Chapter Text
It only took a split second.
For a split second—he lost control of his body, and his lips treacherously stretched upwards at the expression of Attorney Young-woo’s pure and unadulterated joy. An expression he had never seen before: mouth open wide, grinning like she just won a lottery and never had to work for the rest of her life. And his lips couldn’t help but follow, to be infected by her beaming smile. Not even when he tried to bite it and repress his smile to return to where it came from. He only made it worse, though; teeth showing, mouth blooming into a full smile like the toothpaste models always do.
When Jung Myeong-seok finally tore his eyes from the door, he hissed to himself, “She always has the final say.”
He ignored the tingle in his chest and tried to refocus as he stared at the legal documents on his table. Or should he just go back to his short nap before Attorney Woo interrupted him? He glanced back at the closed doors, awaiting another knock followed by her asking for her resignation letter back. But nothing happened. Did she know Myeong-seok could still process it if it were still in his hands? She was lucky that he was a good mentor with immense patience; another law firm wouldn’t tolerate this behavior. He huffed.
Should he give it back to her?
Ey, what he was thinking. He had already done enough for her, such as defending her from the discrimination act and basically begging the CEO, then withdrawing from a case as team solidarity, then not processing her resignation and registering her unauthorized absences as days off instead. Any more than that, he would be seen as someone who picked favorites.
No, no, let’s just go back to this god-forsaken stack of papers that he should review by the end of the day.
He stretched his neck and got ready to continue his reading. It was time for him to get back to work anyway.
… except, in the past ten minutes, he couldn’t even finish reading one sentence. His eyes scanned the same line repeatedly, but the meaning kept slipping through his fingers. He almost wanted to throw away the documents to the nearest bin for not making any sense if they weren’t important and confidential and would lead to bigger trouble. He shook his head and chased away the shadow of Attorney Woo from his mind, the source of his persistent distraction.
Yet, his hand slid over to the abandoned resignation letter inside his top drawer, the thing that kept reminding him of her. He pulled up the simple note, stating her resignation without explanation in bold black letters. Rereading it made his blood boil, so he crumpled it up and threw that away into the bin.
The quiet thud was enough to dissipate some of his edginess.
Mollified, he took his now-cold coffee and drank the last remains, hoping a scant of caffeine would help eliminate her entirely from his mind.
He was a professional, never once falling for his junior or mentee. It was just a fondness because Attorney Woo Young-woo was his junior. Yes, yes, that’s it. He only admired her enthusiasm as a rookie attorney. No more than that. He wasn’t like that bastard Jang Seung-jun—said that he could act discreetly towards his junior. Myeong-seok scoffed at that thought as if! Seung-jun had always been conceited, and his behavior was plain as day. They were practically parading as a couple, becoming an open secret within a week. Though there was no actual regulation about inter-office relationships in Hanbada, Myeong-seok knew they must have had a meeting with the HR Department before continuing to date and, later on, getting married.
But Myeong-seok was different from Seung-jun. He wanted to respect his protégé as, well, an apprentice and teach them ways about law and court rules as someone who had been immersed in the field for fourteen years. And he wouldn’t get his personal feelings involved. Not even when someone as extraordinary as Attorney Woo barged into his life and flipped it upside down, made him unlearn everything to understand her brilliant mind, but gladly doing so as he saw the world differently now. Each idea from Attorney Woo’s mind was fresh and unique and compelled the senior attorney to listen to her chirpy voice. And every once in a while… he justified himself for being drawn to those big round eyes of wonder. Because he was just trying to concentrate on what she was saying. And forgave himself if he failed to do so because Attorney Woo was always speaking so fast. Not because Jung Myeong-seok was lost in those deep brown irises.
Yes. That must be it. Attorney Woo’s enthusiasm and intelligence to match it up took root in his heart as a colleague. Yeah… he nodded, satisfied with the reason he came up with, then he tried again to review the case documents. This time he successfully finished a long paragraph in ten minutes.
When he called Attorney Woo to take the case with Attorney Choi to calm her passion with the gesture of ‘whoa, whoa,’ Jung Myeong-seok most definitely didn’t try to hold back his smile. The itch was because of another thing entirely. And when he repeatedly gesticulated, eyes glued to her, waiting for her to follow him with her adorable version, it was for her to remember it clearly. That sensation crawling in his stomach pit was probably because he skipped breakfast. Certainly not because of the scene before him, her tiny hands flailing in front of her, eyes focusing on his bigger ones.
What it would feel like to hold those small hands—
He felt someone staring at him, and he caught their eyes. Two female employees from the litigation team were passing by and greeted him with a nod. It only lasted a few seconds, but Myeong-seok swore they could see his thoughts through eye contact. It was as if he was just stripping his clothes off in the middle of the office as he stuttered his last ‘whoa’ at Attorney Woo. He felt so exposed and immediately ushered the younger woman to go to her mission while he backed off to the meeting room.
What was that?! It must be an intrusive thought, definitely not his. Just a random one that crossed his mind because he was staring at her hands. That was it. He kept replaying the logical reason for his behavior to himself and insisted on it so much that he believed it.
He must.
There was no option other than that. Myeong-seok was no Jang Seung-jun who chased his mentee. He was Jung Myeong-seok, who could separate personal feelings and professional relations at work.
So when Seung-jun sauntered his way into his office at the end of the week, disturbing the peace in Myeong-seok’s world and languidly asking with a not-so-innocent smile, “Do you like Attorney Woo?” Myeong-seok couldn’t help but choke in empty air and saliva, coughing for dear life until his peer-slash-nemesis had to help and pat his back on purposefully so hard that he almost fell from his chair.
That question was an unprompted one.
He couldn’t believe that the bastard Seung-jun actually asked him—that.
“Are you out of your mind?!” he snapped the moment he could breathe, nose flaring aggressively.
“Why are you mad, Myeongseok-ah? I mean, you could like your junior, no? There is nothing wrong with liking to work with someone,” the bastard took a dramatic second before adding, “…unless you meant liking her romantically?”
Myeong-seok could feel his hands twitching to slap that smug grin and wipe it off for a good few weeks. But he was a civilized person, and he would not cave to barbaric acts. So he took a deep breath, which he always did whenever Seung-jun was in his perimeter. “Am I so wrong to assume that question implies romantic feelings when the one asking is you ?”
Seung-jun stepped back and went around the table, putting a distance between them. Probably sensing the ominous aura that Myeong-seok was radiating and taking a safety measure. “Well, that is a fair point. And as someone who has experienced something similar, and as the one who knows you best, I strongly recommend you stop your denial,”—Myeong-seok was already opening his mouth to politely ask Seung-jun to fuck off and mind his own business when that man finished his sentence—“and make a move before someone from your team beat you to it.”
Myeong-seok’s jaws hung open for a second before he closed them and let the words sink in. Processing it with a closed mouth was more dignified and did not let him look like a fool and a fish at the same time in front of Seung-jun. His brain was whirring to find out who and what was happening behind his back and why he cared or had a sudden urge to do something. But the questions were scrambling to get out of his mouth, and his response just boiled down to, “What.”
He must have looked like a clown nonetheless because Seung-jun had the nerve to burst out laughing, arching his back and pointing his finger at him like a cartoon character. He stood up with a thick report in his hand, ready to launch his work at the bastard to shut him up, when there was a knock, and his door swung open immediately without his permission.
Only three people dare to do that to him: the man in front of him, the CEO of Hanbada, and… Attorney Woo. He dropped the report once he saw the woman in the doorway was counting on her tiny little fingers, scrunching her eyes shut—fortunately, so she didn’t see how ridiculous Myeong-seok was acting—before coming into the office. He was pleased to note Seung-jun’s laughter faltered when he realized they were no longer alone.
“Eo, what is it, Attorney Woo?” He asked, voice dropping an octave lower.
The only woman in the room landed her eyes on Seung-jun for a second before roaming everywhere. “I want to discuss our recent case,” she turned her body towards Seung-jun but looked downwards and said, “you shouldn’t listen due to attorney-client privilege.”
“You want me to leave?” Seung-jun asked. And Young-woo answered with a nod.
Myeong-seok couldn’t hold back his amusement and sputtered a chuckle, immediately covering it up with a few fake coughs until he was confident enough to take control of his lips.
“Attorney Jung, are you okay?” Asked a concerned voice.
“Are you okay, Myeongseok-ah?” Asked another with a fake worried tone, thick with mirth instead.
He looked at both of them with cheeks heating up, which he ignored. “Eo, I’m okay.” Right now, he wanted nothing more than to praise Young-woo for ushering the bastard to leave in a very blunt way. Despite being objectively annoying, Seung-jun usually had his way through spinning a web of deceitful witty remarks and shit-eating grins. There is only a concise list of people who can see beyond it and not fall under his spell. He took pride that Young-woo was on that list.
However, his euphoria was cut short when Seung-jun shot him a look and a smirk his way. He was instantly reminded of their talk only minutes before, and that somehow made him so self-conscious to be in the room alone with Attorney Woo. He silently cursed Seung-jun for making him think and feel like this now. “Go. Go away, Seungjun-ah. You don’t have any important business here anyway,” Myeong-seok waved him away.
“I would argue that, but not now. Since I still respect your privacy.”
Myeong-seok clenched his jaw. Pointedly ignoring Youngwoo, he sent a final glare to Seung-jun, who thankfully still understood a social cue and took his leave. Myeong-seok plopped down to his seat, feeling ten years older from the encounter, and massaged an impending headache on his forehead.
“What do you want to discuss, Attorney Woo?”
The object of his thoughts for these past few months hesitated a bit before finally firing off her ideas with tidbits about whales sprinkled here and there. And Myeong-seok really was trying to concentrate on her words, but what Seung-jun said earlier bothered him more than he thought it would. His mind turned on the detective mode and examined every moment, analyzing anyone who interacted with Young-woo in his presence but came up with no likely suspect.
He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice her going on and on and on with the whale parallel in this case until she yelled, “Attorney Jung—Attorney Jung! Are you listening?”
“Ne? ” He redirected his gaze at the younger attorney across his desk. “Ah, sorry, Attorney Woo. Um…,” he fixed his glasses, trying to stall time while his mind was scrambling to find an excuse, “sorry, I have a lot on my mind right now. Can you repeat the last point?”
“Hmm, my father said, talking about what is in your mind would help to alleviate some burden. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Uh.”
There was no way he could talk about this to the person herself. He couldn’t very well say, ‘Oh, yeah, I was just wondering who wants to date you in our team,’—he might as well hand off all of his cases to Seung-jun and resign in shame. Besides, he didn’t even know what this was gurgling in his chest right now, digging deep and making him restless, filling him with the urge to move, do anything. Preferably finding out the mysterious person in his team who was making a move on their precious attorney under his radar.
Wait—Why did he care?
He gripped the edge of his desk; somehow, the gravitation didn’t help him to stay grounded. “Uh, thanks for the offer.” He crooked a smile. “But, it’s perso—” he cut himself short. If he was admitting it was personal, then he made this personal. When it was not, it was because of their team harmony. So, it wasn’t personal. He tried again, “Maybe later…? I need to sort it out by myself first.”
“Okay,” she nodded. And went on to repeat the whale parallel from the very beginning. This time the senior attorney stopped her. “Eo, that’s enough, Attorney Woo. Now, what’s your point?”
She smiled as she shared the meat of her ideas.
Myeong-seok was relieved that she went on her business like usual and didn’t prod further.
Yeah. Myeong-seok needed to identify what he was feeling and why before talking to anyone. He should organize his thoughts and then plan what he would do to find out who this interloper is and maintain the team harmony. And prove Seung-jun wrong.
In any case, this was his mystery to solve.