The sun bathed the sprawling hanok in soft morning light, the intricately carved wooden beams and the tiled roofs casting elongated shadows across the courtyard. Inside, the dining room was a seamless blend of tradition and modernity. A low, lacquered table sat at the centre of the room, its minimalist design complemented by the faint hum of a concealed heating system. Floor-to-ceiling glass doors offered a view of the perfectly manicured garden, where a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of an ancient ginkgo tree.
Park Sung-jin sat at the head of long table, a bowl of steaming rice and an assortment of banchan before him. Despite the simplicity of his breakfast, his presence was anything but ordinary.
In his late forties, he carried himself with a composed dignity. His tailored three-piece navy suit exuded understated elegance, the waistcoat impeccably hugging his frame while his matching jacket was draped neatly over the back of his chair. The crisp white shirt beneath was paired with a silver tie, and his meticulously rolled-up sleeves revealed strong forearms. The slight sliver at his temple added to his commanding aura rather than diminishing it.
The rhythmic click of heels approached, and Chae Seon-hee entered the room with measured grace. Her charcoal gray suit was tailored to perfection, a reflection of her efficiency and the high standards she upheld as his secretary.
"Good morning, Chairman Park," she greeted, placing a slim leather-bound portfolio on the table beside him.
"Seon-hee," he acknowledged without looking up, his attention momentarily fixed on the reports before him. He reached for his tea, taking a sip before gesturing for her to continue.
"The Soul Architecture Festival is finalised," she began, her tone professional but tinged with anticipation. "As always, SooHwa has been extended an invitation as a key industry partner. I've compiled the profiles of this year's participants – young architects with promising potential."
Sung-jin set down his teacup, finally turning his sharp gaze toward her. "Anything noteworthy?"
Chae Seon-hee hesitated, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her expression. "Yes," she said, sliding a particular page from the portfolio toward him. "There's…an unexpected name among the participants of this year."
The corner of Sung-jin's mouth tightened imperceptibly. He reached for the page, his fingers brushing against the edge of the crisp paper. The sunlight seemed to dim slightly as he scanned the document, his expression unreadable.
"He submitted a design under his own name," Seon-hee added. "No affiliation with SooHwa."
"Interesting," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the name printed neatly on the page. For a brief moment, his composed exterior faltered, the faintest shadow of emotion flitting across his face. He folded the document with deliberate care, his movements slow, measured – as though containing a storm beneath the surface.
Seon-hee waited, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
"Continue monitoring the participants," he instructed finally, his tone smooth yet firm. "Ensure SooHwa remains ahead of the curve."
"Understood," she replied, bowing slightly before retreating from the room.
Left alone, Park Sung-jin's gaze lingered on the paper for a moment longer before he set it aside. Whatever lay ahead at the festival, he was determined to face it with the same calculated resolve that had made SooHwa a leader in the industry.
…
Meanwhile, the soft hum of Ji-Hoon's car engine filled the quiet morning air as he pulled into the modest parking lot near Sana's apartment. As he unfasted his seatbelt, his mind wandered back to the conversation they'd had the previous evening, while dropping her off from the club.
"You know, I've been thinking…"
Sana's tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.
"Since we've been spending more time together…" Ji-Hoon paused rubbing the back of his neck. His voice softened as he added, "I just think it'd be nice to see you more often." He leaned his head on the steering wheel, locking his eyes with hers, "how about I start driving you to and from school whenever I can? It'd save you the hassle of taking the bus or walking."
Sana blinked, momentarily stunned by his sudden proposition. Then, as she registered his offer, her cheeks warmed and she respond softly, "You don't have to do that. I don't want to bother you."
Ji-Hoon straightened up, shaking his head, "Sana, you are not a bother. I want to. Besides, it's not out of my way."
She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The idea of seeing him every day, of having that quiet time together, was undeniably appealing.
"Okay," she finally said, her voice soft. "If you're sure."
"I'm very sure," he replied with a grin, his tone light but his gaze steady. "It's settled then. You're stuck with me as your personal chauffeur."
Sana had laughed, and the sound had stayed with him all night.
Now, as his phone buzzed with her name on the screen, Ji-Hoon couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.
"Good morning," he answered smoothly. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes," came her hesitant reply. "And you?"
"I did. Actually, I'm parked near your building. If you're ready we could grab breakfast together. What do you think?"
There was a pause, before she asked, her voice tentative. "Would you…I mean, do you want to come up?"
Ji-Hoon stilled, his heart skipping a beat.
"For breakfast, I mean," she rushed to clarify, her words tumbling over each other. "It's not much, but I…I cooked, and it's too much for me alone, so if you'd like-"
"Yes!" Ji-Hoon blurted, then quickly corrected himself, his face warming. "I mean, I'd be delighted to eat the breakfast you cooked."
"Then…please come," she said softly, her voice growing quieter with each word.
…
Ji-Hoon wasn't one to get flustered easily – Min-Seok's nickname for him, block of wood, wasn't entirely unfounded – but as the elevator dinged open to Sana's floor, he found himself uncharacteristically nervous.
He paused briefly before ringing her doorbell, and when the door opened, the sight of her rendered him speechless.
Her long, flowing hair framed her delicate features, catching the morning light. The soft floral patterns of her blouse and skirt added a graceful charm, her shy but determined gaze met his – and Ji-Hoon had to clench his fists to ground himself.
She stepped aside to let him in, and he entered, closing the door softly behind him. Her fragrance – soft lavender with a hint of warm musk – filled the air, momentarily disarming him.
"Here", she murmured, offering him a pair of slippers.
"Thank you for having me," he said, slipping them on. As he stepped into her house, it struck her how much her space felt like her. The living room, though modest, radiated warmth. His gaze landed on a stack of sketchbooks on the coffee table, each one a testament to her dedication. A few potted plants by the window swayed gently in the morning breeze, nurtured with the same care she seemed to extend to everything in her life. The walls bore her artwork, not for display but as personal milestones. A nearby shelf held well-loved books, their dog-eared pages speaking of countless readings.
This wasn't just her space; it was her world, filled with pieces of herself.
Sana blushed, gesturing toward the small dining table by the kitchenette set with an array of dishes that looked and smell exceptional.
They settled across from each other, the silence was warm, punctuated only by the clink of chopsticks and the occasional exchange of glances.
As they ate in a companionable silence, Ji-Hoon found his thoughts drifting. The way the morning light framed her face, the quiet hum of her apartment – it felt natural, like this was where he was meant to be. Picking her up each day, sharing these moments together…he could get used to this.