TCBW C49

Chapter 49

“Manager, what have you been muttering to yourself about all this time?”

“Shut it and eat your meat!”

Snapping back at the colleague beside him, Gyubeom lifted the hand holding his glass and pointed at Suhoe.

“But why do you think he tagged along to the company dinner tonight?”

“Huh? Oh, Suhoe-ssi? No idea. Maybe he just felt like it.”

“Felt like it how?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Unlike the disinterested colleague, another coworker sitting opposite Gyubeom—who seemed more intrigued by Suhoe—cut into their conversation.

“Maybe he followed Mr. Seojun? The vibe between the two of them has been a bit off, hasn’t it?”

“Oh? Could be. These days, whenever anyone tries to ask Suhoe-ssi something, Seojun butts in and answers for him.”

“Even if someone’s interested in Suhoe-ssi, it’s hard to approach with Seojun there. Maybe they’re already dating?”

Listening with a bored expression, Gyubeom snorted.

“Dating, my ass. He’s just a mutt wagging his tail at his master. He’s not boyfriend material.”

“What? Why not?”

“Look.”

He jerked his chin toward the table where Suhoe sat. Stuck to him almost suffocatingly close, Seojun was fussing like a mother bird for all to see, tending to this and that.

“Try this too.”

“Thanks, Jun.”

The staff who’d followed his gesture asked again, “How does that make him not boyfriend material?”

“God, you lot are dense.”

Clicking his tongue, Gyubeom elaborated.

“Have you ever seen that guy—the senior around here—fuss over anyone like that? Usually, he acts like nothing in the world matters.”

“Isn’t that exactly why there’s a chance? He’s only like that for someone special.”

At the word “special,” Gyubeom let out an incredulous laugh.

“That’s the point. Does that look like a lover to you? To me, it’s just a mutt wagging his tail at his owner.”

At that moment, a coworker poked him with a mischievous grin.

“Come on, Manager. Sounds like you’re jealous—like Mr. Seojun, who used to be close to you, got ‘stolen’ by Suhoe-ssi.”

“Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Leaning back in his chair with his arms folded, he muttered under his breath,

“I’m worried he’ll forget his place, run wild, and get hurt.”

He recalled the night before, when Seojun, having learned that Suhoe’s work location had changed, had come to him with a pale face.

“Please assign me to the same place as Suhoe.”

Blunt, direct.

“What? You know if I start making exceptions for you, everyone else will come asking for the same thing, right?”

Even when Gyubeom tried to strong-arm him, Seojun didn’t back down.

“…I’m asking you, please.”

At that earnest look, Gyubeom had reluctantly relented.

“That green kid, Suhoe—I’d say he’s obviously President Lee’s lover. You still want this knowing that?”

It was a pretty brazen thing to say, but Seojun didn’t even blink.

“Yes.”

He’d been so firm that Gyubeom assumed there must be some deep story there and begrudgingly switched their assignments.

But now, seeing this, it looked like nothing more than a childish love game, with Seojun volunteering to be the mutt.

Damn it, I’m the idiot for trusting a guy like that.

Grinding his teeth at the memory, he shot Seojun a goblin-like glare.

But Seojun, fully absorbed in tending to his “master,” didn’t notice the murderous look in the slightest.

“All right, everyone—Suhoe’s not well today, so absolutely no forcing drinks.”

“What is this, are you his boyfriend or something? Forget it, let’s just toast—cheers!”

A colleague called out impishly, but Seojun didn’t flinch.

“No, no. I’m just worried as a friend…”

“Sure, sure. Suhoe, raise your glass too—cheers.”

Pressed by another, the sack-of-rice-stillness that was Suhoe awkwardly picked up his soju glass.

“Yes.”

In a flash, Seojun snatched the glass from him and set it in front of himself, placing a glass of juice before Suhoe instead.

“You’re not drinking tonight!”

“Huh? Why?”

“You’re sick right now, aren’t you?”

Suhoe started to shake his head at the certainty in Seojun’s tone, but a dry cough burst out right on cue and stopped him.

“No. Cough.”

“Don’t push yourself.”

“I really am fine. The cough’s a little worse than usual today, but I’m not, like, sick-sick.”

When Seojun handed him some water—as if he’d expected this—Suhoe accepted and drank it.

Then, in the lively clamor, one very familiar name pierced his ears, and he froze, instinctively cocking an ear toward the conversation.

“By the way, that Director from Saeman—hasn’t she been practically stamping in every day lately?”

“Oh, I noticed that too.”

A colleague at the next table chimed in.

“I’m close with someone at the lobby desk—they say she comes every day.”

Another widened their eyes.

“Really? Then how come I’ve never seen her? …Ah! Come to think of it, Suhoe-ssi would know this best, right?”

Caught off guard by the sudden convergence of attention, heat flushed up Suhoe’s face.

“Pardon?”

A teasing voice flew at him.

“Suhoe-ssi, you’re assigned to clean the president’s office. Be honest—is Director Han dating the president?”

Before he could answer, another voice declared with confidence,

“One hundred percent! I saw them at lunch today—they left together!”

At that, Suhoe’s eyes trembled.

“T-today too…?”

“Yeah. Oh, were you late today so you missed it? She stopped by at lunch and said she’d be back again in the evening.”

“Isn’t this heading straight for a wedding? President Lee?”

Before long, the whole place was buzzing—with the hottest chaebol scandal of the century and wedding rumors.

Speculation and jokes flew fast and loud; only Seojun kept stealing worried glances at Suhoe’s bone-white face.

“Are you okay?”

At his anxious tone, Suhoe slowly raised his head.

Wearing a forced smile, he picked up the drink Seojun had placed in front of him earlier, and tossed back the full glass in one go.

A sharp, antiseptic burn raked down his throat for some reason.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Even so, he didn’t want to grimace at the taste—so he feigned calm, ignoring the sting gathering in his gut.

“Want to step outside for a minute?”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, when I said I wanted to come to the company dinner earlier—it was because I felt lonely, and… curious…”

“And?”

“I’m glad I came.”

He gave a sheepish smile.

The worry that had been lurking in a corner of his heart—that if he went home and waited late, what if Dowoon showed up—had vanished like a lie.

Because on days when Sara came by the company, Dowoon didn’t come home.

“Huh? Where’s Suhoe?”

Having stepped out briefly to the restroom, Seojun returned to find an empty seat.

“Huh? Good question. Didn’t he go out with you? Or maybe he went to the restroom?”

“No way. I just came from there.”

A thud dropped through Seojun’s chest as he hurriedly scanned the room, but no matter where he looked in the noisy restaurant, there was no sign of Suhoe.

Then, a coworker pointed at an empty glass on the table and shouted,

“Oh? This glass is empty! Who drank what was in here?”

“Huh? Come to think of it, earlier, Suhoe-ssi…”

Another trailed off.

The owner of the glass stared, eyes wide.

“What did you say? That was the punishment drink I made for a game! A seriously strong bomb shot!”

“What? Why would you leave that lying around here?”

In an instant, Seojun’s face went white. He was sure he’d given Suhoe juice; a glass full of juice still sat untouched at his place. Which meant what he’d actually drunk was…?

His eyes snapped to where the bomb shot had been. The color left in the glass was similar enough to the juice he’d given Suhoe that it could be mistaken at a glance.

The employee who’d made it offered a sheepish excuse.

“I mean, Suhoe-ssi doesn’t really drink, so I figured he wouldn’t touch it…”

“I—I’m going to go look for him!”

Not even waiting to hear the end of that excuse, Seojun bolted for the door, face ashen.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to go far. A small crowd had gathered in a corner near the restaurant’s entrance. Pushing through, he found Suhoe slumped against a wall, strengthless.

Pale-faced, he was surrounded by unfamiliar men.

“Come on, don’t be like that—come with us.”

“No… I’m in the middle of a company dinner…”

He was struggling to refuse their persistent advances.

“Suhoe.”

Seojun shoved roughly into their midst and seized Suhoe’s slender wrist in a firm grip.