Morning came too fast.
Ji-Ah woke with a groan, dragged herself into the shower, and stood there longer than necessary, water running over her hair.
She dressed quickly after, tugging on her office clothes, fixing her hair into a neat ponytail that still refused to behave.
Breakfast was barely a bite—she sighed, grabbed her bag, and left.
Pip purred to life beneath her.
Ji-Ah hummed softly as she rode, stopping at her usual spot for breakfast before heading to work.
At the office, she greeted Soo-Min with a small smile and sat down, opening her bag, straightening her files.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
Ha-Joon walked in.
Chairs scraped. Everyone stood at once. "Good morning, sir."
Ji-Ah looked up a second late, blinked, then stood too.
He didn't spare her a glance, already heading into his office.
She exhaled quietly.
Coffee.
She went to the mini kitchen, tying her hair back tighter this time. The machine hummed. She focused.
Watched. Adjusted.
Better. Not perfect. But better.
She knocked on his door.
"Come in."
She entered, placed the cup on his desk carefully. He took one sip.
A pause.
"It's improved," he said flatly. "Still needs work."
"I'll do better," she replied, bowing slightly.
She turned to leave.
"Park Ji-Ah."
She stopped instantly.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want you to edit the presentation for the Meridian project," he said, already looking at his screen.
"Fix the layout. Clean the visuals. Bring it to me tomorrow."
Her brows lifted just a fraction. "Understood."
"If you don't understand something," he added, tone unchanged, "ask my P.A., Seo-Jun, or the secretary, Hye-Rin."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
She walked out, door clicking shut behind her.
Ji-Ah let out a slow breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
---
Ji-Ah sat down and stared at the presentation file on her screen.
Charts. Fonts. Way too much gray.
She cracked her knuckles.
"Alright," she murmured. "Let's make you… less boring."
She changed the font.
Deleted three unnecessary slides. Added color. Then frowned, tilted her head, and changed it back.
"No. Too cheerful. He'd hate that."
She leaned closer to the screen, hair slipping forward as she worked, one foot bouncing under the desk.
Minutes passed. She didn't notice when a shadow fell beside her.
A cold can appeared on her desk.
She jumped.
"Oh—!" She looked up to see Soo-Min grinning.
"For survival," Soo-Min said. "You looked like you were about to fight your monitor."
Ji-Ah grabbed the drink immediately.
"You're my hero." She took a sip, sighed in relief. "If I die today, tell the world it was because of fonts."
Soo-Min laughed, leaning against the desk. "So… the boss."
Ji-Ah's fingers paused on the keyboard. "He drinks coffee like it personally offended him."
"That means you're important now."
Ji-Ah snorted. "That means I'm stressed."
She adjusted an image, squinting. "Do you think this is too much?"
Soo-Min glanced at the screen. "For a normal human? No. For him?" She shrugged. "Maybe reduce joy by ten percent."
Ji-Ah nodded seriously. "Right. No joy."
They both laughed quietly.
Ji-Ah took another sip of her drink, straightened in her chair, and went back to work—typing faster now, determination settling in.
--
Ji-Ah swung her leg over Pip and twisted the handle.
Nothing.
She blinked. Twisted it again.
Still nothing.
"…Pip?"
She frowned and tried harder. The engine stayed dead silent.
"Oh, so now you choose silence?" she muttered, tapping the handle. "After everything I've done for you?"
No response.
She crossed her arms. "Fine. Be like that. I feed you fuel. I talk to you. I defend you."
Silence.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're embarrassing me."
She leaned closer.
"Listen. You're the coolest bike in this parking lot. Sleek. Powerful. Very… reliable."
Nothing.
Ji-Ah sighed, pulled on her helmet anyway, then grabbed the handle and started dragging Pip forward, boots scraping against the ground.
"Play hard to get," she grumbled. "I see how it is."
Pip remained unmoved.
Ha-Joon stepped out of the building, keys in hand.
He paused.
Across the lot, Ji-Ah stood beside her motorcycle, helmet on, dragging it forward with a tired sigh. She stopped, said something to it—clearly arguing—then tried the engine again.
Nothing.
She patted the seat. Once. Encouragingly.
Ha-Joon watched for half a second.
Then another.
He raised an eyebrow. Just slightly.
She gave up, shoulders slumping, and started dragging it again.
Ha-Joon looked away, expression unchanged, and walked to his car.
But as he drove past, his gaze flicked once more to the girl wrestling with her motorcycle.
…Odd.
He drove off.
-
Ji-Ah got home, kicked off her shoes, and dropped her bag by the door.
"Later," she told herself.
She sat at her small desk, opened her laptop, and pulled the presentation back up. Earth jumped onto the table immediately, tail swishing right over the keyboard.
"No," Ji-Ah said, gently pushing him aside. "Not today."
Earth responded by sitting directly on her notes.
She sighed, scooped him up, and set him on the bed. "Emotional support only."
She worked. Adjusted layouts. Fixed colors. Refined spacing. Hours passed. Earth tried again. She ignored him this time.
Finally, she leaned back, eyes tired but satisfied.
Done.
She exhaled slowly.
After a moment, she reached for a pen and paper—something she always did when her head felt too full. The pen moved easily, words spilling out.
She wrote about her first day. About the office. The stress.
And the boss.
Cold eyes. Sharp suit. A voice that sounded like commands were his native language. Annoying. Strict. Impossible.
Her pen paused.
…But handsome. Unfortunately.
She frowned at the page, then kept writing anyway. The words flowed, neat and sure, like she'd done this a hundred times before.
When she finished, she smiled softly, folded the paper, and set it aside.
Earth hopped back onto her lap, purring.
"Don't judge me," she murmured, scratching his head.
She turned off the lamp and lay back, the room quiet—her mind still busy, but lighter now.
Tomorrow could wait.