Chapter 16. Glory
Maybe he thought it was unnecessary—Lee Jun averted his eyes dispassionately. Yooa’s cheeks flushed red, making her a prime target for teasing, and Chairman Kang threw out one question after another.
“You two used to be inseparable when you were little. When did you start being so formal with each other? I thought it ended there. Is there something I don’t know?”
It was impossible to answer and difficult to dodge—she was stuck.
“Who was chasing whom first?”
The answer didn’t really matter. The important part, for Chairman Kang, was watching the two squirm with embarrassment as he chuckled at their discomfort. Neither of them could just walk away—that much was clear. That’s probably why Chairman Kang felt so free to tease them.
There was no telling what other mischief his memories from elementary school might dredge up. Just as Yooa started shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Lee Jun finally opened his mouth.
“It was me.”
“You, Lee Jun?”
Surprised, Yooa looked up at him from across the table. He had just picked up a perfectly grilled asparagus with his fork and brought it to his mouth, and his reply was flat—like a corporate report.
“Yeah. I followed her around even though she hated it. Nothing’s changed, really.”
Who started it didn’t matter. At eleven years old, Yooa had envied Jun, who had everything, while he had been fascinated by her, who had nothing.
That feeling, perhaps, was sympathy.
Feeling that dragging him into this was unfair to him, Yooa quietly called out.
“Vice President.”
He slightly moved his lips as if to say, You don’t have to, but the moment she saw those emotionless eyes again, Yooa was reminded.
“It must’ve been really annoying. It was back then too.”
It was all just idle chatter to pass the time during dinner—nothing more or less.
There was no need to clarify or explain anything. Chairman Kang was just joking, and no one was taking it seriously. Except Yooa.
“Let me take you back.”
As dinner was wrapping up, Lee Jun stood. Understanding that this meant he wanted him to leave, Chairman Kang waved his hand dismissively.
“Why bother? These old knees are still strong. I walk that road up and down several times a day.”
Despite his words, Chairman Kang got into the car where the secretary-general was waiting. The red taillights slowly disappeared up the hill.
“Leave it, I’ll clean up.”
Yooa quietly gathered the dishes and carried them into the camper van, ignoring Lee Jun’s protest.
She couldn’t serve disposable dishes to the chairman of Tae-gyeom Group, so quite a few dishes were now piled up in the sink.
Feeling overwhelmed in the cramped space, Yooa tried to ignore Jun’s presence.
“Yoon Yooa.”
She had just put on her rubber gloves when Jun suddenly leaned in close to her face. His handsome face stared directly at her, and instinctively, Yooa leaned back.
“You really don’t listen, do you? I told you to leave it.”
“So what am I supposed to do? If it needs to be done anyway, better to do it now.”
She mentioned bugs and bad smells if it was left too long, and Jun made a phone call.
He turned on the water by lifting the handle, but kept turning it off and on again and again. While the faucet sputtered like a bruised ego, a vehicle silently glided into the clearing.
“Put everything in.”
The dirty dishes, not even pre-rinsed, were all loaded into a large, sturdy, opaque box—perfect for storing supplies.
“What is this?”
“Move. Don’t be annoying.”
He tugged the back collar of her peach-colored knit top with his index finger, pulled her away, and just like that, the dishes were gone into two boxes. Jun then took off the gray rubber gloves from her hands.
“So?”
“What?”
“No compliment? I’m ready to hear it.”
Yooa found this version of Jun—holding her rubber gloves—strangely unfamiliar.
When they lived together, he had never once made something as simple as pasta for their child.
Come to think of it, when he was her husband, she had never seen him grill a steak or cook pasta. Not only did he not cook, she’d never seen him even enter the kitchen.
“What else can you make?”
When she asked, meaning food, he looked puzzled. But when she clarified, he shrugged.
“Simple stuff. Isn’t it weirder to be over thirty and not know how to cook anything?”
“True.”
But then… why did he hide that from her?
At that trailing thought, Yooa pressed her lips shut. Jun, catching her glare, raised one eyebrow.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m being scolded?”
He always felt small in front of Yooa. Even though his company, Grip, contributed significantly to the group’s growth every year.
Maybe things like that didn’t matter to Yoon Yooa.
He thought she was enjoying the meal, but her sharp reaction made him ask:
“Was the steak tough? You didn’t like the salad dressing? I didn’t even use ingredients you hate.”
“It’s not that.”
Jun looked hurt, and Yooa shook her head.
For him, this moment hadn’t even happened yet. She couldn’t vent her frustrations over memories only she carried.
She quickly reassured him that she was just surprised—she’d never seen this side of him. She praised the food as being excellent.
“That’s an honor.”
“Tasted like that famous dry-aged steakhouse in Hannam-dong. Even the salad dressing matched.”
“It’s my favorite restaurant. Didn’t know… you knew.”
Realizing that could come off as condescending, he hurried to add:
“Ah, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Yooa calmed him with a small smile.
“I know. It’s hard to identify a restaurant just from taste. But I pulled it off.”
On days when her aunt hurt her with words, or when her sick child was discharged from the hospital—Lee Jun would take her to that restaurant. Of course she hadn’t forgotten the taste.
Now that there was nothing left to do, Yooa handed him a pre-printed report and turned on the coffee machine. The smell helped clear the lingering food scent inside the camper.
“It’s based on a perspective centered around families of three to four, so it may not fit young couples or childless pairs.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jun had meant to skim it, but he didn’t move until the fresh coffee by his side had gone cold.
As she watched him read her thoughts so seriously, Yooa gazed at him quietly. When their eyes suddenly met, she panicked and raised the coffee mug to hide her face.
“Interesting viewpoint. Fresh. But… some parts feel like suggestions only someone who’s raised a kid would make.”
At his sharp observation, Yooa felt her breath catch.
How could she explain that her insights came from raising a five-year-old boy, and from seeing a future filled with elderly camping enthusiasts?
Jun downed the cold coffee in one go. Then, pushing down the mug hiding her face, he looked at her flushed cheeks and asked:
“Are you secretly raising a child I don’t know about?”
“Of course not.”
“If you were, maybe this crappy feeling would ease a little.”
“What?”
With his jet-black eyes, Lee Jun gave a bitter laugh. Then he crumpled her draft like it was choking him—revealing his raw, almost animalistic side.
“No kid. No greed for money. No real ambition, as far as I can tell.”
Leaning against the camper wall, he looked at her with a chilling gaze.
“Then why the hell… did you not want to marry me?”
He had seemed indifferent, like it didn’t matter—but maybe he had been searching for the reason she rejected him all this time.
At his whispered question, Yooa’s face turned deathly pale.
“Yoon Yooa. Hm? Aren’t you going to answer?”
