The Secretary's Women 04
After chatting briefly, she wrapped the sheet around her body and headed into the bathroom. When she emerged, I took a quick shower myself, and then we left the hotel. Needing something for breakfast to settle our stomachs, I figured porridge would hit the spot, so we drove toward Yeonhwa-ri. Being early on a weekday, the port area was deserted.
"Porridge okay?"
"Yeah. Sounds good."
"Hang on a sec, I'll go order."
"Nah, let's take in the sea view first."
"Coffee at least?"
"Any place for that?"
"Convenience store's got instant."
"Perfect."
I dashed to the convenience store, brewed two cups of instant coffee, handed one to her, set the other on the car roof, and lit a cigarette. This sudden, urgent shift in circumstances left me a bit flustered—it felt like a whole new starting line—so I started methodically sorting through the situation in my head. Sure, hooking up with my boss's wife felt sketchy, but as long as we kept it under wraps, it wouldn't hurt me any. I finished my smoke, headed to the restaurant to order two bowls of abalone porridge, and when I got back to the car, she was totally lost in the ocean view.
"People in Busan have it made."
"Huh?"
"Seeing the sea refresh you like this every day."
"Fair point. And every spot with a sea has its own vibe."
"Busan's sea special?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
"When you've got time later, I'll show you other beaches."
"Can't we go today?"
"Gotta grab your friend at Busan Station right after porridge."
"What if Mi-hyang comes too?"
"That's her name?"
"Yep. Cha Mi-hyang."
"Gotta hear what she says first. If she's cool, no reason not to."
We were deep in conversation when the porridge shop lady beckoned us over. We polished off our bowls there, then crossed Dalmaji Hill, cruised the beach road past Centum City, U-turned in front of BEXCO, and climbed onto Gwangalli Bridge. The wind rocked the car as I picked up speed.
"Refreshing, but kinda scary."
"What?"
"Feels like the car might fly off. That's our hotel from last night, right?"
"Yep."
"View was killer. What's that building on the hill ahead?"
"Wedding hall. That's Igidae—nice spot across the hill at Oryukdo Pier."
"Wanna check it out..."
We pulled into Busan Station and headed for the gates just as the announcement blared that her friend's train was pulling in. Right on time.
"Hey!"
"Hi there."
"Eun-mi, who's this?"
"My hubby's secretary. Secretary Park Jin-ho."
"Pleased to meet you. Park Jin-ho."
"Same. I'm Cha Mi-hyang."
"Where to, ma'am?"
"Made it all the way to Busan—any cool spot for soju?"
"Your call, ma'am?"
"Love it. Know a good place, Secretary Park?"
"Oryukdo Pier's got seafood stalls clustered up. But you okay with that scene?"
"We're good. Problem?"
"Then that's the spot."
Early afternoon on a weekday, Oryukdo Pier was peaceful and sparse. They hopped out and stared at the waves crashing against the breakwater, gasping "Cool!" and "Whoa~" nonstop, totally swept up in the roar. Not wanting to interrupt, I quietly scoped the stalls, wondering what sashimi would hit right for them.
"Picking your faves, Secretary Park?"
"Oh! No, ma'am—just guessing what you'd like."
Mi-hyang had sidled up without a sound. They oohed and aahed over the buckets of seafood like kids at a candy store. I slipped into a shop for gochujang dipping sauce, two bottles of soju, and soda, then returned to the stall. They'd already picked their haul—the lady was portioning fish and shellfish into a small bowl and laying it on the cutting board to slice. Just in case, I asked the price. Yep, tourist gouge.
"Auntie, hold up!"
"Why?"
"Do I look like some Seoul sucker?"
"What's the issue?"
"You really gotta ask? Even us Seoul folks deserve fair prices."
"Fish ain't biting like they used to."
"Other stalls too? Keep talking like that, we're out."
She grumbled the real price and got back to slicing. The two women had been staring blankly at first, but once they overheard, they nodded, getting it. I took the sashimi and went to pay, but our ma'am pulled out bills and handed them over.
"Ma'am, it's not worth that much."
The lady roughly counted the cash with her rough hands, then offered back about half to Eun-mi. Without taking it, Eun-mi eyed her quietly and spoke low.
"Keep it, auntie. But charge others fair from now on. That's how you folks stay in business. When Seoulites like me or out-of-towners rave about the fresh, cheap sashimi, they'll spread the word and come back."
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry."
Eun-mi insisted on the full amount and headed back to the mat I'd spread out. She looked so damn pretty doing it—I shot her a grin. We settled around the mat, chasing sashimi with soju shots while I toasted with soda now and then, swapping light stories as the vibe loosened us up. Right when the mood peaked, the stall lady approached with a plate.
"Give this a try."
"No need for extras."
"Hubby just brought in a fresh rockfish haul. Live-caught makes all the difference."
"Thanks, auntie. We'll savor it."
"Enjoy."
Guilt from the overcharge, maybe—she'd brought super fresh rockfish, still twitching like it might flop off the plate. I sliced a piece, dipped it in gochujang, and fed it to Eun-mi. She blushed a bit, sticking out her tongue to take it. Quick as a flash, I did another for Mi-hyang. She was fiddling with her chopsticks all sassy-like, but when I offered, she beamed and thrust out her tongue for the dipped bite.
"Ahh~ mmm~"
"Secretary Park, you gotta try. What flavor explosion!"
"Not bad?"
"First time tasting anything like it. Like Mi-hyang said—dig in."
"I know the drill. This is my occasional treat. You two go wild—no diet guilt with fish."
They attacked it like maniacs, emptying the plate in no time. Ending there would've left them unsatisfied. I slipped up to the stall.
"Auntie, more rockfish?"
"Plenty left."
"Sashimi it up."
I dashed for extra gochujang too. Paid proper and returned—they were just poking at the other seafood, still hooked on that rockfish high. I slid the new plate their way.
"Oh! Still got some?"
"Fresh boat just docked."
They demolished it like starving wolves—two fish over a kilo each, split between them, on top of the rest. Lunch was ancient history. I filled up on the leftover sashimi and shellfish.
"How's the same fish taste worlds apart?"
"Yours was straight-off-the-boat. Seoul's live ones still stress out in transit and tanks. Same principle as beef from cows raised with music—way better texture."
"Impossible in Seoul, then?"
"Spot on."
"Eun-mi, we gotta come down more. Same rockfish, total difference!"
Facts. Even in Busan, tank fish sashimi versus fresh-caught shows the gap. Ship it shaking to Seoul? Forget it. Time flew with sashimi and soju at the pier—lunch long gone, evening closing in. But they were buzzed on booze and chatter, glued to their seats.
"Ma'am, it's getting late. Gotta sober up for the train—time to wrap?"
"No sweat, Secretary Park. Crashing in Busan tonight, heading back tomorrow."
"Folks in Seoul'll worry."
"Let 'em."
With that, both whipped out their phones.
I jumped in quick. Drunk-dialing from Busan? No husband would love that. I talked them down from calling first, then convinced them otherwise. At first, booze made 'em stubborn, but Eun-mi read my face and calmed her friend. Soon enough, they called it quits, stumbling to the car. No coffee shop in this state, so we waited it out inside. They yapped loudly from the back seat till we hit Gwangalli Bridge, then went quiet. Rearview showed them passed out, heads together. Not freezing yet, but booze chills—I cracked the heater low and drove to Songjeong. Deep in Gudeokpo, no passersby—they could sleep sound.