KMH – Chapter 22

At lunchtime, Team Leader Han Yeji followed Jugyeong all the way into the pantry. As Jugyeong filled her tumbler with hot water, she asked,

“Not eating?”

“Waiting for Junho. There’s a new bean sprout hangover soup place near the courthouse—heard it’s pretty good.”

Han Yeji’s husband, Lee Junho, worked as an administrative officer at the Seoul High Court. Unless something urgent came up, the couple usually ate lunch together.

“I see,” Jugyeong nodded.

Han Yeji studied her for a moment before speaking.

“Not just saying this, but Attorney Seo seems like a really decent guy… You’re not interested?”

Han Yeji turned her back and followed Jugyeong to the island counter, where she grabbed a tea bag, probing lightly.

At that point, it was impossible not to grasp her intention. Jugyeong hooked the tea bag over her tumbler and smiled faintly.

“No interest to speak of. We only met today.”

“Attorney Seo said he’s seen you often passing by.”

When Jugyeong didn’t respond, Han leaned back against the island, elbows propped, chin resting in her hand.

“He was at a major Silicon Valley firm until the year before last. Moved back to Korea recently. Studied in the States, too. So he doesn’t really have friends here. No girlfriend either…”

At “no friends,” Han Ye-ji glanced meaningfully at Jukyeong; at “no girlfriend,” their eyes met, and she widened both eyes, nodding significantly. Jugyeong shook her head, laughing at the antics, then turned to face her.

“So that’s how you ended up working on that patent case together.”

“Of course. He handled a lot of IP deals over there—very clean, precise worker.”

Coming from Han Yeji, that was high praise. Jukyeong inwardly thought Attorney Seo must be competent.

Han was the kind of woman who never shrank in front of male executives—and Jugyeong had learned early in her career that many men found that unsettling.

“And you two must’ve gotten pretty close?”

Jugyeong teased as she walked toward the fridge. Han Ye-ji followed.

“Well, when you see someone from clock-in to clock-out every day… At first, he seemed, how should I put it—cold. I didn’t like it.”

“……”

“I don’t mesh well with men who are overly self-assured. But I guess after butting heads daily, affection grows.”

Jugyeong straightened after taking out her meal-prep container from the fridge.

“You know the Gwanghwamun law office, Yoon & Kang, right?”

“Hard to find a Korean who doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

Han Yeji suddenly scanned around, covered her mouth, and whispered.

“Apparently, Attorney Seo is the son of Yoon & Kang’s managing partner, Shin Yeo-jin.”

Han Ye-ji’s expression seemed to say: yes, he might seem arrogant—but he’s good at what he does. Plus, a stellar career, good looks, and a powerful family background. How common is that in Seocho-dong?

“His mother seems ready to hand over the firm and step back, but he’s apparently not keen.”

Jukyeong understood Han Yeji was trying to set her up with Seo Ji-hyuk. Still, she wasn’t interested. She already knew a man of that caliber.

What intrigued her more was how Han Yeji even knew such private details. She stared at her unconsciously.

Han Ye-ji stepped back as if caught.

“In that world, everything runs on school ties, hometown ties, blood ties. I just used my one connection to ask around, okay?”

“……”

“He’s not the type to boast about it. But everyone over there already knows. I’m not spreading rumors or—ah, hold on.”

Han Yeji took her husband’s call, pointed outside apologetically. Apparently, he’d reached the lobby. Even as Jugyeong nodded, “Go ahead“, Han Yeji whispered urgently:

“He’s really decent!”

Left alone in the pantry, Jugyeong tilted her head.

“….”

Maybe she should add another clause to the contract.

Also consider response protocols if the FWB relationship becomes known to others.

Her phone buzzed.

Seju.

[Did you eat?]

Why did he send the same message at the same time every day?

It wasn’t annoying.

What she didn’t understand was why he always followed up with What are you eating? Once she replied. Wouldn’t it be more efficient to ask everything at once?

Expressionless, she typed.

[Not yet. About to. You?]

[Soon.]

[What’re you eating?]

[Meal prep.]

Her phone rang instantly.

She’d recently learned that “meal prep” made him recoil in horror.

More precisely, he despised the idea of fully cooked food sitting in a refrigerator.

Said everything tasted the same after that.

Seju called it the taste of depression.

The taste of depression…

Such a chaebol-young-master thing to say. Infuriating.

Jugyeong swiped and rejected the call. Then, meal prep in one hand and tumbler in the other, she took the emergency stairs up to the top-floor shared lounge.

***

The lounge—shared by all the firms in the building—was called the Refresh Zone.

It was drenched in green.

Palm trees with lush leaves. Bird-of-paradise plants. Sleek-trunked ornamental trees. Monstera with sculptural foliage.

She passed rows of large planters and the canteen area and headed for a private phone booth—only to find them all occupied.

So she doubled back and chose a modular sofa draped in trailing leaves rather than the bench seating or recliners.

She set her fusilli salad on her lap and took out her fork.

Peas. Olives. Pasta.

She slipped on her earbuds and opened Seju’s portfolio website.

After replaying the looping home screen video, she entered the WORK section.

His projects were organized cleanly.

Lately, this had been her lunch companion.

Tracing the expansion of his artistic spectrum had become a new hobby.

She’d always assumed he’d continue in fine art—he’d been that ambitious about painting.

Becoming an art director had surprised her.

She’d observed his innate talent up close for years.

Finishing his bachelor’s degree in three years and jumping straight into the field hadn’t shocked her. But how he’d managed early graduation in an art school—where that was notoriously difficult—did.

More fascinating was how his early career began as a stage and set designer.

Installation art. Concert visuals for globally recognized pop stars.

Then relocating to Europe, expanding into fashion film and campaign art direction.

How had he achieved all that so quickly?

Chewing a piece of bell pepper, Jugyeong watched the runway set he’d created for a luxury brand’s winter collection.

Minimal stage backdrop.

Aggressive spotlighting.

High-contrast lighting that exaggerated spatial depth.

A massive white staircase descended from darkness, creating the illusion that the model walking down it was emerging from a screen.

Only after the model disappeared down the central steps did Jugyeong sip her tea.

…He really does understand light.

After thoroughly combing through his uploaded works over the past week, she finally entered the INFORMATION section.

All media and inquiry contacts listed below—

She straightened suddenly.

Cheon Seju…

“…has a studio?”

Couldn’t tear eyes from: If interested in working at my studio, please send CV and portfolio to this email.

Seemed obvious in hindsight—yet surprising he ran a studio. More precisely—hard to imagine Seju leading/managing/communicating with subordinates.

Still surprised, almost entranced, she clicked his personal SNS link at the bottom—then got another shock.

Top post: late-night EDM festival photo. Swiping sideways—photo of 3D rendering process. Below is a tagged official account that seemed to have hosted the festival.

Really does everything…

Muttering inwardly in awe, she absentmindedly tapped the official account—pop-up: Join to see more posts.

With a deflated look, she jumped to a video platform and searched for the festival name instead.

Sure enough, the performance video he’d directed ranked at the top in views.

She pressed play.

A huge high-res LED screen behind the DJ booth overwhelmed the audience. Emerging through hazy smoke—a massive avatar… quite grotesque.

Female humanoid form, but skin seemed made of metallic shards. Shimmering reflections like fish scales; wore what looked like giant cordyceps as a laurel crown.

Augmented reality using 3D motion graphics.

Avatar moved fluidly, visualizing EDM rhythm/melody, then jerked in discontinuous motion—alienating. As the beat rapidly builds to an explosive drop, blue particle flashes burst outward.

Simultaneously—audience filming screamed in ecstasy.

“……”

From there, no more aversion. Just couldn’t close her mouth.

Checked upload date—not far from his fashion show set.

How could such flashy EDM visuals coexist with extreme minimalism?

…He mentioned living in Berlin during a law office reunion. Famous for techno—this video wasn’t in the portfolio.

Does he do 3D rendering as a hobby…?

Lost in serious thought, staring blankly into space—didn’t notice anyone approaching.

“Ha Jugyeong?”

Startled, she pulled out her earbuds and turned.

“Didn’t know you were into EDM.”

Attorney Seo Ji-hyeok stood there, smiling gently.