Chapter 11: Lost in Translation
The restaurant in Busan was small, elegant, and far too quiet. Through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the distant glow of the Gwangan Bridge stretched across the black sea like a string of diamonds. It should have been the perfect backdrop for a business dinner, but between Clara and Min-ho, it felt more like a minefield.
Since leaving Seoul, the air between them had been thick with unspoken words. Clara stared at her bowl of Dwaeji Gukbap as if the pork soup were the most fascinating thing in the world. She could feel Min-ho's gaze on her—intense, searching, and far too hot. Every time their spoons nearly clinked or they reached for the water glass at the same time, she flinched as if she'd received an electric shock.
The silence became unbearable. Clara's heart hammered against her ribs. Her brain was a chaotic mess of jealousy over that woman, Seo-yoon, fear of her own lies, and a desperate longing for the man sitting across from her.
"Ji-soo?" Min-ho finally broke the silence. His voice was deep and gentle, which only made things worse. "You've barely eaten a bite in ten minutes. Is everything okay?"
Clara looked up. He looked so incredibly good in the dim light. She wanted to say something clever, something professional. But her brain suffered a total short circuit.
"I... it's just..." she stammered. Her cheeks were burning. Without realizing it, she slipped into a frantic mix of French and German. "C'est trop... it's just too much. I'm so tired of all this... tout ce chaos."
Min-ho knit his brows, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips. "You're doing it again. These languages..."
Clara panicked. She wanted to end the situation, dissolve the tension, just get away before she threw herself into his arms. "I mean..." She took a deep breath and blurted out the first sentence that came to mind to end the evening:
"Let's just go to bed!"
Seconds of dead silence followed.
Min-ho froze mid-motion. His gaze darkened instantly, and Clara saw his throat move as he swallowed. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, and in that moment, he no longer looked like her boss—he looked like a hunter who had just heard exactly what he'd been waiting three years for.
Clara's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Her face didn't just turn red; it felt like it was about to explode.
"I mean!" she shouted, a bit too loud, causing two guests at the next table to turn around. "I mean... separately! Each on our own! Like... me in my bed, you in your bed. Sleeping! Alone! Oh God, tu me tues... I'm going to kill myself."
Min-ho leaned back slowly, his smile widening in a way that took her breath away. "I see," he said softly, his eyes lingering on her lips. "Each to their own bed. A very... sensible correction, Ji-soo."
After paying the bill—during which Clara managed to nearly trip over her own feet because she could still feel Min-ho's eyes on her—they stepped out into the cool night air of Busan.
The sound of the waves at Gwangalli Beach was loud and rhythmic. They walked side by side, but the distance between them was so small that the backs of their hands brushed against each other every few steps. It felt like tiny jolts of lightning.
"I'm sorry," Clara began, her voice trembling slightly. She tried to mask the embarrassment with professionalism. "I'm just not quite myself today. The shooting schedule for tomorrow... it's important."
Min-ho didn't stop, but he looked at her from the side. "You work too hard, Ji-soo. Since we got here, you've been trying to build a wall. But walls don't stop me very well, in case you haven't noticed."
Clara stopped in her tracks. The wind blew her hair into her face. "It's not a wall! It's just... you don't make it easy! You stand there with your ex, you kiss her, and then you expect me to..."
She stopped. She had said it. The jealousy was out.
"You saw that?" Min-ho asked quietly, taking a step toward her.
In Clara's head, everything exploded. The anger, the love, the desperation. She completely forgot she was supposed to be speaking Korean.
"Of course I saw that!" she snapped at him in German. "Du blöder Idiot! Merkst du eigentlich gar nichts? Ich stehe hier und mein Herz bricht in tausend Teile, weil ich dich liebe, du Sack! Aber du lächelst einfach nur professionell in der Gegend rum! (You stupid idiot! Don't you notice anything? I'm standing here and my heart is breaking into a thousand pieces because I love you, you jerk! But you just smile professionally!) Tu es tellement stupide! Je t'aime, espèce d'imbécile!"
Min-ho stared at her, his eyes wide. He didn't understand the words, but the raw power of her emotions hit him like a tidal wave. He was about to answer when a shrill bell shattered the silence.
"Move! I'm in a hurry!" yelled a cyclist, racing down the sidewalk at a murderous speed directly toward the frozen Clara.
"Watch out!" Min-ho cried. Instinctively, he grabbed her waist and pulled her toward him with a violent jerk, just a split second before the bike could ram her.
The momentum was so strong that they both slammed against a lamppost. Min-ho held her pressed tightly against him, his arms a protective barrier around her body. Clara's face was only millimeters from his. She could feel the rapid thumping of his heart through his coat. He smelled of cool sea salt and that one expensive perfume that had haunted her dreams for three years.
His breath was hot against her skin. "I have no idea what you just said in all those languages," he whispered, his voice now raw and full of longing. "But I love the way you fight with me. I'm sure it was something wonderful, wasn't it?"
Clara looked into his dark, promising eyes. The world around them—the cyclist, the crashing waves, the beach—disappeared. There was only this moment.
"Min-ho..." she breathed his name, one last attempt to keep her sanity.
But he wasn't waiting anymore. He had waited three years. He lowered his head, and his lips met hers with an intensity that stole her breath. It was no longer a cautious touch; it was demanding, fervent, and full of passion. Clara gave up all resistance. Her hands found their way to his neck, tangling in his hair, as she returned the kiss with the same desperate hunger.
It was hot, it was long, and it demanded so much more than a public beach could offer.
Finally, Clara pulled away, breathless. She took a shaky step back as reality crashed over her like cold water. Ariadne. The lie. The manuscript.
"I'm sorry, Min-ho," she said, her voice breaking. "But I don't think this is right. There is something... something you don't know about me. We shouldn't rush. Let's just... stay professional."
"What?" Min-ho looked at her in disbelief. His hair was messy, his lips still flushed from the kiss. "What are you talking about? What don't I know? Is there someone else? Is it that Lukas who's always swimming around you?"
"No! Lukas has nothing to do with it!" she cried desperately. "It's complicated. Once I've finished everything... I'd like to start over with you. But not now. Please, excuse me."
Before he could answer, she turned and practically ran toward the hotel.
Min-ho was left alone on the beach. He stared at the dark sea. His heart was still racing. The more he thought about her words, the clearer it became. He didn't care what secret she had. He didn't want a "professional relationship." He wanted Ji-soo. The woman who insulted him in three languages and kissed him as if the world were ending.
Ten minutes later, he stood in front of her hotel room door. He didn't hesitate for a second and knocked.
Clara opened. She was already wearing only a thin nightgown, with a light robe hastily thrown over her shoulders. Her hair was down, her eyes still glassy from tears.
Min-ho's breath caught at the sight of her. Without saying a word, he took a step forward, pulled her firmly into his arms, guided her back into the room, and kicked the door shut behind him.