“Of course, I’m not saying you’re like that, Yiseo. It’s just… how do I put this. Our salaries are pretty decent, right? And you’re not exactly a reckless spender either. But you still seemed way too tight on money. A few years back, my youngest brother made a mess of things with a loan, and seeing you just now… you reminded me of him. That’s why I poked my nose in. I’m sorry.”
If Natalie had been someone he’d never see again—or if she hadn’t shown him so much kindness before—Yiseo would’ve snapped and told her to mind her own business.
But she wasn’t. She was someone he’d have to keep working with. And she’d always treated him well. It didn’t feel right to bite her head off now.
“It’s fine. But it’s a personal matter. You don’t need to worry about it, Natalie.”
Even though he accepted her sincere apology, his nerves had already bristled, and his voice came out sharper than he intended. A tension-laced awkwardness settled between them.
“…Shall we head back now?”
“Ah, yeah. Sure.”
Yiseo stood first, and Natalie followed. Changing locations seemed to ease the stiffness in the air a little. Natalie used the opportunity to smooth things over, saying she wished she could come in 30 minutes late tomorrow. Yiseo smiled and agreed—he couldn’t ignore the effort she was making.
He was feeling better, but his body still hadn’t fully recovered. It fatigued quickly. Maybe it was the lingering effects of the high fever, but his muscles still ached. People said Alphas and Omegas had stronger self-healing than Betas—days like this made him jealous of that.
Still, if he started listing things he envied, there’d be no end to it. Instead of complaining about things he couldn’t change, Yiseo scolded himself to focus on work and got back to his desk, eyes on the monitor.
By the time the workday ended, he felt like this week wasn’t too bad. He’d even gotten off a bit early. When he stopped by his usual sandwich shop to grab dinner, the owner recognized him and gave him freshly made hash browns on the house, saying he should take them home if he had time. The little gesture put a noticeable bounce in his step—and even had him humming.
But that good mood vanished the moment he saw a dark figure standing in front of his apartment door.
Of course things were going too smoothly, he thought. This kind of luck never lasts.
Natalie’s voice floated back to him from earlier.
“Gambling, or… something like that, you know?”
Would that have been better? Maybe. A sigh escaped him before he could stop it.
The shadow leaning against the door straightened up when they noticed Yiseo.
The next day.
Everyone who saw Yiseo widened their eyes in shock. Curious stares like that still made him uncomfortable. But honestly, if he saw someone walking around like this, he’d probably stop and stare too.
When he’d checked in the mirror that morning, his left cheek was visibly swollen and red. It was noticeable even without close inspection. It would take time before the swelling went down enough to hide. If this had happened on a weekend, he might’ve had time to try different remedies. But it had happened last night—there was nothing he could do.
The best he managed was to press ice against it, and thankfully that seemed to limit the damage. At least the swelling didn’t reach his eyes. Small mercies. But it still throbbed when he tried to talk or eat.
When he walked into the office, Natalie’s already large eyes grew even bigger.
“Yiseo?! Oh my god, what happened to your face?! Your cheek—what happened?!”
“I got up off the sofa last night, didn’t notice a bottle on the floor, stepped on it and tripped. Smashed right into the table.”
Yiseo demonstrated by clenching one fist and smacking it into his other palm. Natalie winced as if she’d just seen it happen in front of her. He braced himself for more questions, but thankfully, she didn’t press.
Was she holding back because of yesterday? Or did she actually believe him? He couldn’t tell. Either way, he was relieved he didn’t have to come up with another excuse. Natalie frowned, her lips perfectly outlined with lipstick.
“Jeez. That must’ve hurt. Did you ice it properly?”
“Yeah. This is after icing it.”
“Such a pretty face, too. This breaks my heart.”
“Haha… thanks.”
Yiseo gave a muffled, awkward laugh, his pronunciation slightly off from the swelling. He returned to his desk, grateful for the small talk. He briefly considered correcting her “pretty face” comment, but didn’t want to make a fuss over something so minor.
Thankfully, since he was the CEO’s secretary, his and Natalie’s desks were separated from the others by partitions. If not, he would’ve had to deal with constant curious glances and well-meaning comments all day.
Ethan wasn’t in today—he had an external meeting. That didn’t mean Yiseo’s workload would lessen, of course. Still, he was glad. He didn’t want to run into him if he could help it.
The swelling on his face made it awkward to speak, but more than that, he didn’t want anyone noticing the mood he was in. He was trying to keep it together, but emotions had a way of leaking out. The fewer people he had to deal with, the better.
“Natalie. I’m heading over to General Affairs.”
“Got it.”
With a small nod from Natalie, Yiseo walked off and pressed the elevator button. Watching the floor numbers tick down, he tapped his feet anxiously.
Ding. The bell rang, and the doors slid open.
He stepped forward automatically—then froze.
Ethan.
He hadn’t heard anything about him returning to the office today.
“Good afternoon, Director.”
“Mmh. Good lunchtime.”
Yiseo could feel Ethan’s gaze land on his cheek. Sharing an elevator just the two of them—it felt strangely awkward. He checked that the button for the 55th floor was lit, then pressed 40 for himself and stood beside Ethan, facing forward.
Was the Strategy Department on 55? He vaguely tried to recall, eyes drifting to their reflections in the polished elevator doors.
Standing side by side like this really made the height difference obvious. It looked more like an uncle and nephew than colleagues. Was Ethan always this big? As he glanced at Ethan, their eyes met.
“That.”
“Huh? Uh, yes?”
Yiseo’s voice cracked from the suddenness of it. He coughed lightly and turned to face Ethan, who tapped his own left cheek with his index finger. Realizing what he meant, Yiseo opened his mouth.
“Oh, this? Last night, I stood up from the sofa, didn’t see a bottle on the floor, stepped on it, tripped, and hit the table.”
“Yikes.”
Ethan’s brows drew together slightly.
“Didn’t take you for the clumsy type.”
There was a faint trace of amusement in his voice. And Yiseo flinched.
Because in SickVill’s in-game novel My Beloved Beta, the moment Ethan started falling for Yiseo was when he noticed the gap between Yiseo’s appearance and his real personality.
Originally, Ethan was the one who found Yiseo collapsed at the product launch. That had changed—Alexander took that role now. So Yiseo thought maybe the plot had deviated for good. But now this?
Granted, in the original novel, Yiseo had been a lively, confident character who turned out to be soft and innocent underneath. It wasn’t quite the same as the current situation—but still. He couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
It felt like the original storyline was forcing events into place, one way or another.
“…Hmm.”
Because the space was small, even Ethan’s quiet hum sounded loud. When Yiseo looked at him questioningly, Ethan tilted his head slightly.
“I was just thinking—I haven’t really had many chances to talk to you, Yiseo. Most of the time, I’m speaking with Natalie. Now that I think about it… was that intentional on your part?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.”
Sharp. And he was right.
Yiseo had been keeping a certain distance. He wanted to stay close enough to be part of Ethan’s circle, but not so close as to draw too much attention. It was a delicate balance—one that was hard to maintain.
What he wanted from Ethan and the other characters was something like, “Ah, Yeon Yiseo? Yeah, I know him.” Just enough recognition to secure a solid reference when he eventually left Dymine.
At the same time, he needed to avoid developing into anything romantic like in the original story. Which meant keeping their interactions to a minimum.
Watching the elevator numbers rise quickly, Yiseo found himself silently thankful that his stop was getting closer.
