Chapter Text
Season II; Lee Yeon Jae & Managing Dir. Park
In the weeks that followed (Seo Dong Jae’s rescue), it seemed like they had no more opportunities to be alone together. He didn’t volunteer for any more special projects. So many threats handily dispatched themselves, and Director Park thought to himself how simple it had all been without maneuverings; how relieved he had been that while Lee Young Jae was ruthless, she wasn’t a killer.
He shook himself from the reverie he had fallen into. The car glided through the streets on the way to dinner. In the dark, city lights reflected off sleek, glass buildings. It was a dinner in an upscale party venue; the sort of dinner where business would only be obliquely discussed, and partners were welcome. She would go alone.
But he would wait for her. He gave the driver the night off. After the dinner, she was tipsy and nauseated. The food wasn’t very good. She was quiet, subdued, and there was a faint sheen on her forehead and upper lip; as he drove, she seemed to doze off... . but her sleep seemed fitful. On arriving at her townhouse, he carefully parked the car and briskly walked around to the rear passenger door to help her. He reached across her for her sparkling clutch— an item at odds with her self-sufficient nature. It could barely hold a cellphone or keys. Oh, right. There is another bag also in the car, a characteristically tailored number, all burgundy leather and contrasting trim.
With his hand firmly under her elbow, he guided her through the door.
In the years since her one true love had died, Lee Young Jae had assessed, and reassessed her life several times. She didn’t blame him. Nor did she blame herself. She had come to realize that things happened. Life happened. And so much of it was beyond the control she had tried to exert. She had tried to do things: sneaking around, manipulating the narrative, visiting witnesses, checking up on everyone. And it nearly drove her mad. In the end, she concluded she was suffering from housewife disease. She could hardly recognize herself. The hopeful young woman she had been, compared to the jaded, middle-aged person. Oh, she didn’t look middle-aged. Her nearly religious skincare routine and shunning of sun exposure ensured that she had very few fine lines, no spots anywhere, and any hairs that even dreamed of sprouting on her delicate chin are lasered away into oblivion.
But what had taken her from that jealous, suspicious, desperate woman to the confident mogul she is today? Lots of Pilates and a good therapist. One of her closest frenemies had recommended therapy offhandedly sometime after her husband’s funeral.
“Honey, you don’t look so good. I know you loved him, but you shouldn’t still be looking like this,” said Mi Kyung. She had always been known in their private school for her backhanded compliments. But this was an outright insult.
Yeon Jae waited for the waiter to pass out goblets of water to the three women seated at the table. The Italian restaurant wasn’t known for its great food, but rather its elegance and seclusion.
“When I finally lost my Dae Hyun, I wasn’t as relieved as I thought I would be. I was glad his suffering was over, but I just couldn’t do the fun things anymore. No golfing, no shopping. Omo! It was terrible. I didn’t even want to go to the spa,” said Mi Kyung.
“I’m fine, though. I came out to see you girls, didn’t I? I don’t know what you mean,” protested Yeon Jae.
Then someone else, Ha Na, suggested “Oh just get a therapist. I know I know, you’re not crazy, but when I lived in New York, all my friends were seeing a therapist. It really helps you to deal with things you can’t tell your friends, or your family, and Yeon Jae, you’ve been through so much. You really don’t look good,” said Ha Na.
Yeon Jae laughed as cheerfully as she could manage. “Ha Na you’re always so forthcoming.”
“It’s no big deal. I’m over it, I feel better. I can do all the things I want to, again. Everybody has trouble dealing with things once in a while. . .I mean if Chang Joon had someone to talk to—” Ha Nacouldn’t finish the sentence and instead a gulp of her water.
Mi-Kyoung and Ha Na fell silent after that; perhaps they realized that their mouths had rambled off without checking with their brain. Mi Kyoung’s cheeks were only slightly less pink than her manicured nails. Ha Na suddenly checked something in her phone.
“Should we order some desserts?” Yeon Jae deftly changed the topic and got everyone talking about their diets and exercise regimens. She was partial to Pilates, but if she was honest, hadn’t been near a studio in many, many months. Her personal equipment at home also gathered dust.
But the next thing she knew, she was turning up at the office early every day and the next time she even looked in the back of her closet, the whole raft of pills she had for every nervous condition known to mankind had all expired. She didn’t need them. Didn’t need alcohol. Didn’t need anything more than a strong cup of tea when her energy threatened to flag. Her new position was enervating. In retrospect, it wouldn’t have been Chang Joon’s fault at all.
Back in the car now. . .
Yeon Jae reflected quietly on how far she had come, but her reverie was broken by their arrival at her townhome. Director Park seemed to think she was entirely drunk and half asleep, and she allowed him to think just that.
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Director Park helped Lee Young Jae to her sofa. She first leaned heavily on him as she removed her pointed-toe pumps and didn’t put on the waiting kitten-heeled slippers by the door. Instead, she shifted quietly across the floor in her stockinged feet and hesitated by a smallish blush velvet sofa. The entire room was decorated in soft, feminine earth tones. There were a couple of modern-looking, simple lamps with understated shades in low-volume fabrics. The light that came from them didn’t shine so much as it glowed. Although the room was simple, it had been carefully and studiously decorated.
As she uncharacteristically slumped onto the sofa, Director Park wondered where he should put himself, whether he should leave immediately, or ask what she might need before he saw himself off. His concern was interrupted when she spoke.
“Would you like some tea?”
He wasn’t startled so much as confused. Would he like some tea? He wasn’t sure. Did he like tea? He liked her. He was neutral on tea. So, yes. He nodded curtly and backed it up with the slightest affirmative he could muster so as not to sound too eager.
“Alright, fix me one, too.” The kitchen was visible from where he stood, and an electric kettle was in plain sight. He walked over to the countertop in only a few steps and caught sight of a small tray with tea things sitting neatly. This was going to be easy.
After he prepared both cups of ginger lemon tea with honey, he sat where she had motioned to him. He held his tea without drinking it.
She looked deep into her cup, as if she could see something in it beyond just a pale yellow drink. Then, she spoke.
“You never talk about yourself,” she said as she inclined her head toward him. Suddenly, she was more lucid than he had imagined. He supposed there is a point where a buzz fades away. But she had been ill, too. The tea must have been working.
He shrugs and inclines his head, asking, “What do you want to know?”
"It’s not that I’m curious about you, per se. It’s more that I’m curious as to why you’re so unambitious. By now, you should be making some kind of move."
He wasn’t surprised. By anyone else’s estimation, he should have made a move by now. But, that wasn’t his goal here. He had reached a point where he could go further but didn’t want to. Any move he made now would take him away from her. But he wouldn’t say that.
“I see” was his economical response. With the slightest smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, he replied that he was quite challenged and satisfied with his work. And that he was loyal to the company, and to her.
“Ahhh, so I see.” She crossed one knee over the other and leaned back slightly. Tilting her head to study him, she continued. “Or is it that the position you want isn’t yet available”?
Could she mean hers?
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She immediately changed her tack upon seeing the look that crossed his face. Somehow, he was unable to control his expression completely, and Director Park allowed a soft sadness to creep over him, in spite of himself.
Later, when she recalled this night, it would be because of that look. It caused her to move to reassure him. Her delicately manicured fingertips rested lightly on his sleeve. It caused him to incline his head. She shifted on the couch a little. He cleared his throat, and sipped his cooling tea.
“I know you only want what is best for the company.”
“That’s not it really.”
“Well, I hope you didn’t take offense. You’ve been instrumental in so much since I started.”
“Of course not. It would take a lot more than that to offend me. I just wish that you could see the potential we have.”