It was a golden-lit, nearly empty restaurant. The soft gleam of the chandeliers bathed the room in warmth, making the polished cutlery glint like tiny stars. At a corner table, Yura sat with her back straight, features glowing under the light, her manicured fingers idly tracing the rim of a wine glass.
The entrance bell chimed, and in walked Ga-young, dressed in a tailored black printed skirt that hugged her frame and a sharp blazer that gave her an air of quiet authority. She approached with an effortless smile, the kind that promised composure no matter the situation.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Jin. I hope you haven't been waiting too long," Ga-young greeted warmly.
Yura's eyes narrowed. "Who are you? And where is Min-jae?" Her tone was abrupt, like she'd been holding back irritation since she sat down.
"Oh—about that," Ga-young said smoothly, producing a business card. "Mr. Min-jae couldn't make it today. He thought it would be rude to cancel, so I'm here in his place." She bowed politely. "Choi Ga-young, Executive Secretary of K&H Cosmetic Group."
Yura's painted lips curled. "He ditched me?"
"I wouldn't call it that."
"Call him. I want to see him now."
"I'm sorry, Ms. Jin, but I can't—"
"I said call him!" Yura's voice rose like a whip crack, making nearby waiters glance over.
Ga-young flinched, her breath caught. "Ms. Jin—"
"What? I asked nicely before." Yura's voice turned ice-edged.
Ga-young exhaled slowly, willing her voice to remain steady. "I understand you want to see him, but please… just give him an hour." She forced a small, diplomatic smile.
Yura's gaze darkened. "Smiling? Why are you smiling?" Her voice trembled with something unsteady—resentment, maybe—before her hand suddenly flew to the glass beside her. In one fluid motion, she hurled it.
Ga-young didn't even have time to react—
Min-jae appeared from nowhere, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist, pulling her to him. The glass shattered against the floor, shards skittering across the polished tiles.
Her pulse pounded in her ears.
"Are you okay?" Min-jae's voice was taut, concern lacing every syllable.
"Yes…" she breathed, instinctively stepping back from his hold.
"You're here," Yura said with an unsettling smile, tilting her head. "Why did you keep me waiting so long?"
"Are you insane?" Min-jae's tone was calm, but his eyes were like flint.
"Insane?" Yura laughed. "Call off the wedding. That's all I came to say. My father is still insistent, but you'll find a way to make him drop it." She brushed past him, but his hand shot out, catching her wrist.
"You haven't apologized to my secretary," he said, voice dropping low—dangerously low.
"She's not hurt. Why should I apologize?" Yura's chin lifted in defiance.
"Mr. Min-jae, I'm fine," Ga-young interjected softly.
"I could sue you for harassing my secretary," Min-jae replied without looking away from Yura. "And if you want an excuse to end this marriage arrangement, that would do it."
Yura scoffed before turning her full attention to Ga-young. "I don't like you. You're the green snake in green grass—silent, dangerous, pretending to be harmless. I despise your type." And with that, she was gone.
Ga-young exhaled, realizing only then that she'd been holding her breath. But the words sank deep, twisting in her chest. Green snake in green grass. A hit she couldn't deny.
"Ms. Choi." Min-jae's voice was deceptively calm.
"I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble, I didn't—"
"Don't let her words get to you," he cut in firmly.
She's honest, Ga-young thought bitterly. And she doesn't bother sugarcoating it.
"How did you get here? What about your deal?" she asked, her voice more curious than cautious.
"The meeting was postponed," Min-jae said, tilting his head slightly. "Mr. Kang's father passed away this morning."
"Omo…" Ga-young gasped, then noticed the crimson trail near his temple. "You're bleeding."
"Bleeding?" He reached up, touched his head, and glanced at the red on his fingers.
"Wait here." Ga-young dashed to the kitchen, urgency in her steps. "Mr. Min-jae is hurt—please, do you have a first aid kit?"
"Yes, ma'am!" the chef said, quickly handing her the box.
She hurried back. Min-jae was seated now, eyes fixed on the window where raindrops slid down the glass in thin silver lines.
"Mr. Min-jae…" she began carefully.
"It's raining again," he murmured, almost to himself. "Looks like we'll be here a while."
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice softer than intended—too sincere.
"I'd appreciate it if you stopped apologizing," he said, still watching the rain. "It only makes things worse."
2014 — Somewhere in a quiet café
"Oppa! What are you doing here by yourself?" Ga-young asked, sliding into the seat across from him, her smile light despite the drizzle outside.
"Are you spying on me?" Min-jae raised an eyebrow.
"How could I? I just happen to love wandering… and you're a wanderer," she teased, but her eyes softened. "Are you okay?"
"Of course."
"If you hate the rain so much, why sit here staring at it?"
He said nothing, sipping his coffee.
"Hey, Oppa. What did the rain ever do to you to make you hate it this much?"
He glanced at her briefly, then back to his cup. "Why should I tell you?"
"Because I want to know everything that bothers you," she answered without hesitation.
"Why?"
"Because I want to be the one you rely on. The shoulder you cry on. Someone you can trust. How can I be that… if I don't know what's hurting you?" Her words were gentle but unwavering.
Present
Min-jae let out a short scoff. "Trust…"
"Pardon?"
He took the first aid kit from her hands. "I can handle it myself."
"You might not—"
"I said I'm fine." His voice was too calm, almost cold.
"Yes, sir." She said nothing more. But inside, the rain on the window sounded louder than ever. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, she still fell back to the reality of how green a snake she was.