Episode 8
Ji‑yeon’s playful question hung in the air.
Ha‑yoon bit her lip and fiddled with her empty soju glass.
Of course she knew.
Even after kissing him, Yoon Tae‑jun hadn’t shown a single flicker of feeling.
Was there any future with someone like that?
I know all that, she thought.
She’d told herself over and over—it’s time to stop.
Even a fool knows when it’s time to let go.
But still…
How do you let go of someone you’ve loved for so long?
No matter how cold he is, no matter what harsh words he says…
She still liked him. She couldn’t help it.
Ji‑yeon watched her friend’s silence and smirked, then poured more soju into Ha‑yoon’s glass.
“You’ll never be able to give him up,” Ji‑yeon said.
“And how do you know that? Maybe I can give him up.”
“Really? Then do it right now.”
Ha‑yoon’s lips stayed shut.
Ji‑yeon just laughed softly. She’d watched everything Ha‑yoon went through.
Ha‑yoon sighed and thought she could almost hear Ji‑yeon’s voice in her head: You? Give him up? Yeah, right.
Then Ji‑yeon tilted her head.
“But think about it—don’t you think it’s kind of weird?”
“What is?” Ha‑yoon asked, confused.
“If he really didn’t care about you, he should’ve been clear—cut you off completely and never shown you any attention. But he keeps acting in ways that confuse you, doesn’t he?”
“…It’s not that simple. I’m his friend’s little sister. You think it’s easy to treat me like a stranger?”
“You’re still defending him?” Ji‑yeon shook her head.
“What if he’s acting like nothing’s there, but deep down, he does like you?”
Tae‑jun… likes me?
Ha‑yoon almost laughed. That sounded more impossible than the sun not rising tomorrow.
“Like me? No way… that’s ridiculous.”
Ji‑yeon chuckled and tapped her glass against Ha‑yoon’s.
“You’re saying no, but your face says otherwise. You look like someone who’s hoping it’s true.”
“What am I hoping for?” Ha‑yoon muttered, flustered.
“It’s written all over your face,” Ji‑yeon teased.
Ha‑yoon’s cheeks turned red, making Ji‑yeon grin even wider.
“Ha‑yoon.”
“…What.”
“So… are you going to give up?”
“…I don’t know. Every time I try, all it takes is one look at him and my anger disappears. And you know—I’ve liked him for ten years. Forgetting someone like that isn’t easy.”
“Then don’t give up.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“If a woman draws her sword, she might as well cut something with it.”
“But you’re the one who’s always telling me to move on, meet someone new. Why are you saying this now?”
Ji‑yeon shrugged with a strange smile.
“I know how hard a one‑sided love can be. Part of me wants you to just stop suffering. But when I see your face light up when you talk about him… how can I tell you to stop? I just…”
“Hey…”
“I just don’t want you to make a choice you’ll regret.”
Ha‑yoon felt tears threaten to spill, so she clinked her glass against Ji‑yeon’s and quickly turned her head away.
Ji‑yeon let out a quiet laugh, not even sure why, but she had this odd feeling… like something between those two was slowly shifting.
It felt like the wind, which had always blown one way, was starting to change direction.
Meanwhile…
At the chairman’s office of KJ Group, a gold nameplate reading Yoon Bong‑soo sat on the huge desk.
Bong‑soo was seated on the sofa with Tae‑jun across from him, both holding cups of tea.
“I heard there was some incident during a live broadcast,” Bong‑soo said.
Tae‑jun wasn’t surprised. He figured the chairman would hear about it, though he found it funny that even small arguments reached him.
“There was, but I handled it,” Tae‑jun replied calmly.
“Handled it? Do you know how many eyes were on you? Do you know how much people talk about you?”
“It wasn’t my fault. I just did my job.”
“If you hadn’t scolded him in front of everyone, none of these rumors would’ve started.”
Tae‑jun didn’t answer.
What Bong‑soo said wasn’t wrong—if Tae‑jun had handled Byung‑wook privately, the gossip wouldn’t have spread.
Since that day, word had gone around: Tae‑jun favors his own team.
At least the rumors weren’t bad—everyone knew Byung‑wook was a troublemaker—but Bong‑soo wanted no rumors at all.
“If it’s no big deal, then it’s even better if nothing spreads,” Bong‑soo said.
“You expect too much, Grandfather. Everyone knows I’m your grandson. How can there be no rumors when so many eyes are watching me?”
“You little brat, always talking back!” Bong‑soo slammed his fist on the table.
Tae‑jun stayed calm, sipping his tea, feeling the hot liquid slide down his throat.
“You’re still sticking with that girl, aren’t you?”
“She’s like a little sister to me.”
“She’s not actually your sister.”
“…What are you trying to say?” Tae‑jun’s brows furrowed. He had a bad feeling.
Bong‑soo’s sharp gaze cut into him.
“I told you before—cut ties with that crowd. You’re not part of that world anymore. You’re going to lead KJ one day.”
“That’s your dream, not mine.”
“And why did you mess up that meeting with Assemblyman Park’s daughter? If you connected with that family, your future would be paved with flowers, not thorns. I’ve told you this a thousand times.”
“And I’ve told you a thousand times—I won’t marry someone just because you decided it.”
It was a battle of wills—shield against sword.
Tae‑jun stood up. He knew staying would just lead to more pointless arguments.
As he bowed and turned to leave, Bong‑soo’s low voice stopped him.
“End it. Before I end it myself.”
Tae‑jun clenched his teeth and walked out without a word.
Behind him, Bong‑soo let out a long sigh.
“What am I going to do with him…”
Monday morning.
Ha‑yoon yawned as she walked into the office, looking sleepy.
“Lucky you, Ha‑yoon,” said Park Soo‑jung, the senior on her team, smiling at her.
Ha‑yoon put her bag down, blinking in confusion.
“Me? Why?”
“You didn’t hear?”
Another teammate, Choi Seok‑hoon, jumped in excitedly.
“You’re getting someone under you! You’re gonna have a junior soon.”
Ha‑yoon’s eyes went wide.
KJ Media had a policy: a new hire wouldn’t be assigned to a team until the youngest staff member had been there at least two years, to make sure they could train someone new.
“You’re surprised, huh? This almost never happens,” Soo‑jung said.
“Right. They always wait about two years so the youngest can adjust first. But you’ve been here less than a year…”
“Maybe it means our team’s about to get a lot busier. Better get ready!”
Ha‑yoon could only stare, her heart suddenly racing with surprise—and maybe a little excitement.
