The eyes of the office employees briefly gathered on Dongha, then quickly dispersed again.
They probably thought his long legs had gotten in the way and he'd accidentally bumped into the wall.
What a mess.
Dongha ran both hands roughly through his hair, then sent a message as if nothing had happened.
[There's nothing to misunderstand.]
Yoojin didn't reply.
Her silence felt like acceptance to him.
He decided to interpret it that way.
Dongha waited for Yoojin to finish work, carefully wrapping up the tasks assigned to him—slowly, but meticulously.
He even finalized the sample receiving and warehouse management documents for the new part-timer that would start soon.
It was organized exactly in the style that the Overseas Procurement Team needed.
Thinking it would help Yoojin, he smiled in satisfaction.
*
It was close to midnight.
Since it was Friday night, everyone had already gone home.
Only Dongha and Yoojin remained in the large, empty office.
Dongha looked around the quiet workspace—his ears flushing red with a strange anticipation.
After hesitating for a moment, he approached her.
Yoojin was hunched over her desk, staring intently at something.
"When are you going home?"
Dongha asked softly.
Yoojin didn't move.
"Hmm?"
At the gentle prompting, she finally lifted her head—and Dongha froze.
Her eyes were wet. Her nose was pink. Her entire face looked flushed and strained.
She had been crying.
Alarmed, Dongha immediately dropped to his knees beside her chair, meeting her downcast gaze.
"What happened?"
Yoojin grimaced as if overwhelmed, and her trembling voice spilled out with a sharp sob.
"Dongha, I… I messed up a purchase order."
Her pale face was filled with despair.
*
Around 11 p.m., the final supplier—based in Taiwan—sent a reply.
It was short and blunt: The yard and weight information on the PO were wrong.
The dyeing process had already started.
Meaning: the wrong production was already underway.
Yoojin's fingers shook violently as she checked the PO again.
She had typed the weights in kilograms instead of pounds.
1 lb = 0.453592 kg.
She had input kilograms where pounds were required—doubling the actual quantity.
The additional order alone was worth USD 30,000.If correct, it should have been around USD 15,000.
She had just issued an 18-million-won mistake.
She tried calling the supplier, but no one picked up.
After sending an urgent email, she sat frozen at her desk.
"Dongha, what do I do…?"
Her voice broke.
Her normally flawless composure collapsed.
Dongha looked at her with aching concern.
"Yoojin, it's late. Let's talk to Manager Kim and Deputy Manager Lee first thing tomorrow, okay?"
But Yoojin shook her head with a choked breath.
"There's… another mistake."
"Another one?"
"I wrote the wrong quantities for half the colors…"
She explained how she had assumed the Overseas Procurement PO color order matched the Sales Team's color order—so three out of six colors were reversed.
Under-ordered colors would be fine.
Over-ordered colors… were not.
"It's smaller than the weight mistake," Dongha assured gently.
But his mention of "cost" made Yoojin tremble again.
"I'll email them now… I have to report it tomorrow. I have to."
Her shoulder shook violently.
Dongha wanted to wrap her up with both arms, but he clenched his fists instead.
These were her battles to fight.
"Take your time. I'll take you home after."
Yoojin wrote the correction email and could only hope someone at the supplier would check it on Saturday morning.
Otherwise, she'd have to call internationally.
If she hadn't double-checked Kim Jangwoo's old PO folder before sending—this mistake wouldn't have been found until after production or even shipping.
Once she equated the mistake with actual company money, her stomach twisted painfully.
She finally understood what her job truly meant.
She was spending the company's money.
Her mistake—thoughtless, accidental—could burn millions.
"Let's go," Dongha said softly.
"…Okay. Thanks."
She followed him weakly.
*
Near 1 a.m., the city streets were thinning out.
Taxi lights glowed in the quiet Seoul night.
Yoojin fidgeted with the strap of her brown leather crossbody bag.
Her face had calmed, but her swollen eyes betrayed how much she had cried.
Dongha parked gently in front of her home and spoke with the softness of someone soothing a child.
"Are you okay?"
Yoojin turned toward him. Her voice was thin and dry.
"Yeah. Thanks for… worrying."
After a brief silence, she whispered,
"Dongha."
His heart jumped.
"Yeah?"
"…I don't think I can go see the apartments tomorrow."
Dongha nodded.
"That's okay. Any time. We can go whenever."
"But you said you told them… Won't they be waiting for us tomorrow?"
"It's fine. I'll handle it."
(It was his own building, after all.)
"…I shouldn't have been thinking about houses. I got excited for no reason. I just joined the company—why was I even looking at real estate? Why did I let myself get carried away?"
Dongha's expression hardened.
"Yoojin. Look at me."
She didn't answer.
"You have never taken this job lightly. You come in early every morning. You leave past midnight. You're doing everything you can to carry the weight of this job."
"But I still messed up the order…"
"You made two mistakes out of fifteen. And both were approved by your Seniors, right?"
"Well… yes."
"Then the responsibility isn't yours alone. Approval comes with accountability."
His voice was firm—lifting her like a hand on her back.
But Yoojin looked away.
She didn't deserve comfort.
She wouldn't allow herself to accept it.
Then she confessed the guilt pressing hardest on her chest.
"…I was excited. About the apartment. And salsa with Seryun… It doesn't make sense. I joined the company for survival. I came here to endure. I shouldn't be getting distracted."
Dongha shook his head sharply.
"I'm the one who suggested seeing apartments. I'm the one who brought up the studio. And it's only natural to rest on weekends. You didn't do anything wrong."
He folded her guilt like a piece of thin paper and tucked it away.
"Let's report tomorrow. I'll go early too."
"No. You don't need to come. There's nothing you can do."
Her words stung him.
He wanted to carry her burden—but she was refusing him.
"Why shouldn't I be there?" he asked quietly.
"I want to see what you're going through."
"Why? I made the mistakes. Not you."
Dongha's voice cracked with frustration.
"Why can't I be there for you? I just… want to protect you."
Yoojin's brows furrowed.
Emotionally, she was exhausted—his words made her waver more dangerously.
Protect her? Be by her side?
He was crossing a line.
Without thinking, Yoojin snapped.
"Hey. Your girlfriend wouldn't like that."
Dongha froze. His jaw clenched.
He dragged a hand hard through his hair, then spoke slowly, clearly.
"Yoojin. I don't have a girlfriend except for you."
"…What?"
"It's you. Han Yoojin. There is no other girl."
Her breath caught.
"But we're not… dating."
"I was going to tell you tonight," Dongha muttered, palms covering his face.
His voice cracked.
"So I could finally ask you to go out with me…"
His ears burned red.
He had accidentally confessed before he could even ask.
A far bigger "accident" than her POs, echoing in the quiet night.