Date (2)

This was so damn irritating.

Sure, with a little help I'd found an outfit and a hairstyle that actually suited me better than usual—but did it have to take this much longer?

Beige slacks, a matching jacket, a brown knit, white German Army Trainers, and the cut they'd picked for me. Not bad, actually. What had they called this hairstyle? An S-curl, I think. Whatever. It looked good, so it didn't matter.

Jeong Sujin, whose look changed every time I saw her, seemed to be going for office wear today. Her hair had more curl in it than yesterday. A white dress shirt cut in a deep V, black stockings, and a high-waisted H-line pencil skirt that was, unusually, done as a wrap. The top was so sheer I could barely stand to look at it.

"What? Aaang~ You can just look, you know."

"I'm good."

I'd confirmed they were black. That was enough.

"Come ooon. I wore this so you'd look."

And she carried herself like she owned the lobby. The expression, the pose, the confidence—even the little toss of her hair was dripping with it. She really was that kind of woman: the kind who knew how to gather every eye in a room, and knew how to enjoy it.

Every woman in this lobby was above average, and she still pulled the gazes of people walking past—especially the men. She reveled in it, approaching me slowly, smiling as she slipped her arm through mine, and in that single gesture she handed all that attention over to me.

It was a lot. It also felt good. Satisfaction and a quiet superiority welled up from somewhere deep in my chest.

I'm the man who draws the eyes of guys who already have beautiful women on their arms. And I am your man. How could you not pay attention to someone like me?

This sly woman had calculated every last beat of it and staged the whole thing just to send that message. Honestly. If I didn't keep my head on straight today, she was going to wrap me around her finger.

"So where are we going today?"

"Hold on. Just stay like this for a second."

The gathered stares drifted off one by one as people returned to their own business. A hotelier approached, murmured something in Jeong Sujin's ear, and led us out of the lobby. Outside, a car was brought around by valet and rolled slowly toward us. Jeong Sujin waved it down.

"Porsche Boxster 25th Anniversary Limited Edition."

"I've been so precious with this baby I haven't let anyone else ride in it yet."

"You have a license, right? Here. The keys."

"Let's go for a drive."

The Boxster's distinctive exhaust note filled the air as we left Seoul behind and ran the outer roads of Gyeonggi-do with no destination at all. The cabin had felt a little tight at first, but once I put the top down, the openness was wonderful.

Some junior from the army used to go on about how you had to start a car with your left hand at least once in your life. Today was the first time I'd ever done it.

A good car, good weather, and a beautiful woman riding shotgun. The satisfaction that had been building in me all morning hit its peak, dopamine lighting up behind my eyes. It was a different kind of satisfaction from the one I'd felt during sex yesterday, and the strangeness of that was almost interesting.

"Well? You like it?"

"Yeah."

The scenery ripping past, the wide-open view—it punched a hole through a tightness in my chest I hadn't even known was there. I guess I'd been cooped up. So this was why people went for drives.

"You're a pretty good driver, babe."

Instead of answering, I put my foot down. A little more. Just a little more of this feeling.

"Wow... you are having the time of your life."

She pulled a pair of sunglasses from somewhere, slid them on, hooked one arm over the door, and crossed her legs. She looked like she'd stepped out of a photoshoot. Hell, if someone took a picture of her right now, it would be a photoshoot.

"Hey babe—want to go see the ocean too?"

"Sure."

The exhaust and the wind made conversation difficult on the way, but she was the kind of woman who could live with that, so it wasn't a problem. She just sat there beside me, letting me enjoy the novelty of it, and kept finding ways to pull my eyes to the right. Whether she was getting off on catching me glance at her while I drove, I couldn't say. Every time we stopped at a light, her fingers would wander over her stockings. Things like that.

Following the navigation, we arrived at a scenic overlook on the West Sea. The view from that hill—accessible only by car—was beautiful enough to justify driving more than an hour ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to see it. Pushing the speed for that long had taken more out of me than I'd expected. The moment we arrived, the tension drained out and a fatigue I hadn't noticed came rolling in.

"Want to hit that cafe we passed on the way up and take a break?"

"Yeah! It's actually this little hidden gem of a place. I stop there every time I come out here for the ocean."

"That right? Then I'll leave the menu to you."

"Mhm."

Grateful for the whole experience, I got out first and opened her door.

"Thanks, babe."

"Right back at you."

I hadn't been expecting much—figuring it would be one of those cafes you find anywhere in the country, either with a decent view or a mediocre one they'd dressed up to look better. I was a little surprised. It actually had atmosphere. Not one of those half-finished places that slap some exposed concrete on the walls and go, this is the aesthetic, you uncultured sucker—the interior was done properly, warm orange bulb lighting and wood with a genuine sense of comfort. I found myself wondering who the owner was, and then I saw her: a woman who looked a lot like that Nature hyung of ours, the one who's insane about coffee.

"Hi, ma'am! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"It has. Come on i— wait. A man?"

"Hehe. What do you think? Handsome, right?"

"Huh? Uh, uh... welcome!"

The owner's greeting came out awkward. I didn't make anything of it and answered normally.

"Hello."

Maybe it was the way her voice jumped. The handful of other customers turned to look at us. I supposed it was because men were such a rare sight now. They didn't seem to have figured out who I was yet, but their eyes still followed me around the room.

"Then please make mine like I said. Ma'am, do you happen to have anything like a private room?"

"Pardon? No, we don't have anything like that.... I can at least show you to a quiet corner on the second floor. Naye, show them up, would you?"

"Yes! Please follow me!"

"You go on up first, babe. I'll take care of—"

I headed upstairs fast. Any longer down there and something was going to happen. Because we weren't supposed to just take off on a drive like this. I'd gotten drunk on the mood and gone and done it, and now how the hell was I supposed to clean this up? There was no way Jeong Sujin had gotten permission. She probably hadn't even known. No film crew, no security detail—we'd just taken off. I still had to fix it, though. Who was I even supposed to call? The Minister?

"Babe~ I ordered like we said. What are you doing?"

"Hm? Cleaning up the mess we just made."

"What mess?"

"We came down here on our own. No film crew, no security. And we left the designated zone without telling anyone."

"Uh... so what do we do? Are we in big trouble?"

"No. I'll handle it. Don't worry."

She'd given me a genuinely good day. The least I could do was take care of this much. I checked my phone and, sure enough, the writer and the Minister had already tried to reach me. I'd caused enough trouble in the past that even the President had called me over it, so something like this... should be fine, right?

I fired off a text to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠writer, called the Minister to apologize, and got it sorted: the crew and the security detail would come to us.

"It's handled."

"Nnngh.... I'm sorry... I messed up."

"It's fine. Worst case, we skip the drinks and head straight back. That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would've been enough."

That usual easy confidence of hers had flipped into the look of a kid who'd just been caught by her parents. Cute.

My phone buzzed.

"Hold on. Hello?"

"Ah. Well, you see. The weather was just too nice today. And there was this great car. So I just... took off. Hahaha."

The person I'd been dreading most had called after all.

"I'll get out in front of that myself. If I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tell them I went out there and it still seemed too dangerous, the others will get the message."

"I'll make it work."

It probably would.

"Yes, ma'am. Understood."

The call ended. Hah... I'd screwed up this time, so I had to eat it. What else could I do?

"Um.... Can I ask who that was? They sounded like someone important."

"Wait. For real? Like, actually?"

"Yeah. So... what you just saw is a secret. If this gets out, we're done. You understand that."

Even given the way things were now, a regular guy being in direct contact with the President—acting President or not—was the kind of thing that didn't make sense. I couldn't afford to stir up weird rumors.

"Got it?"

"Uh... yeah. I won't tell anyone."

For some reason, the way she looked at me had shifted.

How had it changed?

Why had it changed?

Things I felt like I understood and yet couldn't quite grasp spun through my head.