So Annoying
Juhee tensed inwardly at the rigid set of Jeha’s face.
He had only said he hated old-fashioned styles. He had never told her what he actually liked.
That was why she had stood in front of the full-length mirror until late afternoon, examining herself from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.
These glasses are awful. The stuffy bangs, the sack-like clothes—everything.
She could switch to contacts and pin her hair up, but the real problem was the outfit.
Clinging to neutral colors and oversized fits was an old habit of hers. Juhee had inherited her mother Hwayeon’s small, slender frame, but her limbs were long and her breasts were embarrassingly full. Clothes that revealed those curves invited endless trouble. Women whispered that she dressed that way on purpose; men dragged their lecherous eyes over her body without shame.
She had also grown sick of Hwayeon’s flashy, revealing clothes since childhood. She refused to hear that the daughter took after her mother.
She had never once been faulted at the company. A secretary was not supposed to draw attention or stand out—she was meant to be her boss’s shadow.
But the man she would now serve, Yoon Jeha, had said he hated it. So she had no choice but to change.
She went straight to the department store and, for the first time in her life, spent a small fortune on clothes, cosmetics, and contact lenses.
This morning she had put on the result of an entire day’s fierce internal debate.
The ivory satin blouse had puffed sleeves and a soft V-neck. The black high-waisted skirt hugged her hips and stopped just above the knee.
Instead of pulling her long hair into its usual low bun, she had twisted it up tightly with not a single strand out of place—an elegant apple-bun style.
She had skipped foundation but dabbed on a coral lip balm that gave her mouth a fresh tint.
“Have you lost your mind? Or did you get a boyfriend?”
Hwayeon had rubbed her sleepy eyes and said exactly that. It really was the first time Juhee had ever dressed up like this. She wasn’t sure she looked pretty; she only felt awkward and uncomfortable. Still, if Jeha liked it, she was ready to endure the discomfort and the hassle.
Yet the moment she saw the man in front of her, she sensed something had gone terribly wrong.
Maybe he hated it. Maybe she had gone too far. Every possible thought raced through her mind, making her heart thud with unpleasant force.
It would have been less embarrassing if he would just say it outright like always. Instead he remained silent, face stony, and Juhee waited with held breath.
Only after a long pause did Jeha open his heavy lips.
“Let’s go.”
That was all?
Bewilderment flooded Juhee’s face as she watched his back descend the stone steps. But the moment passed quickly. She pulled herself together and hurried after him.
When she moved toward the passenger door, Jeha stopped her.
“Do you want a stiff neck?”
What did the passenger seat have to do with a stiff neck?
“Looks like you have a lot to report.”
His gaze slid downward to the heavy briefcase in her hand.
An awkward silence settled inside the car.
Sitting beside a clearly foul-tempered Jeha without knowing why felt like sitting on a cushion of thorns.
She knew she should stay quiet, yet the half-tied necktie and the half-buttoned shirt kept bothering her. In the end her burning sense of duty won out.
“Shall I tie your tie for you?”
Jeha stared at her in perfect silence, as if she had said something obscene.
“You have to go straight from the car to the conference room.”
People would definitely gossip about her outfit the second he stepped out dressed like that. When Taemin had taken his position they had sneered that a man with no roots dressed like cheap trash. For Jeha—the parachute grandson—they would say a young upstart didn’t know how to show proper respect.
“…Suit yourself.”
She had worried he might refuse, but Jeha agreed without protest.
Juhee loosened her seatbelt, slid closer, and turned toward him. She buttoned his shirt as quickly as she could without letting her hands brush his chest. After neatly knotting the carelessly tied necktie, she started to pull away—when the driver suddenly wrenched the wheel hard left, then harder right.
“…!”
The seatbelt kept her from flying forward, but her balance collapsed. Juhee squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them to pure horror. Her cheek was pressed against Jeha’s chest. Worse, her hand had reflexively shot out and was now gripping his forearm.
She snatched her hand back as if burned. The driver turned around, face scarlet.
“Representative, are you all right? I had the blinker on, but the car beside us cut in at the same time. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
The low, deep voice that drifted down over the top of Juhee’s head carried no inflection.
She quickly apologized as well.
“I’m sorry too.”
What are you sorry for? Jeha’s slanted gaze seemed to ask.
“I touched you without meaning to, Representative.”
At her small voice his gaze drifted lower still. Then he jerked his head up and turned it toward the window.
“If you’re finished, move back.”
Only then did Juhee scoot her hips back to her original position.
The atmosphere, already cold for no reason, grew even icier.
Convinced he was angry about the accidental touch, she was startled when Jeha spoke again without warning.
“Report whatever you have.”
Juhee opened her briefcase at once and pulled out the documents.
“You already know the core information about Seohwa Motors better than I do, so I’ve prepared materials that are easy to review in the car.”
“Aren’t you overestimating me?”
“I saw the files on the study desk. You had checked the important points very thoroughly.”
Private spaces were part of her job, just like public ones. Yesterday, before entering Jeha’s bedroom, she had scanned the entire house and noticed the enormous stack. It would have taken days to read through it all.
Half of her had been astonished, the other half heartbroken. If she had been there, he would not have had to struggle like that.
Condensing the volume, pulling out only the key points, arranging them clearly—document work was where Juhee shone brightest.
“If I had been there, the amount of paperwork you’d need to review would have been cut by two-thirds.”
Jeha whipped his head toward her. His expression looked utterly dumbfounded.
“Are you trying to worm your way in already?”
“It’s a three-month contract. I have to make my case.”
She answered calmly and handed him the first document.
“This is the list of Seohwa Motors executives. It will help if you review it before the inauguration ceremony.”
The moment he saw it, Jeha’s face twisted.
“Why should I waste my time on garbage like this?”
“A capable general knows how to handle his subordinates.”
Yesterday afternoon she had considered the proper TPO; at night she had agonized over which materials to present first.
If he had risen from the bottom, people might acknowledge his skill. But as Chairman Yang’s grandson, Jeha was a parachute hire. That meant even if he was competent, he would be resented; if he faltered, the resentment would be twice as vicious.
He could crush them with power for now, but the effect would not last.
“Unless you plan to fire them all at once, I believe it’s better to filter them carefully while learning how to manage those beneath you.”
“…”
“I understand that your return from long-term residence abroad has triggered the succession fight at Seohwa. I dare to guess that is also why the Chairman made such a bold personnel move—placing the managing director and me as your closest aides.”
Once the subject turned to business, the awkwardness vanished like melting snow.
Juhee’s eyes and tone grew serious as she continued in her quiet, steady voice.
Jeha, whom she had expected to brush her off with What would you know?, was listening with unexpected attention.
“If you can simply separate allies from enemies, your path forward will be smooth and secure.”
Jeha, who had been flipping through the last few pages almost carelessly, now wore a grave expression.
The Seohwa Motors organizational chart was linked to the Yang family tree. But that was not all. The document contained meticulous evaluations of every executive’s competence, records of internal corruption, unfair practices—and even the smallest personal expenses charged to corporate cards.
“How does a mere secretary in the managing director’s office know all of this?”
“I may be a mere secretary in the managing director’s office, but I was previously the team leader overseeing all secretaries at Seohwa Motors.”
She had begun as the youngest member of the president’s secretarial team. She rose quickly and earned the president’s complete trust.
He had appointed her head of the entire secretarial division; every move made by Seohwa Motors executives passed through her and was reported in detail.
Later, when the president changed posts, she had turned down a scouting offer—because of Taemin. She had moved to the managing director’s team for Taemin’s sake, but no one could replace her, so she had retained all her former authority.
“If you put me back in that position, you will be able to keep every Seohwa Motors executive under your watch.”
“Aiming for reinstatement? Bold.”
Even at Jeha’s mocking tone, Juhee did not flinch.
“I only said it because reinstatement would let me help you more, Representative.”
“Did you help Managing Director Han the same way?”
Juhee did not answer, but Jeha’s expression said he already knew.
“So Seohwa had a real power broker after all.”
“You flatter me.”
Juhee leaned toward him slightly. Jeha now looked thoroughly sick of the conversation.
“Let me say it one more time. If you keep me as your secretary, you will never regret it.”
She did not notice that Jeha’s gaze had slipped into the deep V of her blouse, tracing the faint shadow of her cleavage.
“Approaching this closely is also forbidden.”
At the abrupt warning Juhee straightened at once.
“I’ll be careful.”
She felt unfairly scolded but could not argue, so she clenched her teeth and stared out the window.
The car reached the company parking lot. As it stopped in the reserved space and Juhee reached for the door, Jeha spoke.
“Secretary Gong, you have the day off today.”
The sudden kindness left her staring at him in confusion. Every day was precious right now—why give her a whole day of rest?
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not.”
“…?”
“Leave your hair down. Make the skirt longer. I button my shirt to the throat, yet somehow Secretary Gong is missing a few buttons? Keep the glasses off. So……”
Jeha’s voice trailed away. Even he seemed to realize how ridiculous he sounded.
“Redo it in a way that doesn’t draw attention.”
Is this a joke? The nitpicking was beyond belief.
I should just quit—this is dirty and cheap! She seriously considered shouting it when Jeha continued.
“Tomorrow, the moment you arrive, we’ll write the employment contract. If you want a high salary, come dressed with proper TPO.”
“Salary… does that mean I’m being hired permanently?”
Had her active self-promotion in the car actually worked? Hope sparkled in Juhee’s eyes.
“It means I’ll pay the full annual salary even if you quit within three months, so stop worrying.”
With an expression that said as if I’d let you, Jeha held out his hand.
“Unlock your phone and give it to me.”
What now? Full of suspicion, Juhee handed it over. She craned her neck and peeked as he installed a couple’s location-tracking app.
“Why are you putting that on my phone…”
“Should I have to report my location to you every single time?”
“…”
“What if I pass out drunk and can’t answer the phone?”
Logically it made sense, yet something about it still felt off.
“But do you really need to know my location too, Representative?”
“Bragging about being the best driver when you only have a dormant license.”
Juhee flinched.
She had driven exactly as she had been taught and even warned him in advance in case he was startled. How had he known it was a dormant license?
“I’d rather drive you myself than hand over the wheel to you.”
“…”
“Got anything to say?”
When Juhee stayed silent, Jeha smiled as if he had expected exactly that. The smile was fresher than the morning sunlight streaming through the window.
Ah, so annoying. Really, really annoying.
To Juhee, who kept her lips pressed tightly together, Jeha held out the phone with a perfectly casual face.
“Enter the verification code.”
It was Jeha’s victory.