Chapter 6
. God-Kimchi Fried Rice
After her workout and a refreshing shower, Hana entered the office with a fresh face and sat at her desk, tidying it up first.
‘Did he eat it?’
She subtly pushed her foot against the floor, rolling her chair with a soft drdrk.
Peeking her head out beyond the partition, she checked—but the paper bag hanging from the director’s office door handle was gone.
The large glass window facing into the office had the blinds drawn, so she couldn’t see anything inside.
“Is the Director okay?”
His cold gaze and expression now made perfect sense.
Shouldering the weighty role of Head of Food Development while being unwell must’ve been incredibly hard.
She figured his stony expression came from suppressing pain.
Taking pills secretly at the gym at dawn—he must be hiding the fact that he’s sick.
Moved, Hana made a silent vow from the bottom of her heart.
‘Director, I’ll protect your secret no matter what!’
At that same moment, inside the director’s office.
Snrrk.
Siwan was sound asleep, slumped deeply into his chair.
Never in his life had he fallen asleep after a dawn workout.
Those who’d seen Siwan sleep before used to say:
“You sleep like the dead.”
And now, not only was he snoring—which was unusual—but he was completely out cold.
Moments later, Siwan suddenly shot his eyes open, trying hard to make sense of his surroundings.
“D-Did I fall asleep?”
More surprising was how refreshed he felt—it was the first time he’d woken up feeling this good.
His gaze landed on the neatly packed lunchbox resting on his desk.
“No way… the power of kimchi fried rice…?”
There’s a saying: Koreans live off the power of rice.
It reminded him of something his father used to say all the time:
“Siwan, listen. Enjoying a good meal is one of the most important things in life. You could say mental and physical health both begin there.”
Though his condition felt as light as air, Siwan grew serious.
“Shouldn’t I repay her?”
Never live indebted—that was one of CEO Do Myeongjin’s core values. Naturally, he had stressed this repeatedly to his son, Siwan.
Actually, Do Myeongjin had a long list of personal values, and every one of them had meaning. Siwan always tried to keep them close to heart.
Folding his arms, he pondered.
“What kind of return would be just right—not too much, not too little?”
The kimchi fried rice from the diner across the street cost 8,000 won.
But handing 8,000 won to Assistant Manager Ju Hana would come off as rejecting her kindness. She might even take it as an insult.
Then he thought of Chae Suhwa.
One of the very few women around his age he was close to—maybe she could give some advice?
But he quickly shook his head. She lived in a completely different world. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d never eaten kimchi fried rice in her life.
After all, the value of the clothes she wore daily easily surpassed the cost of a mid-sized sedan.
On the other hand, Hana was the embodiment of an ordinary office worker. No—she was even more unassuming and modest than that.
Of course, that wasn’t a bad thing.
Siwan, who’d grown up under a father who valued moderation, actually admired that about her.
Because they were such polar opposites, he decided against asking Suhwa for advice.
It just wouldn’t be helpful.
While Siwan was deep in thought, someone knocked on the door. Soon after, he heard Seo Wangu’s voice.
“Director, there are ten minutes left until the morning meeting.”
“……?”
The daily morning meeting was at 9 a.m. sharp.
Which meant—it was now 8:50.
‘Whoa… did I sleep for an hour and a half?’
No wonder he felt so refreshed. He must’ve really slept soundly.
Straightening his tie and throwing on his jacket, Siwan stood up.
“Since it’s Wednesday, is it the managers and team leaders’ meeting?”
As his first meeting in the role of department head, he had prepared diligently. He mentally reviewed the status of each team.
‘…?’
Though he had checked the data carefully the night before, he hadn’t expected to remember it all so clearly.
But now he could recall the department’s revenue down to the last won.
“That’s a relief.”
When he opened the door, Seo Wangu was waiting outside.
Unlike the day before, when he’d come to pick Siwan up, he looked neat and fresh. With his usual warm smile, he greeted Siwan.
“Good morning, Director.”
“You too, Secretary Seo. Is there anything I should know before the meeting?”
“No, sir. Since it’s your first day, just focus on putting names to faces and getting a feel for each team. Be a bit more courteous to the department managers, though.”
Siwan nodded.
At thirty-three, he was the youngest attendee at the meeting.
It was one thing with the team leaders, but the managers probably didn’t like that a guy much younger than them was now their superior—just because he was the CEO’s son.
But knowing Do Myeongjin had made this appointment free of favoritism, they had no choice but to accept it.
For Siwan, it was crucial to earn their respect—for his father’s reputation if nothing else.
“I’m a bit nervous. Let’s go.”
Seo Wangu smiled faintly.
“By the way, Director—you’re looking well today.”
“……?”
“Your expression seems much softer.”
Siwan instinctively touched his face. His skin did feel a little smoother.
“Ha-ha, is that so?”
On the way to the conference room, Siwan glanced toward Hana’s desk.
“Hmm?”
But instead of Hana, a young man in a suit was sitting there, face buried in the monitor, completely focused.
Just then, Hana came briskly walking over from somewhere and whack! delivered a sharp karate chop to the top of his head. The guy yelped.
“Argh!”
“Hey, Roundy! I told you not to peek at other people’s screens at work!”
‘Roundy’ held his head with a pitiful expression.
That was Koo Dong-geun, a three-month-old newbie who’d just finished his probation period.
With his cute features, he’d captured the hearts of the company’s younger female employees from day one. Polite, hardworking, and competent, he was well-liked by both peers and supervisors.
But there was one person who constantly scolded him—Assistant Manager Ju Hana.
“What was that for, sunbae?! If I go bald, you’re responsible!”
“Who’s your sunbae? Call me Assistant Manager.”
Hana snapped, poking the back of his heel with her toe—telling him to move.
Koo Dong-geun pouted as he gave up the seat, then crouched next to her, grinning.
“But in movies, everyone calls their seniors ‘sunbae.’ ‘Assistant Manager’ sounds so cold. Can’t I just say ‘sunbae’?”
“Sure. Then go get a job at the company in that movie.”
“Wow, that’s harsh.”
“Shush. Go do your work.”
Though she told him to go, Dong-geun grabbed her armrest and said seriously:
“And I’m not Roundy. I’m Dong-geun.”
Hana, clearly uninterested, responded flatly.
“Cool story.”
Then she waved her hand as if shooing away a fly.
Siwan watched the whole scene, thoroughly amused.
‘Firm as a brick wall. The more I see, the more I like her.’
Just then, he frowned.
‘That male employee… looks oddly familiar. Where have I seen him before?’
At that moment, Seo Wangu called him.
“Director?”
“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about something. Let’s go.”
At Bunsik Heaven, during a slow hour with no customers, Joo Pyunghwa sat at a table scrolling on his phone.
「4.8/5.0」
Until yesterday, their rating had been 4.9—but now it had dropped.
Frowning deeply, Pyunghwa called out toward the kitchen.
“Hey! Honey!”
A tall, 1.8-meter woman came out, wiping her hands on her apron.
With sharp features and short-cropped hair, she was Jang Shin-young—Hana’s mother and a former national volleyball player.
She had been at the top of her game, but after Hana entered elementary school, she retired and opened Bunsik Heaven with her husband.
Since she’d always worn short hair as an athlete, she kept that style even now.
She was only about 5 cm taller than her husband, but she looked almost a whole head taller—something Hana was convinced meant one of them was lying. Either Dad was over-reporting his height, or Mom was under-reporting.
Shin-young hooked her foot around a chair leg, dragged it over, and plopped down.
“What? What’s up?”
Pyunghwa showed her his phone.
“Look. Our rating dropped by 0.1!”
“Ugh, why do you care? 4.9 or 4.8—what’s the difference?”
Unbothered, Shin-young dismissed it.
But Pyunghwa got worked up.
“0.1 is the difference between heaven and earth!”
“Alright, alright. So what are you gonna do about it? Just do better. The ratings will go back up.”
A strong mentality befitting a former national athlete. But Pyunghwa found her maddening.
She always acted like he was making a big fuss over nothing.
Leaning back with arms crossed, he said,
“Hey, did you notice? Hana took two lunchboxes today. One of them was kimchi fried rice.”
Shin-young tilted her head.
“She took kimchi fried rice yesterday too.”
“Exactly! And this is the girl who hates repeating meals during the week! The other lunch was grilled fish.”
Suddenly, Shin-young slammed the table with her large palm.
“That kimchi fried rice was for someone else!”
“Yeah, I’m sure of it!”
“Oh-ho! It’s finally happening!”
