The Perfect Fit
“Wow... Both of you could easily model for our brand.”
“Right?”
Han Soeun had steered Ha Taewoong toward the golfwear boutique she usually favored. Now she watched in open admiration as he reappeared, changed into golf attire alongside her daughter Hyoju.
The fit is pure art.
His looks wouldn’t have looked out of place in any idol or male-model commercial on television. If anything, the clothes suited him even better. Ha Taewoong carried a natural air of refinement—the unforced elegance that only those raised in fine families ever truly possess. Even her own daughter Hyoju, the one among the family children who radiated innate nobility, did not outshine him. No—something about him simply overwhelmed everything else.
“Sir, it’s perfect!”
Deputy Manager Yu Areum was equally captivated. Anyone walking past might have sworn two professional models were shooting a lookbook right there on the sales floor. She was certain no hired model could have worn the clothes more beautifully. The golfwear clung to their lines like it had been tailored for them, transforming the pair into living works of art.
In all her years of VIP service she had waited on the upper crust, runway models, and famous actors without number. Yet she had never seen a couple this flawless. Male celebrities on screen often turned out shorter than expected, forcing the hems to be shortened and ruining the original silhouette. Most actresses, too, lacked the height to fully realize a design as it was meant to be worn. These two, however, wore the brand as if it had been created for them alone—height, looks, and presence all overwhelming.
With only a slight exaggeration, one might have believed actual aristocrats had stepped into the store.
“The fit feels excellent. We’ll take these.”
Ha Taewoong chose without a moment’s hesitation. One try-on was enough; he liked them.
“I’ll take the same set.”
White trousers and a skirt, paired with mint half-zip collared shirts that could easily have looked tacky on anyone else, became a matching couple’s look that both of them carried off effortlessly.
“Yes, they’re lovely. And Taewoong looks even more handsome.”
“Thank you.”
From start to finish, purchasing the golfwear had taken barely thirty minutes.
“Deputy Manager Yu Areum, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll also need everything else required for the course. Shoes in size 280, gloves as well. And throw in this and that while you’re at it.”
“Yes, sir!”
A single top-and-bottom set of high-end golfwear already ran well over several million won. This VIP selected two complete outfits without blinking.
“Please put everything on one bill.”
Han Soeun, standing beside them, held out her card. The total for the two of them easily cleared ten million won. She paid it without a second thought.
“Ma’am, please allow me to—”
“I can treat my daughter’s friend to a little gift like this. Look after Hyoju for me from now on.”
“Yes, thank you. Don’t worry. I’ll take proper care of her.”
“Good. Friends should help each other along.”
Blissfully unaware of anything deeper, Han Soeun beamed at Taewoong’s solid, reliable answer.
“Mom! Do I look like a child?”
“What’s wrong with that? Having a sturdy bodyguard like Taewoong is nice.”
“Tch...”
She has no idea.
Lee Hyoju swallowed the retort that almost slipped out. The moment her mother learned he was a Sabaeja, all this warm hospitality would vanish overnight. And the carefully cultivated closeness would be exposed for what it was.
But seriously... what even is he?
The longer their conversation continued, the more Hyoju felt unsettled by how completely natural it all felt. From childhood she had only ever mixed with peers from similar families or other upper-class connections. Talking with Ha Taewoong was no different—smooth, easy, effortless. Nothing like the classmates who could barely stand beside her, let alone strike up a conversation. He carried himself with a confidence so innate that she almost wondered whether he had always been this way.
Lost in these thoughts, she found herself staring at him.
“What? Suddenly realizing your oppa looks even better today?”
“What?!”
“Hahaha. Our Taewoong could try acting if the chance ever comes. I know a director—I could introduce you.”
Han Soeun laughed brightly at Taewoong’s utterly unflappable confidence.
“Sir, everything is packaged.”
In the meantime a considerable pile of neatly wrapped purchases had accumulated.
“Delivery is possible, I assume?”
“Of course. Just write down the time and address and we’ll deliver to match your schedule.”
“I’m moving today, so I’ll send the address around five.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re moving?”
“Yeah.”
“Where to?”
Lee Hyoju’s curiosity flared at the mention of a move.
“Signiel.”
“Signiel? With your parents?”
“No. Just me.”
“...!!”
“Signiel’s a good choice.”
Han Soeun gave a small, approving nod at the destination. Units there ran into the tens of billions of won. Even the monthly rent, deposit aside, climbed into the tens of millions. It was a residence that only pure liquid wealth could open the doors to—a pure symbol of fortune.
What is going on? Is this guy really a Sabaeja?
With every passing minute Lee Hyoju felt more and more confused.
“Ma’am, lunch is on me. Let’s go to a place you know is good.”
“All right. Let’s go eat something delicious.”
And so the three of them finished an unexpectedly pleasant shopping trip. To any observer they looked like people who had known one another for years. It had been a classic VIP shopping experience shared among those who belonged to that world. Yu Areum could not tear her eyes away, quietly marveling as she glimpsed their private sphere.
“Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
He knows the basics, at least.
Ha Taewoong pulled out Han Soeun’s chair. She settled into it with practiced ease and mentally awarded him another point for manners.
Ha Taewoong... what on earth are you?
They were in an Italian restaurant in Cheongdam-dong, one of her mother’s regular spots. The three of them were shown into a quiet private room. The moment they entered, Taewoong moved with the same ingrained naturalness and drew out her mother’s chair again.
Only a short while ago this had been the same Ha Taewoong who spent every school day with his head down, shrinking into himself. Yet the boy sitting across from her now bore no trace of that Sabaeja image. From the department store until this very moment he had radiated the same unshakable composure.
“You too?”
“Ah—no. I’m fine.”
Lee Hyoju, who had been standing there staring, quickly sat down on her own.
“I ordered the course menu—is that all right?”
“Yes! I’ll eat anything well.”
“Haha. Music to my ears. Our Hyoju has such a picky appetite.”
“Mom!”
Hyoju bristled at the casual exposure of her personal habits.
“I’m already aware. She doesn’t even eat the school lunches.”
“Is that so? Then I have a favor to ask. Taewoong, look after her, would you?”
“Yes. Starting next week I’ll eat with her.”
“...??”
Lee Hyoju’s disbelief only grew. What kind of nonsense was this?
She narrowed her eyes at him. She would grant that the cafeteria food was decent quality. But the crowded, noisy dining hall always made her uncomfortable. A thermos of tea prepared by the housekeeper was usually her entire lunch. And now he was declaring he would eat with her?
“Thank you. I’m counting on you. She’s almost a senior—she needs to take care of her strength.”
Her mother, completely oblivious, kept piling requests onto Taewoong.
“Haa...”
A short sigh of pure frustration escaped Hyoju. She had never imagined a situation like this. Male friends, in particular, had simply never existed in her life.
Her father was locked in a constant struggle to hold his position within the group. Watching him, she had come to understand the crushing weight a chaebol family’s royal bloodline had to carry. Romance? At Cheonghwa High, even dating was nothing more than business. Associating with anyone who fell short of the proper standing was strictly off-limits. By that measure, none of the boys currently enrolled had ever caught her eye.
Today, for the first time, Ha Taewoong had claimed the seat of her male friend.
I don’t even know anymore.
Hyoju pressed her lips tightly shut, half in surrender. Revealing Taewoong’s true background now would mean admitting she had already gone too far. Never once—boy or girl—had she shared a meal with her mother under the name of “friend.”
“I’ll bring the soup now.”
A clean-cut male server set down the soup and the bread that accompanied it.
“The butter is kelp butter made by the chef himself.”
Truffle cream soup, warm ciabatta, and butter appeared on the table.
“Thank you.”
“Please enjoy.”
Her mother answered the staff with soft, graceful courtesy. Every cultured gesture carried an unmistakable air of refinement. Hyoju had watched this all her life—the elegance that money alone could never buy, the dignity cultivated across generations of the true upper class.
And yet...
“This ciabatta is the real thing. It looks simple, but ciabatta is actually one of the harder breads to get right.”
“The chef here is a former Michelin three-star. I heard the bakers trained in Paris as well.”
Ha Taewoong began offering casual, knowledgeable comments about the bread on his plate. Han Soeun’s smile never left her face as she matched his rhythm.
“I’ll have to bring my parents next time.”
“You’re a good son, Taewoong.”
“A good son... I still fall far short of that.”
“And modest, too... haha.”
Mom! That isn’t modesty—that’s pure coyness!
Hyoju felt her chest grow tight, as if something were stuck. She remembered the ferocious side of him she had seen at school. Her mother knew nothing of the real Ha Taewoong.
What is this? How is he so natural?
Even in a high-end restaurant the supposed Sabaeja Ha Taewoong looked completely at home. The lunch course here ran close to three hundred thousand won per person. The boy who had offered to treat them showed not the slightest concern about the price.
“The truffle aroma is excellent as well.”
He savored the soup with the same refined composure one might show every ordinary day. In front of her mother he had completely sheathed the claws of the beast.
“I’ll bring the appetizer now.”
While they finished the soup, the appetizer arrived—a salmon steak garnished so thoroughly it could have passed for a main course.
“If it isn’t too forward... what do Taewoong’s parents do?”
As they began to eat, Han Soeun smoothly shifted into a quiet background check.
At the question Taewoong simply offered a natural, easy smile.
And then:
“My father is...”