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Chapter 8 - EIGHT: Why me?

Mi Rae nearly stumbled, her mind tripping over itself. Her name in his mouth felt kinda wrong. He called her like she was very important.

"I–I…" She bowed awkwardly, clutching the strap of her bag. "Hello."

The man chuckled softly, brushing the air as though she'd made too big a fuss. "No need for nerves. Han Sung Joon," he introduced, placing a hand briefly over his chest before gesturing toward her. "Chairman of Vega Entertainment."

The name clanged in her head. Vega Entertainment. Every street corner, every screen, every late-night gossip show echoed that name.

He wasn't just another wealthy man; he was the man, the silent power who made idols into gods. And here she was, standing in his doorway, her shoes still damp from the pavement.

Mi Rae's mouth parted in disbelief, but no words came.

Sung Joon's gaze slid briefly toward Ra Mi, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "You never told me your sister was this charming. Look at her, so full of color. Unlike you, Ra Mi. You've always been stone-faced."

Mi Rae glanced at her sister, half-expecting some sharp retort. But Ra Mi stood with her arms crossed, her expression flat, like she hadn't even heard him.

Typical.

Mi Rae knew Ra Mi had her connections, knew a lot of wealthy people but she hadn't expected the person they were going to meet to be Han Sung Joon, the name she has come across so many times while working.

Sung Joon shook his head, laughing under his breath as if amused by his own joke. "She looks more alive than you've ever let yourself, Ra Mi. Perhaps I should have insisted on meeting her sooner."

Mi Rae shifted, heat prickling at her skin. Alive? Charming? None of this made sense. She wasn't even sure how her legs were keeping her upright.

Before she could speak, a pair of women drifted in from the hallway. They look like house staff, neat in cream uniforms. They moved with efficiency, bowing slightly before setting down a tray on the low glass table nearby. Crystal glasses clinked, a golden drink catching the light.

"Please," Sung Joon said, his tone gentle now, almost fatherly as he gestured inside. "Come in, sit down. You must be tired from the drive."

Mi Rae hesitated at the threshold, her shoes pressing against the edge. The air smelled faintly of cedar and something like wealth, like a house that had seen too many important conversations.

She had read about this man in articles, heard his name tossed around by classmates who dreamed of fame, even whispered among women in cafés, calling him both genius and tyrant.

And now he was here, in front of her, smiling like an old family friend.

Mi Rae drew a slow breath, stepped forward, and the door clicked shut behind her.

The living room was wide, glass stretching across one wall, showing the garden outside where lamps glowed faintly like resting stars. The furniture was warm-toned, the kind of expensive that didn't have to announce itself.

Mi Rae sat carefully on the edge of a leather sofa, her bag tucked close to her side like a shield. Ra Mi dropped into the armchair opposite, her legs crossed.

Sung Joon poured himself a drink from the tray and leaned back, the glass catching a faint golden shimmer. "You know, I always wondered what kind of person could soften Ra Mi's stone heart. Now I see… her own sister. Who would have thought?"

Mi Rae blinked, caught between flustered and offended. So this was how he joked?

Ra Mi didn't even twitch. Her gaze fixed on a distant corner of the room, unmoved, as if teasing rolled right off her skin.

"She used to glare at me whenever I teased her," Sung Joon went on, his smile deepening. "You'd think I had insulted a queen. But you… you laugh a little. You blush. You breathe. That makes you human, Miss Lim."

"I—I didn't mean to laugh," Mi Rae stammered, heat rising in her cheeks.

"Ah, but you did," he said smoothly, lifting his glass as though in a toast. "And that makes you the liveliest guest this house has had in months."

One of the women placed a glass before Mi Rae, bowing politely. The liquid inside was clear. Mi Rae hesitated before wrapping her fingers around it. The chill slipped into her palms, grounding her.

She looked at Sung Joon, then at Ra Mi, who still sat in her rigid silence. "I… didn't know you knew my sister," Mi Rae finally said.

The question slipped out before she could stop herself, her voice quieter than she intended.

Sung Joon leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "There's much you don't know, Miss Lim. But I imagine you'll start learning… now that you're here."

Mi Rae tightened her fingers around the cold glass, the taste of citrus barely touching her lips. She had no idea why she was here, why her sister of all people had dragged her to the CEO of Vega Entertainment's house.

Her confusion must have been obvious because Sung Joon finally leaned back, folding one leg over the other. His easy smile softened just a little, though his eyes stayed sharp.

"You must be wondering why you're here," he said.

Mi Rae's heart skipped. She nodded slowly.

Sung Joon's gaze flicked briefly to Ra Mi, stone-faced as ever, before returning to her. "It's simple. I want to offer you a job."

The words landed like a stone in her chest. She almost laughed, thinking he was joking.

"A… a job?" she echoed.

"Yes." He swirled his glass lightly. "Manager at Vega Entertainment."

Mi Rae nearly choked. Her mind reeled back instantly to Ra Mi's words in the car. A managerial job. Less chasing scandals, more obedience.

Her stomach twisted. She could barely hold onto journalism, her one passion, her one fight. And now, someone like her was supposed to manage talent at Vega Entertainment? It was absurd.

"I think you have the wrong person," she blurted before she could stop herself. "I'm not qualified for that. I couldn't even keep my last job."

Sung Joon's lips curled in a knowing smile. "Oh, I don't think I have the wrong person." He set his glass down with a soft click. "My son knows you."

Mi Rae blinked. "Knows me?"

"Yes." His tone carried the ease of someone laying out a truth he'd already confirmed. "When he came for an interview at your paper months ago, you were the one who attended to him, weren't you? My son spoke of a young reporter who treated him with unusual kindness, who looked after him while others brushed him off. That was you, Miss Lim."

Mi Rae's mind raced. She remembered vaguely, yes, there had been a boy, polite but nervous, coming in for a piece her editor wanted covered.

She had gone out of her way to show him around, make him comfortable, even when her seniors barely acknowledged him. She hadn't thought much of it back then.

Her chest tightened. She set the glass back on the tray carefully, afraid her trembling fingers might betray her.

Sung Joon's voice lowered, gentler now: "That same boy happens to be my son. And I happen to think he needs someone exactly like you."

Mi Rae swallowed hard. "I… I don't think I can. I'm not—"

Her voice cracked. She shook her head, forcing the words out. "I'm not suited for this. I don't belong in entertainment. I'm not even good at… managing myself."

Ra Mi's scoff cut across the room. But Sung Joon didn't answer. His expression remained calm, almost indulgent, as if he had already predicted her resistance.

"You're wrong," he said simply. "And even if you were right, talent is something I can shape. Integrity, loyalty, compassion… those can't be taught. You already have them."

Mi Rae felt her face heat. No one had ever said things like that to her, not without hidden barbs or cruel laughter waiting behind them.

Still, she shook her head. "I can't accept. I'll only mess it up. I'll fail him. I'll fail you."

That was when Sung Joon leaned forward, his voice dropping into something firmer. "Miss Lim, this isn't charity. I wouldn't risk my son's career on pity. I want you because I believe you're the one who can steady him."

And then, as if he knew exactly where her crumbling pride lay, he added:

"The position comes with a monthly salary higher than what you earned as a reporter. Company housing, if you'd like it. Full medical insurance. You'd travel with him, work closely with my team, and—" his smile returned, almost mischievous—"for once, you'd have the freedom to write your own future. Without begging anyone to let you in."

Mi Rae's breath caught. Company housing? Insurance? A salary like that? These were things she had never even dared to dream of, the kind of stability that would have made her past struggles a little less suffocating.

Her heart screamed at her to refuse again, this wasn't her world, this wasn't who she was. Yet her chest ached at the possibility of a life without scraping, without always being one step away from collapse.

She looked down at her trembling hands.

"…Why me?" she whispered.

Sung Joon's answer came without hesitation. "Because when others overlooked my son, you didn't."

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

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