Chapter 2.
Clumsy Miss Juhana
Seeing Juhana looking up at him with a dumbfounded expression, Siwan realized his mistake. He cleared his throat and straightened his collar to tidy his appearance.
“I’m not a suspicious person.”
“You saying that makes you sound even more suspicious…”
Juhana cautiously closed the lid of her lunchbox.
This man who had suddenly burst in—yes, his actions and words were strange, but he didn’t seem particularly dangerous.
It wasn’t just because he was good-looking or well-dressed. He simply didn’t feel threatening.
Judging by the way he had reacted so strongly to the kimchi fried rice, was he a Korean-American who hated kimchi?
Or maybe his parents had been scammed by a kimchi factory owner? Perhaps he’d been force-fed kimchi since childhood and had developed a phobia?
Whatever it was, the man looked normal only on the outside—he didn’t seem mentally stable.
And when it comes to crap or crazy people, it’s best to steer clear.
That’s what Juhana decided, and she subtly reached for her lunch bag—only for Siwan to slap the table.
“Wait!”
“Y-yes?”
Her already-round eyes grew even wider in shock.
“Are you not going to eat that?”
He was trying to keep calm, but Siwan’s eyes were burning with intensity. And with good reason—this was the first time in his life he’d ever smelled something delicious.
He was dying to know what it tasted like.
Staring blankly at her, he swallowed hard. And then his sharp eyes opened wide in shock.
Gasp! Did I just swallow my saliva?
His breathing was rough, and with his expression changing by the second, Juhana was already halfway off her chair.
It wasn’t because she was scared of him.
She just hated getting involved in something annoying.
Siwan asked again.
“Excuse me. Are you not going to eat that?”
“N-no. I was going to take it somewhere else and eat…”
“No! Don’t!”
Juhana’s patience was wearing thin. She had never imagined her peaceful, solitary lunch break would be disrupted like this.
She glared and sharply lifted her head to speak her mind.
“…?”
But the man’s fierce eyes were suddenly filled with tears.
Was it really possible for such sharp eyes to look this different just because they were tear-filled?
The way he looked at her lunchbox was so desperate—it was like he was being separated from his family.
Ugh, seriously. Even a crazy guy looks like he has a tragic backstory when he’s handsome.
With a long sigh, Juhana asked,
“What do you want?”
She briefly wondered if he was one of those new-age scammers.
You know, the clean-cut ones who say, “I’m really sorry, but I lost my wallet. Can I borrow ten thousand won? I’ll pay you back, I promise.” And somehow, they’ve lost their phone too.
Because they look respectable, people lend them the money without much suspicion—often even give them their account number for repayment.
And that’s how they get conned out of 10,000 won.
Juhana figured she’d be willing to give up 10,000 won to preserve her lunch break. But instead, he gave a completely unexpected answer.
“Could I… just have a bite?”
He shut his eyes tightly, as if even he found what he was saying shameful. But his desperation touched Juhana’s heart.
He must really be starving.
She opened her lunchbox and scooped a generous spoonful of kimchi fried rice.
“Here you go.”
On the spoon she held out, a perfect portion of kimchi fried rice sat topped with a neatly cut fried egg.
“Wow…!”
Siwan gasped as the aroma of the dish hit his nose.
The tangy scent of kimchi combined with the rich smell of beef oil…
“Is that brisket?”
At his question, Juhana’s eyes went round. Then she nodded vigorously.
“Yes! I minced it super finely so it wouldn’t ruin the texture, and added it while frying!”
“The seasoning must have seeped perfectly between the grains.”
At his comment, Juhana’s cheeks turned red.
Still suspicious, yes—but in this moment, her defenses completely crumbled.
How did he know that?!
Juhana was proud of her cooking.
Her specialty and hobby was making ordinary, home-style food taste exceptional.
She’d received plenty of compliments before, but no one had ever analyzed her intent so precisely.
While she was distracted, Siwan gently took her wrist and raised the spoon to his eye level.
“Incredible.”
He was genuinely impressed.
DK Foods—as the name implies—was a food manufacturing company.
One of CEO Do Myung-jin’s principles was that the owner’s family always tested the new products first.
But that didn’t mean they got special versions. They would just take unreleased final products home to test—his belief was that only this allowed for honest consumer-level assessment.
As a result, Siwan had eaten more ready-made and instant meals than most people, including countless meal kits.
Do Myung-jin, in particular, had very strict standards when developing mainstream products.
The strictest of them all was DK’s best-selling item: “Mom’s Kimchi Fried Rice.”
He had canceled its release dozens of times after tasting it with family and saying, “It’s not good enough.”
Thankfully, before the 100th attempt, he finally gave the okay, and now Mom’s Kimchi Fried Rice held the number one market share in instant kimchi fried rice.
It was so well-made that even some snack shops would serve it instead of making their own, and customers would leave 5-star reviews.
When the product was in development, Siwan hadn’t yet developed his eating disorder, so Myung-jin had taken him along on market research trips due to his sharp palate.
He must have eaten hundreds of kimchi fried rice dishes across the country by now.
And this one—just from the smell and visual alone—was in a league of its own.
Normally, kimchi fried rice is soggy with kimchi juice and gets sticky from being pressed with a spatula.
But the rice on Juhana’s spoon wasn’t like that at all.
The grains were separate, springy, and evenly coated with seasoning, not soaked in juice.
“Even with such even seasoning, the rice isn’t mushed at all. How is that possible?”
As he murmured to himself, Juhana smiled proudly and was about to answer—but Siwan quickly raised his hand to stop her.
“W-wait! I’ve got it! This is…”
“This is?”
“You wok-fried it, didn’t you?!”
“…!”
In that instant, Juhana’s heart rate spiked.
Brain-sexy man.
That’s what they called smart, attractive guys.
Cook-sexy man—guys who cook and are sexy doing it.
Juhana thought:
This guy may be mentally off, but he’s a brain-sexy cook!
And good looks were just a bonus.
Who was this ridiculously attractive, sexy squared man?
Not that she was feeling attracted to him in a romantic way—more like an author meeting a reader who truly understood her work.
Originally, Juhana used to stir kimchi fried rice with a spatula, letting the rice soak in kimchi juice. But the result felt dense and soggy.
So she tried wok-frying it like Chinese fried rice.
Wok-frying—flipping the pan in a circular motion using both hands to keep everything bouncing smoothly.
She’d sacrificed her wrist ligaments to master the technique and perfect this wok-fried kimchi rice.
And this guy figured it out just by looking.
Still holding her wrist, Siwan leaned in toward the spoon.
Wait, I handed him the whole spoon—why’s he holding my wrist instead of just taking it?
Juhana wasn’t sure if she should point that out or not, but just then, the breakroom door burst open. A middle-aged man in a suit came rushing in, panting.
His tanned forehead was marked with three deep horizontal wrinkles, and sweat was dripping down his face. Even his shirt collar was soaked.
This was Seo Wan-gu, Secretary of the 2nd Department, age forty-five.
He had been personally assigned by Do Myung-jin to assist Siwan and was the oldest secretary across both departments, excluding the chiefs.
“Director, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Startled, Siwan quickly let go of Juhana’s hand and straightened up.
“Ah, Secretary Seo.”
“We’re cutting it close. We need to leave now.”
“Ah…”
Reminded of his lunch meeting, Siwan looked devastated as he glanced down at the spoon piled with kimchi fried rice.
It would only take a moment to eat one bite…
Siwan looked at Secretary Seo’s face. But his stern “Let’s go, now!” expression drained all the strength from him.
Sigh… As much as it hurts, I have no choice.
