Finally Feeling Alive
While organizing blueprints on the first floor, Cha Su-ah clicked her pen nervously and cautiously spoke up.
"Sir. The basement's six-room division and the first-floor studio blueprints are roughly finished as requested, but there's one realistic issue left."
"You're talking about the budget, right?"
"Yes. The special soundproofing, drainage systems, and embedded cameras you just mentioned for the basement. Plus the first-floor studio and the future second-floor residence construction... I need to know how much budget you're thinking so I can adjust the material grades accordingly."
She glanced at me cautiously. She'd added her architectural expertise to my ideas and come up with some pretty solid blueprints, but in the end, the most important thing on-site was money. If the client's pockets weren't deep enough, no matter how grand the initial plans, you'd end up compromising with cheap tiles or fake fabrics and lowering the quality—that was the reality of this industry.
"In your opinion, Su-ah, if we go all-in with top-shelf stuff like the zoom lenses I mentioned, epoxy grouting, special fabrics—what kind of quote would that come to?"
"A typical commercial space runs about 300-400 thousand won per pyeong. But with the level-150 soundproof walls, water-cooled server racks, and ceiling H-beam reinforcements you want, the unit cost skyrockets. Basement 100 pyeong, first floor 100 pyeong, second floor 100 pyeong. Total 300 pyeong. To spec the whole thing to that standard, you'd need to budget at least 3 billion won..."
Her voice trailed off weakly. An amount bigger than the 2.2 billion she'd embezzled—the very reason she was on the brink of prison. Even for a rich guy, shelling out that much at once for interior work was daunting. I could see her shrinking in preemptive fear.
I leaned back comfortably against the sofa, pulled a cigarette from my pocket, and lit it with my lighter. I exhaled a long plume of smoke.
"Good thing."
"Pardon?"
"I've got a bit over 10 billion in cash ready to go right now. Around 12 billion? Anyway, can't burn it all on one interior job."
10 billion a bit over... 12 billion?? Her pupils shook violently at the number I'd tossed out casually.
"Um... Would 3 billion be enough to set up the full 300 pyeong nicely?"
"Ah, yes! Like I said, 3 billion should cover it plenty."
"Got it. Oh, and Su-ah. As a designer, if there are any materials or details you're itching to use, don't half-ass the compromise with budget excuses—shove them all into the blueprints."
Surprised by my words, Cha Su-ah blinked. "Huh...? You mean..."
"Even if it goes over 3 billion. No need to skimp. Spent money can always be earned back."
"Ah..."
Her lips parted slightly. Permission to use all the pricey materials she'd had to forgo time and again due to budgets. A chance to layer her own aesthetic over my imagination in the design. Her face mixed the thrill of maxing out her professional potential with relief at the sheer scale of this man's wealth.
"Of course, every furniture piece, material cost, and labor receipt has to be transparently logged in Excel down to the won. No skimping with personal margins under 'fees' or inflating costs. I won't tolerate it."
My dry fact-bomb made her shoulders stiffen.
"You know better than anyone how people crumble when caught messing with someone else's money."
I didn't even say embezzlement outright, but the blood drained from her face. Well, just stating the obvious, but her record made it hit home.
Su-ah swallowed dryly. "I'll keep that in mind, sir. Payment logs and receipts will be error-free reports every day before I leave."
"Feel free to bill your design fee separately."
She looked up, confused. "Pardon? The design and supervision fees are already included in the 3 billion budget I mentioned..."
"Not the corporate design or oversight fees. I'm talking pure work fee for designer Cha Su-ah as an individual."
Her eyes widened.
"What I'm buying isn't labor from 'Design Number'—it's your personal aesthetic. Bill it separately from the budget. No haggling on your worth."
This was respect from human Han Siwoo. Screw the trash talk, illegal coins, embezzlement—those petty issues aside, I fully acknowledged her raw talent and senses. And this was the fair treatment creators deserved.
Cha Su-ah stared at me blankly. Her true value—stripped bare by money madness—fully validated from her rock-bottom shame. A strange vitality, no, a blind fervor flushed her pale face.
"Thank you... really... I'll work so hard, sir. Thank you so much. I mean it."
She clutched the blueprints to her chest like a lifeline. Whether it was the design fee or having her work treated as art, I didn't know... but seeing that pure side was surprising. How did someone like her end up a total scumbag? Money's a scary thing.
"Seems we've covered everything here. You can head back to the office now. Good work, Cha Su-ah."
At my straightforward dismissal, she looked up from her blueprints. "Ah, yes. Thank you, sir. I'll head straight to the office and set up the construction team..."
"When can we start the interior work? I need a rough timeline to plan my schedule."
She paused, mentally calculating, then answered confidently. "With ample budget, we can run Gangnam A-grade teams on three rotating shifts, including night and all-nighters. Basement to first floor fully finished in at most a month and a half to two."
"Two months. Perfect. Second floor later."
I stood and called after her retreating figure toward the entrance. "Oh, before you go. You can put your underwear back on now, Su-ah. Streaming's done, so back to normal."
She froze, her nape flushing red. Without a word, she rummaged in her luxury bag on the floor, pulled out her crumpled panties, and hastily slipped them on under her skirt. Face crimson, she bowed deeply to me and fled out the first-floor entrance.
She could have put her bra on too... Embarrassed, huh?
Alone again in the vast empty space. I shoved my hands in my pockets and brewed a coffee from the machine.
I'd targeted Cha Su-ah by chance. Lucky she had a solid weakness—a repulsive social climber who'd siphoned 2.2 billion and still strutted around. Perfect for thorough destruction. And ideal broadcasting material. I'd seen her as just a quality toy.
But that sparkle in her eyes at my offer to draw freely without budget worries? Genuine. Even at rock bottom, talking space and aesthetics, she had a designer's true identity. I'd pegged her as money-obsessed trash who looked down on everyone, but surprisingly, she harbored deeper artistic hunger.
Well, my space's aesthetic will turn out killer. Her senses layered over my framework—imagining the result brought a satisfied smile to my lips.
A rewarding day. As underground director and aboveground artist.
"Time to rest."
Rubbing my stiff nape, I pulled out my smartphone. Dialed the top contact and hit call.
Riiiing— Just endless ringing; no answer.
Ah, still working. Knew the university hospital's three-shift grind was brutal, so I hung up nonchalantly.
Immediate message alert.
Jeong Su-jeong's message, loaded with crying emojis. After heavy talk of high-end materials and billions, this cute whining made me chuckle.
I tapped a reply.
Exclamation overload; I could picture Su-jeong bouncing with joy.
7 PM sharp. University Hospital main entrance.
A sleek black sports car glided to a stop before the crowded lobby of off-duty staff and guardians. The low, guttural exhaust growl drew all eyes to my ride.
I cracked the window halfway, drummed the steering wheel with one hand, and scanned the lobby.
Soon the automatic doors parted, spilling out a gaggle of nurses in street clothes. Standout among them: Su-jeong in a sky-blue oversized shirt.
She tiptoed, peering around, then spotted my hazard lights and lit up.
"Whoa? Su-jeong, someone picking you up? Epic ride."
"Boyfriend? When'd you snag a baller like that?"
"Jealous..."
Her colleagues poked her arm, whispering and eyeing my car. Amid the blatant envy and jealousy, Su-jeong blushed but puffed up inside.
She waved lightly to them, then trotted over, yanked open the passenger door, and hopped in.
"Oppa!"
Door shut, the prim hospital nurse from before clung to my arm, nuzzling like a puppy.
"You really came! Love it so much! Missed you, oppa!"
Heartwarming scene.
"Good work today, Su-jeong. No one bully you? No grief from head nurse or seniors?"
"Argh! So much to vent!!!"
Me, sunk in VVIP's capitalist mire, reclaiming normalcy. Finally feels like living.
"Hungry? Spill over good food."
Su-jeong's eyes sparkled. "Tteoktwigi! Full course: spicy rice cakes, fritters, sundae, fish cake broth!!"
Oh. Tteoktwigi sounds delish. Earning bank but picking humble, adorable grub.
"Alright, let's go. Sinchon spot?"
"Yes! That one! Oh, and today's head nurse was like..."
I turned toward Sinchon; she launched into hospital tales like a kid bragging to dad. Troublesome patients, unreasonable nitpicks, cafeteria blues. I nodded, chimed in with "For real?" "Wow, she's too much."
Trivial daily stuff, but her clear voice from the passenger seat soothed me deeply.
Soon, a dingy alley tteokbokki joint in Sinchon. No parking, so public lot nearby. We squeezed into the five-table dive.
Corner table: two orders spicy rice cakes, mixed fritters, gut-packed sundae, fish cakes.
"Ahh, this broth hits after stress."
Su-jeong dunked a kimchi fritter in red sauce, face pure bliss.
So babyish. Hard to believe she's 27.
I wiped sauce from her mouth with a tissue, chuckling. "Slow down. You'll choke."
"You too, oppa! Guts fan!"
She speared a lung, shoved it at my mouth. I chomped; she giggled.
University nurse peddling sex streams and photographer sharing sundae in a hole-in-the-wall. This insane double-life gap? I loved it.
Bellies stuffed, we hit a quiet cafe for digestion. Americanos, window seats people-watching Sinchon.
Her excitement settled; she sipped her straw, gazing out calmly. Her round shoulder's warmth against my arm felt nice.
"Su-jeong. You look beat. Home?"
She pulled off the straw, looked up. Cute muncher face turned sultry, deep.
Her hand slid under the table, stroking my thigh softly. Small, secretive whisper:
"Oppa."
"Yeah?"
"I'm off tomorrow. Can I sleep over at your place tonight?"