Chapter Text
The first strange thing started with a text message.
Kim Hee Ah remembered the exact wording, because no one— no one —texted like that unless they were submitting a report to the Ministry of Justice.
‘Did you review the updated policy memo from the ethics board?’
She had stared at the message for a full minute, blinking.
It wasn’t the content. It was the tone. It was always the tone. Kim Hee Woo’s texts had been dry before, yes, but that day something felt... extra stiff. Like he’d proofread it four times and triple-checked the punctuation.
She had laughed, quietly, alone in her room.
And replied with a simple,
‘ Yeah, I did. I will fax you the updated one, ’
That should’ve been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
The second message came a few days later.
‘If you’re not too busy tomorrow, there’s a new coffee place by the river. Thought you might like it.’
That one was even more suspicious.
Not because it was strange to ask—but because it was Kim Hee Woo asking. The man who regularly forgot meals during investigations is now asking if she wants to check out a new cafe. The man who once went forty-eight hours on black coffee and determination.
The man who had once waved off a gourmet lunch she’d ordered with a distracted “I’ll eat after the press conference”—and didn’t.
But she still reply to him with,
‘Sure, as long as you are paying :)’
So yes, it was odd.
Though she hadn’t answered that one immediately. She’d stared at it. Re-read it. Hee Ah wondered if someone had taken his phone.
But then… her lips had curled into the smallest smile.
What followed was a series of brief, awkward back-and-forths that bordered on polite small talk—but with something new beneath the surface. She couldn’t quite name it then.
And then came the dinner invitation. From the awkward K-Bbq like most friends goes to more intimate dinner.
‘I know you’re always busy, but if you’re free this weekend, I’d like to take you to dinner. No speeches. No legal briefs. Just… me.’
That was when everything clicked.
Kim Hee Ah set her phone down slowly on her desk and leaned back in her chair. Her private office, perched at the top of Cheonha Group, was still and quiet, but her mind suddenly wasn’t.
Kim Hee Woo… was trying.
Trying to do what, she couldn’t say for certain. Not yet.
But the text was clear. Not in words, perhaps—he was too cautious for that—but in tone.
It was… personal .
And she hits him with,
‘ Sure, I’ve been craving Italian food. Oh, and Hee Woo, you should wear a turtleneck more. It suits you ,’
He was offering himself in a way he never had before. Stripped of purpose, stripped of politics, stripped of legal mission.
Just… him .
And that, more than anything, made her pause.
Because for someone like Kim Hee Woo , who had always lived for justice, always thought ahead, always moved with purpose—it must have taken so much to hit send on that message.
She rested her chin on one hand, staring at the screen.
He had no idea that she’d noticed from the start.
Of course she had. She was Kim Hee Ah . Details were her world.
She noticed the way he looked at her now, a beat longer than usual. She noticed how his posture stiffened when she walked into a room. How he waited for her outside meetings even when he wasn’t on the agenda. How his voice softened by a single degree when he said her name.
It wasn’t obvious. It was Hee Woo, after all—he probably thought he was being subtle.
But she had always known his patterns.
And this… was new.
She tapped her pen against her notebook thoughtfully.
Did she like him?
Yes.
That wasn’t in question. She’d respected him for years—his intelligence, his integrity, the way he never compromised. But more than that, she trusted him. Deeply.
She had learned not to trust easily in this world. But Hee Woo had earned it.
Every time he stood by her. Every time he protected someone else’s dignity when it would’ve been easier to look away. Every time he challenged her in meetings without undermining her.
He was the rare man who didn’t fear her power.
And he was trying to connect.
To reach across that unspoken wall they both had built in the name of “professionalism” and “strategy” and “timing.”
Well.
Maybe it was time to test the waters.
*******************************
Saturday, 6:59 p.m.
She didn’t dress up too much—still sharp, still elegant, but simple enough not to make it seem like a business meeting.
She saw him first.
He was standing near the restaurant entrance, trying very hard not to look like he was waiting nervously. Which of course made it even more obvious.
He checked his watch once, adjusted his cuff, and then looked up—
—and saw her.
She walked toward him slowly, deliberately.
“You actually wore a turtleneck,” she said, by way of greeting.
He smiled, slightly sheepish. “I thought about this for twenty minutes.”
“That long?”
“I almost texted you a picture of the other option for voting.”
She stared. “You were that nervous?”
He didn’t deny it.
She was surprised how endearing that was.
“Well,” she said as they walked inside together, “Let’s see if the food is worth all this existential panic.”
He chuckled softly. “No promises. But I’ll try.”
*******************************
Three years passed, quietly and meaningfully.
And for Kim Hee Woo, time had never felt so full.
Not even when he was chasing Cho Tae Seob. Not even when he was reforming the system or winning seats or flipping the courts.
Those victories were necessary. But this—this was something else entirely.
It was hers.
Their relationship unfolded slowly. Carefully.
The first few months had been a delicate dance between affection and professionalism. Every text was a minefield of second-guessing. Every meeting came with fluttering stomachs and hidden smiles.
But gradually, they grew into each other.
Not in a dramatic, whirlwind way—but in the quiet comfort of knowing, this person stays.
Hee Ah, for all her poise and control, had a surprisingly playful streak when she was around him. She poked fun at his too-neat closets. Called his taste in movies “tragically masculine.” Snuck health supplements into his office drawer. Once, she even pranked him with a fake stock crash just to see his reaction.
(He panicked for 0.7 seconds. She laughed for 20 minutes.)
And Hee Woo?
He softened in ways he never thought possible.
He smiled more. Laughed often. Took actual lunch breaks. Sometimes even dozed off on the couch beside her while reading policy reports, and she’d gently place a blanket over him.
They bickered, sometimes. Their schedules clashed. Her board meetings ran late. His assembly duties stole weekends. But they always came back to each other.
They had made a rule: No matter how busy, we eat dinner together once a week.
Even if it was just ramen and silence. Even if it was takeout in the backseat of his car.
He kept that promise.
And now, three years later, he was ready to make another.
He planned everything himself.
No cameras. No flower arches. No rooftop fireworks.
That wasn’t them.
Instead, he reserved the same quiet restaurant they went to on their very first not-a-date. The same corner booth. Same dim lighting. He even wore the same shirt she once teased him for obsessing over.
He held the small velvet box in his pocket all day. It made his hand tremble a little every time he checked it was still there.
He had written and rewritten his words a hundred times.
But when she walked in—wearing soft navy, her hair gently tucked behind her ear, her eyes already suspicious—his mind went completely blank.
She sat down across from him and narrowed her gaze. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re dressed like we’re attending a diplomatic summit and you’ve only blinked three times since I walked in.”
“That’s not true.”
“That’s exactly true. You even ordered wine. You hate wine.”
He smiled helplessly. “Maybe I wanted to make tonight memorable.”
Her expression softened, curiosity overtaking suspicion.
“You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“No. But I am about to risk my life.”
“…Pardon?”
He reached into his jacket pocket.
Her eyes widened slightly.
He pulled out the small box, then stood up and stepped beside her.
“Kim Hee Ah,” he said, voice steady now—because somehow, in this moment, it all became crystal clear. “I’ve had two lives.”
She looked up at him, expression unreadable.
“In my first life, I chased justice until it destroyed me. I lost people I loved. I lost myself.”
A pause.
“In this second life… I met you again. And I found something I didn’t know I was searching for. Peace. Purpose. A home.”
He knelt beside her—not caring who saw, not caring if it wrinkled his suit.
Her lips parted slightly.
“I love you. Not because of what you do or what you’ve built. I love the way you take care of people without ever admitting it. I love your sarcasm. I love how you make me feel like just a man—not an assemblyman, not a prosecutor. Just… yours.”
The restaurant had gone quiet.
He opened the box.
A simple, elegant ring sat inside. Classic. Timeless. Just like her.
“Will you marry me?”
For a moment, Hee Ah didn’t answer.
She stared at him, the usually unreadable Chairwoman suddenly looking like someone standing between laughter and tears.
Then she whispered, “You idiot.”
He blinked. “I—”
“You made me wait three years for this?”
“…I wanted it to be the right time.”
“There’s never a perfect time. You’re always working. I’m always working. But somehow, we made it work anyway.”
She reached out, gently cupping his face in her hand.
“Of course I’ll marry you,” she said, smiling at last. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
She pulled him up—and before he could say anything else—
—she kissed him.
Right there in their quiet little booth, where it had all started.
It was soft and sure. No hesitation. No awkwardness. Just a long, slow moment of everything unspoken finally being said without words.
When they pulled back, she whispered, “You owe me a lifetime of dinners for making me wait.”
“I’ll cook.”
She smirked. “Don’t push your luck.”
As they sit down and eat their dinner with smiles on their faces, Hee Woo and Hee Ah make plans to tell the world.
The plan was simple.
Or so Hee Woo thought.
They’d keep the engagement private. Just for a little while. Maybe tell their parents, their closest circle—then break the news when the time feels right.
“Two weeks,” Hee Woo said confidently as they walked back to her car, hand in hand. “Just us. Then we tell everyone.”
“Two weeks?” Hee Ah raised a brow. “You can barely keep a birthday surprise for two hours.”
“I can be discreet,” he replied.
“You once told Chief Jeon about my promotion before I did.”
“That was an accident!”
“Uh-huh.”
*********************************
The secret lasted thirty-six hours.
It wasn’t even his fault this time.
Well… not entirely.
It began with Park Sang Man showing up at his office unannounced, arms full of spicy chicken and a six-pack of beer.
“I had a feeling,” Sang Man said, kicking the door shut behind him. “You’ve been smiling like a man with a lottery ticket.”
“I always smile,” Hee Woo lied.
“Liar. You have two facial expressions: serious, and slightly less serious.”
“I’m working.”
“Don’t play with me, hyung. Something happened.”
Hee Woo sighed. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh yeah?” Sang Man reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a blurry paparazzi shot on his phone. “Then explain why this photo of you kneeling next to Chairwoman Kim Hee Ah is floating around on the internet?”
“…What?!”
“Relax. It’s only on a niche business gossip blog, and they think it’s a contract deal. But I know that posture . That’s not a merger. That’s a proposal .”
Hee Woo groaned, grabbing the phone. “I can’t believe this.”
“You’re getting married?”
“Technically not yet.”
“But you proposed?”
“…Yes.”
Sang Man whooped so loud two junior aides outside jumped.
“YOU DID IT!” he yelled, nearly knocking over the beer. “You emotionally competent son of a—okay, wait, no, I gotta call the others. This is too good.”
“No!”
Twenty minutes later, chaos descended.
Lee Min Soo burst in mid-sandwich. Han Mi stormed in like an investigative squad. Gyu Ri, Seung Hyuk, and even Seong Ho left office early. The group chat exploded in real time.
Hee Woo called Hee Ah from his kitchen. She dropped by to deliver some contracts and have dinner with him.
“They found out.”
“I know,” she said calmly. “Han Mi sent me a meme of you in a tuxedo photoshopped onto a scarecrow.”
“I’m going to throw Sang Man’s phone in the Han River.”
“Too late. Cheonha Group’s board is already drafting a PR tagline.”
“There’s no escape.”
“There never was.”
She paused. “Still want to marry me?”
He chuckled softly. “Now more than ever.”
That night, Hee Woo sat beside her on the couch in his apartment, everything finally still.
The chaos of the day was fading into quiet laughter. Hee Ah was barefoot, her long legs tucked under her as she flipped through an old book on his shelf.
“I still can’t believe Sang Man recognized your posture from a blurry photo,” she said.
“I didn’t know my kneeling pose was that iconic.”
“It’s the prosecutor aura. You radiate lawful affection.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Maybe.”
He set the tea mugs aside and leaned closer. “You stayed,” he said softly, voice low.
She looked at him, confused. “Of course I did.”
“Even after today’s madness. After the press and memes and my friends turning into paparazzi.”
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “I stayed because it’s you .”
He blinked slowly. “You always say things like that and expect me to function afterward.”
“I do enjoy watching you malfunction.”
He laughed, leaning in, forehead gently bumping hers. “Remind me again why you’re marrying me?”
“Because no one else is foolish enough to quote legal codes when they’re nervous.”
He chuckled again, hand moving to cup her cheek. “You know,” he murmured, eyes never leaving hers, “I used to think winning against Cho Tae Seob was the greatest thing I’d ever do.”
“And now?”
“Now I think… asking you to stay with me is the smartest decision I’ve ever made.”
“You know, for someone who said they wanted to keep the engagement private,” Hee Ah said, eyeing him over the rim, “you did a terrible job.”
“I blame Sang Man,” he muttered. “His conspiracy theories are too accurate. I can’t even tie my shoes without him thinking I’m hiding something.”
Hee Ah chuckled, tucking her legs under her on the couch. She had taken off her heels and blazer, her hair slightly loosened, and there was something unguarded in her expression now—like she had finally exhaled after a very long day.
“I don’t mind that they found out,” she said after a moment. “It’s just… this is ours. Just for once, I wanted something that’s only ours.”
Hee Woo paused.
Then he set his cup down and turned to her, gently taking her hand in his.
“You still have me,” he said softly. “All of me. No politics. No noise. No boardrooms. Just… me. Right here.”
Her gaze flickered to his, the faintest flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. “You say that like I don’t already know.”
“I’m saying it because I want you to feel it.”
She didn’t pull away.
Instead, she leaned closer, her hand sliding to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair.
“I already do,” she whispered.
He met her halfway, lips brushing hers with a softness that felt almost reverent. It wasn’t rushed or clumsy. It was slow—warm. Familiar.
A kiss not born out of passion but something deeper. Trust. Time. Knowing.
He pulled back, just slightly, his forehead resting against hers.
“I used to think loving someone would distract me,” he murmured. “But with you… I’ve never felt more clear.”
“You really say things like that now?” she whispered, amused.
“I’m trying.”
“You’re succeeding.”
He smiled, and kissed her again—deeper this time, his hand at her waist as she shifted closer into his lap, their bodies fitting like a puzzle long overdue.
She sighed into him, one hand trailing over his chest, fingers lingering at the first undone button of his shirt.
“You always smell like clean soap and old paper,” she said, smiling against his mouth.
“You smell like trouble,” he replied, kissing the edge of her jaw.
She laughed, soft and low, eyes half-lidded now. “You like trouble.”
“I love it. Apparently.”
They kissed again, longer this time. Unhurried. Her hands found their way around his neck, his palms sliding over her back as they slowly, inevitably melted into the couch cushions together.
Time blurred. The world narrowed to warmth, shared breath, quiet laughter between kisses.
When they finally broke apart for air, she laid her head on his shoulder, their legs tangled, the tea long forgotten on the table.
“This couch is small,” she murmured.
“I’m not complaining,” he said, his thumb tracing idle circles on her back. “I’d sleep here every night if it meant waking up with you in my arms.”
She glanced up at him with a smile that made his heart feel like it was trying to rewrite his entire life.
“You really are romantic now.”
“I have an excellent teacher.”
“I know,” She smirked as her hands started unbuttoning his shirt as his hands too started shedding her attire.
He kissed her temple. She tilted her head and kissed him back—on the cheek, the corner of his mouth, his throat.
Everything was still.
Everything was perfect.
Until—
“SURPRIIIIISE—”
The front door burst open with the force of a SWAT raid.
“Hyung?! We brought chicken and—OH MY GOD.” Sang Man’s voice cracked mid-sentence.
“MY EYES.” Han Mi screamed.
“Is that… her blazer on the floor? ” Min Soo gasped.
Hee Woo sat bolt upright, nearly dropping Hee Ah onto the floor as he grabbed the nearest pillow and tried to shield her.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL DOING HERE?!” he shouted, breathless, shirt undone, hair an absolute mess.
“You gave me the spare key, remember?!” Sang Man yelled back. “We were gonna throw you a surprise engagement party!”
“We didn’t expect to walk into this! ” Min Soo added, holding a party popper like it betrayed him.
Hee Ah sat up calmly, fixing her hair. “It’s your fault for not knocking.”
Hyun Seok stood frozen by the door. “I think I just saw my hyung’s hand up her—”
“ GET OUT. ALL OF YOU. ”
“HE’S A PASSIONATE MAN!” Sang Man howled in mock agony. “OUR JUSTICE HERO IS A CLOSETED PERVERT!”
“I CAN NEVER TRUST A CLEAN-CUT PROSECUTOR AGAIN!” Min Soo added.
“I need holy water,” Han Mi muttered, backing away while filming everything on her phone.
“You’re all dead,” Hee Woo growled.
“You’re already dead,” Hee Ah corrected.
They slammed the door shut again with a flurry of apologies, giggles, and panicked feet.
The apartment fell into silence.
Hee Woo flopped backward onto the couch, face red.
Hee Ah slowly laid back beside him, head resting on his chest.
“Well,” she said, lips twitching. “That’s one way to announce our engagement.”
“I hate them all.”
“I think I love them more now.”
“…We’re changing the locks.”
******************************
If someone had told Kim Hee Woo five years ago that he’d one day be wearing a tuxedo, standing under a silk-draped altar, waiting for the most powerful woman in Korea to walk toward him—not as a business partner, not as a co-strategist, but as his bride —he would’ve laughed.
Not a chance.
But now?
Now, he was standing on a garden terrace overlooking the Han River, heart pounding harder than during any courtroom trial, breath caught in his throat, and hands clenched tightly at his sides.
The wedding was small by Chaebol standards—but large enough to be impossible to ignore. The media had been strictly banned. The guest list was tight: family, real friends, and allies they trusted with their lives.
And chaos, of course, came complimentary.
Sang Man had already broken a centerpiece. Han Mi was threatening to live-stream the vows (she was promptly tackled by Gyu Ri). Min Soo was trying to flirt with a flower girl’s aunt and had temporarily gone missing.
And yet, in the midst of it all, the moment the music started playing—everything stilled.
Everyone stood.
Everyone turned.
And then she appeared.
Kim Hee Ah, walking down the aisle in a sleek, ivory gown with a low back and delicate pearl buttons, her dark hair swept into a timeless chignon, her eyes fixed on one person only— him .
Kim Hee Woo forgot how to breathe.
She wasn’t smiling yet. But there was a softness in her gaze that only he had ever seen. A flicker of emotion behind her poised elegance. A quiet I’m here.
Hee Woo didn’t remember when his heart started beating again.
Maybe when she stopped in front of him.
Maybe when she reached out her hand.
He took it without hesitation, folding it gently on his own.
“You look like someone who forgot to exhale,” she whispered.
“I did.”
She finally smiled.
The officiant cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
They turned together, still holding hands.
The ceremony itself was brief, but no less meaningful.
They had chosen to write their own vows, despite mutual reluctance for dramatics.
Hee Woo went first.
“I once lived only for justice. I ran, chased, fought. I lost too many things on the way. But when I met you, I realized what I’d been missing all along—a reason why . Why I fight. Why I live. Why do I want to keep waking up every day? It’s you. And I vow to always stand beside you—not ahead, not behind. Just here. Together.”
Hee Ah stared at him for a long, still second. Then she spoke.
“I used to think trust was dangerous. That letting someone in meant losing control. But you didn’t ask me to give anything up. You just… stood beside me. Quietly. With unwavering patience. You reminded me that love isn’t a power struggle—it’s a partnership. So I vow to choose you, every day, even when I’m angry. Even when I’m tired. Especially then.”
There was not a single dry eye in the first three rows.
Min Soo openly sobbed and passed tissues to a surprisingly misty-eyed Hyun Seok. Sang Man choked on his drink. Gyu Ri squeezed Seung Hyuk’s hand. Han Mi muttered “finally” under her breath with a smirk.
“By the power vested in me,” the officiant said, smiling, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Hee Woo didn’t wait.
He stepped forward and kissed her gently, reverently—like he still couldn’t believe she was real. The guests erupted in cheers, camera shutters clicking, petals flying.
And when they pulled apart, they both laughed. Not because it was funny—but because they were so, so full of joy that there was nothing else to do but laugh.
They walked down the aisle hand-in-hand, petals still raining around them.
The reception was everything they had hoped for—simple, warm, and laced with just enough chaos to keep things entertaining.
Sang Man gave the first toast.
“To the most stubborn prosecutor I’ve ever met,” he said, holding up his champagne. “And the only woman who can tell him to shut up and make him enjoy it. May your married life be full of justice, love, and slightly less paperwork.”
Everyone laughed.
Min Soo stood next, wiping his eyes. “Hee Ah, thank you for finally giving our boy a reason to use the conditioner. And Hee Woo, thank you for proving that love really does conquer all—even your personality.”
Even Hee Woo laughed at that.
Han Mi’s toast was unexpectedly sentimental. “I’ve seen both of them at their worst. And now I get to see them at their best. If that’s not proof that life is full of second chances… I don’t know what it is.”
By the time they cut the cake and shared their first dance—under twinkling lights and golden twilight—Hee Woo found himself thinking something rare:
There was nothing more he wanted. Nothing else he needed.
Just her. Just this.
He whispered it against her ear as they danced.
She leaned in and kissed him.
And he knew: this wasn’t the end of his story.
It was the beginning of everything else.