Not Bad
Dan was now calling the dangsan tree a ghost tree with alarming boldness.
Da-in leaned back in the uncomfortable rattan chair, her gaze drifting across the beach crowded with tourists.
“Why don’t you just focus on guarding and skip the getting-to-know-each-other part? Like, keep that same distance you’ve been using all along.”
“Nope. We’re not clients to each other, so I’m glued to your cushion. Finding out I’m from a PMC would be no walk in the park.”
“You’re acting like we’re officially one team even though we’re clients?”
Dan muttered under her breath, ghosts can’t even brush off rice grains properly. The orange juice he had ordered arrived anyway. He flashed the server a wink and answered in his usual dry tone.
“We’re not strangers who don’t know each other. If our faces were to meet, the truth would be obvious. No need to split into teams and work separately.”
“You talk as if I’m the one who picked you, though…”
Da-in raised both eyebrows and leaned forward across the table. Dan, still cradling his glass lightly, smiled back at her with open amusement.
From that painfully close distance, he answered without a trace of embarrassment.
“I’ve wanted to work with you.”
Oh… What kind of shameless face is this?
“You really think you’re the one I chose?”
“Not you, me. Or Team Leader, if you prefer.”
“Crazy, why?”
Da-in hurled a curse and jerked her head back. Then what had Yoon Tae-jung been talking about? He had mentioned the dangsan tree and entrusted Kwon Yeon-woo—the son of Kwon Hee-jae—to her care.
Even if the world held no trustworthy people, she couldn’t shake the certainty that someone was lying right now.
She sat up straighter, pulling her upper body away from the chair. Dan set his glass down.
“You used to be a cop, right? Why quit?”
“Is that the answer?”
“A question, actually. I wanted to be a cop too, but I failed.”
“That’s personal.”
“It’s an order, Da-in.”
Sunglasses hid his eyes, but the strong light still made Dan’s gaze reflect an icy chill.
Maybe the reason he never became a cop was because he failed the personality test.
Even though he looked perfectly normal on the outside, Dan Sneyer was the kind of person who only stayed alive by seeing blood.
That was why he had taken on nothing but Zero-rank missions, not S-rank ones.
S-rank meant handling large-scale syndicate conflicts or multi-nation operations. Zero-rank meant missions that targeted one specific person and finished them perfectly.
In short, he wasn’t a soldier but a killer. That was why even inside Valentine Corporation, he was almost unknown.
There had been rumors that he was a psychopath, but nothing about him suggested that.
“I just stopped liking cops. The one I hate most is sitting right above my head.”
“Family?”
Da-in shrugged and stood up. She had no idea why she lumped hatred and family together, but the answer had felt right.
And Dan Sneyer had clearly lumped them in the same category too.
Like-minded.
Feeling restless, Da-in ran her fingers through her damp hair, pushing the strands back. She pulled her cap on.
“Anyway, I’m working an extra shift twice a week. Over at the surfboard rental shop.”
“Suddenly? I’ve never heard that report before.”
“I’m doing it right now, so…”
Dan let out a loud laugh, then looked at her with wide eyes. Da-in leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table. Dan’s gaze sharpened with interest as he studied her face.
“It’s that house. They monitor every single electronic device. Every signal is collected. No blind spots. If you tried to contact the headquarters without permission, you’d be caught immediately. That’s the power of a country built on IT—the Republic of Korea.”
Even as she spoke, the words felt hollow. Da-in clicked her tongue. The man across from her was nibbling a candy with his tongue while his eyes stayed fixed on her, strawberry-vanilla scent drifting through the air.
She stared straight at Dan’s smiling face and tapped her receipt on the table.
“Enjoy your meal, Team Leader.”
With light steps, she left the café, stepping into the evening air.
Park Geun-sik had already been told she was running an errand to check on the part-time job. He had offered to lend her a car, but she had refused, claiming she couldn’t drive. It was a lie—she simply didn’t want to expose her real coordinates to any machine inside a vehicle.
Da-in walked along the Waikiki beach lined with luxury hotels and high-end shops.
A mix of languages from around the world filled the air. Tourists’ faces were full of joy, and the roads were packed with cars.
Within that crowd, Da-in could slip through unnoticed.
Actually, it didn’t matter whether Dan had picked her as a team member or not.
The real issue was that she kept feeling the need to hide her identity as a guard.
Just like the last mission, it wasn’t a family request born from sensing danger.
And the strangest part of all was the demand to earn the child’s trust.
Kwon Hee-jae’s identity laundering meant he was legally considered dead. Therefore, his estate would naturally pass to his son. That meant a child would inherit an enormous fortune no matter the form.
In that light, the child’s exposure to crime was already a given. Protecting him made sense.
But hiding her own identity while guarding the child and winning his trust?
Da-in let out a long sigh, frustration tightening in her chest. Answers churned in her head, yet she couldn’t grasp them.
She walked, walked, and then stopped. Between two buildings, the sea came into view.
If her suspicions were correct, she didn’t need the child’s trust at all. She didn’t even want a single grain.
Da-in reached the villa as evening dinner approached.
Too restless to take a taxi, she had walked the long distance. The four-kilometer uphill road left her legs trembling with exhaustion.
She pressed the intercom, but the door opened without a sound. Da-in crossed the wide garden once more.
The closer she got to the building, the stronger the scent of food became—real Korean food, something she hadn’t tasted properly since her time away from the village.
Her stomach, which had felt nothing earlier, suddenly churned with hunger.
Spicy pork kimchi stew with a generous topping of fried pancake. The fragrant water dropwort that could only be found here. The scent was thick and comforting.
She pushed open the front door and saw Yeon-woo, who had been dashing toward the dining room, turn to look at her.
Da-in waved her hand out of habit.
“Hey, Yeon-woo.”
But the boy ignored her as usual and walked away.
Oh, this inexplicable sense of defeat.
“The child is very shy with strangers. Don’t worry about it too much, Miss Woo-hee.”
Manager Kang’s words reached her, and Da-in smiled awkwardly and bowed.
“Hello, Manager. It’s fine. Kids at that age are like that.”
“You haven’t eaten yet? Fresh ingredients just arrived today. I made real Korean food for the first time in a while. Since I cooked it, you should eat with us.”
“You cooked it yourself?”
“Yeon-woo thinks I’m strict. Even when I was in Korea, I always made him eat Korean breakfast.”
“Ah…”
Perfume came with food, apparently.
Da-in thanked Manager Kang from the bottom of her heart for offering to share the meal, then followed her into the dining room.
The table was already laden with food. It was far more extravagant than she had expected.
Perfectly grilled altari cucumber skewers. Jjapaguri and tteokgalbi. A combination that was nearly impossible to find together on one plate.
“I’ll eat up!”
Before the kimchi stew even arrived, Yeon-woo sat down and began piling side dishes onto his plate.
Da-in watched the boy’s fierce chopstick work and couldn’t help but smile. When she realized she hadn’t taken a seat, Manager Kang pointed to the empty chair beside her.
“Please sit here, Miss Woo-hee.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll only be staying for today.”
She pulled out the chair next to Yeon-woo, and Park Geun-sik arrived carrying the kimchi stew pot, eyes wide.
“There’s no need to thank me. We’re setting the table anyway. What’s so hard about putting out an extra spoon? Just eat with us instead of going hungry.”
“Uncle…”
“If you have any sense of shame, tell Yeon-woo to go get his English tutor right away. Yeon-woo, this aunt is really good at English.”
To Yeon-woo, who called Park Geun-sik “grandfather,” she was an aunt—which meant Kwon Hee-jae would be his dad. The thought sent a chill down her spine.
Da-in quickly corrected the title.
“If uncle is Yeon-woo’s grandfather, then I’m the aunt? Or you can just call me by name. That’s more familiar.”
“Oh, that’s true. But we can’t just use names. Yeon-woo, this aunt is really pretty—want to learn English together? You’ll have to study hard for school, okay?”
Despite the adults’ urging, Yeon-woo kept his eyes wide open and only focused on stuffing food into his mouth.
Good. The more he ignored her, the easier it would be to abandon the mission and leave here.
Da-in smiled and served food for Yeon-woo. Then, at the same moment, her chopsticks reached the pumpkin pancake.
The boy opened his eyes sharply and quietly slid the chopsticks away. Da-in was stunned.
Was he offering the pancake to her?
Or was it some kind of elder-younger tradition? The bratty kid?
No matter how she twisted the situation, it was too funny. Da-in set the pancake on Yeon-woo’s plate and took another side dish for herself.
A brief silence settled over the table, then flowed across Yeon-woo’s back.
The child scooped a large portion of glistening rice and brought it to his mouth, eyes shining with delight.
Only Da-in had noticed that moment the entire meal—never once taking her eyes off the boy.
Oh, no. I’m doomed.