Chapter 8.1

It was Secretary Lee’s voice that brought Woo-jin, who was unusually contemplative, back to his senses. “All right then,” she said, “I will pass it on to them.”

“Wait, Secretary Lee.” Woo-jin stopped Secretary Lee from leaving and said, “Send a card to the design team to have a get-together party since they did a good job.”

“It would be nice if the CEO showed himself in person,” Secretary Lee suggested.

“I have somewhere else to go,” Woo-jin replied. That somewhere was the hospital. He had to stop by the woman on his way home from work today. It couldn’t be helped; it would be rude to ask the doctor, who had already agreed to help a patient who wasn’t named, to take care of her meals. He would also be breaking his promise to her if he asked other people to do it instead. So, if he wouldn’t go, that woman would definitely starve.

Woo-jin sighed. Having a responsibility that was neither trivial nor significant was tiresome. He would be motivated if he would benefit from it, but that was not the case.

“Excuse me, sir.” Woo-jin raised his gaze slightly at the voice above his head. Secretary Lee spoke cautiously, with a rather troubled face, saying, “Recently, there seemed to be a lot of schedules that I am unaware of.” “May I ask where you are headed?”

As someone who was in charge of his timetable, it was a reasonable question, but it wasn’t one he wanted to answer.

“If I tell you, will you report it to Director Han?” Woo-jin asked. For a moment, a look of embarrassment appeared on Secretary Lee’s face. Secretly, Lee lowered her head and apologized.

“Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries.”

“Sure,” Woo-jin replied. She had not stabbed him in the back yet, so he let it slide. The fact that he had been going to the hospital every day for a woman would be a major bombshell. “Don’t report anything unnecessary to the director,” he warned. Secretary Lee nodded in obedience. “You can report to him that I reject Moon Ik, but not my personal agendas.” Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Secretary Lee left quietly while Woo-jin checked his watch and began to work in earnest. About three hours remained before dinner was served at the hospital. Three hours is a short time when compared to the time spent commuting. Woo-jin realized that there had been frequent delays in work since he met her.

“As expected,” he muttered to himself, “should I just stack the refrigerator in advance?”

It was a good solution; he wouldn’t have to visit the hospital often, and she would survive on her own. But every time he thought of this method, it bothered him to picture a woman rummaging through the refrigerator in a hospital room, alone. He didn’t normally care for such trifles, but her face was enough to arouse sympathy from him.

* * *

It’s been quite some time since Hae-gang stayed in the hospital.

She looked out the window blankly and felt her worries worsen. She did her best to escape from that place, but it seemed her current situation was not entirely different. She only slept, ate, and took a few steps in this little room. She couldn’t even take a single step outside, and the only people she constantly saw were the man called Woo-jin, as well as the doctor whom Woo-jin addressed as the Vice President.

The vice president came into her room twice, in the morning and in the afternoon, to check on her condition. Min Woo-jin followed after.

“It’s time for lunch.”

He visited her three times a day, carrying the tray of food with his own hands. When Hae-gang asked why he was doing this, he said, “The Vice President is already monitoring your condition.” “It’d be too much if I asked him to do these things.”

Hae-gang understood so she ate the food in silence. As usual, he took the papers he had brought with him out of his bag and stared and flipped through the pages with one hand while the other placed side dishes on top of Hae-gang’s bowl. Across from him, Hae-gang ate and drank quietly. Only the sound of silverware resounded in the room.

Hae-gang had become accustomed to the awkward atmosphere. She didn’t notice she had almost emptied the bowls and refilled her glass numerous times already. Back then, three slices of meat were enough to make her vomit.

She stared intently at Woo-jin’s hand, which hovered over the grilled fish. But when he lifted the bowl of noodles next to it, relief washed over her. As she brought the spoon topped with ramen to her mouth, Woo-jin suddenly spoke, his eyes still fixed on the thick paperwork.

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