Confusing Signals
“Probably from Management Support—no, from General Affairs…”
“Who’s in charge of planning the menu?”
Taekyung cut off the stammering employee and fired a string of completely unrelated questions. Cold sweat beaded on the presenter’s forehead.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll look into it right away.”
“Just pass this along. How about reorganizing the menu around simple takeout-style meals instead of full cafeteria trays?”
The image of a woman who had barely managed to finish half her tray before getting paged and bolting away rose in his mind.
“So that even if the medical staff suddenly have to leave the cafeteria, they can grab something light and not skip a meal. It would cut down on food waste, too. Those are the two goals.”
“Ah, yes, sir! I’ll relay that at once.”
Even in the brief time he had lingered in the staff cafeteria, he had watched doctors and nurses rush out several times with phones pressed to their ears, never getting the chance to clear their trays.
So it was not a decision made solely because of Yu Dajeong—not for her alone.
“Ah, and one more thing.”
Taekyung, who had risen and was about to leave the conference room, paused at the door and spoke again. The tense employees swallowed dryly, wondering what else could be coming.
“Make the menu protein-focused. Cut back on vegetables like carrots.”
Having delivered the baffling instruction, Taekyung strolled out at his leisure. The moment the door clicked shut, the employees turned to stare at one another.
“The CEO is this serious about the cafeteria menu…?”
Everyone murmured in bewilderment at Taekyung’s inexplicable directives.
“But Dajeong. Your Pediatrics department head is being quiet, right? Isn’t she worried? Ours just sighs every day and drinks wine.”
Shin Yumi, rustling open a bag of snacks, pulled Dajeong into the conversation. They had been talking about the operating-profit-margin bomb Jang Taekyung had dropped.
“Our department head… well, she’s never been interested in that sort of thing.”
Dajeong, scrolling her mouse wheel as she worked on a PowerPoint, answered calmly. Im Gyeong-a, the Pediatrics department head and Dajeong’s advisor, did not seem to be taking Taekyung’s warning particularly to heart.
“True enough. Gotta look out for myself first. Birth rates are already so low.”
Leaving Shin Yumi to sigh, Dajeong returned to wrestling with the purchase costs for pediatric medical equipment. A glance at the clock showed it was already five in the afternoon. Perhaps because she was meeting Jang Taekyung later, the day felt exceptionally long.
“You’re off today, right? What are you doing? Got plans?”
Could you even call it a plan? There was no need to mention it. Yet somehow it felt as if she were sneaking off to contact the enemy while deceiving everyone around her. Just as the flustered Dajeong pressed her tingling fingertips hard against the desk—
“Hey! Big news!”
Lee Suhui burst through the residents’ room door, roughing out her breath as she shouted.
“That café that used to be on the first floor—Medix! They’re reopening right in front of the hospital main entrance. They’re putting up the sign right now.”
“Really? The owner never said anything. Where in front of the main entrance?”
“Across the street, that three-story all-glass building. Medix is taking the whole thing! But here’s the real kicker.”
Settling into a seat, Lee Suhui dropped her voice as if leaking top-secret information.
“They said they were sorry for kicking them out so suddenly, so the foundation covered the key money for the new place. They’re also subsidizing half the rent. That’s why they’re putting the sign up right away.”
“Is that even possible?”
“It must be. With the drive and scale of that handsome Gaejakdu.”
Shin Yumi, who had been tilting her head, hit on the key point.
“So CEO Jang didn’t drive Medix out. He actually made things better for them.”
“We thought he was the shadowy mastermind, but turns out he’s the black knight who comes to the rescue or something?”
Even as the embarrassing epithets flew back and forth, Dajeong merely blinked. Her mind was simply in chaos.
Which one was his true face? If he was going to ruthlessly declare he would kick them out if they failed to turn a profit, he should have stayed a villain to the end. Why was he acting, behind the scenes, as if he were looking after the hospital and its surroundings?
So confusing.
But… why was she the one getting confused and swept up by his extreme actions? That was what unsettled her most of all.
Buzz. The vibrating phone cut through Dajeong’s thoughts at just the right moment.
The message from the unsaved eleven-digit number was concise. It was Taekyung’s text.
“Ahem, ahem.”
Standing before the heavy door, Dajeong cleared her throat. She adjusted the handbag on her shoulder and lightly brushed the collar of her blouse. After all her preparations she knocked—knock knock—and the door opened as if it had been waiting.
“Please wait inside.”
The secretary guided her politely across the reception area and opened another door further in. The spacious office, finished throughout in bright white tones, felt more like a hotel suite. One entire wall was a massive bookshelf. From business management texts to medical law and original medical volumes—even a glance at the spines revealed the fierce life of the man who owned them. On the large screen opposite, unreadable graphs, tables, and numbers densely filled the display.
Thinking that the uncluttered interior resembled its owner, she carefully stepped onto the gray carpeted floor—
“……!”
The moment she saw Taekyung, Dajeong froze mid-step. He was the type who always wrapped his body in perfectly tailored suits, but now he was in just a shirt, jacket and tie discarded. She had expected as much from his height—a full head taller than most people—and his exceptional shoulders, yet with one layer of clothing gone, his body was far more impressive than she had imagined. Like a man thorough about self-management, his solidly maintained physique was perched casually on the edge of the large desk, long legs stretched out.
“…….”
Taekyung, who had been continuing a call in fluent English, spotted Dajeong and gestured with his eyes toward the sofa. They were supposed to tour the facilities—why meet in the office? Wondering, she sat down and discovered a neat lunchbox placed in front of her. Through the transparent lid, plump sushi topped with red slices of fish was visible.
Eat.
He mouthed the word and returned his focus to the call. But she could not casually eat a lunchbox in front of someone busy working. Dajeong left the lunchbox unopened and waited for Taekyung’s call to end.
His usually neatly combed front hair had fallen slightly over his forehead. Every time he spoke, his masculine Adam’s apple moved slowly inside the shirt with three or four buttons undone. Under the sleeve garters holding up his rolled shirt sleeves, thick, veined arms flexed with his gestures.
In other words… Jang Taekyung in a loose shirt was extremely alluring. Even though he was fully clothed.
Ah. Why do I keep staring?
I must be out of my mind.
Dajeong hurriedly slid her gaze away from where it had stuck to Taekyung. Was it her imagination? It felt as if the corners of his mouth were curving up slightly.
“Why aren’t you eating? You probably haven’t had a meal.”
Having finished the call at some point, he approached while turning off the large screen with a remote. Even the motion of undoing the sleeve garters and lowering his shirt sleeves was skilled.
“I’m fine.”
“It doesn’t even have carrots.”
Even while teasing her, he buttoned up, put his tie and suit back on. Had he called her to the office because of the lunchbox? No way. She was getting way ahead of herself. He had simply suggested meeting somewhere more convenient for himself.
“If you’re not going to eat, let’s go.”
“Ah, yes.”
He was a man who did not offer twice. Dajeong erased her unnecessary thoughts and followed behind the long-striding Taekyung.
The tour of the operating rooms and the pediatric ICU ended faster than expected. As they exchanged answers smoothly, they had looked around everything in less than thirty minutes.
“Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“This is sufficient.”
Taekyung raised his wrist to check the time. She thought she should not take any more of his time. Though the chance was small, she hoped he might develop even a little affection for the hospital and the pediatrics department. You never knew. Maybe thanks to these roughly thirty minutes, his skewed view of pediatrics might change a little—just a little.
…Throughout their time together, she had held onto that faint hope.
“Let’s head down.”
But the indifferent man was as dry and businesslike as ever. They boarded the elevator the security guard had held in advance for him. Until the doors closed, people bowed their heads respectfully toward Taekyung. The man accustomed to standing above everyone else kept his hands in his pockets and looked only forward.
“…….”
The elevator felt especially slow today. Probably because of the awkward silence.
“Off duty?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Heading home?”
“Yes.”
“…….”
“…….”
The uncomfortable silence broke for a moment only to bring even greater awkwardness. Then her own reflection in the elevator doors caught her eye. She had let down the hair she usually kept tied up, and the stray strands falling in front of her face bothered her.
Annoying.
Just as Dajeong kept tucking the hair behind her ear—her eyes suddenly tangled with Taekyung’s, who had been looking at her reflection.