Chapter Text
I finish my presentation, feeling a bit breathless. My team did an incredible job pulling this all together in such a short amount of time. A huge new client, drawn to our agency’s growing reputation, asked for a pitch on short notice. For a small agency like ours, this is a golden opportunity to break into bigger projects. I’ve poured everything I have into this pitch, and I’m proud of the work we’ve done.
I switch to the summary slide, preparing for the inevitable questions. Usually, I’m excited for this part—love the back-and-forth. But today, there’s a catch. Lee Jihoon. He's seated across from me, eyes sharp, clearly focused on the logistics of this project.
I try not to let it show, but I wish the boss had picked anyone else. Anyone. But there aren’t exactly a lot of project managers around here, so I get it. He’s good at what he does, but it doesn’t make him any less annoying.
“Don’t you think this is a bit much?” Jihoon’s voice cuts through the silence. I fight to keep my calm.
“My team and I never play it safe,” I say, my voice steady but tinged with the passion I feel for this pitch. “This client could change everything for us. We can’t afford to play it like we always have. Not if we want to make an impact.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Exactly. This is a new client. Pulled in because of our agency’s reputation. Why risk pushing boundaries with something untested when we can give them what they know works, get them hooked, and secure the long-term relationship?
They’re not looking for bold—they’re looking for effective.”
I take a slow breath, trying not to let his calmness throw me off. “The client themselves are new to the market, and they rose because they’re willing to push boundaries. Why can’t we do the same? Align ourselves with their thinking?”
He shakes his head, his voice measured but cutting. “Risk without reason is reckless. I’m not willing to gamble with our client’s money for a shot at being edgy.”
I can’t help the flare of anger that rises in my chest. “It’s called creativity, something you clearly know nothing about.”
He leans back in his chair, that smug smirk creeping across his face. “Right. Because shouting louder makes you a genius.”
I feel my pulse spike, the heat rising in my veins, but just as I open my mouth to snap back, the boss steps in.
“Alright, that’s enough from both of you.” His voice is calm, but I can hear the thin edge of irritation. “Thank you for a great presentation. Please, takeyour seat.”
The boss pauses, giving the room a moment to settle. “You both make good points, solidifying that I chose the right project managers for this. I think we’ll present both options to the client, and they can choose. No harm in showing them what we can do in different directions.”
I try to mask the frustration in my face, but I’m sure it’s clear. Jihoon doesn’t seem to have any such problem, his quiet smirk practically dripping with satisfaction.
Then the boss turns to me and my team. “Knowing you, I’m sure you’ve also prepared something that fits within our usual framework?”
I nod, trying not to blush, though I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I know Jihoon’s probably smirking again, and it only makes it worse.
“We have,” I say, my tone slightly clipped.
“Great. We’ll review both and discuss any changes. Jihoon will take a look at the logistics of both plans, and then we’ll set up a meeting with the client.” He hands the floor back to me. I turn to my assistant, who begins to load the other presentation—one that’s practical, safe and one I never wanted to do in the first place.
“Unnie, are you sure you’re alright?” My assistant asks, stepping into my office.
“I’m fine,” I say, offering her a small smile. “They liked both presentations, which is a good sign. Can you order lunch for everyone from that Italian place? I just want to thank the team for pulling this off on such short notice.”
She beams. “I’ll get right on it.”
As she disappears, I turn my attention back to the notes on the presentation. The feedback is mostly understandable, but what really irritates me are the comments marked in red. Of course, Lee Jihoon had to bring his own red pen to the meeting.
I sigh. They’re not unreasonable notes—just his way of being... well, him. But everything involving him seems to set me off these days. It shouldn’t be like this.
I know it’s my own issues with him that’s driving me crazy. I remember when we were both training, when we helped each other, encouraged each other through the grind of rising through the ranks. There was a time when we were a team.
But then that project manager position opened up, and even though we both promised we’d support each other no matter what happened, something shifted. When Jihoon got the promotion, I was happy for him—genuinely happy—but something changed in him. He became distant, absorbed in his new responsibilities.
I guess it was the weight of the job. He had a lot to prove. But I couldn’t help feeling abandoned, and that feeling only grew when I was promoted to project manager not long after.
The excitement of the promotion faded quickly, replaced by the weight of leadership. Making tough decisions, learning from mistakes, dealing with the pressure. I thought I could turn to him for advice—after all, he’d been through it—but by then, he was practically a stranger. And now, after all this time, here we are, forced to work together again.
My phone rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pick it up, relieved for the distraction.
“Of course, yeah, I’m going. No, I’m not bailing this time, I promise,” I say into the phone, my friend’s voice on the other end.
I hang up, my fingers lingering on the screen for a moment. I glance out the large window, taking in the view of the city. Despite the challenges, despite everything that’s changed, I’ve built something here. Our agency may be small, but it’s thriving, and I get to have my own office now—a privilege I never took for granted.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m overwhelmed. A night out with a friend, something carefree for the first time in ages, might be exactly what I need to clear my head.
I haven’t been to a club in ages, and I feel out of place on the dance floor at first. But the more I drink, the more I loosen up. My friend’s energy is infectious—until, of course, she gets swept away by some guy and disappears into the crowd.
I try to slip off the dance floor for a break, but then, out of nowhere, someone grabs my waist and pulls me in.
I whip around, heart racing, only to be met by a stranger’s face grinning way too close. He starts flirting with me—too forward, too drunk—and I instinctively push him away. He stumbles, but instead of backing off, he just pulls me closer.
I close my fist, ready to throw a punch, when I hear a voice I never expected to hear in a place like this.
“There you are. I was looking for you.”
It’s Jihoon.
The recognition hits me hard, and my jaw drops. He steps in without hesitation, prying the guy’s hands off me and placing himself firmly between us.
“I didn’t know she was with someone,” the guy slurs, but Jihoon doesn’t even flinch.
“She said no, that should’ve been enough. You better learn what that means and leave.”
The guy stumbles away, and Jihoon turns to me, his expression softening, concern flickering in his eyes.
“You okay?” he asks, and I’m struck by how familiar he feels suddenly. Like time hasn’t passed at all.
I open my mouth to say something, but the words catch. I shake my head, barely able to process what just happened. "Why did you help me?"
He shrugs casually. “You looked like you were about to assault him. Can’t have that—wouldn’t want to ruin the company’s reputation.”
I balk at the comment. My emotions, already on edge, are fighting for control. Just as I’m about to turn away, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear—a gesture so simple but intimate it stirs something in me.
No, I shouldn’t feel like this.
“You’re supposed to hate me,” I say, and the words feel heavier than I expected.
He leans in, as if he didn’t hear me. “What was that?”
I repeat myself, louder this time, but his lips curl into a smile. “I don’t hate you. I like challenging you.”
I roll my eyes and turn to walk away, but the crowd makes it difficult to move. He overtakes me easily, his hand wrapping around mine and pulling me with him.
I don’t resist. My head’s spinning too much to fight it.
When we finally reach the edge of the dance floor, I let out a relieved breath, the cool air making it easier to think.
“Thanks, I guess,” I say quietly, trying to shake off the lingering tension.
He nods, but then his expression turns more serious. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”
He shrugs again. “I can always go back to my friends if you want.”
I feel the frustration bubble up. “Ugh, just go. I came here to de-stress, but you’re stressing me out again.”
But then he turns toward me, and there’s something different in his gaze. His voice is low, with a certain intent.
“I can help you de-stress.”
I laugh, a little harsh. “You? Why would I want you?”
His face is almost too perfect in the club’s flashing lights. I try to look away, but his eyes are pulling me in, and my pulse quickens.
He smiles, his gaze dropping to my lips, and I do the same—before he leans in.
Just as I feel the heat between us, my phone rings, cutting through the tension.
It’s my friend. She wants to leave. I feel relieved but it also feels as though I’m running away from something.
“You’re going?” Jihoon’s voice is laced with disappointment, and I notice it immediately.
“I am. Uh, see you at work,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.
He nods, stepping back to let me go. I meet my friend at the entrance, the wait for the uber feeling longer than it should. As we’re driven home, the memories of the night swirl in my mind, pulling me from the haze of alcohol. Did Jihoon almost kiss me? And worse—did I want him to?