Chapter 19

Business trips were a frequent occurrence for Gong Jio. That didn’t mean he enjoyed them. Knowing Jio’s fastidious, germophobic streak, Gyuhan’s father always padded his travel expenses generously. Aware of this, whenever a trip was scheduled, Jio might give his brow a faint twitch, but no matter how long it took, he went and returned without a word of complaint.

Sometimes, the things one doesn’t enjoy are what keep daily life together.

Gyuhan’s father, Gyuhan himself, and even Gong Jio all agreed that a travel schedule dense enough to warrant adding extra passport pages was practically keeping Jio alive. Well, not for some grandiose reason like finding life’s purpose or spiritual grounding.

‘Make sure you don’t get a criminal record. It’ll cause problems traveling overseas.’

Even before immigration issues, a criminal record would jeopardize his career as an attorney, but… in any case, Jio seemed to have etched that advice deep into his heart. Whenever a situation arose where he seemed on the verge of crossing a line, he would simply pull his hand back and mutter, ‘Ah. Can’t go getting a red line on my record.’

To that same degree, Jio’s absences were familiar territory for Cha Gyuhan.

Gyuhan often forgot when Jio had departed and when he was slated to return. Part of it was Jio’s taciturn nature—never speaking unless asked—and part of it was that those business trips were largely tasks assigned by Gyuhan’s father. The dynamic between the chairman and his son. Jio was a hard-to-define figure—the chairman’s son’s friend, yet someone who handled far more work directly with the chairman while still coordinating intimately with the son.

This time, however, Gong Jio’s business trip hit Gyuhan with an entirely different weight. Feeling Jio’s absence keenly, he counted every single passing hour.

“Bastard.”

Gyuhan ground his teeth. Was it because he had believed Gong Jio, of all people, would never sneer at his core convictions? The sense of betrayal was searing. Even among the close circle of friends they’d hung out with recently, everyone nagged him to drop those archaic notions and just start dating, but Gong Jio had never done that. Jio hadn’t rushed him, and when Gyuhan registered with the matchmaking agency, Jio quietly helped in his own way.

“How could he call me a filthy fucking whore?”

Gyuhan was so thoroughly wounded that he muttered words Gong Jio had never even uttered. Or perhaps, struck too squarely on the mark, Gyuhan’s own abyss had quietly pushed forward the word of truth.

In truth, one question was growing increasingly vivid in his tangled head. Maybe what Gong Jio said was true after all.

While Jio’s remark rattled him to his core, Gyuhan sought counsel from his life’s role models—the respected cinematic hyung-nims. Come to think of it, those mentors might have acted a bit like pure-hearted whores without true romance, but they had maintained their personal convictions silently until the day they died. If Gyuhan’s conviction was his vow that he would meet someone destined to shake his fate, then Gong Jio’s sharp-tongued words—however insolent—held a grain of truth for someone who hadn’t kept that conviction one hundred percent sacred and immaculate….

But what was he supposed to do? Living like this, he’d attended all sorts of social gatherings, yet not once had that electric spark ever hit him. Gyuhan had even frequented spontaneous local meetup groups on secondhand marketplace apps. Before his non-fight with Jio, he’d joined a game of tag. Contrary to his initial ulterior motives, once the game began, he got so intensely absorbed that he ended up panting with flushed red cheeks, yelling that it was a blast and that they should do it again, before heading off for drinks with the group leader… completely forgetting his romantic intentions.

Slumped over his desk in deep self-reproach, Gyuhan heard a knock at the door. He didn’t budge.

His secretary, Secretary Kim, stepped in, briefly thinking, ‘Do some work’, before remembering, ‘Right, Attorney Gong isn’t here.’ He immediately understood his boss’s laziness. With the Chairman and Attorney Gong around, there was no need to worry about the company’s future, while his direct supervisor had little to do. Considering what his supervisor actually handled, not being busy was actually a good sign.

In short, the current state of affairs? The company was running smoothly, the boss was doing his bizarre thing, and he didn’t have to break his back. The ultimate dream job.

Vowing never to quit this gig, Secretary Kim quietly brought in a delivered meal box.

“What’s this?” Gyuhan mumbled, his face still buried against the desk.

His keen sense of smell had already discerned the menu. Come to think of it, he had eaten a slapdash dinner yesterday and skipped breakfast today. A ferocious hunger swept over him, making him wonder how he hadn’t felt starved until now.

“Attorney Gong told me to give you this if you went three days without stepping out for lunch.”

Lifting his tousled head, Gyuhan squinted through the transparent lid.

Every single side dish was something he loved.

Frowning, Gyuhan’s pride stung at the thought that Gong Jio had ordered this, and he briefly debated whether to refuse it. But he ultimately succumbed to the spicy stir-fried pork—glistening with a luscious sheen, faintly charred in just the right spots to evoke its rich, savory depth, and topped with a finishing sprinkle of sesame seeds.

“Thanks. I’ll eat well.”

Gyuhan’s voice was sullen, but his lips were practically moist with anticipation.

The secretary nodded and slipped out quietly.

Left alone again, Gyuhan set up the meal with remarkably swift hands, all while grumbling, “That bastard… does he think he can provoke a guy and then make up with food?”

No one had offered a truce.

“Giving someone the medicine and then the disease, huh? Think that works?”

He had the order reversed.

Yet as the raging hunger subsided and the menu’s flawless alignment with his tastes sank in, Gyuhan’s mood gradually softened. Even as he snorted repeatedly, the corners of his mouth relaxed into a faint curve—he was dancing right on the palm of Gong Jio’s hand.

Right. That had been Monday morning. Aren’t Monday mornings inherently miserable for working stiffs? Maybe Jio hadn’t eaten properly over the weekend or hadn’t slept well. In that case, seeing Gyuhan grinning like an idiot at work first thing Monday morning might have rubbed him the wrong way. Gyuhan even magnanimously took Gong Jio’s side.

Having finished the meal, Gyuhan reached a state of supreme satisfaction. Humming a tune, he cleared away all the trash and decided to venture out to buy real café coffee instead of the pantry stuff.

“One iced Americano, please. And gently add one and a half pumps of sweet, swweeeet syrup.”

Just as Gyuhan finished his order with a broad grin, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Could it be Gong Jio?

❮Merry Matchmaking Manager⠇

—Gyuhan-nim~ Have you by any chance made up your mind regarding an after-date request? (Laugh)(Laugh)

Reading the short sentence over and over, trying to recall what it meant, Gyuhan suddenly bellowed, “Oh, right! Holy shit!”

While he hadn’t forgotten what Gong Jio said for a single second, he had completely forgotten why Jio had said it in the first place.

Gyuhan smacked his forehead repeatedly in horror, then rapidly tapped out a reply.

❮Merry Matchmaking Manager⠇

Of course I will. I am truly sorry for keeping the lady waiting.

✦ ✦ ✦