A silence fell over them, heavy enough to freeze time. Yu-yeon’s hand froze just inches from the bread bag.
She turned her head to look at him.
Once, she had thought his eyes were like the ocean. Cold, pitch-black water under the dead of night, betraying nothing—whether it was raging or calm, or what secrets it had swallowed whole.
Yet looking straight into those very eyes, she felt an unmistakable heat. He hadn’t even touched her, but it burned.
Yu-yeon forced her paralyzed lips apart.
Hyeon-myeong asked back, a smile playing at his mouth.
Yu-yeon still doubted her own ears.
He had just said something so outrageous, yet his face remained perfectly serene.
As if casually announcing, ‘We’re having noodles for lunch today.’
For Yu-yeon, it felt as though the massive Bosingak bell she had passed on the way here had just crashed down from its pavilion, yet the man didn’t bat an eye.
Come to think of it, he had been the same yesterday. In moments where anyone else would have felt proper embarrassment, he hadn’t shown the slightest crack, leaving all the shame for Yu-yeon to bear alone.
Still, kissing wasn’t something one did by oneself.
Flustered for some reason, Yu-yeon stammered out the words.
Hyeon-myeong turned the wheels of her chair. The wheelchair, which had been pointed toward the monitor, spun easily to face him. Yu-yeon bowed her head to avoid his gaze, but he bent lower at the waist.
Determined to see her face at all costs, he stooped down until their eyes met.
A memory surfaced of her father once telling her about a beast called a Maegu.
A legendary creature said to be born when a fox lived for a thousand years.
Back then, she had merely thought her father was a master at spinning tall tales, but today she finally realized it was true.
The Maegu was real.
His tone was utterly audacious, carrying the sheer certainty that things would go his way whether the kiss came first or the relationship did.
Even as she glared at him with narrowed eyes, his lips remained brimful of amusement.
This thousand-year fox was smiling with the deliberate intent to bewitch, and she was utterly powerless against it.
His face seemed to ask, ‘Think you can resist this?’ Now that the man had decided to weaponize his looks, her mind was spinning.
Why did her stupid mouth have to go and say she cared about faces? Yu-yeon wanted to cry.
“…”
He rolled out the welcome mat, practically daring her to criticize him, but she couldn't find a single decent excuse.
And so, the grand flaw she managed to dredge up was utterly pathetic.
At her answer, Hyeon-myeong blinked.
As if asking which of the many big things she was referring to.
Yu-yeon raised her voice, asking why on earth he needed to clarify something so obvious. Her face was turning crimson.
Why would we keep you in our house?
“…”
Now he was shamelessly running his mouth, acting as though he could freely stretch and shrink his height to suit her tastes.
Flustered and red-faced at his brazen flirting, Yu-yeon raised her voice.
Only belatedly did Yu-yeon realize that the truly terrifying monster in the room wasn't the hacker, but Choi Hyeon-myeong.
Yu-yeon saw right through the attackers' strategy: they were targeting a zero-day vulnerability in the authentication bypass logic of the Identity and Access Management system. Acting on her advice, the Security Operations Center immediately severed the primary access route. Thanks to this decisive measure, Choi Sun Mulsan’s automated defense systems regained full functionality, swiftly clearing out the scattered threats.
By around nine in the evening, Choi Sun Mulsan had reclaimed complete control of its systems, neutralizing the entire crisis. Exactly twelve hours after Yu-yeon first set foot in the company, the situation was resolved.
Those twelve hours hadn't been entirely smooth sailing. In spite of her unmatched skills, Yu-yeon's physical stamina proved to be an ongoing issue.
More accurately, the problem was Hyeon-myeong’s relentless meddling out of concern for her. At times, Yu-yeon found herself wondering whether he actually cared about saving his company or not.
Regardless, thanks to Executive Director Choi Hyeon-myeong's clingy caretaking, Yu-yeon managed to take regular breaks, and the ordeal concluded without any major mishaps.
It was 9:10 p.m. when Yu-yeon got back into the car. Just as on the way over, Gi-baek took the wheel while Hyeon-myeong remained by her side.
In the quiet car, Hyeon-myeong made an offer.
Yu-yeon, who had been staring blankly out the window, flinched and turned toward him. In the dim car, his eyes seemed to glow like those of a predatory beast catching the light. Feeling the unmistakable weight of his stare, Yu-yeon quickly turned her head away again.
You said you'd kiss me once I'm discharged. Do you honestly think I’d go work there?
Her tense voice came out somewhat strained.
As she batted away every word he tossed out, Hyeon-myeong let out a dry, amused chuckle.
Screeech.
Gi-baek slammed on the brakes. Kept secure by their seatbelts, the two passengers jerked forward before falling back into their seats.
Hyeon-myeong’s voice carried an edge of irritation, but Yu-yeon was inwardly grateful to Gi-baek. Thanks to him, their bickering had come to a halt.
In the tense silence, Gi-baek gripped the wheel and let out a quiet, secret sigh.
Tormenting people with wordplay on their names was an old habit of his boss. Gi-baek had been one of its frequent victims.
Back when he was a rookie in the planning department, newly finished with his probation, he had been abruptly drafted as Director Choi Hyeon-myeong’s secretary. Running around in total confusion, he had been assigned the task of turning down work passed down to the director from the group headquarters. Forced to deliver rejections to towering superiors, he had felt miserable and utterly lost. Yet watching him struggle, Choi Hyeon-myeong hadn't offered a single word of comfort. Instead, he had tossed out a cutting remark:
‘Kim Gi-baek. I picked you solely for your name, so why do you have zero spirit?’
How he had wept when he went home that night.
Now an experienced secretary who had mastered his boss’s whims and could handle any situation smoothly, the sorrow of that day still washed over him whenever he looked back.
Yet this woman had just taken an insult about her name and slung it right back in his face.
It was astonishing to see a woman push back against the sheer presence of a man who normally froze anyone in his tracks.
It felt as if Gi-baek’s long-standing grudge had just been washed away.
Night had fallen and the hallway lights were dimmed when Yu-yeon finally returned to the hospital. When she moved from the car to the wheelchair, and again from the wheelchair to the bed, Hyeon-myeong carried her in his arms every time.
Having surrendered her body to his hold without a fuss, Yu-yeon caught herself feeling startled by how naturally she had come to accept his touch.
Hyeon-myeong laid her down gently on the bed, then circled around to her right side.
“Why do you always come over to this side?”
It was a trivial question, but his loaded comeback unnerved her. She feared what kind of bomb he might drop this time.
It had been a day of monumental events, but once back in the hospital, the hacker crisis vanished completely from her mind, leaving only Choi Hyeon-myeong’s words ringing in her ears.
Watching her quietly, Hyeon-myeong shared his future schedule without being asked.
Just as she was about to end the conversation with another polite refusal, Choi Hyeon-myeong spoke abruptly. Before she realized it, he had taken her hand.
Yu-yeon, who had been deliberately looking away, looked up.
He was a man as unfathomable as the dead of night at sea, radiating an almost chilling coldness, yet the hand holding hers was scorchingly warm.
And for some reason, her palm tingled. It was an unsettling sensation. He wasn't tickling her hand on purpose. He wasn't doing anything at all.
“…”
Beneath his clasp, it felt as though a slow, smoldering ember was flickering against her skin. The heat bleeding from his fingertips surged straight to her heart, her face, down to the tips of her toes. Her shoulders shrank back, yet she couldn't pull her hand away.
Just when she felt she might burst into flames alongside him, Hyeon-myeong’s hand moved. Resting her hand gently atop the blanket, he murmured a slow farewell.
Walking away with footsteps even slower than his voice, he finally stepped out the door. Only then did the tension drain from Yu-yeon’s shoulders.
Letting out a faint, trembling breath, she lifted her arm and stared blankly at her palm.
Why hadn't she pulled away?
‘It’s because I’m weak. Because I’m a patient.’
Yet he hadn’t even gripped her that tightly. So why hadn’t she pulled back?
She couldn't explain it herself. Only the lingering afterglow remained, leaving her palm burning and tingling.
In the end, she placed all the blame on him. Concluding that it was entirely his fault for acting like a thousand-year beast.