Chapter 13. Humiliation

“Sir! I brought your clothes!”

Shin Dong-hun burst through the door, panting, then froze.

Because of the man standing in the middle of the room.

“Oh, you’re here?”

Every time Gwon-ha shook his wet hair, the water clung to his triceps, highlighting them like shadows in a sculpture.

His wide shoulders, hardened through years of intense workouts, flexed with intimidating strength.

Below that, his back muscles were perfectly defined, tapering down to his firm, well-shaped glutes.

His muscular legs swelled against the towel as if it might snap any moment.

His body was a textbook inverted triangle.

Perfect enough to inspire awe in another man.

‘Why does his body look even better than before?’

Maybe it was an illusion caused by the small room, but his body looked even bigger than usual.

In the three years he’d worked as his secretary, he’d seen that body countless times, yet somehow it looked more impressive than just a few days ago.

‘Did he work out this morning or something?’

As Shin Dong-hun was silently admiring him, Gwon-ha slowly turned around.

Their eyes met and the secretary sucked in a breath and turned his head sharply.

He swallowed nervously.

“S-sorry, sir.”

“Sorry? What for. Of course your eyes would go there.”

“Yes, anyone would. Men, women, young or old.”

“Right? There’s a lot to look at, isn’t there?”

Shin Dong-hun nodded rapidly without daring to turn back.

Gwon-ha, looking satisfied, began putting on the clothes his secretary had brought.

‘Yeah, this is the reaction I should be getting.’

His bruised ego from earlier finally felt a little soothed.

But as he buttoned his shirt, the scene from earlier replayed vividly in his head.

His smile faded as her cold voice echoed again.

‘For someone who committed optical terrorism this early in the morning, you’re awfully full of yourself. And quite a lot of it too.’

With one line, she’d branded him a public menace.

‘I don’t know. There’s not much to look at.’

She’d said there was nothing worth seeing.

Even as annoyance bubbled, the thing that truly baffled him was…

‘Chun-ja.’

Her smile toward that perverted cat had been so radiant.

She wasn’t even smiling at him, so why… why?

Before he could define the feeling, his heart pounded wildly.

As he buttoned his shirt, his hand pressed against his chest again.

Her image floated in his mind, refusing to fade.

‘She’s a rat-catcher.’

Ugh. Goosebumps ran down his arms again.

The memory of that dead rat dangling from her small hand snapped his thoughts off.

He waved his hand through the air as if shooing away the memory, furrowing his brow deeply.

As he stumbled back, the towel at his waist nearly slipped loose.

‘At least I didn’t scream.’

Not screaming in that situation put him beyond the average man.

But no matter how he tried to rationalize it, her mocking tone wouldn’t leave his head.

Those cold, emotionless eyes either.

Ha, seriously…

“Kang Gwon-ha, of all people, suffering this kind of humiliation.”

“Huh? Bath?”

His secretary’s misunderstanding made him snort through his teeth.

He’d already finished putting on his vest and grabbed his jacket.

“Let’s just go eat.”

* * *

Do-ah returned to the inner quarters and changed clothes.

She couldn’t go to the kitchen wearing something covered in ash and dirt.

Her gaze lingered on the clothes she’d just taken off.

Wet patches stained them all over. It was a mess. Well, she had been pressed against his wet body…

“…I’ll have to wash these tonight.”

She pulled her eyes away from the clothes soaked with the water from his skin, unaware that the edges of her ears had turned slightly red. She stepped out of the room.

She made her way to the communal kitchen at Ihwado-ga.

By 5 a.m., the lights in the adjacent cooking room always came on.

They had to prepare breakfast for the staff by 6 a.m.

When she entered, Aunt Jeong-ja greeted her first.

“Do-ah, you’re here.”

“Good morning, Auntie. What should I do first?”

“There’s a guest, so we’ve got more to prep. We’re making dried pollack soup and braised mushrooms today. Help with the pollack.”

“Okay.”

Both the live-in residents of Ihwado-ga and the commuting workers ate here.

Breakfast usually consisted of soup, kimchi, and two side dishes.

It was much simpler than dinner, but the taste was so good that no one ever complained.

Well, almost no one.

‘What’s with the side dishes, Auntie. I told you I’m vegan. At least make me a fried egg.’

Yeon-ah once made such a ridiculous demand without even understanding what vegan meant.

‘Yeah, we need some meat dishes too. What is this, a monastery? How can anyone work eating just greens?’

Back when Kim Yi-hwa and Yeon-ah’s family lived together, they complained about the food every meal.

Since Eun-ja ate separately in the inner quarters, they treated the kitchen staff like their personal servants.

When they got caught, they were scolded harshly, but their superiority complex didn’t change.

It wasn’t until the family left to follow the son-in-law’s business ambitions that things finally quieted down.

Two years had passed since they moved away.

Meals at Ihwado-ga were peaceful now.

“Do-ah, why are you out here? You’re not on duty today. Go back in. We’ll handle this…”

One of the kitchen ajummas looked at Do-ah as she stir-fried the pollack.

Aunt Jeong-ja, who was tearing oyster mushrooms, waved her off.

“Let her be. Has Do-ah ever made a fuss about helping? Hey Do-ah, go get some cubed radish kimchi from the jar. Move it.”

Do-ah reluctantly handed over the spatula, took the container Jeong-ja held out, and left the kitchen.

Escaping the hot and humid room, the late spring breeze felt as refreshing as autumn air.

She paused, letting the wind hit her face, staring down at the small side dish container in her hands.

“The radish kimchi’s in the fridge though…”

The container was far too small to hold enough for twenty people.

They were clearly giving her an excuse to step outside for a bit.

Thanks to Aunt Jeong-ja’s thoughtfulness, she could take a brief breath of fresh air.

As she stepped on the fallen pear blossoms and looked up, dark clouds filled the sky.

“Looks like rain.”

Of all times, it had to rain now when they were supposed to start making Gumu-tteok.

Making Gumu-tteok inside the restricted inner area was a task reserved only for the heir.

Gumu-tteok, along with pear-blossom yeast, was a crucial ingredient for Cheondo Ihwaju, the premium traditional liquor once offered to kings.

It could only be brewed when the pear blossoms bloomed.

Because of the meticulous process, only about 800 bottles were produced each year.

Every step from ingredient preparation to fermentation was done by the Master Brewer and the heir.

Its rarity made Cheondo Ihwaju so valuable that it was booked out for years in advance.

It was Ihwado-ga’s signature.

“This could mess up the yeast too.”

She realized she should check the yeast room again.

Humidity was their biggest enemy on rainy days.

“I need to adjust the humidity in the pear-blossom yeast room.”

They would be brewing Cheondo Ihwaju within days. If the yeast went bad now, it would be disastrous.

She changed her path toward the yeast room.

As raindrops began to fall through the dark clouds, her pace quickened.

Her injured ankle was protesting again, but she barely noticed through her urgency.

When she arrived at the yeast room, she hurriedly took off her shoes and opened the door.

“…Huh?”

Her eyes wavered when she checked the hygrometer.

Someone had tampered with it. Exactly the way she would have done.

“Was it… Aunt Sumi?”

But Aunt Sumi wasn’t the type to adjust the controls with such precision, predicting rainfall and humidity.

The only person capable of such exact adjustments was…

“No one but me…”

Who had been here?

She scanned the room, filled with the sour-sweet scent of yeast, then stepped back outside.

Her suspicion only deepened.

“…!”

A fresh scent drifted in on the wind.