, willing the anger and humiliation to quiet so he could look like he had everything under controlat least if someone else came knocking.
Sunoo stayed in his chair long after the hallway had gone silent. His pulse still beat too fast, as if the confrontation outside had cracked something open he couldn't fit neatly back into place.
He pressed a palm over his eyes and tried to remember why he was here, why he'd agreed to this at all. But Mr. Han's voice came back to him, cold and certain:
One month, no errors.
His spine shook. He had believed he was ready to do whatever it took, but sitting here he wondered if he had undervalued how it would feel to be judged by strangers who did not even know his name—let alone the reasons behind his mission.
His computer's mellow chime ended the silence. With cold fingers, he opened the new alert. Another night's meal. Another chance to humiliate himself in front of Kang Sunghoon and every executive who already saw him as a joke.
Knowing he could not back out, Sunoo tasted the bitterness and swallowed. Rising, he walked toward the window and gazed down at the afternoon mist-glittered city below. So many people, going on auto pilot. So many individuals who would never appreciate the price of a one error.
Turning too fast, he tried to regulate his expression when the knock came at his door. Manager Choi was standing within and following him with a chilly, enigmatically cold stare. She murmured silently, "Mr. Lee." "Director Kang looks for your presence at board dinner tonight." He also asked me to remind you that he will want the quarterly summary reports on hand."
He nodded, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I'll be ready."
Choi studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. Then she inclined her head and stepped back out, leaving the door to click shut behind her.
Sunoo remained still for what felt like an age. He sensed the weariness settling in—heavy and frigid. He knew tomorrow wouldn't be any easier, and the prospect of the extended weeks ahead made something squeeze in his breast.
Still, he knew he had no choice but to go on.
He closed his eyes, took a calm breath to stabilize himself as if the air could steady him.
One month, he reminded himself again, gripping the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white.
Just one month.
And then he could finally stop pretending.