Any of Them Is Fine

The moment he pushed open the door to the office, a hush fell over the room. The buzzing atmosphere froze solid at Kang-ho's entrance, and everyone greeted him in a rush. He answered with only a brief wave of his hand and slipped into his private office, at which point the murmuring among the team members resumed right where it had left off. It was the kind of air in which some juicy topic of conversation was making its rounds from mouth to mouth. Jeong-pyo ignored it entirely and went to his desk to set down his bag. That was when Yu-rim, the Grade 5 Secretary, asked him point-blank.

"Did you already know, Chief Aide?"

He shot her a look that said know what?, and she answered with a hesitant mumble.

"The Assemblyman's marriage…."

Yu-rim said it almost under her breath. Jeong-pyo had no idea what to say. Was he supposed to admit he knew, or claim he didn't?

"Well…."

"See? I told you the Chief Aide would already know."

When Jeong-pyo let slip that he'd been in the loop, Yu-rim crowed at the rest of the team. Apparently, ever since the news had come in, they'd been squabbling back and forth over it.

"How on earth did you hide it from us so perfectly? Honestly, none of us in this office knew a thing until we saw that rumor sheet blow up the administrative staff group chat this morning — we're all still in shock."

Yu-rim, thoroughly worked up, proceeded to brief Jeong-pyo on the whole situation.

"They say the bride-to-be is the Chief Aide in Assemblywoman Min Ji-ae's office? Do you know her well, Chief Aide? What's she like? I always thought he'd marry that announcer — you remember, the one he was briefly rumored to be dating a while back."

"Yu-rim."

"Yes?"

When he didn't stop her, the words just kept flowing without end, so Jeong-pyo cut her off and fixed her with a level stare.

"Is the preparation for this afternoon's meeting finished?"

"Ah… it's nearly done. I'll wrap it up now."

"The Assemblyman's schedule is packed today. Hurry, please."

"Yes, Chief Aide."

Jeong-pyo settled the overexcited office with a warning that wasn't quite a warning to everyone present. Then he picked up his tablet, approached the door of Kang-ho's private office, and knocked.

Told to come in, he opened the door and closed it carefully behind him. Just as he'd expected, Kang-ho was standing at the window in his overcoat, still not having taken it off, gazing down at the street below.

"Shall we push the meeting back thirty minutes?"

Kang-ho, belatedly catching the meaning behind the words, finally turned around and settled himself into a chair at the table.

"Why? Do I look unfit to sit through a meeting right now?"

"No, sir. The team members are a bit shaken as well."

Jeong-pyo had a gift for phrasing things so that even an unpleasant remark landed without sting. He was the exact opposite type to Kang-ho, who was blunt to a fault. In truth, that was precisely why Kang-ho had decided to recruit him — even if he fell short in other areas, that one considerable strength could shore up his weaknesses.

"All right, then. Let's postpone it a bit."

When Kang-ho gave his word, Jeong-pyo said he'd arrange it and excused himself from the office. Thanks to him, the tangled mess in Kang-ho's head got a brief moment of air.

Still, he wondered — was it really something worth being this shaken over, what he'd heard in the elevator? It wasn't as if he'd failed to anticipate the possibility that Hee-jin might go charging off to meet that woman. But when the news had come from that reporter claiming to be Mu-young's friend, Kang-ho had found himself swallowed by a strange, unnameable feeling.

More than anger at Hee-jin's behavior, it was the woman's response — this Lee Mu-young — that rubbed him wrong. Whatever the circumstances, this was a man she was going to marry, and his other entanglement had presumptuously demanded a meeting. What he couldn't understand was why she had actually gone and faced her at all.

And she hadn't said a single word to him about that meeting. She'd said it was the weekend, so it must have happened around the time of the sang-gyeon-rye, before or after. Several days had passed since then. Surely, whatever her reaction had been, common decency dictated she should have told him. What did she even keep a phone for?

Worse, they worked in the same building — the National Assembly itself. If she'd wanted to, she could have come to see him whenever she pleased. And yet the woman had neither sent word nor shown her face.

Maybe not outright anger, but shouldn't the normal response at least be to let her know he found it distasteful — that Hee-jin had asked to meet her at all?

He hadn't imagined that answer would apply to matters concerning him as well. Just how far was that woman capable of enduring? This was a business marriage — did she simply process it like a task on a checklist, turn away, and forget about it?

That pristine, untroubled composure of hers grated on his nerves every single time. It was what he'd wanted. He was the one who had insisted on it. And yet, for reasons he couldn't fathom, he hated it. He couldn't predict her next move, and so he couldn't stop thinking about her.

Kang-ho took his phone from his pocket and set it on the table. Should he call first? Then the subject of that day would come up naturally enough. But what would be the point?

It wasn't as though he could interrogate her for not telling him. And the idea of Hee-jin protesting that she and he were nothing to each other struck him as laughable — it would only turn a non-affair into an affair.

Fiddling with his phone for a moment, he found Hee-jin's number in his contacts and pressed the call button. A long tone rang out, but she didn't pick up. He tried again, and this time a blocked-caller message answered him.

"Ha…."

A hollow laugh escaped him despite himself. It wasn't even a case of the thief's own ankles going cold. All those times she'd called him to death, and now that she'd caused an incident, she was running for the hills? All Kang-ho could do was shake his head at Hee-jin's evasion.

It looked certain she'd done something, and his worries only deepened. Dwelling on things like this wasn't his style. He searched his contacts for another number. The instant he was about to press call, the screen flipped and a name appeared.

A call from that woman. The timing was uncanny. Was she finally going to come clean, however late? Kang-ho's expression lightened considerably. He thought it was just as well he'd hesitated a little longer and held his tongue, and answered the phone.

"Hello. This is Baek Kang-ho."

—It's Mu-young. Is this a bad time?

The tone was utterly businesslike. Who would ever guess the two of them were engaged to be married? He found himself wondering if he hadn't tossed out that line about treating marriage like a job for nothing.

"As it happens, the timing's perfect."

Kang-ho drummed his fingers on the table out of habit. He waited to see how she would broach it, but the woman delivered entirely different news.

—Your mother… recommended a dress shop. It's run by an acquaintance of hers, and she insists I have it made there. Tonight is the only time I have free, so I'm trying to arrange a schedule. Would you… that is, would Kang-ho be available?

Apparently she'd decided this was a matter she had to consult him on, because Mu-young waited for his answer. She says nothing about the Hee-jin business, but reports on this? Her standards were sharp as a blade.

"There's no need to use that particular shop. If your mother is simply looking for an outlet because nothing else is going her way, there's no obligation to humor her. Don't walk on eggshells. If it's hard for you to refuse, I'll call her mysel—"

—No. Please don't. I'd rather you didn't.

Mu-young cut off his offer with quiet firmness.

—I have to look into this anyway, so using a recommended place is easier for me too. Just let me know your schedule.

Meaning she had no intention of the tedious business of voicing her own preferences. Was the whole thing just a showcase marriage to her, then? Her wishes were expressed so thoroughly and so unshakably that Kang-ho found his own agonizing almost funny.

"Fine. Proceed however you like. I… can't suddenly clear my schedule today, so let's arrange something separate."

Without even checking whether his evening was free, Kang-ho declined. It would be far too awkward, he figured, to do the things real couples did — fussing over each other's outfits, helping one another choose. He suspected the woman didn't want that either.

—Understood. I'll let the shop know.

With a briefing tone befitting a chief aide, Mu-young wrapped up the conversation and ended the call. Kang-ho dropped the darkened phone onto the table and, without quite meaning to, let out a sigh.

How should he put it — like he'd tried not to be swayed and ended up swayed even more? Either way, emotions were a waste of time. Having reminded himself of that once more, he called his team into the conference room for the first item on his afternoon schedule.

By the time the meeting — longer than usual — was over and he returned to his office, it was nearly quitting time. He pulled out his phone, which he'd left on silent, and skimmed through his notifications. There was a message from the woman. He tapped it first to see what it said.

Mu-young had attached that line beneath the photos of the dresses. A breath of rueful laughter slipped out of him. It was almost admirable — that steely integrity of hers, not sparing even a flicker of concern for his disregard.

He went through the photos she'd sent one by one, lingering over each. Frankly, every design suited her. Her ability to carry things off, you might call it. Dressed up and in a wedding gown on top of it, the woman's looks registered somewhat differently. Those deep, storied eyes and that cool yet gentle smile — she was the type men would find attractive, no question.

He studied the three dress photos she'd sent for a long while. The style he liked was the off-the-shoulder dress with a hint of décolletage — number three. But imagining her wearing it at the wedding, he pictured every gaze in the room sliding toward her chest, and found himself reluctant. After a long deliberation, he gave his answer.

The truth was, his preference didn't matter in the least. Whichever she chose, it was no business of his. This marriage itself was the same way. Forcing himself to look away, Kang-ho rose from his seat for his next appointment.