Ji-Eun's POV
Ji-eun didn't sleep.
By dawn, she'd scrubbed every inch of their tiny apartment, her hands raw from bleach and her mind replaying him—Kang Joon-hyuk's unreadable eyes, the way he'd dismissed her gratitude like it was nothing.
"I don't want your money."
Then what? Favors? Silence? Another twisted game?
Her phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number:
"My office. 9 AM."
No signature. None needed.
Her stomach lurched. So it begins.
---
Joon-Hyuk's POV
Joon-hyuk watched her from his office window as she entered Kang Enterprises, her steps stiff but chin lifted. Even in her worn-out blazer, she carried herself like someone who'd learned to survive storms.
(He knew the feeling.)
His secretary's voice crackled through the intercom. "Sir, Miss Han is here."
"Send her in."
The door opened. Ji-eun stood frozen on the threshold, her fingers clenched around her bag strap.
"Sit," he said, nodding to the chair across from his desk.
She didn't move. "Why am I here?"
Joon-hyuk leaned back, steepling his fingers. "You said you'd repay me."
Her breath hitched. "Name your price."
A dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. "Work for me."
"I do work for you."
"Not at the company." He held her gaze. "At my home."
Ji-eun's face drained of color. "Excuse me?"
"My grandmother," he clarified coolly, "requires a live-in caretaker. The last one quit. You'll cook, clean, and ensure she takes her medication."
Ji-eun's nails dug into her palms. "You're blackmailing me into being a maid ?"
"I'm offering you a job with triple your current salary." He slid a contract across the desk. "And your brother's record stays clean."
Her eyes burned. "How generous."
Joon-hyuk stood, circling the desk until he loomed over her. "Say no, and walk away. But we both know you can't afford to."
The truth of it choked her. Medical bills. Min-jae's tuition. Their crumbling ceiling.
She snatched the pen. "How long?"
"Six months."
Her signature was a slash of ink, a surrender.
Joon-hyuk took the contract, their fingers brushing—a spark that made him jerk back as if burned.
"Pack your things," he said, turning away. "You move in tonight."
"W..hat tonight , But what about my partime jobs " Ji-eun said thinking she needs to visit her mother also .
"You can call them and tell that you quit " He said going through the files without looking at me .
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Ji-Eun's POV
The Kang mansion was a monster of glass and steel, looming over Seoul like a castle.
A butler led Ji-eun to a guest room—no, a servant's room—smaller than her apartment's bathroom but pristine. Her duffel bag looked pathetic on the king-sized bed.
A knock.
She expected Joon-hyuk. Instead, an elderly woman with sharp eyes and silver hair stood there, leaning on a cane.
"So you're the girl my grandson dragged home." The dowager Kang smirked. "He didn't mention you were pretty."
Ji-eun bowed hastily. "Ma'am, I'm just—"
"Save the excuses." The woman hobbled past her, eyeing the unpacked bag. "Joon-hyuk thinks I need a babysitter. I think he needs a therapist." She snorted. "But since you're here—make me tea. And call me Halmeoni."
Ji-eun blinked. "...Yes, Halmeoni."
As she hurried to the kitchen, she heard the old woman mutter:
"And don't fall in love with that idiot. He'll only break your heart."
Ji-eun's hands froze around the teapot.
Too late.
---
Joon-Hyuk's POV
Joon-hyuk found her in the kitchen at midnight, scrubbing an already-spotless counter.
"You're not paid to clean obsessively," he said.
Ji-eun didn't turn. "Why really bring me here?"
Silence. Then—
"Halmeoni likes you."
A lie. His grandmother had terrorized every caretaker within a week. Yet she'd smiled at Ji-eun's terrible tea.
Ji-eun finally faced him, arms crossed. "You expect me to believe this is about familybonding ?"
Moonlight through the window caught the defiance in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw. Something primal twisted in his chest.
"No," he admitted, stepping closer. "It's not."
Her breath faltered as he caged her against the counter.
"Then what—"
The alarm on his phone blared. Park Min-ah: 12 missed calls.
Reality crashed back.
Joon-hyuk stepped away, jaw clenched. "Go to bed, Ji-eun."
This time, she didn't argue.
---
Joon-Hyuk's POV
Alone in his study, he poured whiskey he didn't drink.
Why bring her here?
The contract said debt.
His pulse said something far more dangerous.
Ji-eun's POV
Ji-eun had survived warzones with fewer rules.
"No loud noises after 9 PM."
"No cheap instant ramen in my kitchen."
"No romantic entanglements under my roof." (Halmeoni's favorite.)
She stuck Post-its on her closet to remember them all.
This was her second week in the Kang mansion, and if the sparkling marble floors didn't trip her up, the cold shoulder from her accidental boss surely would.
Kang Joon-hyuk.
CEO. Certified narcissist. Possibly allergic to smiles.
Ji-eun balanced a tray of breakfast—grapefruit, poached egg, sourdough toast (Halmeoni's weird flex)—and tiptoed toward the living room where Joon-hyuk and his grandmother were mid-silent-war over crossword puzzles.
"I brought breakfast," she chirped, like a very nervous squirrel.
Halmeoni waved her over. "Finally, someone useful. Joonie here thinks "Eponymous Greek hero of Troy" is 'Zeus.'"
"It's Hector," Ji-eun said without thinking.
Joon-hyuk arched a brow. "You do crosswords?"
"I do everything," she muttered, setting down the tray.
"Do you also barge into meetings to correct me in front of investors?"
"Do you also sulk in million-won suits when someone's smarter than you?"
Halmeoni nearly choked on her grapefruit.
"Good. He needs humbling," she said between coughs, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "You, come with me. We're going on a walk. Joon-hyuk, try not to implode without her."
Ji-eun smirked. "Don't wait up."
Joon-hyuk watched them go, biting down a smile he absolutely did not allow.
---
Joon-hyuk's POV
"You're smiling, sir," his secretary whispered later that day as he reviewed files.
"No, I'm not."
"Your eyebrow twitched."
"Leave."
He stared at the security feed on his tablet where Ji-eun was pushing Halmeoni's wheelchair through the garden, laughing at something the old woman said.
She looked… peaceful.
God, that was dangerous.
---
Ji-eun's POV
Dinner was a disaster waiting to happen. Ji-eun was in the kitchen trying to replicate Halmeoni's sacred soybean stew recipe while dodging snide comments from Joon-hyuk, who'd wandered in holding a glass of wine like it was a prop in a chaebol drama.
"Do you know how to cook?" he asked, eyeing her chopping.
"Do you know how not to micromanage?" she shot back.
"I just don't want you to poison Halmeoni."
"Too late. I poisoned her tea yesterday. You're next."
There was a beat of silence, then—
He laughed. Actually laughed.
Ji-eun blinked. "Did the wine go to your head?"
"I don't drink." It was a joke
"Then you're high on your own ego."
He leaned in, too close, voice low. "If I were high, it'd be on your sass."
Her brain short-circuited for 0.2 seconds before she turned back to the stove.
"Please don't flirt with the hired help. It's in the contract," she mumbled.
Joon-hyuk smirked. "I wrote the contract."
"And I added sticky notes of amendments, You fooled me with the contract If you remember " she countered, slapping one on his chest: No eye contact over 5 seconds. Too dangerous.
He read it and laughed again. "What are you, twelve?"
Ji-eun flicked flour at him.
---
Later That Night – Ji-eun's POV
She passed his study door, expecting silence.
Instead, she heard… humming?
She peeked.
Joon-hyuk sat at his piano, sleeves rolled up, fingers moving over keys like he wasn't a ruthless CEO but just… a guy. With a song.
He looked up.
Caught.
"You're spying."
"You're singing."
They stared. Something warm passed between them.
She backed away. "Five-second rule. I'm gone."
Joon-hyuk chuckled softly. "Goodnight, Ji-eun."
She walked faster, hiding her blush.
Why did his voice sound like a promise?
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