Nothing Comes Free
"Anyway, please cancel the payment."
"So it's fine when that man offers to pay for you, is it?"
"I turned him down. Which is why I came here to settle up."
"…Is that so? So you won't be seeing him again?"
"That's not it. He doesn't seem like a bad person."
Geon-joo's tightly shut face went slightly pale. So beneath it all, he was this transparent a person. Ju-ri wanted to laugh, but she didn't let it show.
Much as Han Geon-joo amused her, she still had no interest in things working out with him. Seeing him today only solidified that.
Older men beat the younger ones, I guess.
All this did was reinforce her narrow-mindedness.
"Anyway, give me your account number."
"No need."
"Haa. Han Geon-joo, I told you it made me uncomfortable. Doing that won't change the fact that…"
I'm never going to develop feelings for you.
Still, saying it out loud like that would be going too far.
But if he kept being stubborn about it, there'd be no other choice.
Annoyance flickered across Ju-ri's eyes.
It wasn't that money didn't matter to anyone, but Han Geon-joo was a man for whom that truth stood out more than most. No wonder his nickname was Salty Geon. Watching him operate, she figured he couldn't have much money anyway—where did he get off lecturing her about spending?
Setting aside his personal circumstances, she also disliked how he acted on his own whims without ever listening to what people actually said.
Doing stuff like that isn't going to make me like you.
"I'm only going to say this once—"
"I happened to see your card statement, Ju-ri."
What?
"I didn't snoop. I stopped by the Overseas Sales office, and it was spread open on your desk."
"And so you just… read it?"
"It was spread open."
So if something's spread open, that makes it fair game?
His oddly self-assured attitude left Ju-ri momentarily speechless.
"If your entire paycheck goes to your card bill, when exactly are you supposed to save?"
"……"
"It worried me, and I'm hardly even involved."
"……"
"Your spending is way out of proportion to your income."
He delivered the lecture with perfect composure, as if he'd never once looked away from anyone's gaze in his life, and it left her numb.
What did this bastard just say to me?
Heat climbed up the back of her neck. It was the first time anyone had ever said such a thing to her, and it felt like taking a brick to the back of the head.
"From now on, try to avoid gatherings like this as much as possible, and cut back on the unnecessary spending."
"……"
"Which is why I won't take your money."
As Geon-joo turned on his heel and walked off, Ju-ri stared at his retreating back, her expression scattering like a soul leaving its body.
Are you kidding me. That absolutely unhinged piece of unsolicited advice.
Before she knew it, Ju-ri was staring down at the phone in her hand. She opened her banking app, and next month's card payment flashed up immediately. A figure roughly equal to her monthly salary minus rent. No telling when Salty Geon had gotten a look at her statement, but it probably hadn't looked much different than it did now…
She could feel the gaze of the reception desk employee behind her.
Her face burned.
That lunatic.
Huh. The back of this earring feels weirdly loose. Should I take it off? It's making me nervous.
Turning the corner while fiddling with her earring, Ju-ri ran straight into Geon-joo, who was just stepping out of the restroom. Foes are fated to meet on a narrow bridge, as they say.
Ju-ri scattered the thought rising in her head like a puffball of cloud.
Geon-joo stopped in his tracks. Ju-ri, meanwhile, brushed right past him toward the restroom. A corridor with nothing but a restroom at the end offered nowhere else to duck into.
Worried he might actually say something to her, she slipped inside quickly, brow creasing faintly.
We keep running into each other.
Enemy was probably overstating it, but he grated on her in more ways than one. There was the little lecture about saving money and the unauthorized act of paying on her behalf just the other day—and now, with that stone-faced expression of his, he kept making it obvious he was conscious of her, which was starting to worry her. Wouldn't people start getting the wrong idea?
In fact, just that day, after the golf gathering had wrapped up, Ga-hee had outright asked her what the deal was between her and Han Geon-joo.
And look, right now. It's a miracle the hallway's empty. If anyone were here, they'd be thinking something's up.
Washing her hands and stepping back out, Ju-ri spotted Geon-joo still standing outside the men's room and scowled.
Seriously.
What a mess she'd gotten tangled up in.
"Shin Ju-ri."
"I'd appreciate it if you pretended not to know me at the office."
When she said it with a smile, the furrow between Geon-joo's brows twitched. God forbid someone sees us. Ju-ri shot a glance toward the entrance of the corridor.
"…Are you embarrassed?"
"……?"
Ju-ri shifted her eyes to him.
"Embarrassed to be seen with me?"
"No, it's not that…"
Well, honestly, a little. Yes.
Her gaze swept over him quickly. He had upgraded from the magpie-nest bowl cut and round glasses—hair still a disheveled mess a magpie could lay an egg in without anyone noticing, but now with silver-framed, high-prescription lenses that warped his face. And above all—
Is that plaid shirt his uniform or something?
The skin under Ju-ri's eye gave a fine tremor.
Han Geon-joo looked less like a white-collar professional at a major corporation and more like he'd just walked out of an engineering grad school lab.
She knew that somewhere behind the glasses and those wretched clothes there was something sweet and remarkable—like the flesh inside a hard shell. But seeing him like this, it was impossible to believe. And lately, with nothing but this sight on repeat, even the memory of her "type" was getting hazy. At this point, she half wondered whether she'd simply hallucinated whatever she thought she'd seen that day.
Unable to be honest and unwilling to lie, Ju-ri fell silent—and Geon-joo's face crumpled.
"…You said I was your type."
A tiny whisper.
Uh-oh-oh-oh.
Goosebumps crawled up the back of Ju-ri's neck.
It was the first time he'd brought up that night since it happened. He wouldn't go careening off the rails and blabbing about it to everyone, right…? Sensing danger, Ju-ri angled her head away and moved.
"I'll go first."
As she hurried down the hall, a gloomy voice trailed after her.
"Shin Ju-ri."
"Excuse me, Han Geon-joo. I don't want to talk at the office. And no, that's not me saying I'll talk to you outside of it."
"Your earring fell off."
Thud.
Ju-ri's footsteps stopped. She slapped a hand to her earlobe. Where the earring should have been snug against it, there was only soft, bare flesh. At the hollow, empty gap, she whipped her head around.
Geon-joo bent down and picked the earring up off the floor. Then he held out his open palm, and there it sat—her earring, resting quietly in the middle of his hand.
Oh…
Ju-ri let out a breath of relief. She was so relieved she almost forgot the man in front of her was Han Geon-joo. Do you have any idea what a single one of those costs?
Hey, at least it hadn't gone down the sink while she was washing her hands. She'd head straight to the department store after work and get it repaired.
Ju-ri walked over to him.
"Thank you—"
The instant her fingers reached for the earring, his hand curled shut. Her fingertips landed on his.
"For free?"
Huh?
Ju-ri blinked up at him. Behind the warped lenses, his eyes narrowed to slits.
"Aren't those expensive earrings?"
They were expensive. A single one of those earrings cost more than a decent handbag. Even she—who never hesitated to spend on the things she wanted—had agonized over the purchase for a good month.
Though in the end, blinded by how it glittered when she tried it on at the department store, she'd paid on the spot.
"…So is there something you want?"
The light caught Geon-joo's lenses, and they flashed.
"Here's your order."
The moment the server set down the chicken, the sweet-and-spicy glaze smell bloomed upward. Clack, clack. After placing a frosted draft beer in front of each of them, the server vanished in a whirl.
"Chicken was what you wanted?"
"What else would I have wanted?"
"Money as a thank-you?"
"That would just be the easy way out for you, wouldn't it, Ju-ri."
"Anyone listening would think I'm the kind of person who solves everything with cash."
"Aren't you, at least partially? With no money to spare, no less."
A tendon popped out on Ju-ri's forehead as she divided a portion onto his personal plate.
"Has no one ever told you that you're way too free with your mouth?"
"If it's wrong, feel free to correct me."
The image of her bank balance flashed through Ju-ri's mind, and her retort died in her throat.
"…Could you phrase things a little more gently? Even if it's true, who'd want to hold a conversation with you when you put it that aggressively?"
"I have no interest in forcing someone who can't stand me to talk anyway."
There wasn't a shred of hesitation in his firm, resolute tone. Ju-ri stared blankly at him as he picked up a piece of seasoned chicken with his chopsticks and divided it onto her plate.
"Then why are you like this with me?"
"Wh-wh-what did I ever do to you?"
So flustered that he was stammering, Geon-joo's face froze into an awkward grimace. Ju-ri gave a hollow laugh.
"Not eating?"
He glanced at her fork, which she hadn't even picked up.
She broke into a bright smile.
"Eat lots, Geon-joo."
"…The chicken here is good."
Good chicken was still just chicken.
Ju-ri indifferently speared a small piece with her fork and brought it to her mouth.
Hm?
Better than expected, actually.
Come to think of it, it had been ages since she'd had chicken and beer. She swallowed the piece and reached for her glass.
Clang.
Geon-joo clinked his glass against hers, then wet his lips.
"…Cheers."
Ha.
She let out a hollow laugh.
What an impossible character.
They did say developers were a breed of oddballs.
"Are people normally that easy for you?"
At the totally unprompted remark, Ju-ri narrowed her eyes. Another tendon sprang up on her forehead.
Plenty of developers might be oddballs, but when it came to grinding on someone's nerves with a single sentence, this man had to be in a league of his own.