Assistant Manager Lee's scolding poured through the receiver for quite a while.
But Yoojin straightened her back and accepted every sharp word.
"Yes, sir. I'll take care of everything today."
When the call finally ended, she pressed her stiff eyelids with both palms.
Her nerves loosened all at once.
Only then did she remember the grapefruit tea on her desk. When she reached for it, it was still faintly warm.
When she opened the lid, the refreshing scent filled her lungs and soothed her aching chest. The bittersweet citrus slipped down her throat, easing her tension by a fraction.
She suddenly felt guilty. She had snapped at Dongha earlier even though he'd brought the tea for her.
After hesitating, she stood up and approached his desk.
On his screen, a detailed choreography guide was open—notes, formations, cautions, everything meticulously organized. Something even Samho Apparel didn't have, yet Dongha was drafting it effortlessly.
Sensing her presence, he looked up.
His deep eyes—sometimes tinged with violet—were pitch black today as they settled on her.
"You okay?"
He asked her softly.
"…Yeah. I'm fine."
Her voice was hoarse.
She wasn't fine. But she tried her best to sound normal.
Reading her expression, Dongha slowly reached out and took her left hand.
They had held hands countless times—during ballet, during salsa lessons—but somehow this time her cheeks burned.
When she tried to pull away, he tightened his hold just slightly and tugged her fingertips.
Then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of her pale hand.
"D-Dongha…?"
She stammered, startled.This was the office.This wasn't okay.She felt as if invisible coworkers were watching them.
But Dongha kept his lips there for a quiet moment, then drew back slowly.
"Dongha, don't. I only think of you as a friend."
She said the words she'd rehearsed all night. But instead of looking hurt, Dongha smiled—gently, as if she were adorable.
"Sorry, Yoojin. But I can't do that."
Yoojin's mind went blank. This wasn't the reaction she expected.
He let out a quiet breath.
"I'll always be here. If you need me, just come."
Before she could respond, the elevator chimed in the distance—someone arriving early on a Saturday.
Startled, Yoojin jerked her hand away and quickly returned to her desk.
She had work to do—errors to fix, backlogs to clear—but her face burned from Dongha's sudden gesture and words.
"Oh—Yoojin? Dongha too? You guys came in?"
It was Yoon Sun-young. She looked closely at Yoojin and tilted her head.
"Are you okay? Your face is so red."
Yoojin forced a pained expression and blurted,
"Senior… I made a mistake. A big ordering mistake."
"Ah…"
Sun-young nodded as if Yoojin's red face made perfect sense now.
And she began sharing stories of her own past ordering disasters in an attempt to comfort her.
Sun-young's arrival seemed to push Dongha out the door.He said he needed to stop by his parents' house and left quickly.
His expression was heavier than usual, but Yoojin couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes had sparkled when he looked at her. Maybe she was imagining it.
Once he left, Yoojin finally managed to concentrate.
An email from the vendor arrived. The color-quantity issue could be fixed—they hadn't started dyeing yet.
Only the kilogram-conversion mistake remained. A mistake worth roughly 18 million won. The weight of it settled on her shoulders.
She found the number of the Taiwan vendor's representative, Chen, at the bottom of the email.
After a short ring, Chen answered warmly, as if Saturday calls were nothing unusual. Yoojin explained that due to someone's personal circumstances, the details had not been double-checked properly before the order was sent out.
Unlike his stiff emails, Chen was relaxed and kind. He said such mistakes happened all the time, that he would check the dyed quantities and get back to her, and told her not to worry.
Yoojin was amazed—and ashamed. Her mistake was giving them more work.
And yet the comfort she couldn't receive from her own managers… she received from an overseas vendor she hadn't even met.
As each issue was resolved, Yoojin realized something: Her anxiety and fear had been eating her alive. But once she faced the problems, they were far smaller than she'd imagined.
Just like before calling Assistant Manager Lee—everything eventually passed.
— Yoojin. Is everything going okay?
A message from Dongha.
— Yeah. Thanks for worrying. Things are getting resolved somehow.
— Good. I have something for you. I'll leave it in the studio. Come by today or tomorrow.
— Something for me? I feel bad. I keep receiving things from you.
— It's nothing.
— I really won't have time today. I'm swamped.
Her desk proved it—orders, request sheets, swatches, defects, everything piled up.
— It's okay. Come when you can.
Yoojin tapped her phone absent-mindedly, then pushed it aside and returned to her work.
Late that afternoon, Dongha was at the Hongdae practice room, reviewing Uni-X's choreography with a razor-sharp expression.
The routine had fallen apart.
They were fixing the formation centered around Kei, the leader, and it had already been two hours.
"What happened? You ruined everything we practiced!"
Dongha snapped, calling out members by name.
They would debut in four months.
Henry, a world-renowned dancer and choreographer, had been brought in—but he wasn't familiar with Korean idol-style precision group dances.
So Dongha had been asked to step back in.
If Uni-X was struggling this badly, Inox was surely in trouble too.
Would Yoojin come to the studio today?
If he reviewed both groups, he wouldn't finish until after midnight.
He grew anxious.
Every member had spent three to five years as a trainee.
Debut survival meant everything—years of investment for the company, and their futures depended on the success of the first album.
"If your first album flops, you'll end up back in your hometown working at convenience stores or PC cafés."
The members' eyes sharpened instantly.
It wasn't an exaggeration. They'd all seen failed groups end in quiet tragedy.
"Alright. Again."
The five stood in position and glared at their reflections, preparing to restart.
Yet even while watching their movements, Dongha kept picturing Yoojin—sitting alone at her desk, apologizing over and over with a bowed head.
The girl who once shone brightest on stage… looking so small.
It made something twist violently inside him.
Earlier, he had stopped by his parents' house to get something he wanted to give her.
When he ran into his older brother, Chairman Yoon Taeyoung, the man looked oddly happy to see him.
"Back already?"
"Just picking something up."
"How's the intern? Doing well?"
Taeyoung's lips twitched with restrained satisfaction.
He probably liked the fact that Dongha had joined Samho Group.
Dongha found even that irritating.
"She's fine. And you?"
"Me?"
Taeyoung stared at him—surprised that Dongha had even asked.
"You doing alright at the top? I heard Samho Apparel's a mess these days."
"Apparel is a mess?"
Dongha smirked at his brother's shock.
"Don't you want to know what's really going on? …Ah, never mind. You probably don't."
"What?"
"Where's the Vice Chairman who used to scold you nonstop?"
"You—"
Their gazes clashed—cold and sharp.
For the first time, they faced each other like opposing predators, each guarding its territory.
If Taeyoung was the reigning beast, Dongha was the young one finally discovering his own claws.
After a tense silence, Taeyoung suddenly burst out laughing—loud and hearty.
"Hah! Good. I like that you're taking interest in the company."
Dongha stared at him, baffled.
His brother had always been like that—no matter how much raw hostility Dongha threw, the man acted as if it couldn't hurt him.
"The Vice Chairman is doing well. Think of it as a sabbatical. And I'll look into Apparel's situation."
Dongha didn't answer. He simply turned away and headed upstairs.
He had something important to find—something he needed to give Yoojin.
Back in the studio, he slipped a hand into his pocket and felt it again. It wasn't much. But if it brought her even the smallest bit of comfort…
He wanted to give it to her right away.