While she exchanged greetings with the secretary, Choi Hyeon-myeong opened the rear door in silence, then turned and lifted Yu-yeon right up into his arms.
Swept into a bridal carry with zero warning, Yu-yeon flinched and wriggled in shock.
Her face bumped against his chest. As if telling her she might as well lean on him, he tightened his grip around her.
His deep voice seeped into her skin before her ears even registered the sound. Thump, thump, thump. A heartbeat like a drum blended into his words, making Yu-yeon feel as though she were sitting right inside a subwoofer. It struck her afresh just how broad and massive the man was.
Rendered speechless, Yu-yeon was set smoothly and comfortably down onto the back seat. The solid arms supporting her back and thighs pulled away, leaving her with an immediate, baffling sense of emptiness.
She was here to work, yet she could feel heat rising shamelessly to both cheeks.
In the meantime, Hyeon-myeong opened the door on the other side and leaned in, looming right over her. Unconsciously holding her breath, Yu-yeon squeezed her eyes shut.
A ticklish breath drifted across her face. Yu-yeon opened her eyes, still forgetting to breathe.
Choi Hyeon-myeong had merely reached over to fasten the seat belt dangling above her right shoulder.
Flashing a playful grin as if teasing her for jumping at every little thing, Hyeon-myeong pulled the latch plate down.
Click. The buckle engaged with a loud snap. Only after Hyeon-myeong drew back could Yu-yeon clear her throat and catch her breath.
Once Gi-baek stowed the wheelchair in the trunk, the car set off.
Gi-baek was dazed; he had never seen his boss give up the seat of honor—the rear right, where he always sat—to a woman, choosing the lesser seat for himself.
‘Just how important is she?’
Puzzling over it as they cleared the first traffic light, a sudden flash of memory sparked in his mind.
Thrilled to have recalled it, Gi-baek blurted out before he could catch himself.
At Gi-baek's words, Yu-yeon replied warmly.
Unaware of Hyeon-myeong glaring at the driver's seat with narrowed eyes beside her, the two carried on their friendly chat.
Just as Gi-baek was getting into it, Hyeon-myeong quietly called his name. His voice was chilled enough to bring frost on a warm spring day.
The air inside the car froze in an instant.
Snapped back to his senses by Hyeon-myeong's sharp reprimand, Gi-baek bowed his head while keeping both hands on the wheel.
Hyeon-myeong replied coldly and turned his gaze out the window.
Dead silence settled over the car.
Seeing Gi-baek's hands trembling slightly on the steering wheel, Yu-yeon grew tense as well.
‘He's terrifying when it comes to business.’
Yu-yeon resolved that once she got this sorted, she would never mix business with Choi Hyeon-myeong again.
With the cabin quieted, Yu-yeon's gaze naturally drifted toward the window. Dazed by the ever-shifting scenery along their route, she let out an involuntary gasp when they reached the Han River.
As if mocking the two years and four months she had spent away from the world, the river and the city were completely unchanged. The silver-glistening water, the buildings lined along the bank—everything remained. Even so, her heart swelled with a strange, overwhelming emotion.
Her eyes darted eagerly like a child visiting Seoul for the first time, and before long, the car arrived at Choiseon Mulsan Tower.
Gi-baek got out first and retrieved the wheelchair, and Hyeon-myeong lifted Yu-yeon again to place her in it.
Park Cheol-min, the Center Director who had been pacing in the lobby, hurried over to greet them.
The director was taken aback. When Executive Director Choi Hyeon-myeong said he would bring in a brilliant hacker, she looked nothing like what he had pictured. It was hard to believe that this petite, delicate woman sitting in a wheelchair was such an exceptional white-hat hacker.
Still, he knew Executive Director Choi had the sharpest eye for talent in the entire group. Trusting he wouldn't make an error, the director gave a nod.
As the director reported the status, Yu-yeon asked,
Their discussion carried them straight to Hyeon-myeong's office. The director opened the door, and Hyeon-myeong pushed the wheelchair inside.
Back in his office after two years and four months.
He had climbed from executive director to senior managing director, and two years had passed, so Yu-yeon had assumed he would be using a different office. She was thoroughly surprised. The room was so identical to the one she had stormed out of two years and four months ago that the two memories overlapped seamlessly.
The only difference was a table and a few computers that looked like secure terminals set up on one side of the room.
Standing in the very same office naturally brought back the memory of that day over two years ago.
Walking out that door back then, she had sworn never to deal with this man again. Life truly was strange and funny, she thought.
The director stepped briskly over to the console and gestured to a monitor.
Along with complex traffic logs, the monitor displayed irregular flashing warning indicators from the integrated defense system.
Yu-yeon locked her eyes on the screen, staring intensely for several seconds. Then, the look in her eyes changed, and her hands flew across the keyboard with fast, precise motions. She entered several short lines of commands.
The moment the words left her mouth, the frantic amber warnings on the monitor turned green or vanished entirely. A short gasp broke from Director Park Cheol-min's lips. He looked back and forth between Yu-yeon and the screen in disbelief.
Without looking away from the monitor, Yu-yeon said calmly,
Watching Yu-yeon resolve an issue the instant she stepped into the office, Hyeon-myeong stared in a daze.
Yu-yeon kept her eyes fixed on the display.
Yu-yeon spotted another attack in an instant and moved the mouse.
Her sharp, intelligent eyes caught the glow of the monitor, glistening in vibrant colors. Captivated by that gaze, Hyeon-myeong could not look away for a long time.
Who could have ever imagined it?
That merely an hour ago, this woman had been lying in a hospital bed—a sleeping princess who had spent the last two years and four months in a deep winter slumber.