chapter 18
“You got a job?”
Out of sheer shock, the plastic bag in Jae-wook’s hand slipped and fell to the floor. I couldn’t help but wonder — was “getting a job” really such a surprising thing?
“Yes. I can’t keep relying on my landlord forever. For the meals I’ve eaten until now, I calculated the standard cost based on market prices, ingredients, hourly wages, and opportunity costs — it comes to 8,000 won per meal. I’ve kept track of how many times, so you don’t need to worry.”
“What kind of nonsense is that supposed to be?”
Irritated, Jae-wook picked up the fallen bag. Inside was fresh, crimson pork.
“If you’re unhappy with the unit price, we can negotiate—”
“Forget it. If I wanted money, I’d have just shaken you down for three years’ worth of rent.”
He threw the pork into the sink and began roughly chopping kimchi. Soon, the small kitchen filled with the spicy aroma of kimchi stew.
“Good job.”
“Sorry?”
His voice was partly drowned out by the loud thumping of the cutting board.
“I said good job!”
“Well, thanks, but why are you yelling?”
“You didn’t hear me, so I said it louder!”
Grumbling, Jae-wook set the steaming pot of kimchi stew down on the table. He also placed some fresh cucumber and carrot sticks beside a small dish of ssamjang.
“Grandma would’ve been thrilled, seeing you find a job.”
“…”
This was Jo Seo-ha’s life — though I was living in her body, I hadn’t inherited her past. And I didn’t want to know it, either.
“The kimchi stew’s kind of bland. Can’t you make it spicier?”
“She’d love that too. You suddenly got smart and started talking back all the time — she’d love that as well. So, what company are you working for? What do you do there?”
“I’m still an intern. It’s called KangYoon Company — they make clothes.”
The spoon Jae-wook was moving froze in midair.
“KangYoon? Did you just say KangYoon? The clothing company?”
“Yes. Why? Is something wrong?”
Jae-wook stared at her blankly, spoon still in hand. His expression said he had plenty to say — but he was holding it all back.
That memory — that night — flickered in his mind again.
A cold, dark winter evening. Disheveled hair whipping in the wind. Empty eyes staring through the windshield. And a red brick clutched in her hand.
That night, why did Jo Seo-ha run in front of my car holding a brick?
“Did I… have something to do with KangYoon?”
That was Jo Seo-ha’s past — and also Yoon Seo-ha’s past. But whatever Jae-wook knew, he wasn’t about to say. He only started eating again.
“There’s nothing. Just eat your vegetables.”
“So there is something. Is it good or bad?”
“I said I don’t know. I’m your landlord, not your guardian.”
It was clear he wouldn’t say more. Seo-ha let the matter drop and bit into a crunchy cucumber dipped in ssamjang. The face reflected in her spoon — Jo Seo-ha’s face — looked even more unfamiliar and lonely today.
“Navy ao dai skirt… awful.”
Seo-ha, who found the outfit hideous from a designer’s perspective, neatly ironed it anyway and set out for her first day of work. The commute was grueling — a village bus she’d never taken in her life, then a transfer to the subway.
“Get in.”
So, she was a little grateful when Jae-wook offered her a ride.
“Aren’t you going on your delivery route?”
“Already finished them at dawn. I’ll drop you off and head back out in the evening.”
“Then I’ll calculate today’s gas cost and hourly rate and—”
“Cut that out already.”
“Then I’ll just consider it noblesse oblige.”
“What? Isn’t that the title of a Naver webtoon?”
“It means I’ll gratefully accept your kindness.”
“Ever since you hit your head, you talk funny.”
Despite the complaints, he opened the truck door and helped her climb in. Last time, the truck reeked of cigarette smoke — today, it wasn’t so bad.
“Drop me off right there, please.”
The fruit truck rumbled through traffic and stopped in front of the company. Seo-ha hopped off and bowed deeply in thanks before heading toward the main gate.
Two people, Lee Seung-oh and Lee Ji-soo, happened to see her.
“A staff member commuting by truck? That’s new.”
They were sitting in the CEO’s office, idly gazing out the window. Ji-soo leaned forward to see what Seung-oh was talking about.
“…?”
They were too far to see her face clearly.
“Her outfit’s weird. Looks like something a grandmother would wear.”
Even so, the navy ao dai-like skirt fluttering in the wind was strikingly visible from a distance.
“Didn’t you used to wear something like that?”
“Did I? Hehe.”
“Your mom bought it for you, remember? Not that color — it was lighter… maybe blue?”
“How do you even remember that?”
Ji-soo hopped off Seung-oh’s lap.
Yes, she had worn things like that — sewing her own bags with the school’s sewing machine because she couldn’t afford fabric for her graduation project.
That wretched poverty.
“I’m heading off. It’s time to clock in.”
“Work hard today.”
“Love you, oppa.”
“Love you too.”
Seung-oh had rescued Ji-soo from that pit of poverty. He had gifted her the life of “Princess Seo-ha” that his mother had once sighed about — trading a moldy rooftop room for a luxurious apartment with marble floors.
—‘The scariest thing would be if Yoon Seo-ha suddenly woke up and sat up in bed.’
But in truth, the one most terrified of that day wasn’t Seung-oh — it was Ji-soo.
No way. She’s been in a coma for three years now.
She reassured herself with hopeful thoughts — until she nearly ran into Kyung-jun standing with his arms crossed outside the office door.
“W-what is it?”
Kyung-jun’s gaze held its usual open disdain.
“You seem awfully comfortable visiting the CEO’s office, Team Leader Lee.”
“W-what’s wrong with that?”
“You’re getting careless. I’ll make sure to warn the CEO.”
“T-today’s the first day for new employees, so I just went up early!”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant. Just… be careful.”
No one in the company dared to talk down to Kyung-jun. Though technically the secretary, he was more often called Director Ryu — and his influence in the company rivaled even Seung-oh’s.
People joked, “If not for Director Ryu, this company would’ve gone under.”
“Hmph!”
Still unwilling to face reality, Ji-soo snorted and went down to the design department.
The spacious design studio was so packed with fabrics and materials that there was hardly room to walk. Dust hung heavy in the air — though boxes of filtered masks were provided, people were too busy working to use them.
I’ve missed this place so much.
Seo-ha stood before the door she’d walked through hundreds, thousands of times, feeling like a stranger.
“Oh, the new intern?”
One of the staff, looking tired with faint dark circles, spotted her. Probably one of the newest hires.
“Yes. I’m Jo Seo-ha, starting today—”
“Yeah, sit over there.”
The employee waved vaguely toward a corner.
Seo-ha froze, bewildered. She’d worked so hard to build a culture of respect and professionalism in this very office — and now, as an intern, she was being treated like this?
“What are you standing there for? You’re in the way. Sit down.”
Another unfamiliar voice snapped at her. Seo-ha quietly went to the indicated desk.
What’s going on here? Has KangYoon really gone downhill this much?
In her confusion, a woman entered the room — and everyone except Seo-ha and two other newbies instantly stood up straight and bowed deeply.
“You’re here, Team Leader Lee Ji-soo!”
Seo-ha was now beyond confused — almost dizzy.
What is this atmosphere? The army? Did a general just walk in?
Ji-soo looked around the office, then clicked her heels toward Seo-ha.
“Oh my, our new hires! Nice to meet you.”
Her bright, beaming smile couldn’t have looked more angelic.
“Everyone, this is Hwang Joo-hee, this is Jung So-yeon, and this is Jo Seo-ha. Seo-ha’s an intern, so make sure to help her out, okay?”
Three years had passed since Ji-soo had thrown cruel words at her in that café. For Ji-soo, that moment was ancient history — but for Seo-ha, it felt like yesterday.
The anger she thought she’d buried stirred deep within her. She lowered her eyes — and then saw the shoes Ji-soo was wearing.
My shoes.
Limited edition, made exclusively for her — Seo-ha remembered taking a flight to France right after work just to buy them.
“What are you staring at?”
Seo-ha looked up.
It hit her again like a knife. Lee Seung-oh and Lee Ji-soo had stolen everything — and ruined Yoon Seo-ha’s life.
“Your shoes… they’re beautiful.”
“These?”
Ji-soo looked down and chuckled.
“Of course they are. They were the hottest item at the Paris Collection. Took me forever to get a pair.”
The one who struggled to get them was me. And you’re lying through your teeth wearing what you stole.
Seo-ha clenched her fists under the desk and forced herself to relax.
If she was going to survive here, she needed to decide exactly what kind of “Jo Seo-ha” she would be.
“Really? Paris Collection? Not Milan?”
An unbeatable character — one no one could win against. The oblivious airhead.
“What are you talking about, Milan?”
“That was the 2018 Milan Collection! It closed the Fashion Week show — everyone was talking about it. Don’t you remember?”
For the first time, she was grateful for Jo Seo-ha’s harmless, innocent-looking face. She could say anything with sparkling eyes and no one would suspect her.
“Jo Seo-ha, you seem to know a lot for an intern. But this was definitely Paris. Right, Yoon-jung?”
“Yes, it was the 2018 Paris Collection.”
The quickest-witted staffer answered immediately. Seo-ha made a small, playful hum.
“Mmm… I’m pretty sure it was Milan. I think you’re mistaken, Team Leader. Did you actually buy them yourself?”
“Of course I did. In Paris.”
“Then check the sole. The artisan’s name and your name should be engraved in Italian right in the center.”
“Why would I do that?”
Ji-soo’s voice turned sharp. The entire office — veterans and new hires alike — went still.
Seo-ha smiled innocently, pretending not to notice the anxious glances behind her.
“Well, I could be wrong. I’m just an intern — here to learn, right? If I’m mistaken, you should teach me properly, Team Leader!”
