The Two-Faced Man

"Noona, come on, that was just a joke. I figured it'd rub you the wrong way if I let you off that easy."

"Say something that actually makes sense."

Ga-hee snorted in disbelief, then caught Ju-ri's eye and shot her a playful wink. "We're actually pretty close, believe it or not."

"Looks like it."

Jae-hyeong's gaze locked onto Ju-ri's smiling face. Ga-hee chuckled. "Our Ju-ri is pretty, isn't she? Ju-ri, what do you think of this guy?"

Ju-ri merely raised an eyebrow, and Ga-hee turned her attention to Jae-hyeong instead. "How old did you say you were?"

"I thought we were close?"

"I can barely remember my own little brother's age."

"Thirty-three."

"Then you're one year apart. Ju-ri's thirty-two. He's got solid credentials, too. Works in the food and beverage industry — he's opened several locations under his own name."

Jae-hyeong wasn't bad-looking. Taste was subjective, but for a woman drawn to masculine types, his face would have plenty of appeal.

He's just not my type.

Hers was fairly set in stone. She preferred something more androgynous in a face, paired with a solidly built body.

Looks alone, Han Geon-joo was the best match for her type of anyone she'd ever met. Granted, only when the glasses came off. It was practically a direct strike down the middle of her taste strike zone.

And knowing he wasn't right in the head, I still took a little nibble because of that damn face — and gave myself a stomachache.

The stomachache was probably an ongoing condition.

Maybe that was why. Jae-hyeong's easygoing manner appealed to her. For all his apparent shyness and careful reading of the room, there was an overall air of comfortable confidence about him — the kind that suggested he'd dated plenty of women.

He just wasn't her type; that didn't mean he was undateable.

His personality seemed fun, at least.

"Sounds like you'd rather be Ju-ri's white knight than mine. Ju-ri's my partner, so we come as a set — you're not seriously suggesting we split the game fee, are you?"

"Oh please, what are you even saying. Have I ever been that stingy?"

"Every single time."

"...Then today, I'll be Ga-hee noona's white knight!"

"Godspeed, Jae-hyeong."

Ju-ri burst out laughing.

At the sound of her laughter, Jae-hyeong's eyes went soft and melty. Anyone could see it — he'd fallen head over heels at first sight.

He cleared his throat with a loud ahem and spoke up. "So, uh, would you like to grab a coffee? You too, Ga-hee noona. Everyone's headed to Cheonjiyeon later, so we've got some time to kill."

"I'm fine, but Ju-ri, what about you?"

"I'm fine too."

Jae-hyeong lit up at her answer, openly delighted. Ga-hee snickered at the grin spreading across his face.

Tap, tap.

White sneakers clicked against the marble of the lobby floor.

Making someone pay in your place is a bit much, honestly.

She could tell Jae-hyeong was interested in her. A meal was one thing, but a million won was a burden on her end, too.

A relationship should start on equal footing. A romance that began with a debt hanging over you was uncomfortable — and besides, it wasn't her style.

She'd feel the weight of it the entire time they were together.

Though that's just self-satisfaction talking. When you're not equal from the very start, what can you do.

Did she really have to cower around a man just to date him?

No need.

Half the world was men.

There's no one worth seeing again when I already know better.

Ju-ri was watching Geon-joo standing in front of the golf course's front desk when the thought crossed her mind, and she slowed her pace.

Geon-joo turned his head. Their eyes met for a brief moment — then he looked away. Ju-ri set her stalled legs in motion again and walked toward the front desk.

"I'd like to pay for teams 1, 2, and 3."

"Payment was just completed."

The clerk behind the counter offered a polite smile and added, "By the gentleman over here."

Ju-ri's brow furrowed.

Why?

"...Geon-joo paid?"

Even starting a conversation felt awkward.

"Yes."

Geon-joo slid his card back into his wallet with a clipped reply. The way he refused to look at her made Ju-ri tilt her head in confusion. "Why?"

"Hyeong-il-hyung-nim kindly offered to cover it."

"Hyeong-il-hyung-nim?"

"Representative Woo."

"Oh."

Ju-ri couldn't make sense of the situation.

Representative Woo's face flashed through her mind. The man who'd swung his driver with laser-focused intensity, insisting he could not afford to lose the bet. The man who'd bitten down on his lower lip in concentration. The one who'd been giddily tallying scores in the private room, cheering raucously because their team had come in first.

That person...?

She narrowed her eyes.

Hadn't he even promised to treat the winning team to the afterparty? He was a nice man, sure, but he had no real connection to her whatsoever.

No way.

"Representative Woo really paid for this?"

"Yes."

"Can I go ask him right now and verify that?"

"......"

Geon-joo finally looked at her. His expressionless face seemed all the colder behind those glasses.

Those goddamn glasses of his.

Better than the round bug-eyes ones, sure — but still no comparison to his bare face.

"What exactly are you curious about?"

"That it was your card, isn't it?"

"...He's agreed to send me the money."

"So can I go ask him right now if that's true?"

"......"

When Geon-joo stayed silent, Ju-ri let out a sigh. "Give me your account number, then. I'll transfer you the money."

"There's no need."

"Yes, there is. It makes me uncomfortable."

"......"

"Give me your account number."

Ju-ri's voice was firm.

This was different from buying him the glasses. That had been a goodwill gesture she'd made of her own generous accord — but this money was rightfully hers to pay. And the amount was substantial, to boot.

If it had been Jae-hyeong acting like this, she'd have found it a bit much, but it wouldn't have sat this badly on her conscience. A million won was hardly a fortune to a man like him. Geon-joo was another matter entirely. Accepting this kind of favor from a man who'd been rotating the same few outfits for years? She wouldn't feel an ounce of gratitude.

Besides — why on earth was this man covering her penalty in the first place?

What business was it of his?

Don't tell me...

Just as a seedling of suspicion began to sprout in Ju-ri's chest—

"Why don't you quit these things altogether."

It was what Geon-joo said instead of reciting his account number, head turned away. A question mark floated up in Ju-ri's mind.

"Quit what?"

"Participating in this kind of betting game, to be precise. You clearly don't have the skill for it. It's beneath you."

"What? Be...neath me?"

"Yes."

"...Are you out of your damn mind?"

Ah.

Ju-ri pressed her fingers to her lips. She'd let it slip without meaning to — she was just that exasperated.

Geon-joo blinked, as if doubting his own ears. The words were already out, so Ju-ri simply shrugged as if to ask, what of it?

"I think the word beneath you is a little aggressive, don't you?"

Geon-joo averted his gaze as he answered. "...Which is exactly why you shouldn't play."

"Sure, you might think, why is a woman who can't even play golf betting money in the first place. Think whatever you like."

"......"

"But did you really have to go as far as telling me not to? Why, Geon-joo?"

"......"

"We're not exactly in the habit of exchanging life advice."

Is that too harsh?

"You're the one who told me to stop, Geon-joo. Remember?"

He stomped out saying he wanted nothing to do with me — so why does he care what I do?

Geon-joo's lips went dry.

"How dare you say that to me. After making such a strange... proposition."

"Strange proposition? Oh."

"......"

"That one?"

Geon-joo sealed his mouth shut and said nothing.

"Different strokes for different folks. It might seem strange from where you're standing, Geon-joo."

Ju-ri shot a sidelong glance at the clerk behind the counter. Geon-joo caught on to her intent and pressed his lips together — though the anger hadn't left his face.

"I don't think it's strange at all."

"You were... that kind of person?"

"What kind of person is that, exactly?"

When Ju-ri smiled, Geon-joo faltered.

"What did you take me for?"

At the deepening of her smile, a muscle in Geon-joo's jaw tightened.

"How you choose to judge me is none of my business, but if you're going to get angry because I don't match whatever picture you've drawn in your head, that hardly seems fair to me."

Ju-ri had been speaking in her silkiest tones, as silky as her irritation demanded — when it suddenly struck her as odd. Wasn't she talking to him like he was a little kid?

I'm doing it without even realizing.

She'd always dated older men more than younger ones, as a rule. Age-wise, there were only three years between her and Han Geon-joo — hardly a significant gap. That PE student she'd casually dated a few years back had been six years younger. And honestly, Geon-joo didn't feel especially more mature than that kid. If anything, the kid had seemed far more practiced when it came to romance.

He wasn't a virgin, that one.

Watching the stubborn set of Geon-joo's jaw, Ju-ri tilted her head. Does it bother him? Probably. Of course it does.

"So will you say the same thing to that man? The same things you've been saying to me?"

Ju-ri blinked.

"What man? What are you talking about?"

"The man called Kim Jae-hyeong."

"Oh."

Ju-ri studied Geon-joo with fresh eyes.

Displeasure was written across that icy face. Look at it from any angle you liked — it was the face of a man who found her wanting.

So the displeasure he was feeling wasn't because of what she'd said, but...

Ju-ri couldn't help it — a "Ha." escaped her, a sigh that was half laugh.

"Geon-joo, you're a man with two completely different faces, aren't you."

"...What is that supposed to mean?"

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, that's what. Slip on the glasses and every last thing he's thinking vanishes behind them.