Min-Jea had just been dragged back into the storm of serving trays and shouting orders when Ji-Ah finally dropped onto his desk, stretching her legs with a sigh.
Then her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen.
Grumpy Sir
Her eyebrow twitched.
She opened the message.
Grumpy Sir: Meet me at Do-Hyun's office. Now.
"…Wow," she muttered. "So polite."
She typed back.
Why.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Grumpy Sir: Come.
She stared at the screen, unimpressed.
Then sighed, stood up, and brushed crumbs off her skirt.
"Of course," she said to absolutely no one. "Because when Grumpy Sir says 'come,' the world must pause."
The hallway outside Do-Hyun's office was quiet compared to the chaos of Hanryeon Foods.
Ji-Ah slowed as she approached, spotting him instantly.
Ha-Joon stood near the door, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly out of place. He looked… human.
Annoyingly so.
She stopped a few steps away. "You called like it was an emergency."
He looked at her. Really looked.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
She blinked. "You just ordered me here to ask that?"
"Yes."
"No," she said quickly.
He didn't react. Just reached for the bag in his hand and held it out.
"Take it."
She stared. "…Then why ask?"
"So I'd know whether to argue with you."
She took the bag anyway. "You're unbelievable."
"Yet here you are."
She opened the bag, paused when she saw what was inside, then looked up again. "You planned this."
He met her eyes. "Eat. Then go back."
Her lips twitched. "You sound like a worried parent."
"I sound responsible."
She scoffed, then softened. "Thanks."
He nodded once. "Stay where people are. Don't wander."
"Yes, Sir," she said sweetly.
He turned to leave, stopping only for a second. "Don't skip meals."
Then he walked away, leaving Ji-Ah standing there with a food bag, a quiet hallway, and a very confused heart.
--
Min-Jea was still working late.
The lights of Hanryeon Foods burned brighter than usual, the kitchen loud with last-minute orders and clattering trays.
Ha-Joon had already finished his meeting, coat back on, phone in hand as he stepped out of Do-Hyun's office.
He checked the time.
Too late.
His thumb hovered, then moved.
On Ji-Ah's phone, his name lit up again.
Grumpy Sir: Come outside. Now.
He waited.
From where he stood, he could see the front entrance through the glass. Staff moved in and out.
Min-Jea rushed past carrying boxes, shouting apologies over his shoulder.
Then Ji-Ah appeared.
She stepped out, distracted, phone still in her hand.
Ha-Joon took one step forward.
She slipped.
It happened fast. One wrong angle, one careless step. Her foot twisted and she stumbled forward, losing balance.
Ha-Joon's breath caught.
Before he reached her, someone else did.
Lin.
The boy moved smoothly, catching her arm, steadying her before she could fall. Ji-Ah winced, clearly hurt, but upright.
Too upright.
Too close.
Ha-Joon stopped.
He watched.
Lin spoke to her.
Ji-Ah shook her head, stubborn even from a distance.
She tried to step again and failed. Lin adjusted his grip, firmer this time, supporting her weight.
Ha-Joon's expression hardened.
He walked toward them, every step measured.
"What happened," he said.
Ji-Ah looked up, startled. "I twisted my ankle."
His eyes dropped instantly to her foot.
Then to Lin's hand.
Lin explained calmly, "She slipped. I was helping her."
Ha-Joon nodded once. No emotion. No thanks yet.
"I'll take her," he said.
Not raised. Not sharp. Final.
Lin paused, then released Ji-Ah carefully. "Alright."
Ha-Joon stepped in without hesitation, positioning himself so she leaned on him instead.
His hand was steady, familiar.
"Can you walk," he asked.
She shook her head.
He sighed quietly and adjusted his hold. Annoyed not at her at something else. "Then don't."
Min-Jea finally noticed them from the doorway, eyes widening. "What happened—"
"Go back inside," Ha-Joon said without looking at him.
Min-Jea did. Immediately.
Ha-Joon turned slightly to Lin. "Thank you."
Lin met his gaze. "Of course."
Nothing else was said.
As Ha-Joon guided Ji-Ah toward the car, he felt it. The shift. The crack he immediately sealed shut.
He didn't look back.
But he remembered exactly who had caught her first.
---
They finally made it home.
Ha-Joon eased Ji-Ah down onto the couch, careful but brisk, like he didn't want anyone to mistake this for tenderness.
Too late.
Chak skidded to a stop at the sight of them and immediately retreated. Earth followed, tail puffed like a warning sign.
Ji-Ah watched them disappear. "Great. You traumatized the cats."
"They'll recover," Ha-Joon said, already opening a drawer.
He pulled out an ointment and set it on the table.
She blinked. "Why do you own that."
"In case people get hurt."
"…Do people often get hurt around you?"
He ignored her.
He crouched down and reached for her shoe.
She jerked her foot back. "Excuse me—permission?"
"Granted," he said, and removed it anyway.
"Wow. So generous."
He slid the second shoe off more slowly this time, fingers brushing her ankle. Ji-Ah went quiet.
Suspiciously quiet.
Ha-Joon glanced up. "Does it hurt."
"…I don't know yet."
"That wasn't an answer."
He lifted her foot carefully, applied the ointment, and began massaging it in, movements steady and practiced.
Ji-Ah stared.
Unfairly handsome. Annoyingly calm.
Sleeves rolled up like this was a casual Tuesday ritual and not a moment that made her brain short-circuit.
"You're very… focused," she said.
"I'm treating an injury."
"Right. Very clinical. Zero emotions. Absolutely robotic."
He pressed slightly harder. She yelped.
"Too much emotion?" he asked dryly.
She laughed despite herself. "You're impossible."
"And you're injured," he replied. "Be still."
He finished wrapping her ankle and stood, stepping back like he needed distance immediately.
"Don't walk on it tonight," he said. "Ice it. Sleep."
She tilted her head, smiling up at him. "You're weirdly nice when you don't shout."
He paused. Just for a second. "Don't get used to it."
She grinned. "Too late."