All or Nothing
He must have been desperate to make her quit. Unaware of the resentment burning in Juhee’s heart, Jeha jerked his chin toward the empty chair.
Even then, when she merely blinked and stayed rooted in place, he spoke with an indifferent air.
“You haven’t eaten breakfast, have you?”
Whether or not she had eaten was beside the point. This was not a table where Gong Juhee could sit and share a meal. She possessed neither the right nor the qualification, and doing so would invite every kind of misunderstanding.
As if to prove it, the curious, unreadable gazes Chairman Yang and Hyang-ja turned on her were unmistakable.
Swallowing the urge to cry, Juhee forced her voice into something calm and level.
“…I ate before I came.”
“Unlikely.”
Jeha’s light dismissal made her lashes tremble. Thank goodness for the glasses.
“Representative…”
“Secretary Gong.”
They spoke at the same time, but it was Juhee who fell silent. Jeha regarded her with dry eyes and continued.
“When I speak, is it a suggestion or an order?”
The command came boomeranging back and squeezed the air from her lungs. Three pairs of eyes pinned her in place; cold sweat slid down her spine.
The moment her pale hand reached for the chair, Jeha cut in.
“Forget it.”
Waving her off as though the whole thing bored him, he shifted his attention elsewhere.
“Auntie, pack some porridge for Secretary Gong. If there’s anything good for building strength, throw it in too.”
While Juhee stood frozen, three bowls of porridge appeared on the table. The rich, savory scent drifting to her nose summoned memories from long ago.
That day, Yoon Jeha had been lying on a bench, face ashen. He had caught a throat cold, or so he claimed.
Someone had bought him porridge in place of lunch. When he grumbled that he would just throw it away, Juhee had offered to eat it herself.
You have a real talent for making tasteless things taste good.
He had watched her devour the porridge with open fascination, then closed his eyes. Believing he had fallen asleep—there wasn’t even the sound of breathing—she had muttered to herself.
I like porridge. It’s easy to eat, tastes good, and it’s nutritious. People say they can’t get it even when they want it.
To Juhee, porridge had been her grandmother’s love and devotion.
Whenever her granddaughter was sick, Grandmother would chop every kind of vegetable and meat, sit before the stove for hours, and cook it with care.
Grandmother used to make it for me all the time, but now there’s no one left to do it. Buying it costs a fortune.
There was no way the Yoon Jeha who had seemed to fall asleep that day could have remembered and packed porridge for her now.
He was simply tormenting her. Making things awkward. Nothing more, nothing less.
Just as she had brushed the thought aside, a helper approached and offered a neatly wrapped bundle.
Taking it felt strangely heavy. She seemed to share far more memories with Yoon Jeha than she realized—and the irony was that most of them were good rather than bad.
Juhee bowed deeply and politely, then turned to leave. Jeha never once looked her way.
The instant she vanished from sight, he shot up from his chair.
“Where are you going?”
“To learn how to be a secretary.”
“…What?”
Chairman Yang looked stunned; Hyang-ja looked intrigued. Jeha ignored them both, leaving the dining room and strolling out at an unhurried pace.
Even he didn’t fully understand why he was following after the woman who had disappeared.
Crossing the wide garden, he caught sight of her standing demurely just beyond the main gate.
Despite her straight posture, her small, delicate back looked as though a single gust of wind would carry her away. It annoyed him.
The insignificant bundle looked large and heavy in her slender hand.
No wonder it bothered him.
Without a word, Jeha snatched the bundle from her grasp. The clear, startled face that whipped around was quite a sight.
“It looked heavy.”
Juhee glared up at him with the expression of someone who had heard an unforgivable insult.
“Are you giving me medicine after you’ve already made me sick?”
Instead of answering, Jeha lowered his gaze. She had been so eager to obey every order—whether it came from a cat or a maid—yet the eyes behind those glasses now flashed with defiance.
What a temper.
Within those clear, dry eyes, emotion flickered so rarely. Each time the hard shell cracked, the moist, glistening gaze that appeared was unbearably beautiful. Perhaps that was why he deliberately said irritating things and acted like a villain—he liked those eyes far too much.
When he took one step closer, she retreated the same distance.
A crooked stubbornness flared inside him.
He had told her not to touch him first, but he had never said she should avoid being touched.
Because he kept closing the gap, Juhee’s back eventually met the wall. Only when she was trapped between the cold stone and his body did the precarious game end.
Her lowered lashes were long and dense like a fan, hiding her eyes completely.
“I’ll be staying here tonight. Don’t come for a morning call tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
Had something fallen on the ground? He wanted to see Gong Juhee’s eyes, yet he couldn’t.
“And…”
When he trailed off, she waited quietly for the rest. In her downcast vision she saw the glossy tip of his shoe nearly touching hers.
They were so close she couldn’t lift her head. Every breath carried the heavy, masculine scent of him; even exhaling felt difficult.
What important thing could he possibly have to say that required him to stand this near? Her mind grew feverish with tangled thoughts.
Yet no matter how long she waited, Jeha remained silent.
With faint resignation in her eyes, Juhee slowly raised her gaze. Their eyes met. Their gazes tangled. Still he said nothing, simply watching her with eyes that seemed to burn.
Those eyes were no longer dry or cool. Stripped of all humor, they were deep and distant like a black hole.
The way he stared—as though the look carried some special meaning—tightened her throat. She wanted to ask why he was looking at her like that, but the words refused to come.
The silence stretched on as long as the passing time.
“……”
“……”
A breeze stirred, gently ruffling Jeha’s bangs.
It was an utterly ordinary moment, yet the deep eyes beneath those tousled strands seemed to fall into disarray as well.
At that instant Jeha turned his head and angled his body away.
With a languid hand he swept the hair from his forehead and lifted his phone.
“We’re at the front gate. Drive Secretary Gong home.”
While he spoke on the phone, Juhee held her breath. The person who should worry about personal matters was the subordinate, not the superior. She wanted to refuse, to say she could go alone, but she couldn’t. Everything that left Yoon Jeha’s lips was an order, never a suggestion.
As his secretary she had to obey even casual remarks, and Yoon Jeha was a man who accepted no refusal. So Juhee kept her mouth firmly shut.
The surroundings grew so quiet that even the sound of the wind was audible. Silence spread, wrapping the two motionless figures in a subtle, charged atmosphere. Her dulled senses sharpened until every detail felt painfully vivid.
The taut silence. The floating dust. The wind-laden air.
Yoon Jeha’s low breathing, his scent, and his overwhelming presence.
Her foolish heart began to pound again.
The problem was that Yoon Jeha stood right in front of her. That face, that body, that aura—capable of stirring feelings that shouldn’t exist.
Better not to look. The moment she turned forward, morning sunlight stabbed straight into her eyes.
Juhee squeezed her eyes shut and reflexively raised a hand to shield them. When she opened them again, Jeha’s broad back filled her vision instead of the sun.
Was he blocking the light for her?
Until now Juhee had known only Taemin. She had never dated, never even properly met another man.
This was the first time she had ever received such consideration from one.
Her chest tickled strangely. Juhee bit the soft flesh inside her lip.
She felt she ought to thank him, yet if it wasn’t intentional it would only create an awkward situation.
Still debating, she looked at his wide back and spoke carefully.
“Thank you for the porridge.”
And for shading me from the sun.
Jeha glanced back at her without much interest.
“It was a bribe so I can work you to the bone. No need to thank me.”
“You can work me as hard as you like. I eat well, sleep well, and I’m very healthy. If you want, I can take a health che—”
“That’s enough. The problem with Secretary Gong is that you always add one extra sentence.”
Frowning, Jeha turned forward again and muttered.
“Don’t look like you’d blow away in a stiff breeze.”
“…Pardon?”
When she asked again, doubting her ears, he changed the subject.
“Film yourself eating the porridge and send the video.”
It wasn’t gaslighting. She barely resisted the urge to ask the back of his head why she had to go that far.
“Understood.”
After answering softly, Juhee swallowed a secret sigh. It wasn’t only his front view that was dangerous—his back was a problem too. The image of him walking half-naked toward the bathroom overlapped with the sight of him in a suit, muddling her thoughts.
Those wide shoulders, the flexing back muscles, the narrow waist, the firm, well-shaped backside, and those long, powerful legs.
You’re insane, Gong Juhee. Since when did you become so shameless?
Lowering her heated gaze, Juhee prayed fervently that the car would arrive soon. That she could escape Yoon Jeha and these indecent thoughts. That she could return to her usual self.
The car carrying Juhee rounded the corner and disappeared. Only then did Jeha step back through the gate, yanking his tie loose. He undid several buttons on the shirt that had been fastened all the way to his neck.
The moment he sat at the table in a more relaxed state, Chairman Yang spoke as though he had been waiting.
“Why are you doing things you’ve never done before?”
“You told me to take care of my own people.”
“Who takes care of someone like that? It looks more like torment than care.”
“I take care of my wo… person my own way.”
He had nearly said “my woman” out loud.
“It was only yesterday that she came crying about hating Secretary Gong and threw a fit. You expect me to believe you?”
“The moment she handed in her resignation to you, Grandfather, I rehired her. Satisfied?”
Replying sullenly, Jeha scooped up a spoonful of porridge. As expected, the texture was mediocre and the taste even worse.
What had Gong Juhee found so delicious that she had eaten it with such relish?
After two spoonfuls he set the spoon down with a clink.
“Grandfather, how much did you give Secretary Gong?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“If you don’t treat her better than you do, she won’t play the part of spy, will she?”
“Hah. Why on earth would Secretary Gong be my spy? It was this friend here who recommended her so strongly. If you want to complain, complain to her.”
Chairman Yang openly passed the blame to Hyang-ja. Since Jeha could never raise his voice to her, he clamped his mouth shut. Hyang-ja opened her lips first, eyes gleaming with meaning.
“What is it? The child won’t bend to your will? Even the handsome-man strategy failed?”
Silence was as good as agreement.
Hyang-ja gave a small laugh and continued.
“That child is bamboo. She would rather break than bend. She won’t be swayed by others and will stand tall beside you. Your fates match remarkably well.”
“Fate or not, I only plan to use her for three months and then let her go, so keep that in mind.”
Hyang-ja narrowed her eyes and smacked him on the back.
“This grandmother used the divine insight she only calls upon once a year—for you. Do you know how precious that is?”
Only half-listening to her scolding, Jeha told himself that from now on it was all or nothing.
Either Gong Juhee would quit, or he would become the lunatic who stole his friend’s woman.
The next morning, Jeha left the main house with his phone in hand. While watching the video Juhee had sent the night before, he let out a soft chuckle.
She ate like a baby bird; the modest portion of porridge had apparently been divided into two servings. That was why she had sent two separate videos.
In them, Juhee had removed her glasses. She had also neatly swept aside the long bangs he had once criticized.
Her long hair hung down, partially hiding her face.
At least she follows instructions well.
Jeha replayed the videos several times as he walked through the gate.
“Representative, good morning.”
The crisp voice floated to him on the morning breeze. Jeha turned without thinking—and his eyes widened.