Preparation (2)

After wrapping up the deal with Chief Manager Choi, I was about to head straight to Lee Ji-yeon, but she insisted on clearing my schedule. "Go on a date with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her or something," she said, freeing up my day for tomorrow. No matter how much work piled up, giving Hyeon Ha-yeon and Baek Ga-eun those golden opportunities took priority. The problem was, being with Lee Ji-yeon meant I probably wouldn't be able to handle any work calls. I needed to knock out tomorrow's tasks today to ease my mind.

I'd given Hyeon Ha-yeon the day off at home to rest up before her grueling schedule hit. Coordinating her album meant firing off calls everywhere, and before I knew it, time had flown by. Lunchtime brought a brief breather, so I stretched, loosening my knotted muscles. My jaw ached from all the talking—it'd been a while since I'd chatted that much. Rubbing the sore spot, I pondered how to convince Lee Ji-yeon.

Surprisingly, she had a soft spot for persistence. Well, mostly just with me, but whenever I asked for something, she usually went along with it happily. She might let me tag along on a few schedules, even if making me her full-time manager was a stretch. I mulled over options, but talking to her first and seeing her reaction seemed smartest. With that settled, I grabbed a light lunch, prepped for tomorrow, and dove back into work.

Lost in the grind, evening snuck up on me. Wrapping up, I headed home and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shot Lee Ji-yeon a casual text. She seemed thrilled when I said I'd drop by. I chugged a beer and hit the sack early. Normally, I'd meet the goddess in my dreams, but she was MIA.

Lee Ji-yeon loved dates. Ever since debuting and blowing up, she couldn't go out casually anymore. She'd begged for dates whenever we had a sliver of time, so she'd probably love the idea now after being cooped up. Butter her up with a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠date, then broach the topic gently—she'd say yes. If she jumped right back into work, no need for the date, but after all that prep, a flop would crush her. ...Thank god the plan failed.

I dressed up for once and headed out. Knowing she probably skipped breakfast, I grabbed her favorites and made for her place. Punching in the familiar code, I stepped inside, set the bags down, and scanned the room. No Ji-yeon. Figuring she was in the bedroom, I reached for the door—it flew open.

"You're here?"

Lee Ji-yeon rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"...Sleep well?"

Without a word, she flung herself into my arms, nuzzling my face. "Mmm... nice..."

Normally I'd push her off, but today I was here to play along. I wrapped her gently, stroking her back. Her well-kept brown bob felt silky even post-nap. After a while, she looked up, eyes locking with mine. Staring intently, she closed them halfway and puckered her lips. Catching the hint, I pecked her lightly with a soft smack. She usually went feral with kisses, so this tender request felt fresh. Smiling contentedly, she mumbled about washing up and headed to the bathroom.

I set the table for breakfast and waited. Soon, she emerged in a robe, fresh from the shower. My heart skipped at the glimpse of pale thigh through the loose tie—her figure never failed to stun. Steadying myself, I looked away casually. "...Made breakfast."

I poured juice, sipping to calm down. Keep her happy, but no hooking up. She was the biggest threat. The goddess wouldn't mention her without reason. Just recently, I'd nearly retired clean with her, only to cave—pathetic. Instead of heading to her room, she approached the table, sipping the juice in her robe. Creamy skin peeked through, stealing my gaze. Snapping to, I met her eyes—sultry, teasing.

Pretending nonchalance, I sat. "...You'll catch a cold."

She plopped opposite. "Then warm me up."

Silent, I ate. Midway, something brushed my leg. A slow glide up—it was her. She tore bread and drizzled syrup innocently. Her foot slipped inner-thigh; I jolted, scooting my chair back. Her "What?" gaze reminded me she was one hell of an actress. Dodging desperately, I wolfed down breakfast. She grinned mischievously.

Rising, she untied her robe. "No after-meal fun?"

Half-naked, she stole my breath. I got the innuendo. "...I'm good."

I turned, clearing plates to escape. She kissed my cheek and vanished into the dressing room. Door shut, I sighed deeply. Still falling for it after all this—I had a long way to go. Too tamed by her. Cleaned up, crashed on the sofa waiting. She emerged, plopped beside me, draped over my arm, toying with my hand.

"...So, what's with the good behavior?"

Ignoring the soft press, "Just... thought we'd date after so long."

She chuckled, dropping my hand—onto her lap. Tugging ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it free, she grabbed tight. "Really just here? Huh?" Shoving it between thighs, squeezing. Warmth flooded my palm; I ignored it fiercely. "...You like dates."

She eased up, playing with my fingers through thin pants—soft, maddening. I hummed the anthem in my head, steeling myself. I'm a rock... a rock... "Not dates—being with you, dummy."

My iron will crumbled under her sigh and confession.

*

We'd both showered that morning, but needed another. I'd broken every goddess warning. At least strawberry-flavored vitamins consoled me. Half the day rolled away—no date. Lying in bed, I spilled Chief Manager Choi's request. She seemed unsurprised. She showered; I followed, rejecting her "together?" plea—no more ammo. Under hot water: ...Safe enough, right? Self-loathing and excuses swirled as I dried off. She sat amid spread-out items.

"Pick one."

I sat opposite on the floor. Legs crossed, she pointed. "Choose from these three for my comeback."

Two white envelopes, a pen. Her terms? No way ordinary. That damn Choi... colluding? She tapped the left. "That's number one."

Cursing inwardly, I opened it. Blank paper. Glanced at her; she lounged, smirking. "Contract."

"...Contract?"

She wiggled her foot. "Just jot down a few terms I want... simple."

Casual, but no—her word was binding. Couldn't sign blindly. Not that dumb. Set it aside, grabbed the second. Dense text, corner note. She grinned confidently—chilling. First blank contract, second...

...handcuffs. Verified: official form, all filled save my signature. Witnesses' names and sigs legit. Betrayal shook me. Thorough prep creeped me out. Staring blankly, she teased, "Hate the contract? Marriage works too."

Neither. Maybe third. "What's three?"

Arm over sofa, smug. "Guess."

One contract, two marriage... three? "Video."

One word: our intimate tapes. Pick or leak—blackmail. Both screwed me. Sighing at her, "...This far?"

Leaning in, whispering: "Cho-in, how far till you're mine?"

Snake coiling my throat. Her desperation weighed heavy, but I couldn't chain myself—not with life on line. Averting eyes, "No need—I'll do other stuff..."

She vaulted the table, tackling. Head smacked floor. "Ugh..."

Grabbing my face, suppressing frenzy: "Hate this, hate that... Cho-in, you joking?"

Pinned, helpless. "Filled every hole, think you can escape?" Madness gleamed; eyes bloodshot-red. "Pick now... before I kill you..."

Silent, she eased back, feigning calm: "Marry me, or contract?"

No choice.