Heemin swallowed dryly.
He told himself over and over again that this was just another performance test—a practical final exam replacing the written one for Introduction to Theater. Only then did he manage to open his mouth and speak.
"I'm sorry, Father. I haven’t been feeling well, so I didn’t have the presence of mind to reach out."
Up until yesterday, Heemin had been indulging in his life as an unemployed freeloader with the utmost laziness. The only days he had actually felt unwell were the first two.
He could feel Iheon’s gaze pressing against the side of his face, filled with silent suspicion.
"I see. Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes. I’m fine."
Though Heemin’s reply was calm, Kwak Yoonseong couldn’t fully hide his displeasure as he asked:
"May I ask what kind of relationship you have with President Cha?"
"The kind you can see for yourself."
Iheon, who had remained silent the entire ti, finally interjected.
Yoonseong’s gaze dropped to their interlocked hands, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke.
"When we signed the acquisition contract, there was no ntion of this. This is quite a surprise. You could have at least given a heads-up, President Cha."
"You look far too well for soone who supposedly lost both a husband and a son. So I didn’t think it was necessary."
It was true.
For soone who claid to have suffered, Kwak Yoonseong’s complexion was suspiciously clear—his entire appearance that of a man who had been living comfortably, without a single worry.
At the pointed mockery in Iheon’s words, Yoonseong’s expression hardened like stone.
It was bad enough that this young brat had taken over the company. Now he was mocking him, too?
I shouldn’t be provoking Kwak Yoonseong...
This man was nothing but a harbinger of misfortune for both him and Iheon.
That was precisely why Heemin had planned ahead—to deal with Do Junyoung by pretending to be in a relationship with Iheon, and then lure Kwak Yoonseong onto their side by dangling an introduction to one of Wooshin Group’s subsidiary presidents.
The goal was simple: subtly suggest that he move on, forget about his dead father, and start fresh with his wealthy lover.
But now, the situation had veered slightly off course.
God, you’re useless.
Heemin silently cursed Cha Iheon for making that unnecessary remark.
And yet, at the sa ti, it felt like taking a gulp of ice-cold soda—frustrating, yet undeniably refreshing.
He almost wanted to give him a thumbs-up.
“...Um, excuse , everyone. The entire company is waiting. Shall we continue this conversation upstairs?”
A staff mber, checking the ti on his watch, spoke hesitantly, glancing between Iheon and Kwak Yoonseong.
"Yes, Father. Let’s talk more after the inauguration ceremony. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you—I’m really glad to see you again."
Heemin made an effort to sound as mature as possible, adapting Seo Heemin’s lines to match the deanor of a thirty-year-old.
Iheon, on the other hand, continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression.
But Heemin refused to drop his smile.
After all, he had aced his Introduction to Theater course.
The group stepped into the elevator and rode up to the tenth floor, where the president’s office was located.
The entrance required an employee ID for access.
Inside, the sterile corporate atmosphere lood over him—the walls lined with boards displaying the company’s history, research achievents, and product models of various concrete mixers and factories.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
Despite trying to maintain a composed front, Heemin couldn’t help but glance around with curiosity.
This was, after all, the first ti he had ever set foot inside an actual company.
To soone barely in their second year of college, everything was fascinating.
“How long until the ceremony starts?”
“About ten minutes.”
“I’ll be inside reviewing my inauguration speech. Let know when it’s ti.”
“What kind of tea would you like prepared?”
Iheon glanced briefly at Heemin’s youthful face before answering.
“One Aricano... and one orange juice.”
There was no way in hell this man, who drank nothing but espresso and black coffee, was suddenly ordering orange juice for himself.
It was obviously for him.
Heemin wanted to ask if he seriously intended to keep treating him like a kid even in a situation like this.
With Seo Heemin’s delicate features, it was true that at a glance, he still looked like a university student.
And with his own twenty-one-year-old soul inhabiting that body, it made sense that Iheon would see him as childish.
But today—just for today—he was trying harder than ever to act like an adult.
Yet, even knowing that, the man had the audacity to order juice for him.
Heemin shot him a brief, disapproving glare.
“I’ll have that prepared right away.”
The staff mber bowed politely and hurried off. With Cha Iheon making it clear that he would be reviewing his speech, Kwak Yoonseong had no choice but to retreat to the director’s office.
"Are you going to let go now?"
When Heemin had asked nicely for a looser grip, Iheon had ignored him completely.
But now, he let go as if it were nothing. Coldly, carelessly.
The warmth that had seeped all the way to Heemin’s chest vanished in an instant, leaving behind an inexplicable sense of emptiness.
...Was he always this petty?
Heemin clenched his slightly damp hands into fists, watching Iheon’s back as he walked into the president’s office.
For a man who carried ice in his words, who wrapped himself in an impenetrable layer of coldness, he surprisingly had warm hands.
The fact that this realization made him feel even the slightest bit disappointed...
It was ridiculous.
Perhaps it was because Seo Heemin had longed for that warmth so desperately.
Perhaps his own thoughts were being influenced by this body—thoughts that weren’t entirely his.
The mont he settled on that conclusion, the nausea that had been bubbling in his stomach began to subside.
Following Iheon into the office, Heemin collapsed onto the couch and scanned the room.
All of Seo Jae-han’s personal belongings had been removed, leaving the space eerily pristine.
Just like Cha Iheon’s ho.
Knock, knock.
As Heemin was taking in his surroundings, a knock sounded at the door.
He scrambled to his feet and opened it.
It was the sa staff mber from earlier.
"I’ve brought refreshnts."
The tray held a glass of orange juice, a cup of coffee, and a plate stacked with various packaged snacks.
The employee glanced between Heemin and Iheon before asking politely, "Is there anything else you need?"
“...If I asked for more, would you bring more?"
Heemin didn’t take his eyes off the snacks.
There were exactly two of the chocolate-covered Busan waffles and two Lotte brownies—the expensive kind he’d never been able to eat freely because of the price.
"How many would you like?"
"...Just one more of each."
His older sisters had occasionally brought him snacks from their offices, but when he’d once asked if they could bring more, they had told him that taking company supplies for personal use was considered embezzlent.
Just the word alone had been enough to make him nervously lower his request.
But then—
"Bring everything you have."
Iheon, still staring at his tablet, spoke without hesitation.
The employee blinked, startled, before quickly bowing and rushing out of the room.
For the first ti, Heemin felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Cha Iheon.
Perhaps, at this mont, he should have said—
"Thank you, President."
—
The timing was perfect.
Heemin had been craving snacks while watching TV lately, but Ms. Ahn, for all her culinary talent, wasn’t skilled at baking.
Suppressing the grin threatening to creep onto his face, he tore open the wrapper of a Busan waffle.
The thin, diamond-patterned wafer crunched satisfyingly between his teeth.
Iheon, who had been seated across the room, suddenly got up and walked over to the table.
He picked up his coffee, glancing down at Heemin’s snack with a blank expression.
"You should try one. It’s good."
Busan waffles had a crisp texture, yet they were soft enough to lt in his mouth.
The deep, rich butter flavor spread across his tongue—it really did live up to the packaging’s claim of being the ‘noble of cookies.’
Still savoring the taste, Heemin reached into the bag and pulled out another piece, holding it out to Iheon.
The Cha Iheon he knew—the ruthless ‘Chairman’s Dog’—wasn’t the type to eat sothing as trivial as cookies.
But Heemin figured that if there was any chance he would soday return to his softer, more human self...
He needed to start getting used to these little things.
So, knowing full well he would be rejected, Heemin extended the cookie toward him anyway.
If he took it, great.
If not, whatever.
Iheon’s sharp gaze narrowed.
As expected, his eyes alone delivered a firm refusal.
"You have absolutely no sense of danger. Unlike Seo Heemin."
"What’s that supposed to an?"
Was he expecting him to act like a cat with its fur standing on end, all on edge?
Heemin frowned in confusion.
Then, their eyes t.
Iheon’s gaze was cold, piercing—like the chill of a winter wind.
He spoke in a voice that sent a shiver down Heemin’s spine.
"The man who sold you at that auction is walking around this building right now. And that’s what you’re focusing on?"
Heemin froze, almost dropping his cookie.
He hadn’t expected Iheon to already know.
That revelation wasn’t supposed to co until much later in the original novel.
"...How do you know about that?"
Iheon didn’t even blink.
"The bastard who sold you spilled everything."
Then, he fixed his unreadable gaze on Heemin.
"What about you? How did you find out?"
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