Workers' Compensation
The walk to the reserved private room felt considerably oppressive.
Every time Kang Mo-jun passed by with Baek Do-yeon’s hand in his, the staff who spotted them bowed in successive waves. Human ripples kept crashing right before their eyes, as if they were watching a national sports match.
Mo-jun seemed thoroughly accustomed to the situation and never once hurried his steps. Because of that, the corridor of the Chinese restaurant stretched endlessly for Do-yeon.
“I’ve ordered a moderate selection. Do you have any particular favorites?”
“No. Not really.”
He set a heavy menu in front of her, yet Do-yeon did not even pretend to examine it.
From what she had observed these past few days, Mo-jun was a meticulous man. He seemed to live his life planning even the seconds required to change clothes or shower, so something as simple as ordering food would surely be handled without issue.
It did not take long for the table to fill. Beginning with a cold appetizer studded with abalone and a crab-meat bird’s-nest soup, the dishes arrived in careful succession.
“There’s something I’d like to ask.”
At last, when the main courses were set before each of them, Do-yeon carefully lifted her gaze to Mo-jun. He met her eyes quietly, as if inviting her to speak freely.
“I need a project manager. Manager Lee mentioned that one of the companies whose contract ended is going through bankruptcy proceedings. Would it be all right if I scouted some of their staff?”
She asked in a tone that was neither rushed nor drawn out.
In truth, the matter did not strictly require Mo-jun’s consent. Those employees had never been hired by Muyoung Hotel, and although she had received investment from him, Atelier Blanc was legally entirely her own company.
“If it would be inconvenient, I’ll look for other people. It will simply take a little longer.”
Even so, Do-yeon wanted the issue settled clearly in advance.
Even if their affiliations changed, Atelier Blanc’s office sat inside Muyoung Hotel; familiar faces would cross paths constantly in the halls.
The CEO there is the owner’s wife. They found fault with the existing firm just to push her company, kicked them out, and even poached the staff.
She knew from long experience how easily baseless rumors, cleverly mixed with a few plausible facts, could become serious problems.
Do-yeon sincerely hoped no one would be placed in an uncomfortable position because of her. Above all, she did not want this matter to inconvenience Mo-jun or cast any shadow over their relationship.
“Neither company is mine. Do as you like.”
There was not a trace of hesitation in his reply. Even as he personally ladled scorched-rice soup onto the plate in front of her, his expression seemed to ask why she was bothering with such a trivial question.
Only then did her stiffened hands begin to move again. She drained the lukewarm jasmine tea in a single swallow, and the thirst that had been tightening her throat subsided at once.
“One more thing.”
Once the difficult topic had been broached, the next came easily. When Mo-jun’s gaze invited her to continue, Do-yeon cleared her throat once more.
“I still haven’t found an on-site installation manager, and there isn’t much time left before the wedding. I’m not sure I can locate anyone by then. Even short-term would be fine—do you know anyone suitable? I don’t have connections in Korea.”
“What exactly does the role entail?”
“Directing installation and dismantling. Overseeing deliveries and safety management as well.”
At her explanation Mo-jun’s face turned briefly thoughtful.
If no one suitable turned up, perhaps she could simply ask the facilities team for a few days before and after the ceremony. She was still arranging the question in her mind when he spoke.
“The previous facilities team leader retired at the end of last year. I’ll have Manager Lee check whether he has any interest in working for Atelier Blanc.”
“Thank you.”
The situation resolved far more smoothly than she had expected.
From the moment she first conceived the business she had steeled herself for difficulties. Hiring staff had proven harder than anticipated, yet the first signs of a solution brought a natural smile to her lips. When Do-yeon beamed, Mo-jun’s mouth curved faintly in answer.
A quiet meal stretched on for a while.
“I’ll be staying overnight. I’ve already informed the elders.”
As Do-yeon laid her used napkin across her lap, Mo-jun casually announced the overnight stay. The man’s face looked thoroughly exhausted as he spoke.
She had no reason to object. The hotel itself was his workplace, after all.
“You must be extremely busy.”
He was the sort of man for whom urgent work poured in even during the short ride from home to the hotel. And she herself had reaped no small benefit from that fact.
I should slip away soon, shouldn’t I? She was gauging the right moment to rise when Mo-jun refilled her teacup.
“Because you worked hard.”
“Pardon?”
At the cryptic remark Do-yeon blinked quietly; Mo-jun smiled briefly.
“You suffered physical and mental damage on my account today, so I’ll process it as an industrial accident.”
For a moment she was left speechless.
Industrial accident? Over a little kimchi-making?
“I’ve reserved a spa.”
While she simply stared, Mo-jun reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. In an instant a familiar card key settled onto the pure white tablecloth.
“It’s the last slot, so enjoy it at your leisure and go up to the room first. My work still isn’t finished.”
“I will.”
The lightly smiling face struck her anew with its clarity.
As expected, Mo-jun was precise and decisive. From the very beginning she had liked his straightforward nature—the kind that required neither lengthy explanations of her circumstances nor roundabout hints.
I really did well to switch the groom back then.
That was why she could laugh off even the petty harassment from the aunt who had nearly become her mother-in-law.
She had not yet touched the dessert when the phone rang again.
“Yes, this is Kang Mo-jun.”
Watching his face bleach in an instant, Do-yeon mouthed Go ahead. After a brief meeting of eyes, Mo-jun slid his share of the egg tart toward her and rose from his seat.
In the suddenly quieter room, Do-yeon leisurely enjoyed the dessert. On the phone screen she was studying, the “Golden Recipe for Kkakdugi” glowed.
Cherry blossoms that had crowded every branch fell in flurries, and wherever the eye fell along the paths, forsythia and azaleas spread in vivid color.
Without a moment to examine the scenery properly, Do-yeon raced through a breathless month—buried beneath mountains of documents and an endless chain of meetings.
“Hello. I’m Baek Do-yeon, overall director.”
“Yes, nice to meet you. I saw you at the wedding, but I was so out of it I don’t remember, do I?”
Just as Mo-jun had hinted, the first client proved remarkably well-disposed toward Do-yeon. The husbands shared a solid connection, and the bride’s own temperament was refreshingly direct.
From the very first flower meeting the bride launched into passionate explanations, spreading out the materials she had collected.
“What I originally wanted was this style.”
“You prefer natural looks with bold color, I see.”
“Yes. But that company kept insisting it was out of fashion and steered me toward something else.”
There was indeed a wide gap between the direction the client desired and the styling the previous firm had proposed. More precisely, it was obvious the company had been determined not to stray from a fixed template.
“I’m a hundred and seventy centimeters tall. So I wanted the floral arrangements flanking the aisle to have some height and real volume.”
“Of course. There has to be balance between the person and the space.”
“Exactly what I said. But they claimed the current trend is low arrangements, and anything taller would look tacky.”
When Do-yeon agreed, the bride’s voice rose steadily. In the end only photographs remained, she declared, and she had no desire to be stuck with a weak frame simply to chase trends or free up a little sightline for the guests.
After several hours that felt half business meeting and half cathartic venting, Do-yeon’s task became crystal clear: gather every available flower and extract the best possible result.
“Exactly like this. You understand without me explaining, right?”
Fortunately, the photograph the bride held out was a wedding decoration Do-yeon herself had once directed.
Exactly one month until the event.
In that span Do-yeon not only met clients; she also furnished the office she would use going forward and hired both a project manager and an installation manager. The staff, complete strangers to one another, threw themselves into the first project under the tight schedule without a moment to spare for shyness.
What allowed Do-yeon to endure it all was Mo-jun’s unstinting support.
“Eat first, then work.”
“Thank you for the meal, CEO.”
To the whirlwind that was Atelier Blanc, Mo-jun frequently sent hotel lunchboxes.
“I think I need to look over the banquet hall in advance. If I contact the manager—”
“Ah, I already received the access card. They said use it freely and return it after the ceremony.”
Even facility access she had never requested was arranged ahead of time. Mo-jun was, in every sense, the perfect ally.