Ch 5

Episode 5

Seven Months ago from that day(2)

Just as Yoonjae had said, after a short wait an older man appeared near the car, carrying a laptop. The weight of guilt crashed over Eunho as he thought about how the rut incident had caused them to miss the entire second half of the forum. He felt as though he had gone beyond being a nuisance and taken on the role of a saboteur. He couldn’t even lift his head, covering his face with both hands as sighs spilled out one after another.

“I’ll put in a leave request for you tomorrow. Take a day off.”

“I appreciate the concern, but that’s not really necessary…”

“Do as I say.”

Guiding him into the back seat, Yoonjae lowered his voice, as if deliberately trying to steady him. In the month he’d been working under him, Eunho had never exchanged this many words with him in a single day.

“Take your medicine and rest.”

When the car pulled up in front of the officetel, Eunho finally felt his tension ease. He gathered his laptop with a sluggish motion and opened the door. He’d always seen only the flawless, rigid, cutting side of Yoonjae; hearing that unexpectedly warm, almost humane tone filled him with both guilt and relief.

The truth was, no matter how good the company benefits or how high the salary, it had been hard to summon genuine passion for his work because of the way Yoonjae carried himself. Like an AI stationed beside him, his boss had felt inhuman, and the constant pressure had been its own kind of stress. But now, Eunho thought maybe, just maybe, he had finally glimpsed the “real” Yoonjae the secretary team sometimes spoke of. The realization brought with it a strange exhilaration.

As soon as he got home, Eunho showered quickly and collapsed straight into bed. Too much had happened in one day; it felt like even in his dreams, Yoonjae would appear.

***

By morning, Eunho’s eyes opened out of habit, his body waking on its own.

Perhaps the cold medicine he’d taken the night before had done its job—apart from a little muscle ache, his body felt as light as if nothing had happened. Taking a leave day felt like overkill, and he considered showing up to the office anyway. But the thought of Yoonjae sharpening his temper at him for not following orders made him hesitate. In the end, Eunho chose instead to “report to work” at Suyeong’s café.

Suyeong was a colleague he’d met at Samjeong Corporation, where they had both worked in the talent development division. Finding the role a poor fit, she had quit a year ago and used her savings to open a small coffee shop tucked in a corner of Daehak-ro’s theater district. Even though it was tough, she roasted the beans herself every morning, and once word spread about how good the coffee was, more and more customers began buying her beans directly. Before the first year was even up, she had reached a stable footing by supplying roasted beans to other cafés as well.

“So that’s how you ended up bruised? At least your head’s still on straight.”

“Thanks to him stepping in.”

“Your executive’s pretty impressive. What’s his name?”

The obvious bruise around his wrist meant Eunho unintentionally spilled the entire story of yesterday’s incident. Fortunately, the café was quiet except for a few takeout customers, so they could talk easily. Blowing on the latte Suyeong had made for him, Eunho took small sips.

“Choi Yoonjae.”

The moment he said the name, Suyeong immediately pulled out her phone to look him up. After comparing Eunho with the screen a few times, she let out a short but loaded verdict.

“Wow. He’s a sculpture. Does he look like this in person too?”

“The photos don’t do him justice. He’s better in person.”

“You’re just defending your boss, aren’t you?”

Despite his sharp features, his expression on camera seemed oddly stiff, almost awkward. Seeing it, Eunho couldn’t stop the small laugh that slipped through his teeth.

“But he’s not really like a typical boss, is he?”

“Maybe it’s because he’s young.”

“No, plenty of young executives don’t act like that. Either he’s unusual… or he’s interested in you.”

Suyeong tilted her head. A boss who personally drives his secretary around or insists he take the back seat? She had never heard of such a thing. And it had already happened twice in a month.

“He knows I have a boyfriend.”

“Really? Then I guess he’s just an unusual guy. Or he knows and doesn’t care.”

Suyeong ducked behind the counter and pulled out a tray of freshly baked croissants. The buttery smell filled every corner of the shop.

“I don’t think it’s like that.”

“Well, then never mind.”

She sliced a croissant, stuffed it with ham, cheese, and vegetables, and pushed the plate toward him without ceremony.

The moment he bit into it, his stomach—suppressed all day under stress—rejoiced at the simple indulgence.

“Oppa!”

Suyeong suddenly shot up a hand to wave. Following her gaze, Eunho turned toward the entrance and greeted Hyukpil, who had just walked in. After dropping his backpack on a chair and shrugging off his coat, a blast of winter air seemed to trail him inside.

“Eunho! What are you doing here at this hour? You haven’t been at the job that long.”

“I took a leave today.”

“You didn’t get fired, did you?”

He delivered the teasing remark with practiced ease. Hyukpil was a reporter in the SME division at Hanseong Economic Daily. Three years ago, he had started as a Samjeong Corp. beat reporter, and over time, trading interview materials with Suyeong had turned into a relationship.

When Eunho offered his fist, Hyukpil bumped it with a grin before plopping into a seat and biting into the leftover half of the croissant sandwich.

“Busy these days?”

“Well… aren’t all reporters? Still, the economics desk isn’t as bad as social affairs. We just need to haunt company buildings, but they practically live at the police station.”

Judging by his messy hair, Hyukpil had rolled out of bed and come straight over. Eunho gestured for him to fix it, and he got the hint, heading to the counter sink to wet his fingers and pat it down.

“Hyukpil oppa, iced Americano?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

As Hyukpil went to the counter, he brushed Suyeong’s cheek and kissed her like it was the most natural thing. Resting his chin on his hand, Eunho watched them quietly. His own relationship with Hyunjun had only been sweet in the beginning. Ever since Hyunjun began preparing for the civil service exam, his mood swings had made even casual skinship delicate. The word “jealous” swirled at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back and settled for a faint, crooked smile.

“By the way—it’s Yuseong Capital, right? Executive Director Choi Yoonjae?”

“Yes.”

“Then be careful. That place is a battlefield.”

“A battlefield?”

Their gazes met across the table, and Eunho leaned forward, intrigued.

“It’s not a sibling rivalry… more like a cousin war.”

Hyukpil gulped down the iced Americano as if it were water and sat back down. His neatly trimmed nails, a necessity for constant typing, caught Eunho’s eye.

“Chairman Choi Gwanghoon of Yuseong Group—his kids have been eyeing Yoonjae’s seat for years. You didn’t know?”

“Ah… no…”

“Yoonjae’s father, Choi Sunghoon, was the chairman’s younger brother. After his accident, Chairman Choi took in his nephew under the guise of looking after him, but at the same time he redistributed some of his brother’s shares to his own sons. Sure, Yoonjae is still the majority shareholder, but…”

The memory of his first day resurfaced—Director Yoon explaining the shareholder structure. Yoonjae held 35% of Yuseong Capital, making him the largest shareholder. The second largest was Choi Youngjae, Chairman Choi’s second son, at 17%. The late Choi Sunghoon’s shares had been forcibly split. At the time, Yoonjae had been too young to run the company alone, so Chairman Choi had claimed to be “protecting” him by reallocating some of the stock to his sons. Outwardly, they called it a friendly shareholding arrangement, but in reality, cousin rivalries often turned into battles for management control. It was far from a harmonious picture.

“But Yuseong Venture Capital is doing better than Yuseong Group, right? Of course they’d be greedy, don’t you think? The hotels and resorts Yuseong Group owns are technically real assets, but all of them are in bad shape.”

“Their financial condition’s not good?”

“Check it yourself. Once you see it, you’ll know what I mean.”

“……”

“Anyway, take good care of Executive Director Choi. He seems like a decent person.”

Hyukpil gave generous credit to Yoonjae, who was standing on his own. Strictly speaking, Yoonjae was still quite young to be running such a large organization, yet his insight rivaled that of a seasoned CEO well past his prime. Eunho rubbed at the edge of his ear and looked up at Hyukpil.

“You’ve met him?”

“I’ve interviewed him. He’s an impressive talent. Has great drive too.”

So it wasn’t just empty cheerleading based on rumors. Eunho gave a half-hearted nod and slurped up the rest of his latte.

“By the way, are you two getting married this year?”

“Hyunjun passing the exam comes first.”

“Hey, if that guy fails again this year, dump him. How many years are you going to play housewife? Don’t be a pushover.”

Hyukpil’s bluntness tipped into cruelty, and Eunho felt his chest tighten for no reason.

“Passing isn’t easy.”

When Eunho stuck his lower lip out, defending Hyunjun, Hyukpil clicked his tongue as if Eunho were pathetic. He opened his mouth like he was about to say more, then shut it again. Sitting right across from him, there was no point in throwing more insults at the man’s boyfriend. Catching that look, Eunho gave a bitter smile. He knew well that Hyukpil didn’t mean it out of malice, so he waved it off, but it didn’t soothe the raw wound inside him.

In truth, Hyunjun passing the exam this year looked unlikely. Eunho never showed it—worried it would shake Hyunjun further—but even he was starting to wear down. It was like holding a ticking time bomb against his chest, forcing himself to act fine when he wasn’t.

Hyunjun hadn’t contacted him again today. Unless it was for the occasional call when he was frustrated, Hyunjun rarely reached out first.

Sometimes, Eunho felt like a potted plant kept indoors. If Hyunjun didn’t water him, he’d simply wither. Standing by the closed window, waiting for the day Hyunjun would remember to water him, he remained a plant that couldn’t drink in the rain falling outside. He could see the drops, close enough to touch if only the window were opened—but instead, he just withered, staring at them endlessly.

***

The first snow fell. Eunho leaned against the window, watching as the heavy flakes that had been falling since dawn wrapped the world in a soft blanket.

He had loved snow and rain since he was a child. He hated winter itself, but whenever snow fell, he bundled up and went out, treading paths no one else had touched. He loved the crunch beneath his boots so much that he once walked the whole day until his hands and feet froze.

The morning commute was chaos thanks to the snowstorm. With everyone taking their cars out, the roads had turned into a parking lot. Even though Eunho had left thirty minutes earlier than usual, he still arrived at Yoonjae’s house ten minutes late.

He brushed the quickly accumulating snow from his brown hair and navy coat with neat, careful hands. Passing through the wrought-iron gate, he saw the caretakers already shoveling the paths on both sides. Crossing the garden, Eunho entered the house and came back out with a spare shirt from the housekeeper.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Ah… yes, …thank you for asking.”

Once he confirmed Yoonjae had settled into the back seat, Eunho began explaining the day’s schedule. Then, realizing he was the only one talking, he glanced at the rearview mirror. Yoonjae had his head turned toward the window, watching the heavy snowfall with a faraway look. If Eunho hadn’t looked carefully, he would’ve missed it—eyes that held a quiet sorrow, a weight so deep even his pheromones seemed sunken beyond reach. Like a man carrying stories too heavy to tell. The sight stirred something in Eunho.

“When we arrive, Chief Yoon will brief you, but I’ll say this first: there’s an investment contract in Singapore next week. I’d like you to accompany me.”

The words caught him off guard. No wonder Yoonjae had asked last week if his passport was still valid.

“…I thought Chief Yoon was supposed to go with you.”

“Circumstances changed.”

“Yes, understood.”

Eunho didn’t object and simply nodded.

After arriving at the office, he was called straight to Chief Yoon. As Yoonjae had mentioned, the issue was the Singapore trip.

“Next week’s contract with SLC Partners in Singapore—you’ll need to accompany Executive Director Choi.”

“What about you, Chief?”

“President Han’s suddenly heading to the U.S. on business. Executive Director Choi decided that deal was more important, so he swapped.”

According to Chief Yoon, it was for a fintech startup investment in Silicon Valley. He added that the Singapore trip had been recommended personally by Executive Director Choi, and it would be good if Eunho could help secure the deal.

“I’ll send you the materials we’ve prepared so far. Review them.”

“Understood.”

“By the way, I heard something bad happened the other day.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I’m fine.”

“Good thing you took the day off yesterday. Things were noisy here too.”

Walking out of the meeting room, Eunho lifted his gaze at those words. His curiosity must’ve shown, because Chief Yoon scratched his nose, hesitated, then spoke with a troubled expression.

“A lawyer from Taekwang Law Firm on the third floor went into rut and tried to assault one of our employees. Luckily, a security guard intervened early.”

“……”

“These incidents keep happening once or twice a year.”

Feeling guilty for resting when nothing was physically wrong with him, Eunho now found himself grateful that Executive Director Choi had insisted he take a day off.

Whether it was heat or rut, even with regular management and medication, long-term exposure to stress or environmental triggers could throw cycles off balance. It always required caution.

And now Eunho realized—his own heat cycle would overlap with next week’s Singapore trip. If not for this reminder, he might’ve overlooked it completely. At least now, he had the chance to prepare.

Eunho, remembering it just then, silently smiled at Chief Yoon’s words as he made a plan to stop by a nearby hospital for an injection that would delay his heat cycle.

Attending the Singapore business trip meeting, he confirmed the coordination between the legal team and the core investment staff, cross-checked potential risks and contract clauses, and before he knew it, lunchtime had already passed. After checking Yoonjae’s afternoon schedule, Eunho quietly told another secretary that he would be away for about an hour and left the company.

The snow that had piled up had almost disappeared, melting into slush under countless footsteps or turning into dirty stains along the street. When a chilly breeze brushed the back of his neck and seeped into his collar, Eunho pulled up his coat and wrapped it around his throat as he headed to the nearby hospital. After finishing registration at the reception desk, he sat down outside the waiting room and pulled out his phone to call Hyunjun.

The short dial tone ended, and soon the instructor’s voice echoed faintly before fading. A heavy metal door swung open with a clanging sound, and the reverberation suggested a stairwell near an emergency exit. Eunho realized belatedly what had happened, but pretended not to notice and murmured the words he had wanted to say.

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

— You should’ve texted first. I ran out in a panic.

“…Sorry.”

Hyunjun’s voice through the speaker was filled with irritation. As he poured out his displeasure without restraint, Eunho felt his mood sink all the way down, cornered by guilt. Was calling without a text first really such a grave sin? He bit his lip, muttering a reflexive apology, but Hyunjun ignored it and kept venting angrily.

— What is it?

“…It’s nothing. I’ll hang up.”

— Say it. You wouldn’t have called without a reason.

Forcing himself to focus, Eunho finally managed to get the words out. Even as he spoke, he worried Hyunjun might say, “Was that all?” and dismiss it as trivial.

“I have a three-night, four-day business trip to Singapore next Monday.”

— Ha. Must be nice.

It wasn’t the worst response, but it was close enough. Eunho chewed at his fingertip, weighed down by the sardonic tone laced with resignation. He tried to explain it wasn’t like that, but Hyunjun seemed to be taking it the wrong way.

“It’s for work. Not for fun.”

— Still, you get a change of scenery.

At his sneering tone, Eunho let out a long sigh and finally laid bare the true reason for his call.

“I miss you.”

— I left my lecture just now. I need to go back.

“…Don’t you miss me?”

He hadn’t meant to sound desperate, but the words slipped out. The yearning he had tried to suppress spilled over, yet Hyunjun’s reply remained cold.

— Don’t start that again. Just see me when you get back.

Hyunjun’s voice had softened compared to earlier, though, as if moved by Eunho’s trembling tone. And just that—“See me when you get back”—was enough for Eunho to claw his way back from the pit he’d fallen into. He tried his best to be understanding and even comforted him instead.

“Okay. Oh, do you want me to get you something from duty-free?”

— …How much can you spend?