Given how she’d slept straight through without waking once, had she half‑dreamed her way into something like an orgasm? No matter how hard she searched her head, though, last night ended at a kiss.
Hae-som seemed to give up at a glance, her shoulders sinking.
“Either way… I think I was so desperate for sleep that something honest slipped out with the alcohol.”
“So it wasn’t sex you wanted?”
“No.”
At that quick reply, one of Jae-geon’s brows shot up.
“What, then. You want me to take responsibility?”
“No.”
She understood how absurd and uncomfortable this must feel for him.
He’d let her sleep because she asked. He’d even made sure she slept well. And now she was insisting that wasn’t the kind of sleep she meant.
“If you’ve got nothing else to say, eat. The soup’s getting cold.”
Under his prickling stare, Hae-som could only torment her palms instead.
By the time she finally managed to broach the real issue, the soup she hadn’t managed a single spoonful of had gone cold. His gaze felt just as chilled.
“…By the way, you used protection, right?”
Even if ice cracked out of those sharply cut eyes, she needed to confirm this clearly. Judging by her cycle, yesterday had definitely been within her fertile window. If they hadn’t used protection, things would get complicated.
Watching her lips tremble faintly with unease, Jae-geon let out a sharp little laugh.
“You think I’m too old to handle something that basic?”
That should have been reassuring, but the way he kept smirking made it hard to believe him.
As if to hide something, he shifted abruptly—lifting one leg over the other and letting out a shallow breath.
“Miss Seong Hae-som.”
“Yes, Chef.”
“Is this how you usually live?”
“…Pardon?”
“Drunk excuses, half-asleep excuses—sleeping around with just anyone? And leaving contraception entirely to the other person. What exactly are you trusting?”
His rough face openly showed his disdain. Hae-som’s delicate brow crumpled.
So he saw her that way? Figures—people only see what they want. He thinks I’m as loose as they are? Maybe if I’d actually felt something like an orgasm…
Her tightly pressed lips twitched with injustice. Afraid she might burst into tears right there, Hae-som snatched up her phone from the corner where it had been charging and rushed out.
Her hand hovered over the security pad on the front door for a long time before retreating with a guilty sigh.
It brought back a memory from long ago—around the time her secondary growth had begun.
“Mom, my chest hurts… like it’s splitting open.”
Maybe it was because she had sisters ten and eight years older, but even as a child Hae-som used unusual words.
“What does a ten-year-old have to feel heartbroken about?” Moon Jong-im had laughed at first—then, seeing her swollen chest, she carefully examined her before taking her straight to a nearby department store.
For her slight frame, her chest was unusually developed. She was told she’d need to start wearing a bra—something middle school girls wore. Afterward, Moon Jong-im held Hae-som’s shoulders, repeating her warning over and over.
“Hae-som, your body is very precious. No one is allowed to touch it except Mom and Dad. Understand?”
“Not even Eun-ho oppa?”
Even back then, Eun-ho kept his distance more often than not. Still, little Hae-som sometimes wanted to be held by him, like her parents held her—to give him a light peck, too.
Moon Jong-im cut her off firmly.
“Not even Eun-ho.”
“Why?”
“That’s something you do later, when you’re grown and can take responsibility for yourself—only with someone you love.”
“How old is that?”
“Older than your sisters.”
To a ten-year-old, twenty felt like a time she’d never reach. Older than that? It was an endless distance. So she gave up.
And yet, that same purity she hadn’t even shared as much as a handhold with Eun-ho—she’d never imagined she would lose it this way, in something so hollow.
“Drunk excuses, half-asleep excuses—sleeping around with just anyone? Leaving protection to the other person. What exactly are you trusting?”
On top of that, she’d been treated in a way she’d never experienced before—cheap, careless.
Thud. As if punishing herself, she bumped her head lightly against the door. Through it, she could hear her parents’ voices.
“Will our daughter be late again today? She’s not picking up… I’m worried.”
“She said there was a company dinner yesterday. She’s probably late sobering up.”
Unlike her easygoing mother, her doting father was all nerves.
“Should I go wait at the bus stop?”
“What for? Who knows when she’ll get here.”
“I can’t sit still. I’ll wait an hour or two at least.”
Heat welled under her eyes, stinging her nose. Swallowing back her tears with a shaky inhale, Hae-som tapped in the code on the keypad.
Beep, beep, beep. At the plain electronic sound, her father, Chang-jun, rushed over, delighted. Her mother called out from the kitchen as she set the dinner table.
“My daughter! I was just about to go out and look for you!”
“Why didn’t you answer your phone? Your mom and I were worried. Did your battery die?”
The emotion rising in her throat cut off her words. Rubbing at her damp eyes, Hae-som forced her tone to sound tired.
“I’m exhausted. I’m going to sleep.”
Using sleep as a sanctuary—almost sacred—to shut them out, she pulled the blanket over her head and finally broke down, sobbing.
In her shallow sleep, she stirred at the faint feeling of someone tapping the back of her hand.
“What could have happened?”
Her mother’s touch gently brushed her hair, worry plain in her voice—no trace of her usual cool tone.
“She’s grown up sheltered… it won’t be easy, adjusting to working life.”
That must have been her father quietly applying ointment to the scar on her hand.
Afraid that if she cried they’d stop touching her, Hae-som clenched her teeth and swallowed her tears. Their quiet voices continued, along with the soothing touch of their hands.
“Why push herself this hard when it only hurts her body and heart? Try talking her into it again. She can’t refuse her father.”
“What are you talking about? That stubborn girl doesn’t budge for anyone.”
“Really?”
“She takes after her mother completely.”
Even as his side got pinched, he stifled any yelp so he wouldn’t wake his daughter. Slathering ointment onto her hand, Chang-jun murmured like a sigh.
“If she can tell the difference between crap, doenjang, and cheonggukjang just by tasting it, then being a chef must be her calling.”
“So we just leave her be?”
“Let’s watch for now. It’s her dream.”
Moon Jong-im smoothed her hair, following the curve of her head, then brushed aside her bangs to lightly rub a wound no bigger than a knuckle.
“After she wasted so much time after losing Eun-ho, I thought it might be better if she focused on something… but seeing her get knocked around like this… it breaks my heart.”
Her voice was thick with emotion. Hae-som’s nose stung in response; she shifted in her sleep, almost as if murmuring.
Then the tears she’d been holding back spilled at last, soaking into the pillow. It seemed her mother was crying too.
“She’s already short on sleep—we’ll wake her. Come on, let’s go cry outside. Okay?”
Chang-jun guided Moon Jong-im out, leaving Hae-som alone again.
She needed to sleep—for their sake. To live up to their expectations. But her swollen eyes refused to let her.
Kindness, she realized dimly, could sometimes keep you awake.
And perhaps that was why she had suffered from insomnia for so long.
Cold air billowed out of the 2-ton truck used for transporting ingredients.
With the second-quarter menu launching for the first time, there was a mountain of things to prepare. Most of it would go straight into prep, so Hae-som had dragged out a cart from storage.
Jae-min clicked his tongue in admiration and started loading seafood first—anything that needed strict freshness control. Out of habit, he didn’t forget to flirt.
“What are you doing on your day off? You got paid, bonuses too—come have a drink with oppa.”
“I already have plans with a friend.”
The meeting with Song Ji, postponed again and again, was finally happening this coming Monday.
“A friend? What friend? Don’t tell me a boyfriend? What’s he do? College student? Done his military service? Or still hasn’t?”
As Jae-min interrogated her, Hwi—checking the order list beside them—clicked his tongue openly.
“Are you clueless, or is there a hole in your brain?”
As if you’re any better. Hae-som shot him a sidelong glare as he shook his head.
He seemed completely unaware that he’d almost gotten her caught smoking by Jae-geon at the staff dinner. If she hadn’t blocked him with her whole body, she’d have been writing her resignation letter by now.
But bringing up that sacrifice felt petty when she’d gotten more from him in return, so she let it slide.
She had no idea he’d quit smoking and played matchmaker behind the scenes.
“Tch. With that brain, you think you can be a chef? They said a valet just quit—go do that instead.”
“Are you the one with a hole in your head? I don’t even have a license.”
“Ugh, look at this punk.”
Their trivial chatter went on. Hae-som scanned the area, hoping the cart would fill quickly.
The team leads and above were in a meeting by the window. Sipping from miniature espresso cups, Jae-geon leafed through a stack of papers without a trace of interest.
Why did his veins stand out like that just from holding thin sheets of paper? It was just part of his body—but Hae-som suddenly felt her throat go dry, like she’d watched something indecent.
Then their eyes met.
Jae-geon’s gaze curved upward with a strange edge.
“—!”
Flustered, Hae-som stammered and ducked straight behind Hwi, who happened to pass in front of her.
She could almost hear Jae-geon’s quiet, amused scoff.