Episode 7
“Fine. That’s enough,” Tae‑jun said.
The calm way he spoke made Byung‑wook frown in confusion.
“If you can’t give me either the number or the recording, it means you’ve got something to hide,” Tae‑jun added.
“That’s not it, I just—”
“Whatever your reason, when something goes wrong, the team leader takes responsibility. That’s what your position is for.”
In front of everyone, Tae‑jun’s words hit like a punch.
Byung‑wook made one last desperate attempt.
“I told you, it’s all her fault! She’s the one who messed this up!”
“Even if she didn’t say anything,” Tae‑jun cut him off, his eyes cold as steel, “isn’t it basic common sense—even interns know—to double‑check everything before going live?”
Byung‑wook had no answer.
“You’re angry because Team 1 is doing better than you, so you picked on one of my people. If you wanted better results, you should’ve worked smarter. And if you borrow someone from another team, you should show some gratitude.”
Byung‑wook’s mouth clamped shut. He had nothing.
“This time, you’ll take full responsibility.”
With that final warning, Tae‑jun grabbed Ha‑yoon by the wrist and led her out.
Byung‑wook shouted behind them, but Tae‑jun didn’t even flinch. He just kept walking.
All Ha‑yoon could see was the emergency staircase stretching on and on. She didn’t know why he’d brought her here, but the look on his face told her not to ask.
His grip was tight—too tight. She let out a small gasp, and Tae‑jun immediately let go, realizing how hard he’d been holding her.
“Sorry.”
“…It’s okay. I should be thanking you.”
“For what?”
“For helping me back there.”
She bowed her head slightly.
Tae‑jun let out a long sigh, ran a hand through his hair, and turned away, clearly still angry.
As a director, he was used to people not following his plans, but he never took it out on his team. That’s why people trusted him so much.
But just now… he’d completely lost his cool. Seeing that made Ha‑yoon’s chest feel heavy.
Did I make him angry? she thought.
After all, he’d had to hear things he shouldn’t have because of her. And once word spread, he might even get called in by higher‑ups.
She waited quietly, fiddling with her fingers.
Finally, when his anger seemed to cool a little, he looked at her.
“Why did you just stand there? When something’s unfair, you should at least say you don’t like it.”
His sharp tone startled her. He still looked frustrated.
She pressed her nails into her palm and spoke softly.
“I know you’re disappointed in me, but I really did my best to stay out of the way.”
“I’m not mad at you, Ha‑yoon… damn it…” He sighed and shook his head.
“I’m mad because you stood there with your head down. You didn’t do anything wrong. You should’ve said something.”
“If I yelled back, what would’ve changed?”
“It would’ve changed something. At least it would’ve been better than what happened.”
“No. He would’ve just gotten angrier and pushed me harder.”
The way she said it, like everything was her fault, made Tae‑jun’s chest tighten.
She had kept quiet because of him—because she didn’t want him or the team to be embarrassed. She knew how hard he worked to make the marketing department shine. And yet, he didn’t seem to understand.
“Why did you help me?” she asked suddenly.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you just leave me there?”
His expression darkened.
“Ha‑yoon…”
“I was so scared. I had so many things I wanted to say. At first, I thought, I won’t let them walk all over me this time. But if I don’t hold back, if I fight back… your reputation would suffer too.”
Tears filled her eyes. She hated crying at work, so she forced herself to blink them back.
You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t cry, Jung Ha‑yoon. Don’t cry.
“Who asked you to think about me?” Tae‑jun said coldly.
The sharpness of his words hit her like a slap. She couldn’t reply.
Silence fell between them.
Then he sighed again and pulled something from his pocket—a navy handkerchief—and held it out to her.
“Wipe your face.”
“…Why?”
“You think walking into the office with that face is a good idea?”
Even when he was helping, he had to say it like that. Ha‑yoon narrowed her eyes at him, but he didn’t care. He placed the handkerchief in her hand and turned to leave. His back looked broader than ever—like something she could never reach.
“Anyway. You did well. Go finish your work.”
“…Okay.”
As his footsteps faded, a wave of sadness swept over her.
Then the door creaked open again. He turned back, looking at her.
For a moment, she thought maybe—just maybe—he’d say something kind.
But her hope shattered instantly.
“Oh, and just so you know—if it were anyone else, I would’ve done the same thing. Don’t get the wrong idea.”
Later that night, Ha‑yoon sat with a bright red face, shouting in frustration as she drank.
“Seriously? Don’t get the wrong idea? What kind of crap is that?! Who said I was getting the wrong idea? I didn’t even say anything! Why does he keep drawing lines like that?!”
“Come on,” Ji‑yeon, her childhood friend, said with a laugh. “It’s not the first time he’s done that. Why are you surprised?”
“Doesn’t mean I’m not mad! If it were me, I’d just say, ‘Thanks for your hard work.’ But no—he had to say that!”
She slammed her glass down and leaned back in her chair.
She didn’t even know how the days after that went by.
First, there was the shock of how unaffected he’d been after she’d kissed him.
Then, to top it off, those words—Don’t get the wrong idea.
She’d been dazed ever since, laughing bitterly at herself.
Her teammates had tried to cheer her up with jokes, but her mood scared them off quickly.
Then the weekend came. Ji‑yeon had texted her:
“I miss you. Let’s have a drink at my place.”
Ji‑yeon had been her best friend since childhood, always there to support her whenever Tae‑jun made her heart ache.
Ha‑yoon grabbed her things and rushed over. Hours later, empty bottles lined the table.
“You should stop. You’ve had enough.”
“It’s fine. Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“Fair enough. But… how did your boss even know where to find you?”
“What?”
“I mean, how did he know you were there?”
Ha‑yoon tipped back her glass, swallowed, and wiped her lips.
How would I know? Someone probably told him I was missing and he asked around. Why should I care?
“I don’t know. Who cares. He’s the one telling me not to get the wrong idea—why should I bother figuring out how he got there?”
“Wow, you’re prickly. You used to wag your tail like crazy just hearing his name. Guess this time really hurt, huh?”
“Of course it did! I could’ve cried right there. I almost threw his handkerchief away but… I didn’t.”
(She’d actually tucked it in her pocket—but that was her secret.)
“So… what now?” Ji‑yeon asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you finally going to give up on Yoon Tae‑jun?”
