Chapter Text
For most of his life—especially this second time around— Kim Hee Woo had moved like a man on a mission. Because he was a man on a mission.
He defeated Jo Tae Seob .
He dragged Kim Seok Hoon , Choi Kang Jin , and Jang Il Hyun out of their lairs and into iron cages, one by one.
He fought with logic, with fists, and with a kind of relentless, sleepless grit that could terrify prosecutors and CEOs alike.
He built alliances, won elections, exposed corruption, and still managed to fold his laundry before midnight.
He was a one-man justice machine.
But there was one battle he could never win.
One opponent that outmaneuvered him at every turn.
Love.
“Son,” his father said one evening, leaning back in his recliner and sipping barley tea. “You’re clueless.”
Kim Hee Woo looked up from the law review article in his hands.
“About what?”
“Women.”
His mother, who had just entered the living room holding a ladle, promptly whacked her husband’s head with it.
“It’s not about ‘women,’ it’s about love , you fossil.”
“Same thing!”
“It is not.”
“Is too—!”
“Is not—!”
Kim Hee Woo watched them with tired eyes. “Can someone define what exactly I’m clueless about ?”
His mom turned, one hand on her hip. “You have the emotional radar of a boiled egg.”
“Boiled egg?” he echoed.
“Exactly! You’re handsome, smart, dependable—and emotionally dense .”
His father snorted. “He’s my son.”
Another ladle smack. “And that’s not a compliment!”
And maybe… just maybe… they had a point.
Because lately, something has been happening.
Something… odd.
It started with Kim Hee Ah .
Well, she’d always been there. Always sharp, calm, composed. As Chairwoman of Cheonha Group, she made corporate wolves whimper with just a glance. But with him, she had always been a little different.
Witty. Warm in small ways. Supportive in subtle ones.
He had chalked it up to partnership, shared goals, shared war.
Until he realized… he noticed her too much.
The way she laughed when he wasn’t looking.
The way she always remembered his coffee order.
The way she once waited silently beside him when he received bad news, offering no words, just quiet strength.
Now that the war was over—now that peace had settled in—he saw her differently .
Too differently.
And he had no idea what to do with that.
So, naturally, he went to his parents.
Which, in hindsight, was mistake number one.
“Do I like her?” he asked over dinner one evening, staring down at his untouched rice bowl.
His mother paused, mid-bite. “Who?”
“Hee Ah.”
The silence that followed was immediate and dangerous.
“You’re just asking this now? ” she said slowly.
“I mean—yeah.”
His father burst out laughing.
“I told you! I told you he’s hopeless!”
Another ladle hit the back of his head.
“Let the boy speak.”
“I’m just saying, it’s been YEARS.”
His mother turned to Hee Woo, her expression softening. “Sweetheart… what exactly made you think about this?”
He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I saw her in this blue coat the other day. She was coming out of a board meeting. Hair tied up. And I just… stared.”
His mom smiled knowingly. “Ah.”
“And then she looked at me and smiled. And I forgot how breathing worked for about seven seconds.”
His dad whistled. “Yup. He’s doomed.”
His mom elbowed him again. “Don’t listen to him.”
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” Hee Woo admitted, clearly distressed. “What if I’m misreading this? What if she’s just… nice?”
“Do you want her to be just nice?”
He paused. “No.”
After dinner, his father pulled him aside like it was a military briefing.
“Listen,” he said seriously. “In our day, we had something called the art of temptation.”
“…I already regret this.”
“You gotta give her a reason to notice you as a man. Eye contact. Confidence. Just the right amount of mystery. It’s like hunting, except instead of deer, it’s mutual emotional vulnerability.”
Hee Woo blinked. “…Did you just compare dating to deer hunting?”
“I’m telling you—”
“Okay, enough,” his mom cut in, dragging Hee Woo away by the arm. “Don’t listen to him. Listen to me.”
She placed her hands firmly on her son’s shoulders. “Love isn’t about performing. It’s about showing up. Do you like her? Then show up for her. Consistently. Honestly. Without being weird.”
“…What’s considered weird?”
“Anything your father just said.”
Back at his apartment that night, Hee Woo stared at his phone.
He typed: Are you free for dinner this week?
Paused.
Deleted it.
Typed: There’s a new Italian place I heard you’d like.
Paused again.
Deleted that too.
Ended up sending:
‘Did you review the updated policy memo from the ethics board?’
And then stared at the screen in shame.
Hee Ah replied almost immediately.
‘ Yeah, I did. I will fax you the updated one, ’
He sighed and flopped onto the couch, hands over his face.
He could fight politicians.
He could take down empires.
He could dismantle corrupt institutions.
But ask Kim Hee Woo to express feelings?
He was a disaster.
And this disaster… was just beginning.
******************************
Park Sang Man & Lee Yeon Seok
“Hyung, you never fall in love? Not even a crush? Are you even human?” Sang Man shrieked from the other side of the table, mouth half-full with grilled pork belly.
Across from him, Kim Hee Woo sighed behind his glass of soju. The dim lights of the barbecue joint flickered softly above them, doing very little to hide the growing redness in his ears.
“Even I have a crush on celebrities,” Lee Yeon Seok added, eyes glued to the mini TV in the corner where a weekend drama was playing. “Look at her. That gaze? That slow-motion hair flip? That’s art.”
“That’s a shampoo commercial,” Hee Woo muttered.
Yeon Seok raised a finger without looking away. “Doesn’t make it any less beautiful.”
“That’s why I’m asking you guys, you brats,” Hee Woo grumbled, setting his glass down and glaring at both of them.
“What, us?” Sang Man leaned forward with mock innocence. “You’re trusting us with your love life? The guy who once threatened a loan shark with a shovel and the man who thinks romantic tension is when the second male lead walks into a room?”
Hee Woo narrowed his eyes.
Yeon Seok shrugged. “He’s not wrong.”
“But I am curious though,” Sang Man said more seriously, now eyeing Hee Woo with a spark of interest. “Why are you asking this? Is there someone? Or are you digging for dirt in a love-related case?”
“Can’t I just talk nonsense with my brothers?” Hee Woo tried, but it was weak— very weak—and they knew it.
“Yeah, right,” Yeon Seok snorted.
Hee Woo hurled a cushion pillow at him, which Yeon Seok caught with expert ease.
“Forget it,” Hee Woo muttered, standing to refill his own drink. “There’s a reason why you both are still single. I shouldn’t have asked in the first place.”
“HEY!” they both shouted in unison.
“Yah! I choose to be single,” Sang Man insisted.
“Same here,” Yeon Seok added. “The world isn’t ready for this level of charm.”
“You’re both delusional,” Hee Woo said flatly, sitting back down.
There was a brief moment of offended silence, and then Sang Man leaned in again, this time with the unmistakable grin of a man who smelled gossip.
“Wait a minute. Is this about her ?”
Hee Woo froze.
“Oh my God,” Yeon Seok gasped, eyes suddenly wide. “ It is , isn’t it?”
“No.”
“It is!”
“Stop talking.”
“Who is it?” Sang Man whispered dramatically, clutching his chest. “A prosecutor? A secret agent? A noona from the gym? Oh my God—is it a widow with a mysterious past?!”
“…What kind of dramas have you been watching?” Hee Woo muttered.
“Answer the question!” Sang Man slammed the table.
Hee Woo finally threw his head back and groaned. “It’s Kim Hee Ah .”
Silence.
Absolute, stunned silence.
Even the sizzling grill seemed to hush for a beat.
Then—
“HAH?!”
“You mean the Queen of Cheonha ?!”
“ Madame Iceberg ?!”
“Chairwoman Chic?!”
“Yes!” Hee Woo snapped. “Her!”
Both of them gawked at him like he’d just confessed to dating the moon.
Yeon Seok blinked. “When did this happen?”
“I don’t know! That’s the problem! One day we’re planning a strategy, next thing I know she’s smiling at me and I forgot how to speak for seven full seconds! ”
“That’s a stroke,” Sang Man deadpanned.
Hee Woo glared.
“Okay, okay!” Sang Man lifted both hands. “Let’s approach this logically. So, you like her. What now?”
“I don’t know !” Hee Woo cried. “That’s why I’m here! I can infiltrate a political network in three days, expose judicial corruption with a pen and paper, but I can’t figure out whether I’m supposed to compliment her earrings or run away and hide in the stairwell !”
“…He’s doomed,” Yeon Seok muttered.
“Absolutely doomed,” Sang Man agreed.
“Don’t say that!”
“Hyung,” Sang Man said gently, placing a hand on Hee Woo’s arm like he was delivering tragic news. “She is way out of your league.”
“She’s my ally !”
“Exactly. You’ve built a professional war pact. You think she’s gonna take kindly to you suddenly stuttering through dinner?”
Hee Woo face-palmed.
“I told you. This is why you talk to your mom, not us,” Yeon Seok said.
“I did ! And she told me to ‘show up and not be weird’!”
“…Yeah, that sounds like solid advice actually.”
Hee Woo groaned again.
“So what do we do now?” Sang Man asked, refilling his cup and tilting his head like this was a team mission.
“Wait,” Yeon Seok said. “Did she give you any signs?”
Hee Woo hesitated. “She—she texted me a few nights ago. Just to say the budget meeting went well.”
“That’s not a sign.”
“There was a smiley face.”
“That’s still not a sign.”
“She asked if I was eating well.”
“…Okay, maybe .”
“I told her I had instant ramen.”
“What did she say?”
Hee Woo pulled out his phone and read aloud: “ That’s not food, Kim Hee Woo. Eat real meals or I’m sending someone to confiscate your kitchen. ”
There was a pause.
“She likes you,” Sang Man said with a confident nod.
“Yup. That’s definitely affection,” Yeon Seok agreed.
Hee Woo looked between them. “Seriously?”
Sang Man leaned back with a proud grin. “Yup. That’s the tone of a woman trying not to sound like she cares too much.”
“So now what?” Hee Woo asked, suddenly looking like a high schooler before his first confession.
Sang Man stood dramatically. “Now we train .”
“…What?”
“You want to ask her out without dying of embarrassment, right? Then you need preparation. Simulations. Real-world practice.”
“Who am I supposed to practice with?”
Sang Man pointed at himself and Yeon Seok. “Right here, buddy. Let’s roleplay.”
“Oh God.”
“Hello, I am Kim Hee Ah,” Yeon Seok said in an oddly high voice. “I own a billion-dollar company and a pair of really judgmental eyebrows. Woo me.”
“…I’m going home.”
“No you’re not.”
“GET BACK HERE, WE’RE JUST GETTING STARTED!”
******************************
Kim Gyu Ri & Go Seung Hyuk
“Are you really free now? You’re roaming around prosecutor offices like they owe you rent,” Kim Gyu Ri joked, handing Kim Hee Woo a coffee with a knowing smirk.
“Maybe,” Hee Woo replied, blowing on the cup. “Who knows.”
“Which means yes,” she said, settling into her chair, legs crossed like she was ready for cross-examination. “And you’re clearly not here for coffee or conversation about case law. What’s going on, Hee Woo?”
Hee Woo sipped slowly, trying to buy time, but his silence only made Gyu Ri narrow her eyes further.
Just then, the door creaked open and in walked Goo Seung Hyuk, carrying a small tray with gimbap, some iced tea, and a slightly too-casual whistle.
“I brought peace offerings,” Seung Hyuk announced, placing the tray on the desk. “What did I miss?”
“Hee Woo’s having a crisis,” Gyu Ri said flatly.
“I’m not having a crisis,” Hee Woo muttered.
“He’s definitely having a crisis,” she repeated, ignoring him.
Seung Hyuk sat down beside her, unwrapping a gimbap. “Is it a ‘legal system is broken’ kind of crisis or a ‘I don’t know how to talk to someone I like without combusting’ kind of crisis?”
Hee Woo grimaced. “The second one.”
Seung Hyuk whistled again. “Wow. Didn’t expect that one.”
“I’m a layered person,” Hee Woo mumbled, looking vaguely ashamed.
Gyu Ri leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Okay, let’s break this down. Who’s the victim—sorry, the woman in question?”
He hesitated.
“Don’t make me subpoena your feelings,” she warned.
“It’s… Kim Hee Ah,” he confessed.
Gyu Ri and Seung Hyuk froze mid-chew.
“You mean Cheonha Group’s Chairwoman Kim Hee Ah?” Gyu Ri asked slowly.
“Yes.”
“The terrifyingly graceful CEO with the emotional expression of a porcelain statue?”
“She’s not that bad.”
“She once glared at a reporter and he apologized on behalf of the media industry. ”
“Maybe I like terrifying women,” Hee Woo snapped.
“Apparently,” Seung Hyuk muttered. “You’re not even aiming for someone mildly intimidating. You went straight for the final boss.”
“I didn’t plan this,” Hee Woo said defensively. “It just… happened. And now I don’t know how to function around her. I say weird things. I think weird things. I complimented her pen once and nearly passed out.”
Seung Hyuk laughed. “Her pen ?”
“It was a really nice pen!”
Gyu Ri clapped once, absolutely delighted. “This is amazing. The guy who brought down half of Korea’s corrupt elite can’t compliment a woman without needing CPR.”
“I came here for help, not humiliation,” he groaned.
“Same thing,” they said in unison.
Gyu Ri took a breath, her teasing smile fading just slightly. “Okay, seriously. What do you want , Hee Woo?”
He looked down at his cup, then answered honestly. “I want to spend time with her… without needing an excuse. I want her to see me as more than just a partner in crime—or politics.”
Seung Hyuk tilted his head. “That’s real. But you’re going to have to act like it.”
“I don’t know how to start, ” he said. “Everything I do feels like a strategy meeting. I offered to review her corporate filings last week and she just stared at me.”
“Because that’s not flirting, that’s financial consulting,” Gyu Ri said.
“I panicked!”
“Clearly,” Seung Hyuk said, chuckling.
Hee Woo slumped in his seat. “I’ve interrogated criminals with more confidence than I have around her.”
Gyu Ri leaned her elbows on the desk, softening. “You don’t need confidence. You need honesty. She already knows your strengths. What she doesn’t see often is the man behind the perfect legal instincts and sharp words.”
“I don’t even know who that is most days,” he muttered.
“Then figure it out with her,” she said. “Start small. Ask her for coffee. Text her about something that isn’t related to your job or a public scandal.”
Seung Hyuk nodded. “And maybe don’t lead with your analysis of corporate restructuring policy.”
“No jargon,” Gyu Ri added.
“No spreadsheets.”
“No speeches.”
“No printouts—”
“Okay, okay!” Hee Woo held up his hands. “I get it. Less professional, more personal.”
“Exactly,” Gyu Ri said. “And if she turns you down, that’s okay too.”
“Will it ruin everything?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not unless you make it weird.”
“Which you might,” Seung Hyuk said helpfully.
“I probably will,” Hee Woo admitted.
Gyu Ri smiled. “That’s part of the charm.”
Seung Hyuk leaned over and offered him a fist bump. “We believe in you. Even if you fail spectacularly.”
“I’m feeling very reassured,” Hee Woo said dryly.
“You should,” Gyu Ri replied. “Because at the very least, you’re trying. And you owe yourself that.”
For a long moment, he was quiet. Then he set down the coffee cup, stood up, and nodded once.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she said.
“Now go text her something not horrifying,” Seung Hyuk called after him.
“I make no promises!”
Outside the office, the city buzzed as usual, but Hee Woo walked a little slower, the caffeine warmth still in his chest—and maybe something else, too.
He opened his phone.
He stared at her name.
He hesitated.
Then finally, he typed,
‘If you’re not too busy tomorrow, there’s a new coffee place by the river. Thought you might like it.’
And after a long pause, he hit send.
The message was plain.
Her reply came in a minute.
‘ Sure, as long as you are paying :) ’
But for once, it felt just right.
******************************
Elder Woo Yong Su
“Good morning, teacher!” Hee Woo greeted them brightly, stepping into the sunlit veranda of the countryside villa.
Woo Yong Soo glanced up from his teacup, raising a bushy brow.
“You’re unusually cheerful,” the old man muttered, setting down the paper. “Either you’re hiding something, or you need something.”
Hee Woo grinned. “Can’t I just visit my favorite mentor?”
“You absolutely can. But not with that face.”
“…What face?”
“The ‘ I just uncovered a corporate crime and a personal crisis at the same time ’ face.”
Hee Woo sighed and sat across from him, stealing a sweet potato chip from the snack tray. The breeze was light, and the sound of distant cicadas made the place feel like it was frozen in peace—exactly why he came here.
“I’m in a situation,” he finally admitted.
“Legal or emotional?”
“…Emotional.”
Woo Yong Soo blinked. Then slowly leaned back, as if adjusting for the weight of such a rare event.
“Well, I’ll be. Kim Hee Woo has feelings. What’s next? Prosecutors doing their jobs?”
“Funny.”
“Thank you. Now talk. Who is she?”
Hee Woo hesitated. “Kim Hee Ah.”
Yong Soo’s teacup paused mid-air.
“… Chairwoman Kim Hee Ah?”
“Yes.”
“Cheonha group heiress. Isn’t she known for her strict reputation?”
“She’s not that bad.”
Yong Soo placed his cup down with dramatic care. “You have excellent taste. Terrible timing. And a death wish.”
Hee Woo groaned. “Why does everyone say that?”
“Because she’s terrifying to 99% of the male population and you’re part of the 1% who actually survived working closely with her. So what’s the problem?”
“That’s exactly it,” Hee Woo said, rubbing his temples. “We’ve worked together so long, I can’t tell if I’m imagining things. Sometimes I think she’s softer with me. She texts me after long meetings. She makes sure I eat. But then we’re back in the boardrooms and she’s all logic and control again.”
“Sounds like affection to me.”
“I told her I had ramen for dinner last week. She threatened to send someone to confiscate my kitchen.”
Yong Soo laughed, a deep, warm sound. “Definitely affection. That's a love threat if I’ve ever heard one.”
Hee Woo stared at him. “What do I even do with this?”
“You’re asking me ?”
“You’ve been in love.”
“I was married, yes. Happily, too. But back then, love wasn’t so complicated. I just showed up with flowers, helped her parents harvest radishes, and promised not to die before I paid off her dad’s loan.”
“…That’s… oddly specific.”
“Real love is specific,” Yong Soo said, his tone gentler now. “But Hee Ah’s a modern woman. You can’t just show up with radishes.”
“I don’t want to mess this up,” Hee Woo said softly. “We’ve come so far—Cheonha, the prosecution, all of it. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? Or worse, what if she does , and I ruin it?”
Yong Soo looked at him for a long moment, then leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.
“You’ve faced death, betrayal, and the ugliest men in this country. And this is what scares you?”
“Because this matters in a different way.”
“Exactly,” Yong Soo nodded. “And because it matters, you need to face it head-on. Not as a prosecutor. Not as a strategist. Just like yourself.”
Hee Woo let that sink in.
“I don’t know who ‘myself’ is when I’m not chasing justice,” he admitted.
“Then maybe it’s time you find out. Start simple. Take her to dinner. Not some public event with cameras or speeches. Something real. Let her know the man behind the plan.”
Hee Woo chuckled bitterly. “You make it sound easy.”
“Oh, it’s not. You’ll stutter. Overthink. Probably sweat. But it’ll be worth it.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Yong Soo refilled the tea, sliding another cup toward Hee Woo.
“You know,” the older man said, voice softer now, “when I fell for my wife, I wasn’t rich. I wasn’t respected. I was just a man with a bad haircut and an auction addiction.”
“That hasn’t changed,” Hee Woo smirked.
“Watch it, brat. My point is—I had nothing to offer but sincerity. She took that, and we built the rest together.”
“…Did she know right away?”
“No. It took her six months, two fights, and one roof leak to realize I was serious. Love isn’t instant, Hee Woo. It’s earned. Slowly. Gently.”
Hee Woo stared into his cup, the steam curling like the confusion in his mind. But something had shifted—his fear didn’t feel quite as heavy now.
“Thank you, teacher.”
Yong Soo smiled. “You’re welcome. Now go. And don’t bring me updates unless they’re dramatic or hilarious.”
“I’ll aim for both.”
“Oh—and wear something decent. You represent auction enthusiasts everywhere.”
Later that night, Hee Woo sat at his desk.
He typed.
‘Dinner this weekend? Just us. No meetings. I’ll try not to talk about politics.’
Then, after a pause, he added:
‘P.S. I promise not to eat ramen.’
He stared at the message for a moment.
And hit send.
‘ Sure, I’ve been wanting to try the new Korean BBQ place. Pick me up will you? As payback for wages increase of workers at Cheonha Construction ,’
Hee Ah reply just hit his heart. He almost screamed. Almost.
******************************
Kim Han Mi
“Hey, you owe me a big dinner for making me work late,” Kim Han Mi grumbled, tossing her bag onto the booth seat as she slid into the café corner Hee Woo had reserved.
He laughed. “Thank you for your hard work, Journalist Kim. ”
“Flattery doesn’t feed me,” she said, snatching the menu. “And it better be a full-course meal. None of this ‘just coffee’ nonsense.”
“It’s dinner,” he promised. “I even checked that the place has good dessert.”
Han Mi arched a brow. “What’s the occasion? You usually only treat people after a political victory or when you need someone to edit your press statements.”
Hee Woo sipped his water. “Maybe I just wanted to see my old friend.”
“Liar,” she replied instantly.
He chuckled. “Fine. I need your advice.”
Han Mi paused, setting the menu down slowly. “Okay. Now I’m really listening. You, asking me for advice? Is it national security? Secret witness protection?”
He looked her dead in the eye. “It’s about a woman.”
Han Mi froze.
Then blinked.
Then burst out laughing so loudly that two waitresses and a couple in the next booth turned to look.
“Oh my god. Did I hear that correctly? You? Kim Hee Woo? The guy who once spent two years plotting political revenge and couldn’t be bothered to RSVP to a party— you are asking me for dating advice?”
He rolled his eyes. “Are you done?”
“No,” she said, wiping a tear of laughter. “This is the best moment of my month. Possibly my year.”
“Han Mi.”
“Fine, fine.” She calmed down enough to take a sip of water. “Spill. Who is she? Do I know her? Or is she a tragic soul unaware of what she’s getting into?”
“…It’s Kim Hee Ah.”
Her glass clinked hard against her teeth.
“ Chairwoman Kim Hee Ah?”
“Why does everyone say her title first?!”
“Because she’s literally terrifying, Hee Woo! Beautiful, brilliant, composed—and terrifying. She once glared at a stock analyst so hard, he quit mid-meeting.”
“She’s not that bad.”
“She once corrected a reporter’s grammar during a live interview.”
“…Okay, she’s a little intense.”
Han Mi narrowed her eyes. “So you finally noticed she’s pretty?”
“I’ve always noticed,” he mumbled. “I just didn’t… allow myself to think about it. Until lately.”
“And now?”
“And now I want to ask her out.”
Han Mi stared at him, tilting her head. “Okay. First of all, bold. Second—why are you here asking me ?”
“Because you’re smart, cynical, and don’t sugarcoat.”
“Aww, you’re making me blush.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“Fine. So, what’s the issue? You're afraid she’ll laugh in your face?”
“No, I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid, and she’ll politely murder me with silence. ”
“Fair,” Han Mi nodded. “She does have that ‘CEO Silence of Doom’ talent.”
“Exactly!”
Han Mi leaned back in her chair. “Alright. Let me ask you something serious. Do you like her because you admire her—or because you see her?”
Hee Woo frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you only like her when she’s being ‘Chairwoman Kim’? The perfect, poised version? Or do you see the person beneath that? The one who sends texts at 3 a.m. when she’s worried. The one who stays in the office late because she can’t sleep. The one who only eats one meal a day when she’s stressed out.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then, softly, “I see her. Even when she tries to hide.”
Han Mi smiled gently. “Then go for it.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah. Because she already sees you. You think a woman like Kim Hee Ah would tolerate a man like you hovering around her life unless she trusted you? Admired you? Maybe even—dare I say—liked you back?”
“…She once brought me multivitamins and called me an ‘idiotic workaholic.’”
“That’s her version of ‘I care.’”
“She also told me that if I skipped breakfast again, she’d start sending me lunch boxes like an old auntie.”
Han Mi grinned. “That’s practically a love confession.”
Hee Woo sighed. “Why is everyone else better at decoding her than I am?”
“Because you’re too close,” she said. “When it comes to love, you’re all logic and no instincts. You’re so used to fighting battles that you think affection needs a tactical map.”
“Maybe I do need a map.”
Han Mi leaned forward. “Here’s your map: don’t be a coward. Ask her out. Be awkward if you must. Be honest. But don’t hide behind polite politics.”
He nodded slowly. “I already sent a message. Asked her out to dinner this weekend.”
Han Mi clutched her heart dramatically. “Look at you! Actually doing something mildly romantic! I’m so proud.”
“Don’t make me regret telling you.”
“It’s too late for that,” she smirked. “Now tell me where you’re taking her so I can text her anonymously and say she better wear her nicest heels.”
“Han Mi.”
“Relax. I won’t. Maybe.”
He gave her a long, warning look, but couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips.
“Thanks,” he said after a moment. “I mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, raising her glass. “To first dates, awkward silences, and maybe—just maybe—the end of your emotional drought.”
He clinked his glass with hers, laughing softly.
“God help me.”
“You’ll be fine,” she grinned. “And if not, I’ll write a touching article about your failed romance.”
“Touch it, and I’ll cut your Wi-Fi.”
********************************
Chief Prosecutor Jeon Seok Gyu & Deputy Chief Prosecutor Ji Seong Ho.
“Well, there must be something special if the esteemed Assemblyman Kim Hee Woo is gracing my office early in the morning,” said Chief Jeon Seok Gyu, looking up from his desk with a knowing smirk.
“You’re not even trying to be subtle,” Hee Woo muttered, stepping in with his usual crisp suit and noticeably stiff posture.
“It’s 7:45 a.m., Hee Woo,” Chief Jeon continued, motioning toward the coffee machine. “You’re usually saving democracy or causing minor PR chaos at this hour. So, what gives?”
Before Hee Woo could reply, the door opened and Deputy Chief Prosecutor Ji Seong Ho strolled in, holding a paper bag of sweet bread and wearing an expression that said I already regret this.
“Oh great, he’s here too,” Chief Jeon said. “Perfect. Let’s all witness whatever mid-life crisis you’re about to drop on us.”
“I’m thirty,” Hee Woo muttered, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Exactly,” Seong Ho said, dropping into the chair. “That’s prime ‘I don’t know how to talk to women anymore’ age.”
Hee Woo blinked. “How did you know this was about a woman?”
“You have the eyes of a man who just watched a romantic drama and identified with the wrong character,” Seong Ho said flatly.
“Did she say something vague and now you’re overthinking it for the fourth day in a row?” Chief Jeon added.
“…Possibly.”
Both prosecutors shared a knowing look.
“This is glorious,” Chief Jeon declared. “Who is it? I need to know what kind of woman managed to make the People’s Justice himself lose his balance.”
“It’s… Kim Hee Ah.”
The room went still.
“You mean Cheonha Group’s Iron Queen?”
“Chairwoman With The Eyebrow of Death?”
“Will you stop giving her nicknames?! She’s not a supervillain!”
Seong Ho leaned forward. “No, she’s worse. She’s the type that stares at you and somehow you end up apologizing.”
Chief Jeon grinned. “Now I have to hear more. What happened? Did she sue you?”
“I want to ask her out,” Hee Woo said, tone painfully formal, like he was submitting an official document.
Both men blinked.
“...You mean, like, romantically?” Seong Ho asked.
“No, I meant for brunch and real estate mergers,” Hee Woo deadpanned.
“Oh, thank God, sarcasm. I was worried your brain melted,” Chief Jeon chuckled.
“Guys, I’m serious. I’ve worked with her for years. We’ve been allies through chaos, reform, and actual political war. But lately… I see her differently. And now I want to take her out to dinner without discussing tax reform.”
Seong Ho bit into his bread thoughtfully. “That’s admirable.”
“And terrifying,” Chief Jeon added. “You sure she doesn’t already know? She’s the type to sniff out weakness like a trained eagle.”
“I’m not weak, ” Hee Woo protested.
“You’re sweating,” Seong Ho pointed out.
“It’s the coffee!”
“It’s lukewarm.”
Chief Jeon sat back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Okay. Let’s approach this like a case. What’s your evidence that she might be interested?”
Hee Woo took out his phone and started scrolling. “She checks in on me. Send me texts outside work hours. Gets annoyed when I skip meals. And when I mentioned I had ramen, she threatened to confiscate my kitchen.”
“…That’s oddly cute,” Seong Ho muttered.
“She once told me if I ever collapsed from stress, she’d write ‘Died from stubbornness’ on my gravestone.”
“That’s practically marriage,” Chief Jeon nodded.
Hee Woo stared. “Why are you two like this?”
“Because this is the first time you’ve come to us for something human,” Seong Ho said, unwrapping another bread bun. “We had bets you were emotionally bulletproof.”
“Okay, so what do I do ?”
“Ask her out,” Chief Jeon said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
“I’m trying! But every time I draft a message, it sounds like I’m summoning her for a security briefing.”
“You do text like an instruction manual,” Seong Ho said. “Last message I got from you started with ‘Regarding our prior communication.’”
“I’m a prosecutor!”
“You’re a lonely prosecutor.”
Hee Woo groaned and sank into the chair across from them.
Chief Jeon softened his tone just a little. “Look, Hee Woo. She respects you. Deeply. That’s half the battle already won. The other half? You just need to show her there’s a version of you beyond the courtroom.”
“But what if it ruins everything?”
Seong Ho tilted his head. “Then at least you tried. You’ll regret not trying a whole lot more than a little rejection.”
“Besides,” Chief Jeon added, “You’ve faced mobsters, senators, and Jang Il Hyun’s fashion choices. You’ll survive one dinner.”
Hee Woo slowly straightened up, their banter having melted into something almost—dare he say—reassuring.
“You really think I have a chance?”
“I think if anyone can stare down Kim Hee Ah’s boardroom aura and still want to buy her coffee, it’s you,” Seong Ho said.
Chief Jeon grinned. “Just don’t bring a policy memo to the table.”
“Or your law review notebook.”
“Or call her ‘Chairwoman’ during dessert.”
“I hate you both,” Hee Woo muttered.
“Love you too,” Chief Jeon said sweetly.
Later that evening, Hee Woo stood outside his apartment, phone in hand. His thumb hovered over the message box.
Then he typed:
‘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.’
He exhaled.
And pressed send .
‘ Sure, I’ve been craving Italian food. Oh, and Hee Woo, you should wear a turtleneck more. It suits you ,’
A beat passed. Her reply is like a cold shower on a summer day.
********************************
Lee Min Soo
“My brother! Why didn’t you come here more often? I am so bored here,” cried Lee Min Soo, throwing his arms dramatically in the air the moment he spotted Hee Woo entering the office.
Hee Woo couldn’t help but laugh at the performance. “Sunbae. You’re now Chief Prosecutor of the Regional District. What the heck are you doing?”
“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing’? I’ve been abandoned! Shackled by paperwork! Betrayed by everyone who promised excitement in public office!”
“You sound like a tragic poet.”
“I am a tragic civil servant,” Min Soo said, spinning in his chair like a man on the verge of creative burnout. “Even the coffee machine hates me. It only dispenses decaf now. This office is cursed.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Because the salary is decent and I’ve already installed my espresso machine. But let’s get to the point. You didn’t come all the way here just to listen to me complain like a neglected idol.”
Hee Woo hesitated, then sighed. “I need advice.”
Min Soo stopped spinning. Slowly.
“…Are we talking about legal strategy?”
“No.”
“…A corruption case?”
“No.”
“…Your face looks too serious for lunch recommendations, so... wait—” he gasped. “Is it romantic advice ?”
“…Maybe.”
“ YES! ” Min Soo jumped up like he just won a televised game show. “Finally! You have crossed over to the land of the emotionally unstable! I have been waiting years for this moment!”
“Sunbae, please calm down—”
“No! I refuse! You, Kim Hee Woo, legendary prosecutor, political hawk, moral compass of the nation, are here in my office about a girl. My soul is healing!”
Hee Woo rubbed his forehead. “You are not helping.”
“Oh, I haven’t even started,” Min Soo said, eyes gleaming. “Tell me everything. Who is she? What’s the drama? Is there forbidden love? Political rivalry? I’m manifesting a love triangle.”
“It’s not a K-drama, Sunbae.”
“It could be!”
Hee Woo sighed. “It’s… Kim Hee Ah.”
Min Soo blinked. Once. Twice.
And then threw himself back in his chair dramatically.
“ Of course it’s her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means only you would fall for a woman with the elegance of a queen and the intimidation power of a steel guillotine. You like a challenge, don’t you?”
“She’s not that scary,” Hee Woo mumbled.
Min Soo gave him a look. “She once gave a thirty-minute presentation without blinking. And she’s beautiful, terrifyingly competent, and literally runs a chaebol. Are you sure this isn’t a psychological reaction to being bored now that Jo Tae Seob is rotting in prison?”
“I’m sure.”
“Dang. That’s serious.”
There was a pause. Then Min Soo leaned forward, for once unusually sincere.
“Do you love her?”
Hee Woo didn’t answer right away. He stared out the window for a moment before replying quietly, “I don’t know yet. But I know that I want to find out. With her.”
Min Soo nodded solemnly, tapping the desk. “Okay. Then let’s get strategic.”
“Strategic?”
“You need an emotional blueprint, my friend. Operation: Win the Ice Queen’s Heart.”
“I am not calling it that.”
“It’s already in the files,” Min Soo said, scribbling something in his notepad. “Step one: show her you’re a human, not just a prosecutorial robot.”
“I already asked her out to dinner.”
Min Soo’s head shot up. “WHAT? And you’re only telling me now?!”
“I only sent the message last night.”
“Oh my god. What did you write? Please tell me you didn’t use your usual legal tone.”
“…I may have promised not to talk about tax law. And ramen.”
Min Soo burst out laughing. “That’s actually pretty good. Okay, fine. That gets you to step two.”
“There's step two?”
“There’s always a step two,” he said like a war veteran. “Which is… don’t panic. You’re going to want to overthink. You’re going to analyze her body language, her word choices, whether she ordered salad because she’s nervous or because she actually wanted salad.”
“Sounds… exhausting.”
“Love is exhausting,” Min Soo said, dramatically sipping his lukewarm espresso. “But also thrilling. Now, the most important advice I can give you—don’t try to impress her. She’s already seen you at your best. What she wants now is to see you when you’re not performing.”
“…What if I say something dumb?”
“You will. That’s part of the charm.”
“What if I—”
“Hee Woo.”
He stopped.
Min Soo smiled, genuine and warm. “She already knows you. All you have to do now is show her you want her to know more about you.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Hee Woo stood, brushing off his coat.
“Thanks, Sunbae.”
“Anytime. But I expect wedding invites.”
Hee Woo rolled his eyes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“I’m already planning my speech.”
“Please don’t.”
“Too late!”
As Hee Woo left the office, Min Soo yelled after him:
“Operation Ice Queen is a go!”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that!”