“When did I tell you to go buy coffee.”
“That… the staff said they wanted some.”
“Ha.”
As if only now grasping the situation, Haejeong let out a baffled laugh and looked down at Munyeong with undisguised exasperation. He opened his mouth as if about to say something, then thought better of it and pressed his lips shut. He moved past Munyeong and started walking ahead.
Munyeong, wondering if he’d done something wrong, shrank into himself again and carefully fell into step behind him.
“Open it.”
Haejeong gave the short command. Munyeong quickly pulled out the key card he’d been keeping safe and slid it in. The door clicked open, and Haejeong walked in without hesitation, shoes still on, as if the room already belonged to him.
Inside the hotel room, it was livelier than before. There were enough people that the staff hadn’t heard them coming in — they’d finished setting up and were standing by waiting.
“God, when did he tell us to go buy coffee? Still not back yet.”
“I know. He did seem a little clueless, though.”
“I thought I’d come to the wrong place. You should’ve seen my face when I first got a look at him.”
“For someone serving under Senior Managing Director Yeon, he seems… a bit unusual.”
The one leading the conversation was the general manager who’d been sitting in the prime seat — the same one from before. Hearing himself talked about out of nowhere, Munyeong curled his fingertips inward, unable to hide the embarrassment. He’d expected this kind of reaction, but he hadn’t anticipated hearing it alongside Haejeong. He felt oddly apologetic, which only made it more mortifying.
“I thought he’d crawled in off a construction site. Does he not have anyone better to bring? The youngest son of the great Baekil Group.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen him before, though.”
“Of course not. He hasn’t been in Korea for over ten years.”
“Ah….”
“Be careful. There’s a reason the chairman is paying him such a high salary. Word has it that man’s temperament is—”
“Are you here to work, or to run your mouths.”
Haejeong, who had been standing there in silence listening the whole time, cut in with a blank expression. Both hands shoved crookedly into his trouser pockets, standing slightly askew with his head tilted, he looked down at the manager who’d made herself at home in the best seat. The moment she confirmed who was standing in front of her, she shot to her feet and bent at the waist in a bow, just as she had at the door earlier.
“Oh — good morning. I’m Choi Geonwoo, the general manager assigned to attend to you starting today.”
The manager composed herself quickly, hiding her flustered state. Without straightening up, she flicked her hand urgently at the other staff behind her, signaling them. The gesture — bow, now — sent the staff into a brief moment of confusion before they apparently remembered their training and bent into ninety-degree bows just as she had.
“Shall we begin with the wardrobe fitting?”
The manager asked politely, head still lowered. As if even raising her eyes to look at him was out of the question, she asked it in a prepared, mechanical tone — but Haejeong, instead of answering, snatched one of the garment bags from Munyeong’s hands and dropped it onto the table in front of the manager.
“Forget the clothes. Have some coffee.”
“Excuse me…?”
“Go on. Coffee.”
“Ah, if we’ve committed any offense just now—”
“I’ve never once seen the people who handle my wardrobe and fix my face and hair eat or drink anything while they work.”
“…Pardon?”
“They’re all too tense in front of me to even think about having something.”
Haejeong surveyed each of them with his blank expression and his trademark arrogant gaze. Each time his eyes landed on someone, the manager’s fingertips trembled, her composure visibly crumbling under the unexpected turn of events.
“Today’s a pretty f*cking important day, so I figured Representative Chu would’ve sent her best people.”
At the words “Representative Chu,” the manager’s pupils shook violently, and she found her voice again in a rush.
“I, Senior Managing Director. We are truly sorry. We made a real mistake. Please accept our sincere apology.”
To her credit, the manager didn’t lose her footing — she moved by the book without fumbling. An unspoken protocol Munyeong knew well too. No matter what the person above you does — lead with sorry.
“And how does it feel.”
“……”
“You heard I had a foul temper and came anyway — so how’s it looking. Pretty terrible, right?”
“N, not at all. We were in the wrong. Please forgive us just this once.”
The manager bent so low her head nearly touched the floor, working hard to smooth things over. Munyeong stood awkwardly to one side, still holding the coffees, too anxious to do anything but watch in held-breath silence. He knew the manager and he weren’t in the same position — but this was a situation all too familiar to him personally, and it was hard to stand by like a detached third party. This was the kind of thing that happened to him all the time, and because he understood that feeling better than anyone, his heart was pounding and he couldn’t keep still.
“Or should I just call Representative Chu directly and ask?”
One mention of “Representative Chu” from Haejeong’s mouth, and the manager’s face went pale all over again. His expression shifting to something resembling the look of someone who’d just seen a death god, the man dropped to his knees without hesitation and pressed his head to the floor.
“I am truly, truly sorry. Senior Managing Director. Truly sorry. I deserve death. I really….”
The back of the man prostrating himself began to tremble. It was a pitiful, desperate sight by anyone’s measure — and Munyeong, clasping both his own hands together, watched Haejeong in silent agitation. Please. Please forgive him. Just let it go. Please. He prayed without a sound.
But in a situation where his prayers had no chance of being heard, Haejeong did the most like-himself thing imaginable. He looked down calmly at the man kneeling and bowing before him, and without hesitation, made a call. Given the timing, it could only be the “Representative Chu” who’d just left his lips.
“Senior Managing Director. Please, I’m begging you. Please, not the chairman — I am truly sorry. I swear it will never happen again, I’ll make sure—”
“Hey, Representative Chu.”
Haejeong began the call as if the man’s words didn’t even reach his ears — same as ever, same tone as always. The manager’s head, which had jerked up in desperate hope, flooded with despair. Looking up at Haejeong with an expression like he might cry at any moment, like he might crumble right there — Munyeong couldn’t take it, and without thinking, reached out and grabbed Haejeong’s sleeve. The instant he did, Haejeong’s expression twisted with displeasure — and Munyeong startled and immediately let go. He hadn’t meant to do it.
“What.”
Haejeong paused mid-call to ask. His voice came back sharp, demanding to know what this was about — and Munyeong bit his lip anxiously, gripped both his own hands tight, and carefully opened his mouth.
“Um….”
“What, damn it.”
Munyeong’s hesitating was clearly getting on his nerves — Haejeong’s brow creased with irritation.
“I… that is… c, could you… just… let this one go….”
At those words, a brief silence hung in the air. The manager, who’d looked moments away from losing his soul entirely, stared at Munyeong in a daze.
