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Chapter Text

Several times she has thought about giving him the gift, which isn’t really a gift at all, since she has now amassed a total of seven of his handkerchiefs. This is payback, not a gift. It’s a wonder he hasn’t sued her for their return, really. Each time she takes one, she tries to give it back in the moment, though that’s become more half-hearted as time has gone on, but he curls his lip at her and shakes his head quickly, as if disgusted. She’s been fine with that, since she takes them and, in the quiet moments of her life, covers her face with them and breathes in the scent she has come to associate with him. She tries not to reflect too much on what leads her to this action. Far too soon the scent fades, anyway. And so, she’s washed, dried, carefully ironed, and folded them. And kept them. Usually, she has one of these on her person at all times, but she still takes what he offers: an addict greedy for her next fix. 

When she had paused in front of a menswear shop in Gangnam, its dark wood paneling showing off perfectly cut suits and waistcoats in superfine wool and very good shoes, she knew she had found the right place. It wasn’t surprising: she had found this most perfect of shops by applying the same aggressive research tactics she used ordinarily to support legal arguments. And she’s found the best of the best: crisp cotton fabric blended with silk for smoothness. Hand-rolled hems, carefully stitched. Subtle, complex geometric patterns, all different, all complementary. She’d selected six in the dark neutrals she knows he favours, and added one other, in crimson. A stark contrast. A little joke. She’d then had them monogrammed. 

The handkerchiefs are exquisite, and they had cost a small fortune. Rightly so.  

Yet she hesitates in giving him this non-gift gift that she has so carefully selected. She is holding on to them to give them at the elusive right moment — certainly not due to cowardice at the possibility of an unfavourable outcome.

Certainly not that. 

Chapter Text

The right moment comes strangely. They go to meet the client, represented by the CFO of the property development firm, at his office. The case is a particularly good one: the developer seeks to sue the city over an undisclosed easement on the property. Normally such cases are more or less petty generational squabbles between two landowners, but this one, due to the size of the property and the deep pockets of both parties, will be lucrative and complicated. It is Seok-hoon’s case; Hyo-min is just along for the ride, she thinks, but he tells her in the car to speak her mind when they’re with the client. He smiles at her. She likes that. These smiles, which wrinkle the skin around his eyes in such an appealing way, are rare, yet she has noticed that he smiles around her more these days. Of course she tries not to make too much of that, but it emboldens her just a little. 

He’s also becoming more open with her lately, and she wonders if they will gradually draw closer and closer until coming together is inevitable. Most nights, being more or less alone in the office after everyone leaves, they share coffee or tea and, moving cautiously on this strange interpersonal chessboard, share as well little crumbs of themselves with one another. His past hostility towards her has vanished, and she feels this is in part due to his recognition of her competence and in part because those evening chats have revealed to him something in her that fundamentally accords with something in him. 

And then there was the incident with the child, In-yeong, who suffered terribly at the hands of her father. This traumatic experience has somehow created a space, carved out from the rest of the world, which they will occupy together now. A shared understanding. 

She’ll never forget that night, watching tears trickle openly down his face and mix with the pouring rain. His anguish had provoked her own — for the child, yes, but for him as well. His pain, his yearning: she still doesn’t know the full story, but she can guess enough of his disappointment, and it leads her to treat him tenderly. Perhaps that is what liking someone boils down to, truly: a decision to dedicate oneself to help ease someone’s way forward in life, she thinks as she glances over at his profile in the car: now facing straight ahead, unyielding to the point of rigidity. Still needs some care to smooth out the rough edges, she thinks. 

How stupid are you to think that he wants that care from you? she chastises herself, almost in the same breath. 

Seok-hoon and Hyo-min arrive just as the tide of workers who have left for lunch has turned. They are jostled left and right for space, and Seok-hoon solicitously guides Hyo-min through the sea of people, a hand on her elbow. 

The client is attracted to Hyo-min, and he’s just the kind of man she loathes. Self-aggrandising and boastful. Good-looking,  but ruins it with his attitude. She’s faced this before, almost got engaged to it, but this guy is next level. He’s persistently obvious, asking her opinion, cutting Seok-hoon off to ask Hyo-min her opinion, steering the conversation onto more personal tangents. And he’s brought an entourage of finance bros to support him. This, of course, makes her feign ignorance all the more, informing the client of Yullim’s legal approach to his case with a pleasant, yet rigid, almost robotic professionalism. She can’t help but compare this jerk to the fine man beside her: well, there is no comparison. 

As they are leaving, Seok-hoon follows Hyo-min closely, not leaving enough room for the client to close in on her.  

This does not faze the client, whom she sees scribbling what she presumes is his personal number on his card. 

In what could only be described as perfect choreography, she turns to push the button to call the lift just as the client reaches out to hand her his card. Seok-hoon intercepts the card, pocketing it with a small nod of his head. The elevator dings as it reaches the floor, then opens. Seok-hoon places his hand firmly, and very deliberately at the small of her back, low on the curve of her spine, and guides Hyo-min into the elevator. He smiles at the client. It is not a nice smile. Hyo-min smiles at Seok-hoon, then faces the client and gives her own small nod, smile fading. A good performance, she thinks. 

Chapter Text

The ride down from the C-suite offices on the top floor is interrupted by frequent stops, until the elevator is very full and she is pressed to Seok-hoon’s side, close enough to appreciate his cologne once again, close enough to feel his warmth. She allows herself —ever so briefly— to imagine what it would be like to lie underneath him, to take him into her body. Ruefully, she casts that aside as pure fantasy, chastising herself for her self-indulgence. 

Where did that come from? 

You know where it came from.

Ugh, he smells divine. 

Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate. 

Mentally, she recites HR Directive 2.4, published June 2022. She finds herself drawn to it, perversely. Enough to quote it from memory.

“The goal of this policy is to protect the well-being of our employees and maintain a professional working environment. Yullim employees are encouraged to form collegial and professional relationships with one another.”

And that’s what we have done. Collegial and professional. He can’t help smelling like some kind of god. 

“This policy does not prevent the development of friendships or even romantic relationships between colleagues, but it does establish boundaries as to how relationships are conducted during working hours and within the working environment.”

It’s ok to drink tea with him, isn’t it? To want to kiss away the hurt, even if I’d never dare. 

“Before developing romantic relationships, consider the potential for:

• Workplace gossip
• Conflicts of interest
• Sexual harassment allegations
• Favouritism
• Repercussions of a break-up
• Work distraction”

She mentally bridles. Attorney Yoon would never show favouritism, even if he felt it. 

We aren’t even doing anything.

Are we? Are we? Aren’t we?

No. He sees you as a hoobae. Nothing more. 

But does he not favour me? Her mind keeps spiraling. Work distraction, indeed. 

“Employees who engage in consensual romantic relationships must conduct themselves in an appropriate professional manner while on the premises. They should not engage in any behaviours that may be misconstrued or cause their coworkers to feel embarrassed, awkward, or uncomfortable.”

God, it sounds like Yoon Seok-hoon wrote this himself. Strict and soulless. 

But he’s not soulless. 

“Certain romantic and/or sexual relationships are not permissible, including but not limited to romantic relationships and/or sexual relationships between: partners and associates, managers/directors and their subordinates, and partners/associates and the administrative staff.” 

They reach the ground floor, finally, just as the HR directive on workplace relationships that is playing in her head dashes her hopes — just as it does each time she goes through it.  The crush of people has dwindled, and there are only three passengers left as the doors open. 

‘Are you going to get out of the lift?’ he asks and Hyo-min is jolted back to reality. He hadn’t been acerbic for once. His tone had been gentle. 

‘My apologies,’ she says, forgetting that he hates to hear it. She turns and exits hastily, putting distance between them. 

In the car back to the office, she continues to mentally recite HR Directive 2.4. 

“These types of relationships may damage workplace morale, may create perceived and/or actual conflicts of interest, and may facilitate the chance of coercion and/or preferential treatment.”

It would have been nice to have more people in the lift. To be pressed nearer. Perfectly innocently. No policy violation. 

If a tree falls in the forest, does anybody hear? If we’re not caught, and don’t behave differently, wouldn’t it be okay? Ah, but there are no power dynamics between trees, are there?

“Notwithstanding the above, if a romantic and/or sexual relationship arises between two parties where one party is the named or de facto supervisor, manager, or director of the other party they must report it to the Human Resources department and the managing partner’s office immediately. Once reported, the managing partner, in consultation with the Human Resources department, will analyze the situation to determine the appropriate resolution.”

Do I need a sex toy? 

Better keep on the managing partner’s good side, although I really, really muffed it with him in my interview. Fuck, Ko Seung-chul would never let us wriggle out of this policy. We should get a new managing partner, and I should get a sex toy. 

She sighs. 

‘Attorney Kang?’ 

‘Attorney Kang?’

‘Yes! Yes! Attorney Yoon, pardon me?’ She jolts back to attention to find the car stopped. She makes to open the door, but realises they’ve just paused at an intersection, hazard lights blinking on. 

‘Stay here,’ he says. ‘I’ll be right back.’ 

She cringes. How many times did he call me?

‘Only three times,’ the driver says, chuckling at her. ‘You were miles away.’ 

She had not meant to say that aloud, and fervently prays she has not been voicing the HR directive and the inane editorial commentary that passes for her thoughts. Especially that bit about the sex toy. 

“Failure to comply with this fraternisation policy may result in termination or transfer. Employees may report policy violations through the Yullim online portal, and will not be penalized for reporting inappropriate behaviour.” 

He returns with three iced Americanos, handing one graciously to their driver and one to her. 

‘It’s warm today,’ he says. 

‘Indeed it is. Thank you,’ she says sweetly. Seok-hoon’s eyes crinkle a little. Such a nice type of smile. She realises sharply that she’s suffering not so much from infatuation anymore, but has developed a deep, genuine warmth toward this man. That, my friend, her inner voice tells her, is far, far worse. 

Soon after this realisation, she feels the time is right: she places the posh bag containing the even posher handkerchiefs on his chair, congratulating herself mentally for her bravery in doing so. The ball has been in her court for some time, so to speak. It is time to return his serve. 

She’s left him no note: after all, he left her none when he gave her the scrunchie, which she refers to in her mind as The Red Silk Scrunchie of Triumph. 

Chapter Text

Two or so weeks later, Yullim is a different place. Managing partner Ko Seung-cheol has been replaced by Kwon Na-yeon, Yoon Seok-hoon’s mentor, and the tone of the office changes as whispers of governance review and reforms to the practice are swirling. Every coffee, every trip to the break room for water, and every team lunch brings a new rumour. 

The team takes on an interesting case: a lawsuit seeking compensation for discriminatory employment practices. Yullim is especially interested in this suit, since their rivals Lee & Seo are the defendants, but also because Yullim’s risk management department has alerted Kwon Na-yeon that they themselves risk this type of lawsuit given their own human resources practices. So it becomes a case with many eyes on it. 

A paralegal at Lee & Seo, while on her vacation leave two years ago, had become infected with the West Nile virus and suffers a rare complication: hearing loss. On her return to Korea, she took a leave of absence from her job and learned KSL and lipreading. Armed with these tools, she returned to work at Lee & Seo on the agreed-upon date. Five days later, she was dismissed without cause given. 

When she protested, she was given a severance package of two months’ salary, and cause of dismissal was adjusted to read “on the grounds of insubordination.”

Hyo-min is proud of her colleagues for their righteous indignation on the client’s behalf. Oh Sang-cheol, ordinarily a bit unaware of the privilege his background has brought him, is gentle in the interview with her. 

Hyo-min suggests she interpret, and the team is shocked at the unexpected revelation that this too is in her skill set. 

She snorts. Everyone thinks it’s so cool. But only she knows that it has been penance: her sorrow at being the child that stayed in the family. Survivor’s guilt. Learning to sign had been her way of saying sorry to her sister. 

She is sat in her usual chair at the long stone counter in the Yullim breakroom. Alone.

The client had broken down at one point during the interview, and Hyo-min had been deeply affected. 

‘I’ve lost everything,’ the client had signed. ‘Even my boyfriend dumped me.’ Hyo-min can’t stop dwelling on this particular factoid. 

‘Me too, unni. Me too,’ she says aloud. 

‘I’m not your unni,’ Yoon Seok-hoon says, having materialised in front of her. 

‘Oh you startled me,’ Hyo-min exclaims, giggling. 

‘My apologies,’ he says. They sit in silence for some minutes. 

‘Some months ago,’ she begins. ‘My boyfriend dumped me.’

He cocks his head. ‘I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.’

‘It was maybe a week after I started here,’ she explains. ‘He was about to propose.’ 

‘Ah, so it was serious.’ His tone is light, but almost too light. He doesn’t like hearing this about me, she realises. The thought warms her.

‘Yes…and no,’ she confesses. ‘I think I didn’t have the courage to end it, so I gave him the means to do so.’ 

A question forms on Seok-hoon’s face. 

‘I told him about my twin, who is deaf. I had been planning on it, but the right moment never came up.’

‘He dumped you because you have a deaf sister?’ 

‘He dumped me because I might have a deaf child,’ she amends. ‘I knew he would, honestly. I hoped he wouldn’t. But I knew he would.’ 

She has for once rendered Yoon Seok-hoon speechless. 

‘I don’t exactly blame him,’ she muses. ‘Who wants a potentially deaf kid?’ 

Hyo-min is startled to realise that she is crying. ‘It didn’t hurt breaking up with him. He was a bastard, really. What hurt is realising that in some people’s eyes I’m going to seem defective, and if I am ever lucky enough to have a child and they’re deaf, people are going to see my kid as defective.’ 

He stands to slide a handkerchief over to her: the red one of the set she gave him. His fingers linger on hers for just a few breaths longer than necessary. A little comfort. She wipes her tears away. 

A few moments later, she is about to pocket the handkerchief as per usual when he holds out his hand and says, sternly, ‘Give it back. That was a gift.’

She gives it back to him with a smile, and sees compassion writ large upon his face as his elegant hand closes the handkerchief into a fist, gripping her tears within. 

‘Kang Hyo-min,’ he says softly as she rises from the table. ‘You’re one of the least defective people I know.’

She nods, unsure if she can speak without her voice quavering, and leaves.

’See you tomorrow,’ he calls to her. His voice is gentle.  

Chapter Text

It’s almost a Greek tragedy that the lawyer for the discrimination suit against Lee & Seo is Han Seong-chan, but perhaps this was fated. 

Lee & Seo drags it out, or tries to. The easiest way to win a discrimination lawsuit is to stall for time until the plaintiff runs out of money and drops the suit. However, the team members are prepared for this, and Hyo-min delivers the argument she had written with Seok-hoon that effectively predicts Lee & Seo’s strategy. The judge agrees that Lee & Seo has no legal ground to stand on to force such a delay. The trial is ordered to proceed. 

It goes smoothly until Han Seong-chan, who has apparently lost his mind as well as his temper, mounts an ad hominem argument against Hyo-min, who is so baffled that she can’t respond for a moment. Why is Seong-chan attacking another lawyer? In the courtroom, no less. He has made a suggestion that she is motivated by self-interest to represent her client. Seok-hoon quickly snaps out an objection, to which the judge agrees. The judge condemns Seong-chan severely and orders a 30-minute recess. 

Hyo-min finds herself shaking, not able to process what has happened.

‘You’ve been shocked,’ Seok-hoon murmurs. ‘I’ll get you something for it.’

She reaches for his arm to stop him. 

‘Don’t go,’ she begins. ‘Please.’ 

‘I don’t think he’s stupid enough to start something again,’ he responds. 

‘There’s something I haven’t told you,’ she says miserably. 

There is a question in his eyes, but she sees —almost admires— how quickly he puts it together. 

‘It’s him,’ Seok-hoon says, sighing.

She nods. ‘And he will pursue this. He will try to pressure me, make me flustered enough to make a mistake,’ she says. 

‘All right,’ he says. 

Sure enough, Seong-chan comes around the corner. Seok-hoon rises protectively. 

‘Hyo-min-ah,’ Seong-chan says. ‘Let’s discuss this case rationally.’ As if you were rational 20 minutes ago. 

She rises to her feet.

‘You heard the judge, I believe,’ Seok-hoon says mildly. 

‘Look, Attorney Yoon, she’s my girlfriend and this is not your business.’

‘Oh, she’s not your girlfriend anymore,’ Seok-hoon says airily. There is an implication in his words.  

Seong-chan looks at Hyo-min, who is flushing. 

‘What? What do you mean by that?’ he hisses. The chime rings, signaling the recess is over. 

She wins the trial easily and is happy that the client is awarded the full settlement she has asked for. And she tries not to gloat when, afterward, the judge rips into Han Seong-chan for his lack of professionalism. 

Seok-hoon insists on taking Hyo-min home that night. They ride in silence, something huge and unacknowledged between them now. 

‘Can we stop somewhere for some tea?’ he asks abruptly. She nods. 

‘There is a nice little café close to my house.’ 

They stop there. She orders for both of them. He pays, waving away her offer. 

His face is grave, which dispels the cosiness of the setting.

‘I did that to make him go away,’ he says. ‘It just occurred to me, and I went with it.’

‘I know,’ she says. ‘It was brilliant. The truth and a bluff wrapped up in a single line. Thank you for doing it.’ 

He isn’t finished. ‘I do not want you to think that I would ever take advantage of you. We have policies in place—‘

‘HR directive 2.4,’ she supplies, irritably. 

‘Yes. I wrote that policy to protect workers from scum like Hong Do-yun,’ he says. ‘If you feel I crossed the line, however—.’

Ah, so he did write it. And now he’s trying to play the noble fool. 

‘I know that particular policy inside and out, Attorney Yoon,’ she says sharply. Was this to be another drawing back, a reminder of the fact that they were in different classes, and that mixing between the classes was forbidden? ‘You crossed no line in protecting your associate.’ 

She rises abruptly and nods to him. ‘Good night, Attorney Yoon. Thanks for the ride and the tea.’

He catches her hand as she moves past him. She allows him to hold it, but she’s so frustrated she can’t really enjoy the contact.

‘You’re angry,’ he says. ‘Tell me why,’ he adds softly. 

‘Your policy lacks nuance,’ she says. ‘I’m sure you can imagine what it is missing.’ 

Pulling her hand from his warm grasp, she leaves.

Chapter Text

‘Ho-yeon is going to be there for her mom’s sentencing along with her aunt, so I’ve booked the afternoon off to care for the twins,’ Hyo-min says. 

‘Why didn’t you ask me regarding the time?’ Seok-hoon asks, clearly irritated.

‘That was my fault,’ Jin-woo says. ‘I told her that because her current two cases are under Jung Ji-ung she just has to clear it with him.’ Jin-woo looks at his watch. ‘Sorry, I have to be off. Wedding prep!’

In order to satisfy the condition that Yoon Seok-hoon’s ex-wife had made regarding custody of Hash, Lee Jin-woo had moved in with Seok-hoon. 

‘You’ll have to find someone else in eight months,’ Jin-woo had said. ‘But for now, it’s perfect for both of us.’ Seok-hoon had agreed, albeit reluctantly. 

‘Will you feed and walk Hash tonight?’ Seok-hoon asks Jin-woo. ‘It seems I’ll have another appointment.’

‘Absolutely, hyung.’ Jin-woo says. ‘We just have this one wedding dress shop to visit first.’ To Hyo-min, Jin-woo says, ‘Min-jeong will want your opinion, but she’ll narrow it down to three or so first.’ 

‘Sure, sunbae,’ Hyo-min says cheerily. 

‘Why didn’t you ask me to come with you?’ Seok-hoon asked, once they were alone. 

She decides to be open with him. ‘I thought you’d step back, after our date and everything. So I didn’t know if you wanted that.’

‘I did,’ he says. ‘I do.’ She sees the wistfulness in his face and makes a decision. 

‘Well then, you can come. I hope you like pasta and silly games.’

‘I love both of these things,’ he says simply. 

He cancels his afternoon meeting and he and Hyo-min leave. Hyo-min gives her address to his driver. 

‘Their aunt will drop them off at my place,’ Hyo-min explains. ‘It’s close enough to the court. They’ll fetch them when sentencing is over.’ 

Seok-hoon nods. He’s probably a little uncomfortable now, she thinks. Wait until the silly games start. 

Once they are at her house, she invites him in and sits him at her table with a cup of tea. He looks out of place. Larger somehow. She excuses herself to go and change and comes out of her room in joggers and a faded T-shirt. 

‘I’ve left you a change of clothes on the bed,’ she says, flushing. ‘They should fit.’ 

He looks at her quizzically. ‘Do I need to change?’ 

‘I did say “silly games”,’ she says, amused. ‘Trust me, you have to wear clothing that stretches for Twister.’ 

‘Twister?’ he queries. It’s not ringing a bell for him.

Her smile is devilish. This is going to be good. 

He comes out wearing XL pink sweats she purchased because she wanted the ones with Hello Kitty on the bum and they didn’t have her size and an old BTS t-shirt that is oversize even on him. Her stomach flips. His shoulders are so broad. He looks relatively happy to be wearing ridiculous clothing, items she had chosen that were obviously hers, so he wouldn’t ask if it was Han Seong-chan’s. The leftovers of an ex. Well, she had nothing like that, having expunged every last gift, clothing item, and picture. Scorched earth. 

‘Interesting room,’ he says mildly. ‘How can I help with dinner?’

Oh fuck. What did he see? she thinks, blushing yet again. 

He moves to the kitchen, and she swears she hears him mutter, ‘You do have the prettiest blush,’ half under his breath. He is thawing, she thinks. She knows he sees her in a new light. 

‘They’ll be here soon,’ she says, checking her watch. ‘I bought everything for pasta.’ 

She hands him an apron and puts him to work chopping vegetables, which she sautés along with some minced beef. They work well together in the small space, and she feels a sort of satisfaction in that. The domesticity warms her, as it always does with him. Since they spent that evening in Choi Ho-yeon’s home it is less surreal to have Seok-hoon in the kitchen than it was, but it is both strange and appealing to have him in her home. The twins arrive, in identical outfits, just as she has put the noodles on to boil. Seok-hoon reminds her to set a timer. 

Soon the unlikely foursome is sat at the table. Hyo-min demonstrates how to roll pasta noodles with a fork and spoon and the twins are delighted. Seok-hoon radiates joy, and she realises how badly he wants children of his own from how he is able to immerse himself in their silly little world. 

Mi-yeon and Seo-yeon, having had the game talked up by their elder sister, cajole and plead Hyo-min to set up the game. 

‘Twista! Twista! We want it!!’ The girls are primed. And the handsome and elegant attorney Yoon Seok-hoon doesn’t know what he is getting into, she thinks. 

She and Seok-hoon, still ignorant of the game he is about to play —the game in which she will attempt to win without mercy— move the coffee table in the lounge aside, and she unrolls the Twister mat. 

She watches as understanding dawns on him, and shoots him a pitiless smile. 

‘Ok, girls. We have left hand, right hand, left foot, right foot, and we have red, blue, yellow, and green dots. No pushing, no taking the same dot if someone is on it already. No other rules and please know that unni will do anything to win.’ To Seok-hoon, she says, ‘Also please know that twins cheat.’ 

‘I’ll call first, and this round we will rotate between unni, Seo-yeon, Mi-yeon, and ahjussi. Next round, we will switch that order.  Watch,’ she instructs. 

‘I call Seo-yeon to put her foot on red.’ 

Seo-yeon complies. 

‘Ok, now Seo-yeon you can choose what Mi-yeon does.’

Seo-yeon also chooses foot on red for her sister. The giggles are contagious, and Hyo-min finds herself laughing along with Seok-hoon. 

Mi-yeon is shy, but eventually tells Seok-hoon to put his hand on green. 

Seok-hoon orders Hyo-min to put her hand on red, realising that the greater the crowd, the more difficult it will be for Hyo-min to navigate the various limbs. 

Mi-yeon is the victor of that round. 

The next round, Hyo-min is the one who mercilessly places Seok-hoon in a tangle of twins, but he survives to instruct Mi-yeon. 

‘Uh uh,’ Hyo-min says. ‘Mi-yeon, not Seo-yeon,’ as the wrong twin moves. They giggle, not apologetic at all, and continue to try to hoodwink Hyo-min and Seok-hoon. 

‘Unni,’ Seo-yeon wails. ‘How do you always know? We can fool everyone else!’

‘Unni is a twin too. I know all your tricks, kids.’ Hyo-min cackles. 

Seo-yeon wins the next two rounds. The twins beg for one more go, declaring that they aren’t tired. However, they are indeed rather fatigued, and they are easy victims for Hyo-min, who snorts like a pig and makes one twin collapse, and makes a funny face which ends the game for the other twin.  

It’s just her and Seok-hoon on the board now, with the twins taunting them. They are tantalisingly close, but Hyo-min feels her strength failing as her feet and hands are quite some distance apart. She orders Seok-hoon to place his right hand on a yellow dot close to her, which will stretch and twist his body and bring his face tantalisingly near to hers. 

He must sense her flagging strength, she thinks, as he makes no move to call her next move, making a great show of thinking about it instead. Two can play.

She looks around, making sure neither of the girls can see her face, and then locks eyes with Seok-hoon, looking at him under her long lashes. She licks her top lip slowly and suggestively, and it startles him enough that his breath hitches and he loses his balance, collapsing. Hyo-min is a bad winner, taunting him, making a show of posing and flexing her muscles. The twins are delighted. 

‘Easy,’ she shakes her head and sighs. ‘Too easy.’

She brings ice cream out of the freezer for them all. 

Halfway through dessert, the twins’ aunt arrives to collect them.

‘Ho-yeon is a little upset,’ she says. ‘She needed a little time.’ 

The twins are tired, but happy. Hyo-min glances at Seok-hoon, sees his easy love for them shining out of his eyes, and sees his wistful smile as they wave goodbye to them.  

‘Come on,’ she says, smiling. ‘Let’s finish our dessert.’

She tosses him a beer from the fridge and gets one for herself, and they sit comfortably on the couch finishing their ice cream and sipping beer. 

‘You really love kids,’ she says. 

‘I really do,’ he confirms. 

‘Me too.’

She recalls what he has told her of his ex-wife. 

‘Your ex didn’t want kids, uh, at the time?’ she asks. He nods. Still painful, she thinks. 

‘She didn’t want kids, but now she does,’ he says. Hyo-min recalls meeting Seol Yeon-ah, her belly swollen with child. She nods. 

He sips his beer.

‘She got pregnant when we were together, but she terminated it. Just a few weeks ago she told me the reason. Possibility of a neural tube defect. But for years I never knew.’

‘Oh,’ Hyo-min says softly. ‘Oh no.’ She sees his grip on his beer tighten until his knuckles turn white and she’s sure he’s going to crumple an almost full can of beer. 

She can’t help herself. She takes his free hand. Just holds it for a while, until he’s not reliving that particular pain anymore. Then she releases it with a soft squeeze. 

‘Would it bother you,’ he asks, changing the subject abruptly, ‘if you had a deaf child?’

‘No,’ she says. ‘I assume I will have twins and one might be deaf.’ 

‘Why do you assume that?’ he asks, curious. 

‘Well, I know genetics are complicated but twins do run in my family. And I think it’s better to be prepared, just in case.’ 

Hyo-min sips her beer. ‘But it wouldn’t bother me,’ she says. ‘I know sign language, so as her mum I’d be able to communicate with her. My mum knows sign language now too.  We’d be all right. What about you? What would you do if you had a disabled child?’ She is careful to phrase it this way, to keep it more general, though she is by this time fairly sure that if she were to, for instance, pull him to her on this very sofa, he would not pull away.

He shrugs. ‘It would be the same for me. I’d learn sign language and love her to bits.’ 

Interesting, Hyo-min thinks. 

‘But you probably couldn’t deal with twins,’ she teases. ‘They’re a handful.’

‘You know,’ he says, thoughtful. ‘I never really knew any twins before meeting Seo-yeon and Mi-yeon, but they are so much fun. I’m definitely warming to the idea.’ Her face heats yet again.

They drink another beer together, talking about random things: overrated vegetables, music, politics.

He asks her how it is working for Jung Ji-ung. She tells him her honest thoughts. ‘He’s great! Knowledgeable, and anti-trust is pretty interesting.’ 

Seok-hoon nods. ‘He is a good guy,’ he says. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying these cases.’ 

She is suddenly overcome by fatigue, and yawns hugely. 

‘Apparently mentioning him has a soporific effect,’ Seok-hoon teases, and rises. 

‘I’ll be off,’ he says. ‘It’s been a fun evening.’ 

She nods. ‘Go ahead and change,’ she says. 

He does, coming out with her joggers and t-shirt neatly folded. She puts them on a chair and sees him to the door. 

‘I had fun, too,’ she says. ‘The twins are very cute.’ He smiles broadly. 

‘There’s that smile again,’ she says. ‘You look so relaxed. It’s nice.’ 

He takes her hand in his. All too briefly. 

‘Thank you,’ he says, sincerely. He looks at her, a dash too long, and she wonders if he wants to kiss her. 

A horn sounds outside. 

‘My driver,’ he says. She pouts —can’t help herself, and he laughs at her expression.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he says. She nods. Watches him leave to make sure he gets to his car.  

‘Ah, Kang Hyo-min,’ he calls back. ‘Hash wants to know if you’re up for camping next weekend.’

‘Of course I am,’ she says. ‘Get back safely!’

She withdraws into her house and closes the door. 

And if she sleeps in the t-shirt he wore that night, well, who is to know. 

Chapter Text

‘It’s not quite right, is it?’ he had asked. 

‘Your new cologne?’ she had teased. ‘Close, but no.’ 

‘I meant the opinion brief we are writing for the prosecution,’ he retorted, shooting her a sour look. 

He had then sent her quite a sarcastic message later that afternoon, enquiring whether she would assist him that very night in selecting yet another new cologne, given that she wasn’t satisfied with his current choice. 

Of course she had said yes. And now she finds herself in one of Seoul’s swankiest department stores. In the cosmetics section. On a Thursday night at 7 pm. With her mentor. Of course. 

He gives her a quick smile. 

‘I did very much appreciate the old cologne, you know’ she says. ‘It’s…woodsy.’ 

‘My ex-wife had been making it for me,’ he says solemnly. 

‘But I don’t like it that much at all,’ Hyo-min doesn’t miss a beat. She shakes her head, holding his gaze. ‘You can do far better, surely.’

‘Indeed,’ he replies, a lopsided smile, full and warm, crinkling his eyes. 

Oh, but she loves these smiles. They’re so rare. She adds it to her mental collection. 

They narrow down the overwhelming selection to a scant three. The salesperson helping them is a bit wary, cowed by the intensity of the two customers before her. 

The third is rejected. They both smell an unexpected, heavy, and not entirely right note of vanilla.

‘It’s too…’ Hyo-min trails off. 

‘Apparent?’ he supplies. 

‘Yes. I was going to say easy.’

He nods. He is not easy. 

She realizes two things in that moment. One, the want she feels for him is growing, perhaps exponentially, alongside the pure love that is also being nurtured inside her. 

But she sees the way he holds her gaze, and how it flicks to her mouth once in a while and she realizes that second something. For all he might try to rationalise love, marriage, and all the human things associated with those, she gets a glimmer of hope that he wants her probably just as badly as she wants him. 

He’s certainly going to give up his quest to find the perfect divorcée, she thinks. I have a little plan for that.

And after Lee Jin-woo and Heo Min-jeong’s engagement, they had found each other on the footpath at the edge of the canal quite by coincidence, and then they’d rambled on about love and human relationships ‘til about 100 o’clock…without ever really approaching the heart of the issue. 

‘Love is—,’ he had begun. Trailed off. 

‘Ah, what do I know?’ he had finished. Coward.

 ‘I was harsh,’ he had said, after some moments spent in silence. 

‘How so?’ she had asked. 

‘I was so shocked seeing you there as my date,’ he had admitted. ‘I felt caught out.’ 

‘Yes,’ she had said. ‘I can see that.’ 

‘Can I give you a piece of advice?’ she had offered. He had nodded. 

‘Things like hoobae, 11 years younger, never married. You know these are just constructs.’ He had nodded again. 

‘But they are factors,’ he had countered. ‘Important factors.’

‘Yes, if you let them be. But don’t let small details stand in the way of what you said. The most important thing is to find someone heading in the same direction,’ she had said. ‘Your words.’

She had paused. ‘But like I said. It’s ok if you don’t like me.’ She had barely recognised her own voice. 

‘And as I said, I never said that,’ he had said.

Hope had bloomed across her face, and with it had come her wide, easy smile.

 ‘Try one on each wrist,’ the sales assistant suggests, checking in on them once again before moving away to help another customer. ‘It’s important to see how it will react with skin for your final decision.’ 

Yoon Seok-hoon spritzes a little on each wrist, waiting as the alcohol in the eau de toilette vaporises. He holds his right wrist to his nose. 

‘Not half bad,’ he says. 

Hyo-min seizes his wrist, bending to sniff. 

‘It’s nice,’ she judges. ‘Not showy, but nice.’

He sniffs his left wrist, eyebrows raised in surprise, then immediately offers it to her.

She bends once more to take in the scent. It’s instant. The warm comfort of amber and the woodsiness of vetiver. Something else — a hint of smokiness. She instantly wants more, and can’t seem to stop herself as her nose lightly drags against the white skin of his wrist. 

And then, as if that weren’t bad enough, she lets her bottom lip slide gently along his soft skin before better judgment rushes back in and she straightens up, blushing profusely. Her panicked expression meets his faintly amused one.  

‘Mmm, I told you to tread carefully,’ he says, voice deceptively light, desire evident in his eyes.