You say no, you’ll say yes
The radio playing in the car filled the silence with a song that had just the right rhythm—not too loud, not too slow. Seon-woo had never heard the song before, but from the way Seung-hyeon softly hummed along, he clearly knew it. Maybe it was because it was still morning, but that slightly husky tone in his voice made it even more pleasant to hear. When Seon-woo turned to glance at his profile, faintly smiling, Seung-hyeon, who had appeared focused on driving, seemed to notice immediately and looked back at him. Then, flashing Seon-woo a bright grin, he turned his gaze forward again.
Definitely feels like a pro.
That thought drifted through Seon-woo’s mind as he let the music wash over him. Ever since ending up in this body, he had rarely listened to anything other than classical music, but this upbeat track that seemed to rouse the morning was unexpectedly to his taste.
The car, which had been cruising smoothly, began to slow down bit by bit. It was rush hour, and traffic had inevitably thickened. They had left early on purpose, so they wouldn’t be late, but crawling along the main road was still frustrating.
Tapping the steering wheel with his fingers, Seung-hyeon pointed at the pocket in front of the passenger seat and said, “Director, there’s some chocolate in there… could you take it out for me?”
Must be craving something sweet while driving.
That’s cute.
Finding himself amused by even that, Seon-woo obediently opened the pocket. As Seung-hyeon said, there was a small box of chocolates inside. He tilted his head at the orange-accented design and flipped the box over. Just as he thought—illustrations of tangerines and a Dol Hareubang statue.
“Tangerine chocolates, huh?”
“Yup. Would you like some too, Director?”
Seon-woo waved a hand to decline for now and asked, “Where did you get these?”
Tangerine chocolates were the kind of treat you usually only had when you went to Jeju Island. He knew logically that you could just order them online, but his perception hadn’t caught up to that reality.
“Ah, these? Gyeong-cheol handed them out as gifts. He just got back from his honeymoon. They went to Jeju.”
At the mention of the familiar name, Seon-woo’s face stiffened awkwardly as he rifled through his memory. His expression turned into a mixture of guilt and solemnity.
“Ah, that… that coming-of-age ceremony.”
He couldn’t say it casually. The disaster from that night at the karaoke bar flashed through his mind. Hearing Seon-woo’s small voice, Seung-hyeon burst out laughing.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Haha. Did you know? Ever since then, Gyeong-cheol skips the karaoke bar whenever we go out for drinks.”
“Now that he’s married, you could say he owes you one, Director.”
His tone seemed to genuinely absolve Seon-woo of any blame. As he spoke, Seung-hyeon peeled open the chocolate wrapper and popped a piece into his mouth.
“They’re surprisingly good once you start eating them. I might even order more online once I run out.”
Seon-woo’s expression grew subtly intrigued at those words. He suddenly propped his chin on his hand, lost in thought. Noticing this, Seung-hyeon glanced at him sideways and lowered the volume on the radio. It was a gesture that felt second nature—like it had been ingrained in him.
What Seung-hyeon didn’t realize was that his considerate gesture only left Seon-woo feeling more unsettled.
***
The turmoil that had dogged him the entire ride to work didn’t fade even after he arrived at the office. To avoid raising any suspicions about having commuted together, Seung-hyeon had dropped Seon-woo off and planned to circle the block once before entering the building himself.
For some reason, every little detail of Seung-hyeon’s behavior today radiated thoughtfulness. And the more obvious that became, the deeper Seon-woo’s sighs grew.
“Director, is something wrong today? If you’re feeling unwell, should I prepare some medicine?”
It had reached the point where even Secretary Park felt compelled to ask.
By now, Secretary Park had been working under Seon-woo long enough that all traces of his newbie status had nearly vanished. The previous secretary’s leave of absence had ended up being much longer than expected, and in the end, she had resigned altogether. While Seon-woo had grown used to working with Secretary Park, the man had always been a bit… peculiar. Even from the day he’d first joined, he often left Seon-woo flustered.
His most notable trait was his utter lack of perceptiveness. Which meant that if even someone like Secretary Park had picked up on Seon-woo’s inner unrest, it must have been showing more clearly than he thought.
“I’m not feeling unwell. No need for medicine.”
“Understood.”
One of Secretary Park’s rare virtues was that he didn’t push further with concerned follow-ups like ‘Then what’s bothering you?’ But unlike usual, Seon-woo was actually in a state where he wanted to confide in someone—anyone.
With only his browser open and nothing else touched, Seon-woo’s monitor remained on the homepage of a portal site. A large banner ad took up the screen, featuring a giant airplane and the text:
[Fly away with your loved one! FINAL BIG SALE of the summer.]
Of course. Just had to be that ad. It was directly related to what had been weighing so heavily on Seon-woo’s mind.
It was already August, the tail end of summer. And summer, of course, meant vacation season. But Gwak Seon-woo had been so caught up in work and the messiness of his love life that he hadn’t properly registered that fact. Only now, when everyone else had already taken and returned from their time off, was the realization finally hitting him.
“…Secretary Park.”
“Yes, Director?”
“Do you have any vacation plans?”
Come to think of it, since joining the company, Secretary Park had never once taken a personal day. And the fact that his own assistant had never taken a proper vacation might’ve subconsciously contributed to Seon-woo suppressing that idea in his own mind as well.
At Seon-woo’s question, Secretary Park responded as if he’d been waiting for it.
“No, I don’t. As I mentioned before, I’d like to focus on work for now. I’m not seeing anyone, after all. So this year, I arranged a trip for just my parents to enjoy some quiet time together.”
His habit of dutifully explaining things no one asked about was still very much intact. With a serious expression, Seon-woo asked,
“If you did have a partner, would you have taken leave?”
“Hmm, I suppose I would have if they wanted me to. Most people want to spend vacation time with their significant other, so the odds are pretty high I would’ve done the same.”
Hearing those words from Secretary Park—someone who seemed utterly devoid of any trace of romantic instinct—only made it sting more. Seon-woo sank into his chair, leaning back with both arms resting on the armrests and his hands clasped.
As Park had just said, vacations were generally spent with a partner. What about Gwak Seung-hyeon? Judging by the way Seung-hyeon had acted last Christmas, the answer was obvious. Without a doubt, he would have wanted to spend summer vacation with Seon-woo.
Then why hadn’t he said a single word about it until now?
…He was being considerate. For me.
The realization that he hadn’t even picked up on that until Seung-hyeon mentioned a teammate’s honeymoon stung all the more. Thinking of how Seung-hyeon must’ve felt—quietly holding back, perhaps even getting hurt—made a dull ache stir in his chest.
After a long pause of silent contemplation, Seon-woo suddenly straightened up in his chair and braced his elbows on the desk. His expression was intense.
“Secretary Park.”
“Yes, Director?”
“Where do you think is a good honeymoon destination?”
His eyes lit up with a single goal: to make Gwak Seung-hyeon happy—no matter what it took.
“If it’s a honeymoon, then I’d say Hawaii or the Maldives would be top choices. Guam or Europe are also quite popular. Personally, if I were to get married in the future, I think I’d pick Hawaii for my honeymoon. Of course, I’d need to align that with my future spouse’s preferences. Europe can be a bit hectic in terms of cost and scheduling, so unless the couple’s personalities match well, it can lead to some rough patches.”
As Park rattled off his answer without a pause, even Seon-woo’s stiff expression began to falter, a flicker of surprise appearing in his eyes. After fumbling for a proper response, he finally managed,
“That’s… quite specific. Sounds like you’ve given it a lot of thought.”
“Hmm… not really. I’m not dating anyone, after all. I just tried to recall everything I’ve heard since you asked.”
Even that—being able to respond so thoroughly without any prior thought—was impressive in its own way. Regardless, it was helpful information. He hadn’t even had a clue where to start when it came to destinations, which was why he’d blurted out the question about honeymoon spots. If it was a place newlyweds would go, then surely it’d be great for a couple’s trip too.
But there was still cleanup to be done.
“But may I ask why you suddenly brought up honeymoon destinations? As far as I know, you don’t have any plans to get married…”
“Ah. One of our staff mentioned going to Jeju Island for their honeymoon, so it just came to mind. Thought I’d ask since the topic was out there.”
Asking about summer vacation and then suddenly jumping to honeymoon destinations with such a serious face—of course it was suspicious. So Seon-woo deliberately responded as casually as possible, pretending it was no big deal.
Luckily, since Park wasn’t the most perceptive person in the world, he didn’t seem to have picked up on anything.
Instead, it seemed he’d misunderstood entirely in a different direction.
“Th-then, could it be that you’re… upset about that employee going on their honeymoon…?”
Secretary Park asked hesitantly, stumbling over his words. Seon-woo frowned, clearly confused, but Park’s face darkened even more—as if he’d reached some bizarre conclusion all on his own.
“Then… did you bring up the vacation thing because of that too…?”
“What? No, I—what are you even—”
“Forget everything I said earlier! Even if I do get a partner one day, I will not take any leave. I will dedicate my entire being to this company!”
…It was clear he had seriously, severely misunderstood something.
But at this point, Seon-woo had no idea where to even begin clarifying—let alone how to explain any of it.
With a long sigh, he turned away and buried his face in the monitor.
