NLFSD Chapter 48

Chapter 48

The next morning, Lee Jiwoon woke up feeling completely refreshed.

His head was clear, his hands and feet were warm with good circulation, and — unusually for someone with chronic low blood pressure — his condition was brimming with energy. He thought to himself that the herbal tonic really did agree with him.

“Ah, this feels great.”

Stretching wide, he sat up — but Seo Taecheon was nowhere to be seen. Since there was no sound of running water from the bathroom, he must have gone out earlier.

I didn’t get to talk to him much last night since I basically passed out the moment I hit the bed.

Not that they would have had a long conversation anyway, given how awkward and self‑conscious things still felt…

Thinking back, he flushed at the memory of kissing on the rooftop, almost getting devoured at the front door, and getting caught playing with plush dolls.

Too many things happened yesterday. Ugh… how embarrassing.

Jiwoon washed up quickly with cold water to clear his head.

When he came out to the living room, he found two stuffed dolls on the dining table — the yellow and blue Sook‑ryeo‑Doong‑i plushies from last night’s “incident.” They looked quite nice together, sitting close like an affectionate couple.

In the center of the table was a plate with a sandwich. Tacked to the plate was a Sook‑ryeo‑Doong‑i Post‑it with a scribbled note, clearly in Taecheon’s handwriting:

Had an early meeting, so I didn’t wake you and went ahead.

Eat before you leave, even if you don’t feel hungry.

“It’s for me? How can he be this sweet…!”

Jiwoon was deeply moved. The ham‑and‑mashed‑potato sandwich practically seemed to glow. Imagining Taecheon getting up at dawn to slice bread and make it made Jiwoon’s heart ache.

“It’s delicious!”

The truth was, Jiwoon never had trouble with his appetite. He could clean a whole bowl of plain rice with water poured over it — and this sandwich was actually delicious.

Is it okay to be this happy? My life must be charmed.

Grinning foolishly, he munched away until the plate was stripped clean, as if freshly washed.

When he arrived at work, the atmosphere was unusually tense. The HR team leader and the department heads of Marketing Parts 1 and 2 were frantically pacing the corridors, going back and forth between the meeting room and the Director’s office.

Jiwoon, Assistant Manager Min Hyekyung, and the other section chiefs kept their heads down and passed the morning quietly. After lunch, and some more time had passed, a groan rose from one of the employees and spread through the office.

“Personnel changes are out. The team leader’s been dismissed.”

Jiwoon exchanged a glance with Min and quickly logged into the company intranet. In the personnel announcements board, a hot‑off‑the‑press post stated that the Marketing Team 1 leader had been dismissed for violating company regulations, and listed the name of the incoming leader:

New Appointment: Marketing Division 1 Team Leader — Song Hojong

“Team Leader Song Hojong? Never heard of him… where’s he coming from?”

“I know him. We worked together when I was in the accounting team at the Yongin Resort.”

As a relative newcomer, Jiwoon had no idea who he was, but Min clearly knew him.

“Oh? Assistant Manager, you know the new team leader?”

“Yeah. He’s young. Not much older than me — I’d say not even in his mid‑thirties yet.”

“Oh… young, and already promoted so quickly. What’s he like?”

“How should I put it… hmm… kind‑gentle?”

“…Sorry?”

“Friendly, and very attentive. Talks a lot too — maybe even overly so. He’s completely different from the stereotypical old‑school, authoritarian boss.”

So there are team leaders like that, huh.

Since the leadership style was going to change so drastically, Jiwoon figured he should adapt quickly.

“I see. Thanks for telling me, Assistant Manager.”

“No problem. But Jiwoon, your phone is shaking like crazy…”

Min pointed at his phone, which wasn’t ringing but vibrating violently, buzzing in a loud, urgent way.

Uh‑oh. That kind of high‑intensity alert means… the Reflection app?

Sure enough, when he tapped the screen, Sook‑ryeo‑Doong‑i appeared, breakdancing and krumping wildly — a signal that something urgent and important required immediate attention.

EMERGENCY! Final review score insufficient for this month. Reflection period automatically extended by one month. Contact your supervising officer!

“Ah!”

“What’s wrong? Something happened?”

“No, it’s nothing. Just spam.”

Come to think of it, how are we supposed to handle this Reflection thing? Do we have to file a withdrawal form or something?

Jiwoon hadn’t updated the Reflection journal or logged into the app for days — and he guessed Taecheon hadn’t either. To the government staff overseeing them, it must have looked like These two aren’t taking the Reflection period seriously. Extend it by a month as punishment.

Well… I’d better bring it up with Taecheon‑C. Of course he’ll want to withdraw just like I do. Won’t he?

Funny how life worked out. Back when he’d first learned about the marriage registration, he had thrown a fit — I’ll definitely divorce you! I want out right now! They’d even staged a sham honeymoon for the sake of a “successful” divorce. But now here he was, looking at wedding venues. They’d even decided to date before formally marrying.

The sequence of events was… a bit backwards. But in the end, Jiwoon considered himself extremely lucky. Where else would he meet such a handsome, capable, and attentive Alpha? Sure, at first he’d suspected Taecheon might be a robot, but living together, he’d learned Taecheon was far more human than he seemed. And a great kisser…

One lingering question, though: When exactly did Taecheon‑C decide he wanted to marry me?

Given that the man — a black‑robe enthusiast — had switched to a gray one after a single comment from Jiwoon, maybe he’d liked him from back then. Or maybe he had been in love already during Love Village. Jiwoon truly didn’t know.

He still didn’t understand Taecheon’s heart fully, partly because the man was infuriatingly quiet.

Come to think of it… was that even a proper marriage proposal he’d gotten? It had been so blunt: Let’s get married. If it’s too soon, we can date first. That was it.

Jiwoon twirled his pen as he mulled over the past. This morning, rummaging through the Sook‑ryeo‑Doong‑i merch box for something useful, he had found a pen topped with its head. It wrote smoothly and was kind of cute, so he’d brought it to use at work.

The plush head wobbled side to side in rhythm with his thoughts.

Are we just going to date sweetly like this until we marry? Hmm… maybe that’s a good flow, maybe not. I feel like there’s some important piece missing, but I don’t know what it is. If I were more experienced at dating, would I notice?

He was happy — but there was an odd itch in the back of his mind, as if he’d forgotten something. Still, one great thing about this marriage was that they already had the registration — no hassle — and it created the illusion they’d been in love much longer. Somehow, what had once ignited fury now felt romantic.

Oh, I should let the lawyer know too — the one who advised me about the provisional order to erase the marriage record and the annulment suit. He was Taecheon‑C’s counsel, right…

Alright. Once Taecheon’s meeting ends, he’d bring up how to withdraw from the Reflection period.

Jiwoon was in the middle of gathering his thoughts when—

“Jiwoon, can I borrow your pen for a second?”

Min tapped his hand.

“Oh. Sure. Here.”

She jotted down something during a phone call, then before returning it, glanced at the pen’s top.

“What’s this character called? I’ve never seen it. Looks… oddly shaped.”

Ah, crap! The Sook‑ryeo‑Doong‑i pen wasn’t something you could just buy anywhere. For a regular person to own one was suspicious.

“The… name? I don’t know. Just some random pen I bought.”

“It’s cute. Kind of like… mugwort‑colored.”1

Indeed, Sook‑ryeo‑Doong‑i was named for its ‘sook’ (mugwort)‑colored face — a testament to government employees’ terrible naming skills.

“Ah… is it? Haha. It’s really not great quality. Here, have this one instead, Assistant Manager.”

Quickly snatching it from her hand, Jiwoon shoved a different pen at her.

“Let me see it properly — maybe I’ll buy one too.”

“No, don’t. It’s awful. Writes like trash.”

“Hmm? It seemed to write perfectly fine…”

Min kept trying to get a better look, so Jiwoon stuffed the Sook‑ryeo‑Doong‑i pen into his bag before she could inspect its features again.

“I’ll buy you a nice one! You wouldn’t believe how many pretty, good pens there are these days.”

He gave her a smiling eye‑crinkle — but inwardly, he wished Taecheon’s busyness would calm down soon so they could properly discuss withdrawing from Reflection.

Footnotes:

 

1. Mugwort‑colored — The character’s face color is the dull greenish hue of mugwort (ssuk in Korean), hence the pun in its name.