Chapter 7

“W-wait…!”

Young-won lost balance and fell on top of Yoon-ah.

“Mmm…”

She didn’t seem to feel his weight. Half-asleep, she wrapped both arms and legs around him and hugged him tight. The room was dark; only her light breathing could be heard.

Young-won froze. He was in a single woman’s bedroom, on her bed, and now they were holding each other. His body reacted on its own, which panicked him even more.

Don’t move, Choi Young-won.
If she woke up now, this would look terrible. How could he explain?

He tried to think of a way out without waking her. He spotted a long body pillow wedged between the bed and the wall. Maybe she usually hugs that. He carefully reached for it, planning to switch it with himself in one quick move.

But when he shifted the slightest bit, Yoon-ah stirred, and the small movement made things worse for him. He broke into a sweat and started praying in his head, begging for help to keep control.

At last, she pushed at his shoulder like she was about to get up. Relief rushed through him.

“B-Boss! You’re—”

“…It’s hot…”

In the next instant, everything flipped. She shoved him onto his back, climbed over him, and sat on his hips. On the narrow bed, there was nowhere for him to escape—wall on one side, Yoon-ah on the other.

Half-asleep, eyes hazy, she murmured that she was hot and started unbuttoning her striped shirt. Each small movement made his panic spike. He thought for a second about gently laying her down again—but she had already opened her shirt. Pale skin showed in the darkness.

No… Boss…
He didn’t want to be a shameless guy in front of Yoon-ah, yet he couldn’t look away. The blackout curtains let in a thread of light that made her skin seem to glow. She looked very slender: delicate shoulders and arms, a small waist, and a beige bra that emphasized her curves.

Then her hand went to her jeans buckle.

That snapped him back. If she pulled the zipper, her hand would brush him—and that would be a disaster. He couldn’t let this go on.

He reacted without thinking, lifting his right thigh too fast to create space.

Thunk.
Yoon-ah’s head bumped the wall. Horrified, he jumped up, hands hovering helplessly because he didn’t want to touch her bare skin.

“S-sorry, Boss—”

“Ugh…”
She grabbed her head, wincing, now a little awake from the jolt.

He knew she must not see him like this. He hopped off the bed and moved behind her. There was a folded blanket there; he flung it over her shoulders in one motion.

“…Huh?” came her muffled, confused voice from under the white blanket.

He turned and hurried for the door, shoved his feet into his sneakers, yanked the handle, slipped out, and gently closed it. The lock beeped.

He half-ran toward the elevator, still flustered. The car arrived. He squeezed in—only to find a middle-aged man already inside.

They stared. The man’s eyes dropped, then slowly lifted to meet Young-won’s. Heat rushed to Young-won’s face. He slid to a corner, took off his damp shirt, and held it in both hands to cover his… problem.

Silence. Then the man let out a small chuckle—no words, but the meaning was obvious.

…Damn…

Young-won bowed his head, burning with embarrassment.