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Chapter 63

'They call this a crush. What do you think?'

The voice that had cut through the rain still echoed clearly in her ears. Sometimes she wondered if it had been a dream—but facing Hae-joon like this made reality impossible to ignore.

His eyes seemed to ask the question with an answer already in mind. If she didn't give the one he wanted, she had a feeling he'd keep pressing.

"What does it matter whether I like you or not, President? As a secretary, I should be the one you like, for doing my job well."

She knew exactly what he was asking, but deliberately dodged. She couldn't say she didn't like him—and if she said she did, he might misunderstand.

"I like you, Secretary Cha."

"Then... that settles it."

"Can't a secretary like her president?"

"It's not that it's impossible, but... what would you do with a secretary who likes you?"

"A president who wants to be liked could exist, you know."

Their conversation was like a broken record. Every time Hae-joon moved closer, she stepped back. She was confused—where had these feelings of his come from?

"What kind of boss-secretary relationship has that kind of thing..."

"Are you going to keep dodging?"

His direct question shut her mouth. He'd cut off all escape routes. She'd planned to stall and then bolt when she reached her stop, but he'd already seen through her.

"Don't you find me attractive? Me?"

His voice carried weight. The question seemed to imply: How could you not?

"Answer me, Cha Si-hyun."

There was nowhere to run. Trapped, she had to answer.

"Shall I be honest?"

---

Winter had passed and spring had arrived, changing so much of what met the eye. Trees that had stood bare all winter were now sprouting leaves. The sharp, biting wind that carried the chill had softened, carrying warmth that stirred the heart. Even the gloomy alleys felt warmer.

Si-hyun loved walking this alley in spring. Everything felt softer. Especially at night, when the streetlights and cherry blossoms intertwined in a beautiful display, she'd stop and admire them.

Tonight, on her way home from work, she'd planned to stop if she saw any nice blooms. But her companion seemed so irritable that she stayed silent and walked straight home.

Walking up the familiar stairs in silence, she glanced sideways.

"Go now. I'm home. These stairs are steep—you must be tired."

"I've carried someone up them before. What's tiring about that?"

His retort silenced her. After all, she was the one he'd carried.

That night, she'd been drunk and limp, weighing him down—how had he managed to carry her up all those stairs? The thought made her cheeks flush again.

An awkward silence fell. Since they'd gotten off the bus—ever since she'd answered his question, really—he'd been quiet. His expression gave nothing away.

'I'm sorry, but you're not my type.'

She'd answered his direct question with one of her own. Dragging it out would only invite more questions.

The moment she'd said it, she'd felt his eyes waver. It was the reaction of someone caught off guard. The man who'd been pressing her just moments ago fell silent—except for a brief flare of irritation at the drunkard next to them—until the bus reached the stop.

Even when she told him to go home, he insisted on walking her to her door. He'd been here a few times and walked ahead. She tried to stop him, but when he turned back, his eyes were clouded with an unreadable anger, and she couldn't bring herself to speak. So they'd walked together.

Conscious of him beside her, she hadn't even looked at the blossoms, arriving at her doorstep in no time. She wanted to end this uncomfortable walk and go inside. She'd arrived.

"I'll go in now. Thank you for walking me home. Get home safely."

Hae-joon stood silent, hands in his pockets, just looking at her. He seemed dissatisfied. She turned to go, but his expression made her pause and look back.

"This may be presumptuous of me, but... I think you're mistaken about how you're feeling right now."

He tilted his head, frowning.

"You've worked with me for a long time, and now I'm leaving... maybe it's just that you'll miss having me around? A familiar presence disappearing?"

His face began to twist as he listened.

"So... you think—"

She couldn't finish the sentence. It was too embarrassing to say aloud.

"That I'm mistaking it for love?"

He finished for her. She nodded silently.

"I can understand how you might feel that way. But there must be someone better suited to you—"

"Enough."

"There will be someone better than—"

"I said enough."

"Someone who can serve you even better—"

He closed the gap between them in a few long strides. Less than a step remained. Face to face with his sculpted features, her heart began to race unbidden.

"I told you to stop, Cha Si-hyun."

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? For not accepting my feelings? For saying I'm not your type? Which is it?"

He'd been silent until moments ago, but now words spilled out like a dam breaking. As if pouring out his hurt.

"Are you pitying me now?"

"Pity you? That's ridiculous."

"Yet you're doing exactly that, Secretary Cha."

He pressed on, seizing on her words, relentless. Her earlier answer had clearly struck a nerve.

"...Are you sulking?"

"Sulking?"

He echoed the word like it was unthinkable. Oops. Asking someone if they were sulking after they'd asked if you pitied them was like pouring gasoline on a fire. And with Hae-joon's pride, he would never tolerate such a word.

"No, no. I misspoke."

He took a long, deep breath, visibly restraining himself. She'd clearly struck a nerve.

"I don't understand what's so unappealing about me."

He leaned in closer. His eyes burned brightly before her. Deep, captivating, they flickered.

"Think again. There must be something you like."

His tone was full of certainty, as if there was no way she couldn't be attracted to him. She didn't dare argue further.

"Alright... I'll think about it."

"Hah."

A hollow laugh escaped him. Her response sounded like she was doing him a favor.

"Right. Thanks. For thinking about it."

His sarcasm stung, but engaging further would only prolong the conversation.

"Then I'll really go in."

"Don't walk home this late."

She bowed and turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

"Don't you watch the news? Walking alone at this hour."

"It's a route I take all the time."

"Something could happen. No more late nights."

With that, he turned and walked away. She watched his retreating back, bewildered by his sudden concern. Shaking her head, she went inside.

It had been an exhausting day, physically and mentally. She barely took off her coat before flopping onto the bed. Hae-joon's unexpected appearance had only added to her fatigue.

"A crush, huh."

She muttered the word softly. She'd had crushes before. In middle school, she'd fallen so hard for an older boy at her academy that she couldn't sleep. She'd agonized for days over whether to confess, then came down with a fever and ended up bedridden. The crush ended when he moved away.

In college, she'd liked a senior, but he was already taken. Again, she'd suffered in silence.

Could Hae-joon really be feeling what she'd felt then? It was hard to imagine. Was he also suffering? Kim Hae-joon—that just didn't seem possible.

It was more likely a misunderstanding. A sense of loss because a longtime secretary was leaving. That was all.

Anyone could see Hae-joon was handsome and successful, but to her, he was just her boss. Some might say she was being ungrateful, but accepting his feelings felt awkward.

Sure, she'd felt a flutter at his handsome face. And when they'd worked together to land a project or close a deal, she'd felt a little thrill at his rare smile. And sometimes, his seemingly thoughtless gestures made her heart skip.

She shook her head firmly. What was she thinking? Was she being swept along by him too?

Now wasn't the time to be swayed by Hae-joon. She had to prepare to leave, find a new job. There was more to do than she'd thought.

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