Someone Cried and Laughed

Gulp.

The sound of swallowing rang out loudly, echoing down her throat.

It was a true three-way confrontation, gathering Woo-gyeom, Dong-hyun, and Eun-jae all in one place. The setting was the CEO’s office at Delight Entertainment. Eun-jae sat there as if in a dream—in an office that no one short of a top celebrity would normally have any reason to enter.

“Is this your first time at Delight?”

“Wh-what? Yes, sir!”

It was Dong-hyun who reacted with absurd intensity to Woo-gyeom’s casually tossed question. His frozen, terrified face looked comical.

Walking out while running a finger across the pristine, dustless surface of the office table, Woo-gyeom replied with a smirk.

“As far as it feeling unfamiliar goes, we’re about the same. I don’t stop by here very often either.”

“Excuse me?”

Woo-gyeom’s comment was essentially an admission of the grim rumors that constantly floated around: that he was a co-CEO in name only while the eldest son, Hyun-sung, did all the actual work, and that no one even knew where the second son, Woo-gyeom, spent his time—all of that gossip.

On the grand table, two copies of a contract and a single pen were neatly laid out. Next to them sat their respective cups of coffee, but neither Eun-jae nor Dong-hyun dared to even take a sip.

“So you’re saying you’re truly going to pay off her entire penalty fee and take her with you?”

‘For someone like Lee Eun-jae?’ The unspoken continuation of his thought seemed perfectly audible in the sidelong glance Dong-hyun threw her way.

Eun-jae peeked at Dong-hyun’s expression. He looked delighted. Because of that, she felt a wave of wretchedness.

She fidgeted with her hands, which were clasped tightly together. Today of all days, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly ashamed of her skinny jeans with the gaping holes at the knees. Her worn-out sneakers, her frayed bag—everything about her felt sorrowful.

Dong-hyun picked up the pen without delay and signed the contract. Every condition, including the penalty fee, was settled cleanly in an instant.

“This is the biggest profit you’ve ever brought in for me. The penalty fee, I mean.”

Dong-hyun grinned widely. Eun-jae forced the corners of her mouth up, carving out a smile that felt utterly hollow. It struck her how a relationship of over a year of working together could end so ruthlessly.

Moments that had felt dreamily joyful just yesterday now seemed incredibly distant.

She couldn’t bring herself to raise her eyes and look at Woo-gyeom. After hesitating and wavering internally multiple times, she finally gathered her resolve and slowly lifted her head. When she did, her gaze collided straight with his.

Woo-gyeom was resting his chin on his arm, quietly watching her. There was no telling how long he had been staring.

Flustered, Eun-jae buried her head down, and Woo-gyeom frowned as if her attitude displeased him.

Dong-hyun capped the pen, set it down gently in its place, and nudged Eun-jae with his elbow. It was an action completely devoid of consideration. Because his elbow accidentally brushed near her chest, Eun-jae flinched, her shoulders trembling in surprise.

“Thanks for your hard work all this time.”

“What? Oh, yes. Thank you.”

In truth, she wasn’t thankful at all. Her time with him had been riddled with nothing but heartbreak and disappointment. Yet, Eun-jae offered her greeting while pushing all her resentment deep down inside.

It was so clean. Dong-hyun’s departure was so utterly transactional that it made Eun-jae feel like a completely insignificant person. Someone stuck in an ambiguous limbo—neither an actress nor a trainee.

Eun-jae curled her fingers into fists. Because she had been channeling all her strength into them, her fingertips had turned stark white. She pulled her hands a little further into her sleeves.

“The contract termination is fully settled. If the CEO happens to have some time, perhaps a meal…”

Fawning, Dong-hyun trailed off awkwardly. It seemed he wanted to prolong the conversation, and by extension, stretch out a connection with Woo-gyeom. He parted his lips several times trying to keep the dialogue going, but Woo-gyeom showed no intention of reciprocating.

Closing the contract in front of him, Woo-gyeom stood up from his seat. It was a send-off that managed to be polite yet dismissive all at once.

Dong-hyun wiped his hands against his pants several times and tentatively extended a hand for a handshake, but Woo-gyeom looked right at it and blatantly ignored it.

Watching Dong-hyun’s pathetic gesture, Eun-jae bit her lip to suppress a laugh. It actually made her feel a bit better.

Instead of speaking to Dong-hyun, Woo-gyeom addressed Eun-jae first.

“Lee Eun-jae-ssi.”

“Yes!”

Feeling as though her inner thoughts had been caught, Eun-jae answered with an unusually startled jump. Woo-gyeom was deliberately ignoring Dong-hyun while speaking directly to her.

‘CEO? President? What should I call him?’ Eun-jae hesitated, her face tight with awkwardness. But Woo-gyeom continued, unbothered.

“You will realize soon enough that today was the wisest choice you’ve made in your entire life.”

Eun-jae blinked her eyes slowly. The voice, which sounded bordering on arrogant, was unflinchingly steady.

“And CEO Kim Dong-hyun.”

“Yes? Yes!”

“The day you regret today will come very soon. By next week, at the earliest.”

“Re-regret?”

“I’ll show you exactly how high she can rise without stripping down or handing herself over. It’s going to be entertaining.”

Dong-hyun’s face flushed a mottled red. His hand, which had been hovering awkwardly in midair, dropped instantly.

Thud.

The door clicked shut timidly. Imagining Dong-hyun’s expression—not even daring to slam the door hard on his way out—struck her as somewhat amusing.

Color finally returned to Eun-jae’s fingertips. When she lifted her head with a expression that was much brighter yet visibly more tense than before, she locked eyes with Woo-gyeom once again.

Only now did she get a proper look at Woo-gyeom during this, their second meeting.

When looking into entertainment agencies, there are places that catch your eye even if you don’t actively search for them. One of the top three agencies in South Korea—and the one most talked about not because of its celebrities, but because of its head—was none other than Delight.

She had already known that the two brothers who ran Delight as co-CEOs were renowned for being “more actor-like than their actual actors.” However, Eun-jae had never expected to meet them, nor did she have the luxury to care. Because of that, she was only confirming those rumors today.

Woo-gyeom was strikingly young to hold the title of CEO, and just as the rumors dictated, he was exceptionally handsome. His shirt, buttoned meticulously all the way to the top, his pristine tie, and his tailored suit fit him with near-perfect precision. In contrast to his neat, almost ascetic attire, his languid facial expression carried a distinct undercurrent of sexiness.

While he gave off a soft impression at a glance, his eyes were sharp, and the corner of his mouth curved up coolly when he smiled.

Stealing a glance at his sculpted profile, Eun-jae belatedly averted her gaze. Woo-gyeom smirked, and Eun-jae squeezed her eyes shut, thinking she had given herself away. Woo-gyeom’s light, breezy laughter drifted down over her head.

Conversely, Woo-gyeom took his time scanning Eun-jae before letting out a low sigh.

“First of all, let’s change your salon.”

His low, grounded voice sounded strangely seductive. It was also the first personal remark he had offered her today.

Eun-jae’s face flushed a belated crimson. It felt as though her shabby appearance had become an outright nuisance.

Yet, Woo-gyeom wasn’t looking at her clothes, shoes, or bag. His piercing gaze moved like that of an analytical observer.

Unconsciously, Eun-jae brought her heels together and stood up straight. She gripped the strap of her bag tightly, as if it might snap if she applied any more pressure.

Woo-gyeom’s eyes appeared cold, but they burned like the hottest blue flame. His frigid, businesslike gaze swept across her entire body.

The first thing to catch his eye was her worn-out sneakers. Next was the short-sleeved t-shirt, the jeans, and a bag that was far too ragged to pass as “vintage.”

Despite all that, she didn’t look miserable or destitute.

The slightly loose t-shirt actually accentuated her sharply defined collarbones, her full bust, and her pale skin. The tight skinny jeans highlighted her smooth thighs, slender calves, and exceptionally thin ankles. Below the short sleeves, her slender arms and wrists, combined with the way her loose jeans draped even with the shirt tucked into her waist, laid her vulnerability completely bare.

His gaze began to shift again, moving very slowly from the bottom up. Simultaneously, Eun-jae’s eyes began to wander anxiously.

Within her small, slender face, her delicate features were perfectly balanced. However, throughout his assessment, Eun-jae kept her gaze firmly lowered, obscuring her eyes entirely. That detail irritated Woo-gyeom significantly.

Woo-gyeom shifted exactly half a step to the side. His stride was wide enough due to his long legs that he didn’t need to move any further.

At the slight sound of his footstep and the shadow suddenly cast over her, Eun-jae finally looked up.

“Ah!”

Eun-jae gasped, visibly startled. Surprised by Woo-gyeom’s sudden proximity, she jerked her upper body backward—a reaction pronounced enough that it could easily have offended someone else.

“Is looking down a habit of yours?”

“What?”

“Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

Eun-jae asked in return with an awkward smile—highly ambiguous and clumsy. Woo-gyeom found it deeply unappealing.

“Lee Eun-jae-ssi.”

Woo-gyeom’s voice held immense authority. Paralyzed by a gaze that seemed to entirely overpower her, Eun-jae ended up acting like someone completely out of her depth.

Sensing his obsessive scrutiny, she reflexively took a step backward as she answered.

“Yes, wha—!”

Flop.

Eun-jae’s heel caught on the sofa she had been sitting on earlier, causing her to tumble back onto the cushions.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Out of all things, the contract sitting on the table caught her eye. ‘He isn’t going to call off the deal, is he?’ Eun-jae darted her eyes upward to look at Woo-gyeom. Their gazes locked.

He stood there at a tilted angle. His handsome face, now visibly etched with displeasure, looked entirely different from moments ago. He looked like a villain holding all the cards.

Woo-gyeom slowly leaned forward, gripping the top frame of the sofa Eun-jae was sitting on. In an instant, the distance shrank so dramatically they were close enough to kiss.

“CEO?”

Eun-jae shrank back completely, her fingertips starting to tremble reflexively.

But that was where he stopped. Woo-gyeom halted right at that unavoidable, breathless distance. He mocked her with a sharp question.

“If I told you right now that we should sleep together on this office sofa, would you answer me that ambiguously?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m asking if you would actually do it if I told you to strip down and roll around right here.”

Without realizing it, Eun-jae had crossed her arms over her chest in a self-protective gesture. Consequently, her cleavage gathered prominently beneath her loose t-shirt.

Woo-gyeom’s gaze flicked over it. However, it was merely an unavoidable consequence of it being in his line of sight; he remained entirely unfazed.

Straightening his posture, Woo-gyeom offered a stern piece of advice.

“From now on, answer me clearly.”

Eun-jae stared back at him, forcing strength into her eyes. A single remark from him felt heavy enough to bring tears to her eyes.

As if he hadn’t expected an answer in the first place, he added.

“Don’t trail off, don’t hesitate, and don’t question me back. People will take it as a sign of weakness. They do that to women even more, and even more so if they are beautiful.”

A beautiful woman.

It was the first genuine compliment Woo-gyeom had let slip to Eun-jae, but the words drifted away unnoticed by either of them.

Leaving Eun-jae sitting on the sofa looking half-disoriented, Woo-gyeom picked up the contract from the table. As he flipped through it page by page as if to review it one more time, Eun-jae’s anxious gaze darted around frantically.

Eun-jae bolted upright from the sofa. It felt wrong to remain seated there any longer. She bowed deeply and formally.

“I will keep your words firmly in mind. I am sorry.”

Eun-jae’s voice still trembled slightly, but she no longer hesitated as she had before.

Woo-gyeom gave a brief nod. Bowing once more to his back, Eun-jae grabbed the doorknob.

“And just as a preventative measure,” he said indifferently, as if the scenario was highly unlikely. “Balancing this with another job is strictly prohibited under the contract.”

Eun-jae’s eyes widened. For the first time, a look of dismay washed over her face. Keeping his focus entirely on the text of the contract, he added casually.

“If you’re currently working a part-time job or anything else, wrap it up in advance. You won’t be able to do them anyway once your face gets recognized.”

Eun-jae didn’t answer. She simply pressed her lips together tightly, looking thoroughly at a loss.