Chapter 5
Even so, thanks to that, her irritation had subsided. She didn’t feel like tormenting a man who had to take his nephew to the aquarium the next day.
Ryu-jin tended to soften when it came to people who were kind to children or animals.
Maybe it was because she herself wasn’t that way. Once, when Ho-gu barked at a stray cat, she had nearly ruined an ongoing job in her anger.
Hong Young had found it strange watching Ryu-jin fume afterward, saying she’d barely restrained herself from grabbing Ho-gu by the hair in the office.
“Noona, you really are a complicated person. Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re too compassionate or not compassionate at all.”
Her compassion was neither abundant nor lacking—it was just average. She simply had a few absolute standards she could never tolerate.
Didn’t everyone have one or two of those? In that sense, she was fairly ordinary.
“Seo-young.”
“……”
“Kim Seo-young.”
During that time, Ji Woo-tae had called her name several times, but Ryu-jin, lost in thought, hadn’t responded.
So he chuckled and muttered under his breath,
“Making up a name that obviously… I wonder if that’s okay.”
“…What?”
Ryu-jin snapped back to attention at last. Ji Woo-tae feigned innocence and raised a hand to signal the bartender.
He ordered the same Scotch as hers and smoothly carried on the conversation.
Perhaps because some of her caution had worn off, their exchange felt more relaxed than before. With no real common ground, their talk drifted into light, meaningless topics.
“How many times have you lured a woman upstairs like this?”
Ryu-jin asked outright, making Ji Woo-tae pause with his glass in hand.
It was only a fleeting encounter, with nothing to lose. No need for pretense. Yet Ji Woo-tae frowned slightly, tilting his head as if unjustly accused.
“This is the first time.”
Liar.
Ignoring his fiancée, following a stranger, flirting all night—and he had the nerve to say that?
“It really is the first time…”
He muttered, sounding genuinely wronged, but she didn’t believe him.
Ryu-jin shook her head and drained her glass. The faint buzz of alcohol lifted her mood.
Even as he kept talking beside her, oddly enough, he no longer felt so annoying.
“Do you live nearby?”
“Yes, around here.”
“Far, then.”
“……”
Her lie came without even moistening her lips, but Ji Woo-tae didn’t fall for it. Ryu-jin only gave a faint smile.
He was just arrogant enough, charmingly sly, and sharp enough to stop just short of crossing the line with his jokes.
But sometimes he’d suddenly ask, “Is your voice always that low?”—and she couldn’t help but tense up.
That was thrilling. His perceptive probing, almost catching her true identity, was both troublesome and electrifying.
“Want to play a staring game?”
Just as the mood was ripening beyond control, Ji Woo-tae suddenly suggested it.
Ryu-jin thought he was determined to see her bare face and was about to refuse, when he quickly added,
“You don’t have to take them off.”
“…Then how? You won’t even see me blink.”
“I’ll trust your conscience.”
By then, they were speaking informally. Thinking she had nothing to lose, Ryu-jin nodded.
A staring contest. Childish as it was, with the warm haze of alcohol, it felt natural to accept.
She only had to hold out until he blinked. If she blinked first, she could just pretend otherwise.
Ji Woo-tae folded his arms and squared himself. Ryu-jin turned her stool toward him. Without any signal, the contest began.
“……”
Ryu-jin was caught off guard.
She’d known his gaze was direct, but with the stage set like this, his eyes were drilling through her. Her sunglasses might as well have been useless.
Unconsciously, she bit her lip. A cold sweat trickled. His expression was stripped of any trace of humor, leaving him intimidatingly cold.
And yet, his gaze burned. They were only staring into each other’s eyes, but it sent shivers down her spine.
“……”
It was, in truth, the easiest game possible. Even if he was a master at it, he wouldn’t last more than ten minutes.
All Ryu-jin had to do was wait for him to blink.
“…I lost.”
But she surrendered first.
At once, Ji Woo-tae’s face relaxed, and he leaned back from where he’d been leaning forward.
Sensing the shift, Ryu-jin felt she’d chosen wisely. She trusted her instinct that she shouldn’t keep meeting his eyes.
Her intuition had always served her well.
Still, there was a price to pay for surrender. That cunning man hadn’t proposed a childish game for nothing.
“Since I won, I get a wish.”
See?
Ryu-jin assumed she would finally have to take off her sunglasses. But she was wrong.
“Your name.”
“……”
“No lies.”
His eyes were serious, stripped of playfulness, and Ryu-jin froze.
“……”
She had been sure his priority was her face. To be blunt, she’d half expected him to suggest spending the night together.
His interest in her seemed obvious, his impure curiosity impossible to hide.
But her name?
The weight of his “No lies” was heavy.
What did a name matter in a fleeting encounter that would be forgotten tomorrow?
“Hm?”
The way he pressed her, it almost seemed like he intended to find her again later.
It looked sincere enough that she hesitated for a moment.
“Lee Hye-ri.”
But impulse could never beat old habit. Her tongue moved smoothly, delivering another lie.
Names were everywhere, and Ryu-jin’s acting always shone brightest in critical moments.
Whether he bought it or not, Ji Woo-tae repeated the name—“Lee Hye-ri.” He tried it again and again, as if testing how it felt on his tongue, but he didn’t seem suspicious.
“Ye-ri? Or Hye-ri?”
“…Hye-ri.”
The care he took to clarify was oddly serious, and for some reason Ryu-jin’s chest tightened.
Ding.
A notification sounded. It was her phone. Ji Woo-tae tilted his chin toward it, as if to say, Go on, read it.
[Noona!! We’re partying right now lolol. Even stingy Director Kwak is splurging big time.]
The attached photo showed a table piled with dishes: Beijing duck, sweet-and-sour meatballs… the works.
It wasn’t just some takeout joint either, but a proper Chinese restaurant. For Kwak, this was unusually generous.
Still, it wasn’t enough to make her regret not going. After all, he’d tried to swap Dom Pérignon for Chinese liquor. Same old petty man.
[It feels so wrong to eat without you, noona. Guilt’s making it hard to swallow.]
Ding. Another photo came in, showing Hong Young and Director Kwak side by side, pretending to cry.
Half the dishes were already gone—it was obviously staged. Still, Ryu-jin couldn’t help but laugh softly.
Just then—clack! A glass was set down a little too firmly, snapping her attention back.
“I’m bored.”
Ji Woo-tae gave her a look, as if she’d kept him waiting forever.
If that was the case, why had he gestured for her to check her phone in the first place? Honestly.
Ryu-jin flipped her phone face down with a flourish, then looked at him as if to say, Happy now? He grinned.
Their conversation flowed on. Ryu-jin found herself laughing constantly.
He shared stories from his time studying abroad, and they were surprisingly funny. When he told her about rushing out in the middle of sleep to save a friend being chased by a kangaroo, she laughed until tears pricked her eyes.
“So, what’s your relationship with those two guys in the photos?”
When he slipped that question in casually, Ryu-jin nearly confessed without a second thought.
