Ch 10

Episode 10

Six months before that day (4)

In a way, Eunho was grateful. Yoonjae didn’t scold him for failing to manage his heat cycle, nor did he make it into a big deal—he brushed it off with a calm “don’t worry about it.” Embarrassed, Eunho lowered his gaze.

“Thank you.”

As Eunho sat, looking somewhat small and withdrawn, Yoonjae leaned forward, picked up a spoon, and placed it in his hand.

“It’ll get cold. Eat up.”

When had he become so gentle? These days, Eunho was starting to doubt whether the man before him was truly the same Executive Director Choi Yoonjae he knew. Since the Singapore business trip, the feeling had only grown stronger. As Suyeong said, this wasn’t just a manager’s compassion—it was personal interest. The question was, what kind of interest? And whether it was good or bad was impossible to judge.

After Eunho emptied the bowl of porridge and drank some water, Yoonjae rose from his seat and slipped into a cardigan. To Eunho, his kindness, disguised as concern, felt like a burden.

“I should get going now.”

“I’ll drive you, just wait a moment.”

Yoonjae fetched his car keys from the living room drawer, then brought out Eunho’s coat and shopping bag from the bedroom. No matter how much Eunho insisted on leaving alone, Yoonjae was already unlocking the car and settling into the driver’s seat. Eunho stomped his feet in helpless protest before finally climbing into the passenger seat.

As Christmas drew near, the streets outside were ablaze with festive lights. Eunho, silent until now, lifted his gaze from the floor to glance at Yoonjae. With no memory of what had happened earlier that day, he couldn’t summon the courage to ask. It must have been disastrous—so why was Yoonjae covering for him like this?

“You’re probably still dizzy. Get some rest when you get home.”

After parking in the underground lot of Eunho’s apartment, Yoonjae turned to him. Eunho’s pale cheeks, still devoid of color, looked cold enough to question whether there was any warmth left in them.

Gathering his briefcase, Eunho unbuckled his seatbelt. Of all the words that had lingered in his mouth during the drive, he chose one.

“I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“There’s nothing to worry about—nothing happen.”

Lowering his head in embarrassment, Eunho reached for the door handle, when suddenly a firm hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“And this.”

“…….”

“A thin turtleneck. You seem to get cold easily—wear it under your shirt. In winter, you don’t need to wear a tie anyway.”

“……What?”

“A Christmas present.”

The shopping bag he’d brought from home was Eunho’s gift. Eunho’s face filled with awkward discomfort at the unexpected gesture. He accepted it almost reflexively, but then stared wide-eyed as if to ask why. Yoonjae only said it was a Christmas gift, adding with a small, awkward laugh, “I’m not Santa Claus—just… Santa.” The air left Eunho’s lungs, and a laugh escaped him as well.

“Go on inside.”

Yoonjae’s smile, bright enough to reveal his straight teeth, was so unexpectedly boyish that when he suddenly waved, Eunho nearly waved back. Instead, he stepped out, bowed politely, and closed the door. As Yoonjae restarted the engine and drove off, Eunho remained still, watching the black sedan until it disappeared from sight.

His hands, clenched tightly, trembled faintly. For someone who was supposedly just looking after his chief secretary, Yoonjae’s care was far too meticulous. Anyone could see this wasn’t simple courtesy. Rubbing his forehead with his palm, Eunho hurried inside.

His mind felt hazy, as if a piece of time had been cut away. Slumped on the living room sofa, he idly stared into space before his gaze shifted toward the shopping bag on the table. From the logo alone, he knew it was one of his favorite brands—even before opening it. Perhaps this was why people became leaders: even while seeming indifferent, they knew others’ preferences inside and out. Eunho had no words.

“……It fits perfectly.”

The clothes hugged his body as if tailored for him. How had Yoonjae known he preferred monochrome tones? Inside were three colors—white, gray, and black—ideal for rotation.

Eunho picked up his phone and searched for Executive Director Choi. He wanted to thank him but didn’t know what to write. His fingers hovered uncertainly as he typed and deleted, then finally sent a simple message.

[Thank you, Director. 10:21 p.m.]

Not just for the gift, but also for saving a dazed omega from being consumed by his heat cycle.

As Eunho shed his coat and clothes, heading toward the laundry room, his phone buzzed.

[Good night. 10:23 p.m.]

Three plain words, yet they carried a trace of warmth—perhaps only because Eunho already viewed him favorably. Still, it was as if Yoonjae himself whispered them gently at his ear, his deep voice close enough to touch. A soft smile spread across Eunho’s face.

***

The secretary’s office was in an uproar from the morning. A secretary, shoulders dusted with winter wind, raised her voice for all to hear as she passed by the partitions.

“Vice President Choi Seryeong just arrived at the ground-level parking lot!”

“Vice President Choi Seryeong?”

The secretary seated next to Eunho, Secretary. Kim, hastily set down her teacup and stood. She was aligned with CEO Han’s side.

The layout of the office was such that, from the elevator, the left door led to Executive Director Choi’s office, and the right to CEO Han’s. Between them lay the information desk and secretary’s office. Eunho tapped the end of his pen against his chin, the name faintly familiar to him, and looked up at Secretary Kim.

“……Who?”

“It’s Chairman Choi of Yuseong Group’s eldest daughter.”

“Ah!”

Eunho had already heard from Chief Yoon about Choi Seryeong and Choi Youngjae of Yuseong Group on his first day at work, but he’d let it slip from his mind.

“What brings her here?”

“Good question, she’s not someone who just drops by.”

Vice President Choi Seryeong of Yuseong Group, and Marketing Division Director Choi Youngjae. At one time, Youngjae had held the position of Executive Director of Retail Marketing at Yuseong Capital, but was forced to step down after just two years due to abysmal performance. Ten years older than Executive Director Choi Yoonjae, Seryeong had initially underestimated him. But as he began to stand out more and reveal his leadership potential, she grew distant, treating him as a rival.

“Secretary Yoo.”

“Yes.”

“Check Executive Director Choi’s morning schedule.”

Chief Yoon hurried over to ask about Yoonjae’s appointments. It was clear they were trying to make room for a private meeting with Vice President Choi, so Eunho opened the scheduler.

“Other than the Yuseong Funding Group Task Force 17 meeting at ten, there’s nothing.”

“Go in and take the minutes for that one. Executive Director Choi won’t be attending.”

“Yes.”

Eunho quickly dialed the extension to notify the relevant directors and team leaders that Yoonjae would be absent from the meeting, then began gathering materials related to it. Heading to the pantry for a drink of water, he ran into another secretary. As Eunho filled a mug with cold water, the other, rummaging for instant coffee, sidled up beside him. Eunho stepped aside and asked quietly,

“Executive Director Choi and Vice President Choi Seryeong—are they on bad terms?”

“…On the surface, they smile. But it’s like holding a knife behind the back.”

The secretary stirred the clumped powder in her coffee mix with the empty packet, as the hot water hadn’t fully dissolved it.

“You mean Executive Director Choi?”

“No, Vice President Choi.”

“…Ah.”

“With the way she treats him, you think Executive Director Choi can just smile back?”

Seniority in age wasn’t something to ignore, yet here was Choi Yoonjae, ten years younger, rising sharply. Even as relatives, from the perspective of running the company, it couldn’t have been welcome. Not that she wanted the company to suffer, of course.

“Eunho, you’ve got to go in and take the TF meeting minutes later, right?”

“Yes.”

“Once you’ve compiled them, send me a copy too.”

Eunho watched the secretary leave first, then sipped the water in his cup—only to pour it back down the sink. He needed caffeine. Standing before the capsule coffee machine, biting at a hangnail, he felt his nerves tighten. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help worrying.

***

Five Months before that day (1)

When Secretary Kim carried refreshments into the office, the air inside was so sharp and cutting that she wanted to check if a window had been left open. Unable to adjust, she quickly excused herself. The clash of pheromones between two dominant alphas was so heavy that even Kim, a beta, could feel the suffocating tension.

Holding her teacup, Choi Seryeong regarded Yoonjae—sitting across from her—as though he were a ghost, then turned to CEO Han with a sneer in her tone.

“I hear you’ve been put in a tough spot because of him lately.”

“Haha, Vice President Choi, where did you hear such rumors?”

Seryeong pressed her dissatisfaction with the current investment, openly cornering Yoonjae. His gaze, watching her sharp attacks, grew calm and heavy.

“Did Studio G lobby you? Why drop what you’ve been cultivating to suddenly grab onto such a high-risk deal?”

“That’s not the case.”

“Right after we cut ties with B-gate, J-Invest swooped in to snatch it up. Whatever you’re scheming, don’t ruin things by scattering ashes on a finished meal. Youngjae is the second-largest shareholder.”

It was true that, at present, B-gate looked like the more suitable investment compared to Studio G. But that was only based on the current situation. Yoonjae thought otherwise. Six months from now, the government’s cryptocurrency policy would trigger a major downturn in the exchange market. To make matters worse, B-gate’s CEO would abscond overseas with part of the customer deposits and investment funds, leaving chaos behind. Knowing this, he couldn’t bring himself to reach out.

Unbelievable as it still seemed, having returned from the future, Yoonjae wanted to make a different choice. In his past life, he had invested 30 billion won into B-gate on CEO Han’s strong recommendation, and had been left scrambling to deal with the aftermath.

Noticing the relationship between the two that he hadn’t caught before, Yoonjae’s gaze deepened.

“Did you receive lobbying from B-gate?”

“What?”

At last, his low voice broke the silence, sharp as though it had pierced straight through her true intentions. His blunt counterattack twisted Seryeong’s face in an instant. Her fingers trembled slightly, sending ripples through the green tea in her cup.

“How dare you talk back to me!”

“The fact that you’ve come here in person—doesn’t that mean there’s something? Isn’t that so?”

Back then, their investments had been agreed upon without conflict. Vice President Choi had never come to see him directly, and Yoonjae had trusted CEO Han too much to doubt him. But now, as he took a different stance, things hidden before were starting to surface.

Seryeong, brimming with hostility, flinched back from his attack, her eyes darting away.

“Ha… CEO Han must have his hands full with you.”

Setting her cup down, she rose from her seat, looking down at Yoonjae with disdain.

“Fine. Do as you please. We’ll see the results when next year’s performance reports come out.”

“Already leaving?”

“Surely even CEO Han can see this isn’t exactly a comfortable meeting.”

CEO Han suggested they continue the conversation over a meal, but Seoryeong declined. Left alone on the sofa, Yoonjae tapped the leather seat with his finger before lifting his head.

“It wasn’t me who ruined the atmosphere, was it?”

“Executive Choi!”

Yoonjae’s languid eyes swept over Choi Seoryeong’s entire figure. The opaque black of his gaze carried a suffocating weight, sharpened like a blade. Overwhelmed by the force, Seoryeong froze, unable to utter a word.

Caught in the middle, CEO Han tried to smooth things over, but Seoryeong, feeling humiliated, immediately turned and walked out of the office. Yoonjae, watching CEO Han hastily follow after her, rose to his feet and brushed off his collar.

‘Were the two of them in league…?’

He grew curious about what might seep out through the cracks he had never noticed before. On his way back to his own office, Yoonjae’s eyes met those of Chief Secretary Yoon, who was standing by the desk.

“Chief Yoon. Come inside.”

Having seen Vice President Choi storm out with CEO Han close behind, Chief Yoon already sensed that something had happened. He entered the office, closed the door, and stepped toward Yoonjae.

“Chief Yoon.”

“Yes, Executive Choi.”

Before returning eight months into the past, Chief Yoon had been one of the people Yoonjae worked closely with during the company’s liquidity crisis, trying to resolve the situation together. Now, since his current position also allowed him access to CEO Han, Yoonjae knew he had to tread carefully—but it was worth testing the waters at least once.

“You know I place a lot of trust in you, don’t you?”

“…Yes.”

The intent behind the question was clear. After a brief pause, Chief Yoon answered with a surprisingly earnest gaze.

“In your opinion… the relationship between CEO Han and Vice President Choi Seoryeong—what do you think of it?”

“…I can’t say for certain, so it’s a bit difficult to answer.”

As if drawing a line, he took a step back. But, seeing Yoonjae’s steady, unwavering posture, he lowered his voice and spoke quietly.

“However, it is true that the two have been meeting more frequently of late.”

Chief Yoon had long since realized that he couldn’t serve both sides, and had now decided to take a gamble on the one he was already holding onto.

Yoonjae caught the flicker of loyalty in his eyes and nodded, smiling in satisfaction.

“Thank you. If you become certain, make sure to tell me.”

“Yes, Executive Choi.”

“By any chance… do you know anyone at B-gate?”

“Yes. I know a team leader in Finance.”

“Please keep an eye on things there as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yoonjae unlocked his computer and opened a document. Only after breaking through two layers of encryption did the file reveal itself—a detailed schedule stretching until June of the following year.

On the very first day of returning eight months into the past, after meeting Eunho and realizing everything was repeating, Yoonjae had spent the day carefully jotting down all the events that had taken place in that span of time. In case someone ever broke through the double encryption, he had noted the key details in shorthand that only he could understand.

Reviewing the scheduler again, Yoonjae found it both fascinating and unsettling that every event he remembered was unfolding once more. So far, everything was proceeding as he wished, but he feared there might be things he could never change, no matter how hard he tried.

***

 

After the meeting, Eunho bought a sandwich at the first-floor café. Lunch was only an hour away, but his stomach had growled through the entire meeting, leaving him no choice.

As he pressed the elevator button and glanced around, the opposite elevator doors opened, and a heavy, oppressive pheromone washed over him. Instinctively, Eunho lowered his head and turned away. Whoever it was, they were no ordinary person.

“You there. Stop.”

The sharp click of high heels drew closer. Straightening his posture, Eunho looked up—and froze in shock before bowing in greeting. Behind the mysterious middle-aged woman stood CEO Han.

“Which department are you with?”

Putting the pieces together, Eunho quickly realized that this must be Vice President Choi Seoryeong, just as the other secretaries had described. When she scanned his employee tag and asked, Eunho answered without hesitation.

“Secretary’s Office. Yoon Eunho.”

“Your assigned line?”

“Executive Choi Yoonjae.”

A short exclamation escaped her lips. But Eunho found her smile strangely unsettling—not one of genuine warmth, but closer to a smirk that hinted at catching someone’s weakness. The contrast between her cold, unblinking eyes and the sly curl of her lips made him uneasy.

“Still haven’t gotten over Junseo, I see.”

Junseo? Who’s that? Though her words stung, Eunho dismissed them as a meaningless jab.

“Do you have a business card?”

“…Yes.”

The hand she held out was smooth, polished, unblemished—the hand of someone who had never known rough work. Watching her, Eunho slipped a card from his jacket pocket and handed it over.

Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, as if committing him to memory, before she turned and strode toward the lobby. Following behind her, CEO Han looked unusually diminished that day.