Work Text:
At the networking party, Seo – formerly Won – Injae looked visibly uncomfortable conversing with the foreign investor whose hands were getting a little too frisky. She shied at the man's touch, turning away to flinch, but at his beck and call, returned just as quickly, beaming from ear-to-ear like she was never bothered in the first place.
Anyone who knew her would be able to tell that she was faking it.
Han Jipyeong watched from afar, blood boiling at the sight before him. While his instincts were to go after her rescue, the better part of his conscience resisted. After all, it was his meddling that got him tangled up in the long and messy thread of Seo Dalmi and Nam Dosan to begin with, and he's gone through far too much for far too long to wish that misery upon himself a second time. Jipyeong isn't getting any younger, and the true test of maturity, he believes, is to learn when to turn a blind eye.
But he can't stand seeing anybody being touched without their consent. No matter how "normal" this is supposed to be in their line of work, he could never get used to it. And if he himself can't get used to it, how could he expect Injae to?
He shouldn't go after Injae, at least not in the way he's planning to. In the milliseconds passing by, his head tells his feet to stay planted on the ground.
They don't listen.
The moment the foreigner let go of Injae to take a sip of his champagne, Jipyeong was there in a flash, placing a hand gingerly around her waist. She yelped lightly, but seemed to catch on quick: her shoulders stiffened, only for a split second, before completely losing tension at the sight of the blond European man who witnessed the brazen display of affection between the two.
Injae sank into Jipyeong's touch, offering a silent nod of acknowledgment at him. Her dimples protruded as she looked up at her beau for the night, with Jipyeong's own smile following suit. He could swear it was like looking into a mirror.
Then, knowing the businessman couldn't speak their language, she muttered through gritted teeth, "Are you always this nosy?"
Injae's laugh was thick like honey, trying to mask the sharpness of the thinly veiled remark she directed at Jipyeong. It almost scared him just how well she could fake her emotions.
But two can play at that game.
Jipyeong switched his grip from Injae's waist to her shoulder, rubbing circles around it with his thumb. "You can let go if you don't need my help," he whispered.
If Injae was annoyed, she didn't show it, at least not in front of anybody. Instead, she grabbed Jipyeong's hand, intertwined it with hers, and didn't let go the entire night.
—
Walking out of the noise-filled venue, Injae's blurred purple vision clears, not that there's much to be seen in the dark anyway. One lonely light envelops the otherwise empty entrance, and all she hears at the moment are the cicadas in the night, and the footsteps of somebody following closely behind her. Steam comes out of her mouth as she sighs, realizing how cold it actually is in her sleeveless evening gown.
She had finally let go of Jipyeong's hand, but his suit jacket was wrapped around her body, hugging her exposed shoulders warmly.
"Just so you know, I didn't enjoy a single second of that," Injae snipped.
"Okay," Jipyeong allows, voice tone a little higher than it usually is, indicating that he's not the slightest bit convinced. He's mocking her. Injae almost snarls at him for being so nonchalant about this, for being so cocky, for having the audacity to be amused at the thought of getting her flustered.
But the truth is, she is somehow thankful. Mostly relieved, that out of everybody who could have stepped in, it was him – somebody she already respects, and definitely someone she could even learn to trust, in time.
While they're co-workers at Sandbox, they're also, in some weird unprecedented way, family. Jipyeong was closer to Injae's own grandmother than she was, but it was never an issue for her. In fact, she's glad there's someone to fill her shoes in all the years she was an absentee granddaughter. She's making up for all the time lost now, and as she navigates her way through a normal life with her real family, Jipyeong is present for those moments too.
They don't talk, not as often as they do with Dalmi separately, but they're civil. Because of that, Injae knows Jipyeong did this out of genuine concern for her.
If it were anybody else, she definitely would have caused a scene.
Injae's valet arrives, and the pair made their separate ways. Without so much as a goodbye, there was a quiet agreement between the two of them to forget all about this little roleplay.
—
The next few days at work were relatively uneventful for Jipyeong, and he doesn't know why he's disappointed.
He half-expected and half-hoped to run into Injae somehow, to feel the same rush that he did during that night, despite the promise that they would never bring it up again. He couldn't even bask in the awkwardness like the masochist that he is, because he never saw her within those days, not even once.
Is she avoiding me? he wondered. And for the better part of those seemingly dead-end days at the office, that was all he could think about.
It wasn't until Injae came running to him the next morning that he realized she wasn't.
"Han Jipyeong!" she called, but he didn't budge. Finally catching up to him, Injae said his name again, this time much more loudly, pulling on his suit before he could even take another step.
Jipyeong turned around, shocked that Injae was even there.
She was out of breath, and he was half-asleep. All-in-all, not a good combination.
Injae cut to the chase. "Dalmi is setting me up with someone," she complained, sounding restless. She's a woman who wastes no time, indeed. With those words hanging in the air, Jipyeong finally had a vague idea as to why she was blocking him in the middle of Sandbox's footbridge.
And that woke him up better than Youngsil ever could.
"I thought you hated me," he quipped, crossing his arms. He's testing the waters.
"I don't hate you," Injae pressed, "I hate that you're intrusive."
Then, she rattled off, "I can usually handle things like this on my own, but Dalmi hasn't stopped with this nonsense and she has been very candid that she has no plans on stopping until she finds the 'perfect guy' for me. I already have enough on my plate as it is, and – "
Injae bit her lip and sighed, embarrassed at the admission of defeat.
Jipyeong finds it endearing.
"Just one day," she begged, eyes sparkling up at Jipyeong. It was the one striking feature that the Seo sisters shared, and he softened once he locked eyes with the older sibling.
He didn't know what else to say, except that he was definitely flattered that Injae thinks Dalmi would stop meddling in her sister's affairs if she presented Jipyeong as her boyfriend.
Boyfriend, he repeated in his head. Seo Injae's boyfriend. It may be an act, but it's rolling off the tongue better than he imagined. He breathed an amused smile to himself, which Injae definitely caught.
She blinked at him with doe eyes as he offered his hand, probably astonished by the fact that her plan (which was barely even a plan, Jipyeong thought. She could at least have given him a pitch) actually worked, but she firmly took the invitation anyway.
They walked to the office in silence hand-in-hand, which, in retrospect, they didn't actually need to do. Jipyeong could try to deceive himself with a rational explanation: maybe they were practicing. Maybe Injae was just excited and got carried away.
Were they still pretending? He didn't care.
What Injae didn't know was that Jipyeong would have dived in headfirst with this crazy plan in a heartbeat, that the way he felt with her at that party was like an itch he couldn't scratch, that he was just waiting for an opening to feel that way again.
What Injae didn't know was that if even if she didn't ask first, Jipyeong would have interrupted her date anyway.
"Hold your head up," he told her in the elevator, his hand still tightly intertwined with hers. "And remember: you can let go if you don't need me anymore."
She didn't.