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Chapter 51

A week had already passed.

Since saying she'd quit at the tteokbokki shop, Si-hyun hadn't breathed a word about her resignation. Having stated her intention, she'd opened the floodgates—she expected some kind of response from Hae-joon. But he, too, hadn't mentioned it all week. As if the word 'resignation' was taboo between them.

Still, she'd at least expected him to ask why she wanted to leave, if something was bothering her.

"Why won't he say anything?"

The man who was usually so direct was acting like this, and it was starting to frustrate her. Whether he accepted her resignation or told her not to go, she could at least respond—but this silence left her unsure what to do.

She'd thought that once she brought it up, things would move quickly—but that was her mistake. It felt like something was blocking the way.

Today, Hae-joon's afternoon schedule was free. Should she bring it up again? Maybe she could pretend to hand over approval documents and try again.

Just then, the door to the president's office opened, and she heard footsteps. Hae-joon seemed to be preparing to go out.

"President!"

Si-hyun called out urgently. The footsteps stopped.

"What."

"Are you going somewhere today? Your schedule is empty..."

"Do I need to report my whereabouts to you?"

"No, I meant..."

His sharp gaze made her whole body feel prickly. The intensity in his eyes was palpable—as if he could burn her with just a look.

As she avoided his gaze, bracing herself against the intensity, she heard his footsteps resume.

"HR says they're planning to interview new secretaries next Friday."

She spoke hastily. She didn't even know why she'd said that—it just came out in a hurry. As if she wanted to remind him of her resignation.

"I'm preparing for the handover, just so you know."

She smiled softly, as if to say, I'm diligently preparing to leave, so don't forget. Hae-joon stopped mid-stride and said,

"Tell them I'll be at the interviews too."

---

"It's been a while, Kim Hae-joon."

A voice as stiff as the office's interior design pierced Hae-joon's ears. The place, which seemed to have only the bare essentials, felt tidy yet cold—much like the gray-haired man carelessly tapping at his keyboard in front of him.

"Three years and five months."

Though the man had kept his eyes on the monitor since Hae-joon entered, acting as if he had no interest, he'd precisely noted how long it had been since Hae-joon's last visit.

"Something must have happened in three years."

The man, as if his eyes were failing, not only adjusted his glasses but also frowned and leaned closer to the monitor. His fingers never stopped typing, as if he were too busy.

"Just one thing, if you don't mind."

Hae-joon snapped at the man who wasn't focusing on him. Only then did the man turn and look directly at him.

"Your personality hasn't changed. But I'm a bit busy."

The man before him was the psychiatrist Hae-joon had consulted during a difficult period. His clinic was a shabby-looking place far out in the countryside of Gyeonggi Province, yet it never lacked patients.

He'd tried many famous doctors, but none had felt right—then Jeong-woo recommended this place. He'd come without much expectation, but the doctor's words, which seemed to see right through him, made him listen. Since then, when his mind was unsettled, he'd come here.

Of course, no one knew. If word got out and rumors spread, people might say Kim Hae-joon had finally gone crazy.

Tap!

With a crisp tap of the Enter key, as if finishing his work, the doctor took off his glasses, stood up, and stretched. Ignoring Hae-joon as if he were invisible, he turned to the window, rolled his neck, and stretched his clasped hands forward. Then he poured hot water from the kettle and made himself coffee.

"You don't drink this, do you?"

Speaking as if he already knew everything, the doctor set only his own cup on the desk. Since Hae-joon had refused the tea offered on his first visit, the doctor had never offered it again.

"About three years ago, you were saying your employees kept quitting. Seems things were going better since then, were they?"

The doctor took a sip of the aromatic coffee, put his glasses back on, and looked at Hae-joon.

"One of your newer employees giving you trouble?"

"......"

"She lasted a long time, though. By your side, Kim Hae-joon."

Sometimes, coming here, Hae-joon couldn't tell if this was a fortune-teller's shop or a hospital. Hearing the doctor speak so fluidly, as if peering into his mind, made him suspect—just like with Sang-hoon—that someone might have been planted.

He'd been extremely wary at first, but after talking, he realized the doctor wasn't the type to do such things.

"One of my employees says she's quitting, and I can't understand why. The conditions aren't bad, I offered permanent conversion, she does her job well—there's no reason to leave."

It might seem strange to consult a psychiatrist over something like this, but Hae-joon felt this doctor might have the answers. Based on past experience, it seemed likely. He knew it was awkward to be here talking about this, but there was no one else he could confide in.

He'd agonized over it for a week. Should he hold on to Si-hyun, or just let her go as he had with the others? And if he was going to keep her, he needed a reason. He'd let so many secretaries go—why was she any different? Without a convincing reason for himself, he couldn't act rashly.

This was Hae-joon's last stop. If he couldn't find an answer here, he'd have to find one himself.

"Can't you just hire someone else? Isn't that your specialty?"

To others, it might sound like mockery, but the doctor never beat around the bush.

"Why not just do what you've always done? What's there to feel sorry about—someone like you."

"I'm just curious. Why would someone who worked well for three years act like that? Of course I'm not upset."

Hae-joon almost snapped, but knowing the doctor's style, he calmed himself and answered, reminding himself why he'd come.

"Then why don't you just ask? Why come all this way when the answer is right in front of you?"

Hae-joon was silent. He couldn't answer that. Why was it so hard to just ask her? Why come all this way?

"Shall I guess? Why Kim Hae-joon is here acting like this."

The doctor finished his coffee, set the cup down with a clink, and continued.

"'What makes you act this way? Where else could you find better conditions than here? Why do this? Do you want something more from me?'"

The doctor asked a sudden question and smiled faintly.

"You've been wanting to ask her that, haven't you? A lot."

Hae-joon got goosebumps. Those were the exact questions he'd wanted to ask Si-hyun when she first brought up quitting. Hearing almost identical words from the doctor made him frown involuntarily.

"Your concentration must have been off these past few days."

"......"

"Because she keeps popping into your head."

"......"

"You close your eyes, and you think of her, so you haven't been sleeping well either."

"......"

"Half a dozen times a day, you hesitate whether to speak, pacing around for no reason."

"......"

"If she makes a call, your ears naturally turn toward her."

"......"

"And then suddenly, anger surges up."

"......"

"A moment later, it subsides, and you think of her again."

One by one, those were exactly what Hae-joon had done over the past week. At this point, he started to feel afraid of the doctor. He even wondered if the doctor had secretly installed cameras in his office.

"Is this employee a woman?"

"What does that matter?"

"If you want a productive session, answer the question."

Frowning, Hae-joon nodded.

"At least not the same sex..."

The doctor muttered something to himself and began typing at the monitor again, as if writing a chart. Hae-joon grew annoyed with the doctor, who was just mumbling to himself without giving any clear answers.

"Kim Hae-joon, you have this side to you too. Surprising."

"What exactly are you trying to say with all this vagueness?"

"Just a moment. Let me finish organizing this."

The doctor gave a slight gesture, as if telling him to wait. Feeling like a dog being told to stay, Hae-joon's anger rose—but he barely held it in. Slowly removing his hands from the keyboard, the doctor turned to face him.

"It's really not good for your mental health."

"What is?"

The doctor spoke with a serious expression, as if diagnosing a grave illness. For a moment, Hae-joon felt afraid of what might come out of his mouth. It felt like something he didn't want to hear was about to be said.

"This is what we usually call a crush."

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