He froze, his eyes going wide and round like a startled rabbit’s, mouth opening and closing in flustered, wordless bewilderment. Yeon Haejeong didn’t spare a single glance at the quarterly performance report he’d been reviewing — he just stared, eyes fixed entirely on that expression.
What’s so cute about making your eyes go all wide like that.
“You’d see me at home anyway….”
But the conversation was starting to get on his nerves. Munyeong had been talking in a very low, hushed voice, yet every now and then he’d turn his head and glance over at Yeon Haejeong as if checking on him.
“…Then I’ll wrap up quickly and head over. Just wait a bit.”
Tap. Tap. Yeon Haejeong, who had by now stopped even pretending not to stare, drummed his fingers against the desk in a steady rhythm.
“There’s a café in the first-floor lobby, so let’s meet there. Yeah, yeah. Got it.”
Munyeong ended the call and let out a quiet breath of relief, pressing a hand to his chest. There was no way he could feel comfortable making a personal call right in front of someone as high-ranking as this. He slipped his phone back into his chest pocket and tried to refocus on his work. But something felt off. Yeon Haejeong’s gaze — which hadn’t even bothered glancing his way before — was now fixed on him with undisguised directness. Munyeong tried his best to pretend not to notice, but the weight of those eyes, propped lazily on a hand with chin in palm, watching him like some kind of spectator, made him finally lift his bowed head.
“Um… is there something you’d like to say…?”
Thinking he was about to be given another task, Munyeong asked. Yeon Haejeong responded by rolling his tongue around the inside of his cheek with a displeased look. The odd gesture made Munyeong’s eyes flicker with quiet confusion.
“I have an outside appointment today.”
And that means…?
“Have the car ready and waiting on time.”
Yeon Haejeong tossed the car keys — which had been lying around on the desk — over to Munyeong. Munyeong caught them reflexively and stared back at him with a bewildered expression.
“Pardon…?”
“Why. It’s not like it’s the first time.”
“…No, that was — that one time was supposed to be an exception….”
“When did I say that?”
“…….”
“You need to be on standby whenever I need you. Like a rapid-response unit. You didn’t know?”
That day really was something he’d gotten swept up in against his will, but….
Munyeong walked over very carefully and set the car keys down on Yeon Haejeong’s desk with the same quiet care. Yeon Haejeong’s brow twisted sharply.
“What is this.”
“…As much as I appreciate it, I don’t think it’s quite right for me to keep serving you in this way….”
At Munyeong’s surprisingly firm refusal, Yeon Haejeong leaned back in his chair in silence, expression calm, as if telling him to go on — let’s hear more.
“As your brother mentioned the other time… I haven’t been formally hired, either…. And as I’ve said, my educational background isn’t much to speak of, so I’m really quite lacking when it comes to properly supporting someone like you. I’m — I’m sorry.”
Munyeong bowed with impeccable formality and delivered his position with polite finality. Yeon Haejeong tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowing to a thin, measured line.
“Formal hire. I can just do that, can’t I?”
“…I beg your pardon…?”
“Do you know who I am? If I go straight to HR right now, you’re formally hired, just like that.”
“……No, that’s not what I meant when I said that….”
“If that’s the problem, I’ll take care of it.”
“……Why does it have to be me in particular…….”
“I told you. I like you.”
At those words, Munyeong’s eyes went wide and visibly shaken — and Yeon Haejeong suppressed a smirk that threatened to surface, continuing in his usual even tone.
“…Quiet, knows his place. Easy to handle.”
“……Oh….”
Even though he’d already known that was what he meant, hearing it out loud from Yeon Haejeong’s own mouth made Munyeong smile — a slightly uncomfortable one. He couldn’t tell whether this counted as being recognized or being dismissed.
“Don’t worry. The pay will include your base salary plus an additional allowance. I’m someone who makes sure people are compensated fairly.”
At the almost defensive addendum, Munyeong pressed down the faint urge to let out a wry laugh. Every time he caught glimpses like this, it brought back memories of him in high school — utterly reckless, childish. There was something strangely bitter about seeing that side of him unchanged after all this time. Munyeong smiled his uncomfortable little smile and gave a slow nod.
“…I’m sorry.”
And held his position, right to the end.
“…You’re going to refuse until the very last?”
“……How could I dare to——”
“‘How could I dare’ — listen to yourself. Hey, do you think you can handle the fallout from crossing me?”
“Pardon?”
“You know who I am, don’t you? You know what kind of person I am? Hm? You just defied your superior. Someone far above you. You think you can deal with what comes after that?”
Strictly speaking, Yeon Haejeong wasn’t even his direct superior, nor did Munyeong hold a formal rank that would make such a hierarchy apply — but he was being petty about it. Still, part of Munyeong was genuinely worried. Just as Yeon Haejeong said, he had defied someone far above him. But Munyeong met his gaze with a composed face that said he was prepared to accept whatever came. It was the face of someone serene enough to take being fired over this without complaint. One side of Yeon Haejeong’s cheek twitched.
When nothing more was said, Munyeong returned to his work. He took out the vacuum and cleaned up even the snack crumbs Yeon Haejeong had scattered, then gathered his cage carrier and gave a polite bow in his direction before heading for the door.
“…Triple your current salary.”
Just as he was stepping back and moving to leave the office, Yeon Haejeong said it quietly. Munyeong flinched, eyes snapping wide.
“Nothing difficult about it. You just do what I tell you to do.”
It felt like a conversation they’d had before. Munyeong found it strange — the persistence was more stubborn than he’d expected. Why on earth is he going this far…. Munyeong opened his mouth with careful difficulty, his expression plainly troubled.
“…There are so many people out there who are more… capable and professional than I am…….”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He made a face like a man who had nothing to prove. But faced with Munyeong’s stubborn, still-unconvinced expression, he let out a short sigh.
“I can’t know for certain whose hands those capable, professional people have passed through.”
“……What?”
“The driver I had when I was in the States deliberately caused an accident. The bodyguard assigned to me during university tried to have me kidnapped.”
Munyeong went pale at the flat, matter-of-fact words that came out of his mouth. It sounded absurd — and yet Munyeong knew. Knew that what he was saying was true. Because he himself had witnessed that reality back in their school days.
“…Are — are you alright?”
Munyeong asked the most basic of questions. His horrified eyes trembled with something wholly genuine. At the sight of the other person going from flustered to completely ashen, a hollow, involuntary laugh slipped from between Yeon Haejeong’s lips.
“Capable or not, hired by some great family or not — I don’t trust them.”
“…….”
“I only trust what I’ve seen and felt for myself.”
Which meant, in so many words, that the object of that trust was Im Munyeong himself. But that alone didn’t resolve all the questions. Still, Munyeong, having understood at least in part, couldn’t hide the conflicted look on his face as he stood there, thinking.
“I — I… can you really trust me?”
He himself had nothing to do with any of that, of course — but the question was whether it made sense to trust someone he’d barely reconnected with, given how many dangerous situations Yeon Haejeong had been through. It really was a strange thing to say. Even if they had known each other before, they’d only just reunited a few days ago, and even knowing that the person in front of him was as hopelessly oblivious and guileless as ever, the years they’d spent apart were longer — so naturally, there was much he couldn’t know. And yet — it hadn’t truly been that kind of honest, straightforward reason that made him want to keep Munyeong close. Without thinking. Without meaning to. Without thinking, the sound of that gentle voice on the phone had grated on him. The sight of him hanging up and going to meet someone——
“…Have the car ready in 10 minutes.”
Yeon Haejeong tossed the car keys again. Munyeong stared down at the keys where they fell at his feet, his expression troubled — and finally picked them up. He wasn’t the type to be cruel enough to keep refusing after hearing something like that. For the first time, he found himself lamenting his own nature.
