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YPT 01

YPT

Prologue


“Vice President Choi Ji-an.”

At the secretary’s introduction, Yeon-ha’s trembling eyes flickered toward the nameplate sitting neatly on the desk behind him.

The elegantly engraved name and title confirmed that the introduction had been correct. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to the man before her—and then, as if struck, bowed her head with a devastated expression.

He had once been the man who made her young heart race at twenty, who had been endlessly kind and warm throughout their relationship. But now, that same man was looking at her with an unfamiliar coldness in his eyes.

“…How are you here, Senior?”

Her voice shook with disbelief. Ji-an, however, answered differently.

“Senior? You should call me Vice President. Don’t you think so, Ms. Park Yeon-ha?”

The man who once was her senior now stood before her as an executive—his expression sharper, his black suit perfectly fitted, exuding power she had never seen before.

At Ji-an’s slight nod, the secretary who had been awkwardly standing between them slipped out of the room. When the door closed completely, Yeon-ha finally lifted her head again.

“You knew it was me… and still hired me?”

“What if I did?”

“…Why? Why would you do this?”

Ji-an gave a small laugh, as though the question amused him.

“Park Yeon-ha. I gave you a position in the company you dreamed of joining so badly, and yet that’s the look you give me? You should be thanking me.”

“That’s your reason? Because I wanted to work here?”

“Do you really think that’s all?”

He looked down at her—at the woman who dared to question him despite her trembling voice. This time, his answer came smooth and deliberate.

“It’s convenient. You know my little habits, my favorite food, my tendencies—everything down to my… preferences. You already know me better than anyone. Wouldn’t that make you the perfect secretary?”

The crooked smile faded from Ji-an’s lips, replaced by a glacial stillness. His tone carried a trace of mockery that made Yeon-ha bite her lower lip hard.

“…Is this revenge? For leaving you five years ago?”

At the mention of that day—the wound that had never quite healed between them—Ji-an smiled.

“Revenge? That’s harsh. Back then, I understood you, Yeon-ha. I blamed myself for making you leave. For the last five years, that’s all I’ve done.”

His lips curved in a smile, but his eyes told a different story.

Within those dark, obsidian eyes flickered something—was it sorrow, pain, or anger? Yeon-ha couldn’t tell.

“So now,” he said softly, “I’ll make it up to you. By keeping you close. And watching you… always.”

At those words—keeping you close—Yeon-ha froze. Instinctively, she took a step back. But her foot caught, and she stumbled.

Before she could fall, Ji-an’s hand shot out, gripping her arm firmly.

Yeon-ha tried to wrench free, both hands struggling against his unyielding grip. But his hand didn’t move an inch. Her eyes burned as she glared at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze fully—to look into those eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t name.

“How… how will you ever let me go?”

“Who knows.”

Her voice trembled, her head bowed. Ji-an’s answer came soft, ambiguous—yet heavy.

Everything that had led her here—her return to Korea, her new position, this very meeting—had been part of Ji-an’s meticulous design. And yet, when she asked how he would let her go, he found himself without an answer.

“Could I ever let you go?”

No. I don’t have the will to. Or the desire to.

So now, Yeon-ha… you’ll just have to understand me.

His eyes darkened, the light within them fading into something deeper, more dangerous—
a resolve that would never allow her to leave his side again

Chapter 1

At twenty, Park Yeon-ha never believed in love at first sight.

Of all the billions of people in the world, how could anyone perfectly fit one’s taste so completely that one would fall at a single glance? It sounded like a fantasy made for movies—or the kind of nonsense you laughed about after too many drinks.

But that belief shattered completely the moment she met the upperclassman assigned as her group mentor during her very first university retreat.

When Yeon-ha was a freshman, Choi Ji-an was a returning sophomore, three years older than her. He had finished his first year, completed his mandatory military service, and just returned to campus—a little older, a little more mature.

And the man who struck her heart like lightning at first sight

was tall—easily over 185 cm, with a pleasant, deep baritone voice and raven-black hair that matched his eyes, both sharp and commanding.

His eyes, framed by perfectly straight brows, carried a cold, cutting sharpness. Beneath them, a high-bridged nose and defined jawline gave him a nobility almost too perfect to approach.

Yet—his slightly upturned lips, tinged with red, softened that coldness into a dangerous kind of charm.

Lean yet broad-shouldered, his frame carried the quiet strength of a grown man.

To the newly twenty-year-old Yeon-ha, Ji-an looked like a duke from the pages of a romance novel.

“So this is what people mean when they see a celebrity in real life,”
she thought, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and wonder.

For those two and a half chaotic days of the retreat, she barely looked away from him. And by the end of it, she was convinced she had spent half of her lifetime’s luck just being assigned to his team.

Most people would have called that an exaggeration. But Yeon-ha was sure of it—because she had never been a lucky person.

To be precise, luck had never been part of her life.

She had no money luck, no lottery luck, not even a fortune cookie’s luck. Not once in her twenty years had she drawn more than a “Small Blessing” in a random fortune slip.

Her parents were kind—too kind.

When someone asked them to co-sign a loan, they did.
When someone needed money, they borrowed from others just to help.
And when those people couldn’t repay, they forgave every debt with understanding smiles.

Naturally, the Park family was always poor.

Raised in a household that gave everything away, Yeon-ha learned to look at the world with cold, practical eyes. She grew strong, independent, and used to doing everything herself.

With no luck to rely on, she worked twice—no, three times—as hard as others.
And through sheer effort, she was admitted to Seoyeon University, one of Seoul’s top schools—entirely through exam scores, no special admissions, no favors.

She couldn’t ask her family for help with tuition, so she worked through high school—taking whatever jobs would hire a teenager, slowly saving every won for college.

To people who helped her, she showed gratitude and discipline. To the world, she showed reality.

And then one day, that unrealistically beautiful senior appeared before her like a living contradiction.

A person too perfect for her world of part-time shifts and late-night buses.

And from that moment, Yeon-ha began to follow him—like a small, persistent shadow.

Whenever she could, she tried to catch Ji-an’s eye, even signing up for classes she didn’t need just to sit a few rows behind him.

Of course, college life wasn’t cheap. Between tuition and bills, she had to split her nights between study and part-time work. But somehow, seeing him even for a moment was rest enough.

Naturally, Ji-an wasn’t just handsome to her.

He was popular—painfully so. Some girls followed him around like fans, some admired him from afar, and others confessed outright. But among them all, no one stood out like Park Yeon-ha.

She didn’t know how to hide her feelings. Or rather—she didn’t want to.

Though sharp and socially perceptive enough to mask any emotion she wished, Yeon-ha refused to hide the one thing that was pure: her affection.

And soon, within Seoyeon University—at least within the economics department—everyone knew:

“That freshman, Park Yeon-ha, is in love with sophomore Choi Ji-an.”

It all came to a head on the second night of the retreat.

Drunk and flushed, Yeon-ha stumbled onto the stage during the evening recreation event and grabbed the microphone.

“Senior Choi Ji-an! I fell for you at first sight!”

Looking back, she would rather have buried herself alive for six months than remember it—but at the time, the twenty-year-old Yeon-ha had no idea of her own limits.

Alcohol had turned into reckless courage in her veins.

Ji-an looked up at the stage, utterly dumbfounded, as the entire crowd turned to watch.

And with bright red cheeks, Yeon-ha locked eyes with him and shouted again:

“Give me three chances! If you still don’t accept me after three confessions, I’ll give up cleanly!”

The crowd erupted.

“Say yes!” “Go for it!” “Give her a chance!”

Whether out of amusement or simple pressure, Ji-an finally lifted his hand, made a circle above his head, and nodded.

Yeon-ha, triumphant, hopped down from the stage and marched over to sit beside him—glowing with pride.

But a year passed.

And Yeon-ha never once confessed.

Not even once.

Because deep down, she knew two things:

First, Ji-an would never accept her.
Second, even if he did—she had no time for love.

Her home was in Gyeonggi-do, a full hour and a half away from campus. After classes, she tutored students for money. On weekends, she worked at a café.

Her life was a cycle—home, school, work, home.

Love didn’t fit anywhere in that loop.

And so, she stayed where she was—a quiet, devoted junior who never stopped orbiting around her senior.


“Ughhh
 I’m dead tired.”

Dragging herself up the steep hill toward the Humanities Building, Yeon-ha groaned. Her friend Sena laughed beside her.

“Another part-time job?”

“Yeah. My student begged for a review session before his exam, so I had to stay late.”

“Oof, poor thing.” Sena kneaded her shoulders teasingly, making Yeon-ha squirm and laugh.

Then Sena’s eyes widened. She leaned close and whispered, “Hey. Your love is coming.”

Yeon-ha turned—and there he was.

Choi Ji-an, walking down the path with one of his classmates, talking casually, the sunlight glinting off his dark hair.

Just one look, and the exhaustion melted from her limbs. Smiling like a fool, she broke into a trot.

“senior!”

“Oh? Yeon-ha hoobae!”

Except it wasn’t Ji-an who answered—it was his friend, Jang-hoon.

Ignoring him completely, Yeon-ha beamed up at Ji-an.

“Senior, you look gorgeous today! Did you sleep well? Attend all your classes?”

She fired off questions without waiting for answers. Ji-an sighed, expression weary, and flicked her forehead lightly.

“Why ask me what you already spammed on KakaoTalk this morning?”

“Well, you never reply to my morning texts! How else am I supposed to know?”

Indeed, ever since getting his contact, she had sent him a message every single morning—her own version of a “good morning call.”

He never responded. Not once.
And he refused to give her his phone number, terrified she’d start calling, too.

But that didn’t stop her. Not in the slightest.

Ji-an groaned. “Please. Just confess already, so this whole thing can end. Please.”

His tone wasn’t desperate—more resigned. And Yeon-ha, utterly unfazed, smiled brightly.

“Why would I? You’d just reject me anyway.”

Her teasing tone left him speechless.

Just then, Sena checked the time on her phone and tugged her friend’s arm. “We’re gonna be late. Come on! Bye, senior!”

“Ah! Right! See you later!”

Even as she was dragged away, Yeon-ha turned back and waved.

Sena rolled her eyes. “No, we won’t see them later. We’ve got classes all day!”

“Oh, really? Then see you tomorrow, senior!”

Their voices faded down the path like a comedy duo.

Jang-hoon snorted, shaking his head before glancing at his friend.

Ji-an’s face was the picture of exasperation, watching Yeon-ha disappear into the crowd.

Jang-hoon clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Poor bastard,” he murmured. “Wrong freshman to catch your eye.”

And with that, the two continued walking—
one laughing softly,
and the other wearing the look of a man hopelessly trapped in someone else’s persistence.

!”

“Ah! Right! See you later!”

Even as she was dragged away, Yeon-ha turned back and waved.

Sena rolled her eyes. “No, we won’t see them later. We’ve got classes all day!”

“Oh, really? Then see you tomorrow, senior!”

Their voices faded down the path like a comedy duo.

Jang-hoon snorted, shaking his head before glancing at his friend.

Ji-an’s face was the picture of exasperation, watching Yeon-ha disappear into the crowd.

Jang-hoon clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Poor bastard,” he murmured. “Wrong freshman to catch your eye.”

And with that, the two continued walking—
one laughing softly,
and the other wearing the look of a man hopelessly trapped in someone else’s persistence.

!”

“Ah! Right! See you later!”

Even as she was dragged away, Yeon-ha turned back and waved.

Sena rolled her eyes. “No, we won’t see them later. We’ve got classes all day!”

“Oh, really? Then see you tomorrow, senior!”

Their voices faded down the path like a comedy duo.

Jang-hoon snorted, shaking his head before glancing at his friend.

Ji-an’s face was the picture of exasperation, watching Yeon-ha disappear into the crowd.

Jang-hoon clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Poor bastard,” he murmured. “Wrong freshman to catch your eye.”

And with that, the two continued walking—
one laughing softly,
and the other wearing the look of a man hopelessly trapped in someone else’s persistence.

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Younger People’s Tastes

Younger People’s Tastes

연하의 ì·ší–„
Score 9.8
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2025 Native Language: korean

Synopsis

“I’ll confess exactly three times! If you don’t accept me after that, I’ll give up cleanly!”

Despite that bold declaration, Yeon-ha, the younger one, never once confessed to Ji-an.
Because deep down, he was sure—Ji-an would never accept his feelings.
And besides, he told himself, he didn’t have the time or luxury for something as frivolous as love.

Yet, somehow, Yeon-ha tamed Ji-an.

To the point where waking up in the morning felt strange if the first thing she saw on her phone wasn’t his name.

“Congratulations, senior. I’m not going to like you anymore.”
“...What, did you find someone else better-looking than me?”
“Impossible! There’s no one in the world more handsome than you! It’s just— I need another part-time job, and I don’t have time to chase after you anymore.”

He was the type who put his whole heart into everything — studies, work, even one-sided love.
So Ji-an decided to show him a final bit of mercy.

“Wanna come over to my place?”


Ha, damn it. Park Yeon-ha, that crazy kid.

Pretending to be asleep, Ji-an had deliberately turned her head toward him on the bed.
Judging from Yeon-ha’s usual behavior, she expected he’d just stare at her face for a while and leave it at that.

“But a kiss? Really?”

She knew he was daring, but she hadn’t known he could be this audacious.

At this rate, Ji-an thought—
either she’d end up devouring Yeon-ha,
or Yeon-ha would devour her.

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