Chapter Text
Walking up the twining streets of Jongno-gu at 6.30 in the morning isn’t the ideal start to Jaemin’s day. The roads are narrow, steep and long and shake with the first tremors of the big machines’ engines two properties down from his boss’ house. Digging up old cable systems for the third day in a row, a group of smiley, round-faced uncles cackle at the morning paper, having formed a jovial circle around a three-metre deep hole and the complicated vehicle, swiping within it- Jaemin hates them a little; them and whichever dumbass in the mayor hall sent them to uproot the pristine pavement over here.
Across the lively site, an elderly lady is opening her coquettish corner store. There is a tear in one of the newspaper bundles a stocky man is stacking up by the door of her establishment. He helps her bring a cardboard box of yellow-packaged snacks inside, smiling at her as he recounts a story of some sort, soft-faced and bashful. A guffaw disturbs the lady and her distributor’s peaceful work: one of the workers almost topples over and into the not-so-freshly dug hole, his colleagues holding their bellies in agony over his comedic reaction. The lady shakes her head at them and her eye catches Jaemin, who is finally close enough to his destination to start rummaging through his pockets for keys and spare banknotes.
“Jaemin-ah, good morning!” Mrs Hwa coos, waving him over, “How are you, my boy? Are you eating well? You’re so skinny! You should rest more, eat well, and sleep properly!” She prolongs her words in a manner very characteristic of a nosy grandma, such as herself. There is a bit of a dialect pinching her vowels, too; Mr Lee says she is a rare living heir of an old southern Korean clan. Jaemin still doesn’t trust the credibility.
Inexcusably, Jaemin flushes under her slow, low-spoken chastising. “I am eating well, Mrs Hwa. Thank you for asking after my health!” He bows to the best of his abilities, clutching two clipboards, a manila folder and his phone in one hand- key ring swinging from his pinky, and a bag of still warm pastries in the other, along with some money he tries to hand her over, whilst she raises her nose and tucks a copy of the newspapers between his folded elbow and his ticklish torso.
She bats his hand away, “Keep those away!” She scowls, throwing a withering glare over Jaemin’s shoulder, “Is that good-for-nothing boss of yours working you to the bone, again? Huh? What are you doing here so early?” Mrs Hwa tuts and Mr Park, her beloved snacks distributor, chuckles at the dramatic tone, “Haven’t seen his face around here in days. One would think he sleeps and shits at that ugly company building now, too!”
Muttering expletives at his boss’ address, she shoves three apples inside the paper bag with the baked goodies. “Thank you” Jaemin tries to bow again. He keeps a giggle behind his teeth.
“Feed him properly today, will you? He doesn’t come around, because I scold him too much” She nudges Mr Park, “Give him some of those.”
“You’re a little overbearing, don’t you think?” Mr Park laughs, picking two bags of the new snacks. He is a man of the countryside, short and sweet, who works tirelessly five days of the week in Seoul and fucks off to a close by village as soon as Saturday rolls around. Oftentimes he’d corner Jaemin wherever he spots him in the neighbourhood and talk about cabbages with the reverent tone of a dedicated lover.
“There’s no need! Truly!” Jaemin yelps as the man shoves the goods after the apples with a big smile stretching his jolly face.
“Keep quiet!” Mrs Hwa cuts in, the crows’ feet by her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Now go wake the bastard up. Tell him I’m keeping an eye out for him. He can’t escape me now, with those blue collars so close down the road.”
It took Jaemin five minutes longer to reach his boss’ house because of that abomination of a fixer-upper. There is no chance in hell Mrs Hwa is going to miss them, leaving for work later. Inside his head Jaemin cackles evilly, hoping she’ll serve a good earful to the man as soon as she catches sight of him.
“I will pass your word on.” He nods dutifully, bowing his head, “Thank you for the snacks, ahjumma, ahjussi!”
They both wave him off and watch as he crosses the handful of metres between the corner store and his boss’ front gates. Mr Park laughs when Mrs Hwa calls after him: “Yah! You better fatten up, Na Jaemin! I don’t want no more of those sunken cheeks, you hear me?”
Jaemin throws a sheepish grin back at them, pushing through the entrance by the heavy wooden gates of Mr Lee’s property, “Yes, ma’am!”
Suddenly, the sounds of a sleepy, barely awake Seoul, halt. Jaemin walks slowly, silently, feeling sealed away from the rest of the world; here between the tall fences and climbing flora, crawling grasses; counting the stone steps up to the front door, recounting the numbers of the doorlock code. Inside, it’s just as quiet.
Jaemin strolls through the living room with the only goal in mind being pulling all curtains open. He starts with the kitchen, granting the pale morning sunlight permission to wash the room in white golds and shimmers. Light reflects off the fridge as Jaemin pulls milk out of it.
Only as he hears and feels the thud of the apples against the fridge door does he remember he still has his hands full. Immediately he goes to deposit everything on the kitchen table.
Methodically, Jaemin pulls his turtleneck’s sleeves up and prepares two cups of coffee, plates the pastries, cuts up the apples. He lets the morning news block run in the background on mute, glancing at the TV briefly; nothing important he hasn’t already been alerted about.
The forecast reporter points to a 2D animated sun, partly obscured by a grey bubbly cloud, floating serenely over the bold font of Seoul , accompanied by 15 C. Switching the TV off, Jaemin brings the clipboards along with the breakfast to the backyard porch and decides that those 15 C are simply too optimistic; he shivers in 12 C max and brings two light blankets from the guest bedroom.
He hears movement down the corridor and a few seconds later a shower.
Jaemin sits outside and sips his coffee, immersing himself in the day’s packed schedule. He didn’t have time to polish the last details last night, due to different obligations. Which reminds him to remind Mr Lee about his opinion on the film they attended the premiere of the previous evening. Seeing as it was one of the better, yet still mediocre works of the overrated, but securely connected, director Shim, Jaemin is already brainstorming bullshit comments about the exquisite cinematography and enchanting writing, yada, yada. Even the title was something short and vague, making the task of giving it a positive critique even more difficult.
Alas, the tabloids crave big scary businessmen showing taste for the arts, portraying tenderness in places where one could hardly find it. If at all.
I was charmed by the unusual emotional palette with which the main character enriched his own experiences. It managed to bring even myself back to memories |
The door to the house behind him opens.
“Good morning.” Greets Lee Jeno, co-CEO of the Lee Corps. and long-standing employer of personal assistant Na Jaemin.
“Good morning, Mr Lee.” Jaemin bows his head respectfully.
When Lee Jeno settles in the seat across his, Jaemin picks his phone once more and manages to expertly twist a few more pulled-out-of-the-ass-in-the-last-minute sentences. He hands the phone over. “The PR team requests a photo of you from last night, which will be posted to your SNS with this caption. Do you approve, sir?”
Lee Jeno runs quick eyes over the words and huffs under his breath, “Yes, I do. I didn’t care enough to watch that watered-down ‘Under the Tuscan sun’ wannabe project properly.”
Jaemin’s lips quirk up, “Not a big fan of Director Shim Bonjin’s revolutionary debut into the dramatic genres, sir?”
His boss rolls his eyes, “Nothing revolutionary about a woman getting naked in the middle of a plaza, dancing in the rain or whatever it was people were yammering about at the afterparty.”
Keeping his laugh to himself, Jaemin shoots a text to Renjun, following with a message to the PR team group chat. Soon an image pops up in the chat: Lee Jeno in his front-row seat, showing off a sculpted profile, surrounded by a mess of A- celebrities piling into the VIP cinema theatre.
Across from him, Lee Jeno takes a bite of his breakfast, nodding approvingly to himself. He is wearing his usual attire: the classic combo of black slacks and white button-down. His necktie lies limp over his shoulders, black cashmere. He is still wearing his eyeglasses, too, which means that Jaemin will have to usher them out the house at least three minutes earlier; Lee Jeno prefers eye contacts in the office. His hair is styled, so that saves them some time.
“Today’s schedule:” Jaemin announces and picks up his personal clipboard to skim over, “First for the day: brief meeting with your fellow co-CEO, concerning the concluding month. That should take no more than forty-five to sixty minutes. 9 AM: a meeting with Kim Jungwoo’s law team, regarding the annual updates of contracts with our oldest partners: the Nams of Namsam Tech and the Anchalis of GFB Ltd. You’ll be accompanied by Ten Lee from International relations. At your last meeting, 4 PM, Ji Hansol will present a sales forecast for the upcoming month. That should take a maximum of two hours. And if today rolls without a hitch, we might have a chance to arrive for Dr. Min’s charity dinner on time .”
Lee Jeno nods, “I see.”
“Xiao Dejun of Design has sent me a draft portfolio for the new speakers line. He is requesting your opinion and further instructions. I’ll let you see it in your time between appointments.” Jaemin continues, flipping to the next page. “I have some minor contracts waiting for your signature, but we can take care of that whenever. I also have Hair and Makeup on dial, in case you’re interested in their services for tonight’s event. I’m going to pick your chosen attire from the tailor’s later today.”
He looks up as soon as he finishes. Lee Jeno picks a slice of apple, “Excellent. Tell me about our table.”
Jaemin swipes through his phone and shows a detailed seating plan for the charity dinner. It’s a mess of names and numbers, but Lee Jeno seems to orient himself well enough. Still, Jaemin clarifies, “Unfortunately, you have been placed at the same table as a couple of KPOP idols. They are second generation; I assume there won’t be any behavioural issues.” And when Lee Jeno’s eyebrows furrow, Jaemin sighs, “Dr. Shim’s assistant was adamant they keep her by your side. I apologise for my failing to ensure your complete comfort. They refused to listen.”
Her- Uchinaga Aeri. Aspiring singer and number-one admirer of the one and only Lee Jeno. With parents as influential as hers, it’s a difficult affair keeping her at a distance. She has shown deep interest in Jaemin’s boss repeatedly. Needless to say, Lee Jeno isn’t big on romance.
“That’s alright.” Lee Jeno sighs, sounding rather defeated, “We’ll manage.”
The royal ‘we’ almost makes Jaemin roll his eyes. Why does he have to suffer through Aeri’s exceeded posing and endless flirty remarks? He holds back a petulant whine. He’s certain Jeno will park him between Aeri and himself as some sort of a human shield. And Jaemin will have to find creative ways to parry her prodding, whilst keeping a professional smile on and looking not too willing to keep a conversation with her.
After all, as Lee Jeno’s glorified shadow, Jaemin does show up in almost every photo of his boss. He’d be a damned fool if he falls victim to the gossip-fishing tabloids.
“Of course, sir.” Jaemin forces a smile, “These are some print-outs for the briefing with Mr Lee.” He hands the second clipboard over.
“Mhm,” Jeno hums and flips through the first couple of sheets, “And the manila folder on my kitchen table?”
Wordlessly, Jaemin goes to fetch it. It’s the standard dark yellow colour- mysterious and suspicious, “I received it last night, after the event.”
“The Sultan?”
“Yes.”
Jeno opens the folder and pulls its contents out.
“Tetsuo Aoko” Jeno scowls. He spreads the three A4-sized photos of the man in question- first and biggest rival of Lee Corps. Regular visitor of a Ganganm-located hostess club/ brothel.
Jaemin curiously checks the photos out. Another rotten man in the underground of a rotten city. Jaemin can’t begin to try to remember the number of men of the same power and status going the same way. It’s a daily occurrence for a random hag to get his dick hard in a corporate office and then get it wet in a sex-trafficking mob lair.
A self-satisfied smirk stretches across Lee Jeno’s face, “Call Kwon Boa. Tell her, we've got a little gift for her.”
Jaemin lets Jeno go through the print-outs whilst he takes calls and exchanges rapid-fire messages with subordinates and other businessmen’s stubborn PAs. He paces around the garden and doesn’t miss the regular glances Jeno throws his way.
“Listen, hon'” He drawls condescendingly into the receiver, “I don’t care how far back you have to bend your spineless self in order to get this done. I need it done!” The female, young and not very experienced PA, if he judges by the squeaky tone and relentless I understand, but’s , keeps muttering nonsense excuses, “Don’t give me that ‘health reasons’ bullshit, I attended the same ball he did, two days ago. Don’t let me remind you how bendy he was on the dancefloor. I am redirecting you to our co-CEOs coordinator secretary. And he is way more indefatigable in his approach than I am. Good luck, sweetie!” Before she has the chance to stammer through her next crappy excuse, Jaemin has already redirected her to Renjun’s desk.
Serves her fucking right.
A husky chuckle reaches him from the porch and he spins around to the sight of his boss standing up and stretching his neck to the side, “Who got you so displeased so early in the morning, Mr Na?”
Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head, “Shin Donghee is avoiding us after shaking your hand over the donation arrangements. His PA is a pain in the ass. Young and dumb.”
“Ah,” Jeno tilts his head to the side, “The donation arrangements for the high school talents scholarships?”
“Yes.” Jaemin begins packing his things, whilst pushing plates in one corner of the table, where it’ll be easier for the maid to clear them up, “I need a total of three signatures.”
He huffs angrily, folding his blanket, while Jeno hums thoughtfully.
“If he doesn’t sign till the end of the week, you are free to contact The Sultan.” Jeno says as if they’re discussing the fucking weather and not the permission for Seoul’s most notorious gangster to ‘take care’ of the Shin Donghee predicament.
Then Lee Jeno disappears inside.
Jaemin sighs when his phone vibrates with a new notification.
⭑⭑⭑
Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin arrive at the building of Lee Corps. five minutes past 7.30 AM. Dozens of employees bow down like a continuous Mexican wave all the way up to the 21st floor.
The doors of the lift open and Lee Jeno, after bidding a polite greeting to his and his cousin's common secretary, disappears inside his office at the end of a long hall-like space, occupied by Jaemin and Renjun’s work areas, both positioned diagonally of each other.
“Well, good morning, sunshine” Renjun begins with an overly sweet tone, “How do you feel on this beautiful day? After throwing me at the hyenas? To deal with dumb shit from the first minute I stepped foot in the building?”
Jaemin groans and shoots him a guilty look, “I’m sorry. She was driving me crazy!”
“Yeah, that was easy to guess” Renjun rolled his eyes, “All the stuttering and buffering- I ended the call in under three minutes.”
“I hate Shin Donghee” Jaemin grumbles, settling at his desk.
“Too bad you have a meeting with him this Friday, three PM.”
They share a smile- more like a sharp, cunning grin, right over their desktops.
The lift opens and a couple of young men step out. Jaemin and Renjun stand up and bow to the co-CEO. Mark Lee returns the bow, lays a soft kiss on his fiancee’s cheek and turns left down the corridor, heading to his wing of the floor. Donghyuck stares after his ass appreciatively, no doubt having chosen his partner’s outfit for the day.
“Good morning, fellow slaves!” He stalks over to Jaemin’s desk and steals a lollipop from the younger’s stash. “How are you feeling?”
“Uneasy.” Jaemin deadpans, “Please, refrain from retelling your sexcapades from last night. No one needs to hear about your tongue and all the adventurous places it has been to.”
“I still have trouble looking into the bossman's eyes after that time you told us about the night he proposed.” Renjun shudders in his seat.
“Party poopers.” Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at them. After a short struggle with his lollipop, he makes puppy eyes at Jaemin who just sighs and accepts to open it for him. “Anyway. I am bearing gifts for our precious Renjunnie.” He bounds over to Renjun’s desk and dumps a pile of stapled papers on the raised counter at its front, “Mark’s going to have a cold Wednesday through Friday, next week. These are a draft of his rearranged appointments.”
“Oh, no!” Renjun gasps over-dramatically, clutching his Chanel necklace, “How unfortunate! At least the cold was considerate enough to call in advance.”
Jaemin snorts from his hunch over his own pile of schedule tables. There are so many drafts, the pink of their template has burnt itself into his retina; every time he closes his eyes he sees pink squares and chicken-scratch scribbles.
“I know. So thoughtful.” Donghyuck nods solemnly. “Anyway. Who’d like to guess whom my first phonecall for the days was with?”
“The in-laws-to-be?” Jaemin asks half-heartedly, underlining a task in Lee Jeno’s calendar.
“Nope.”
“Lim Yangmin, who has finally decided to complete his transactions?” Renjun asks with a sarcastic brow touching his styled fringe.
“Nope.” Donghyuck shakes his head and pulls the sucker out of his mouth with a loud pop. “My suit designer.”
Jaemin and Renjun’s heads bob up at once.
“Mhm” Donghyuck continues, “She called at ass crack of dawn, asking me to choose between linen and silk for the top. And as I had just woken up after a night of extensive- oh, well, details… The point is I was barely conscious, had no clue where the fuck my brain was at and answered silk .”
“Oh, no…” Renjun gasps, invested.
Jaemin leans forward, concerned, “Baby, your wedding is in July .”
“I know!” Donghyuck hiccups theatrically. “Imagine the heat, the nerves, the sweat !”
Jaemin and Renjun wince in sympathy.
“You still have time to call her up and fix things. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, everything’ll be alright.”
“Yeah.” Donghyuck agrees, sighing, “Early mornings are so tough sometimes. Like- the best version of myself is when I’ve had my third coffee for the day and no one’s has tried me yet.”
“Hmm… The best version of myself is when I’ve just finished obliterating someone’s entire idea of life and their own minimal significance.” Renjun says in one breath, punching away at his keyboard.
Donghyuck blinks at him, “You’re so fucking mean sometimes.” He says it as a casual observation.
The sun shines, the sky is blue, Renjun has a whip for a tongue.
“Aww, not all the time?” Renjun bats his eyelashes at them with a pout, “Bummer.”
Donghyuck snorts and sucks at his lollipop obnoxiously, “Yo, Jaem!” Jaemin growls something unintelligible in response, deeply immersed in yet another timetable, “What’s the best version of yourself?”
“The best version of myself is the one wearing a black turtleneck.”
“Damn.” Renjun remarks smartly, “I have to agree.”
Donghyuck bobs his head, “Hm, yeah. Ten out of ten, no lie there.”
Jaemin peels his eyes from his computer screen long enough to blow them a kiss.
He kinda drowns back in his zone again and misses when Donghyuck leaves for his own desk. He emerges from the trenches of his workload only when his 8.00 AM alarm rings. With some effort, he gathers his clipboard and all his brain’s capacity. Then he goes to notify his boss that it’s time for his brief meeting with the co-CEO.
⭑⭑⭑
At two PM Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin emerge from conference room #3, tired but satisfied. They walk back to their corner of the floor and Jaemin runs over his notes. He’ll have to type them out real quick and print them out for his boss to have at hand.
“Jaemin,” Lee Jeno speaks up amid Jaemin’s intense thoughts about colour coding, “We’re having lunch in my office.”
With that, he enters said office and Jaemin blinks at the front of his own desk.
Just in case, Jaemin decides to go for one of their most regular orders. He plucks the number of the traditional Korean restaurant from an extensive collection of business cards, smiling at the Hello Kitty-themed holder, and calls for his boss’ favourite meal. The first twenty minutes of the wait for the food he spends typing those notes out. When he successfully prints them out, he makes a quick pit stop at the bathroom. There he spends a couple of minutes thinking of possible makeup looks he wants to try out for tonight’s dinner. Lee Jeno is going to wear a graphite suit, so Jaemin should consider complementary eyeshadow. At the end of his mental back and forth (grey VS silver) he ends up refreshing his lipgloss and sauntering back to his desk just in time for the lift to open and let the delivery man bestow him the long-awaited goods. He tips generously with the card entrusted to him by his dear boss and goes to show the goods off to said boss.
Jaemin knocks once and Lee Jeno allows him entrance immediately. First, Jaemin leaves the food on the short coffee table between the two sofas in the greeting area of the room, then he deposits the notes on Lee Jeno’s desk. His boss is currently on the phone, so he only nods gratefully when he glances at the papers.
Without having to be told twice, Jaemin takes to preparing their small lunch. It’s not unusual for the two of them to eat together. In fact they share meals very often; every other day, almost. It’s convenient. Lee Jeno isn’t too bad company, so Jaemin hasn’t got much to complain about.
He has known the other man since their second year in university. Back when both of them were signed up for a Business degree at SNU. When Jaemin would finish his readings weeks ahead of time and get paid to do other students’ assignments or show up for an exam with someone else's name, earning someone else a passing grade. It was a profitable business and no one figured him out; students were holding onto him for dear life and professors were too underpaid to actually care.
Lee Jeno was one of the few people who had decided to graduate depending on his own abilities and efforts. Not like it was a big deal to him, anyway. He’d been in the scene for years; proud heir to a fucking corporation. He knew about Jaemin’s hustle and found it rather intriguing. It took some extensive talks and convincing, but eventually, they agreed to join forces. Jaemin dropped the gig and invested his time into Lee Jeno’s future career, which at the time was a question mark. The Lees’ family tree went through some perturbations, that’s all Jaemin knows, but in the end, Lee Jeno and Mark Lee split the leader’s chair.
Jaemin managed the mess.
Donghyuck joined a little later- high school sweetheart with cunning conviction.
This job may not be the greatest, but it pays well. Just three to five more years of this corporate bullshit and he’d be free to fuck off to any tiny private island of his choosing.
For all the colourful crap Na Jaemin has to wade through Lee Jeno pays more than enough.
“Yes, doctor Choi. Of course.” Jeno sits on the opposite sofa and an inaudible sigh falls from his lips at the sight of Jaemin grinning over their lunch, already digging in. “I won’t ever forgive myself if I miss this one out. Especially when your own granddaughter is going to be in attendance; you have told me so much about her work…”
Jaemin snorts to himself, recalling the mentioned granddaughter: a brunette Choi Shinji of twenty-six years and a wall of diplomas and certificates, yet not one real workday to her name. Doctor Choi has been nudging her in Lee Jeno’s path for a while now.
Several minutes and a plethora of goodbyes later the call ends and Lee Jeno sinks in the sofa. Jaemin passes him a plate wordlessly. His boss is obviously not in the mood for work talk at the moment, so he opts for playing a live news report on his tablet, catching up with the latest updates on the police’s investigation of a drug cartel member. He has to make sure there are no loose links between that and the Lee Corps.
Just as the host mentions a familiar name attached to an unfamiliar face, Lee Jeno speaks up, “Is there any chance you can excuse me from tonight’s dinner?”
Jaemin cuts him with a sharp glare, “There is no way in hell you’re leaving me to deal with the hags.” Again .
His boss sighs, defeated. “Choi Shinji will be seated at our table.”
Jaemin barely holds a snicker back. Seems like Aeri will have a competition tonight.
“We could sneak out a little earlier.” He relents with a heavy heart. Any early departure means more piles of bullshit he has to come up with in order to excuse his boss, “I have a guy working the bar.”
Lee Jeno smiles and finally takes the first bite.
“But,” His fork freezes mid-air, “I am calling Hair and Makeup. Make sure you’re free by half past five.”
“Fine.”
Smiling triumphantly, Jaemin turns back to the news, taking mental notes to look some names up and if need be, schedule an emergency meeting with the Sultan. If he can squeeze him in after Renjun and Donghyuck’s coordination meet-up, Jaemin will be back just in time to coax his boss under the flat iron and have a minute to fix himself up, too. The makeup noona will need some assistance as well because Lee Jeno is one pretentious motherfucker, who just hates people touching his ‘god-send’ face.
“- but you are not putting any lip gloss on me this time, Jaemin. I swear. Last time-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Jaemin rolls his eyes and stuffs the last bit of his meal in his bulging cheeks, “But I’m just doing my job. No need for you to be so old-fashioned. Plus, there are going to be so many young ladies at this dinner. And you know- dress to impress and all that.”
He flashes one last innocent smile before he gathers his utensils and slinks towards the door, ignoring his boss’ complaint.
“If that’s all,” He glances at his tablet, “I’ll be at my desk.”
“You’re leaving me to finish my lunch alone?” Lee Jeno frowns and Jaemin starts feeling bad.
He ignores it. “Yep. Call if you need me!”
⭑⭑⭑
“You look fine, Mr Lee” Jaemin mumbles distractedly, shooting Renjun a long string of messages about tomorrow’s first batch of briefings.
“You haven’t even looked at me once. Don’t lie.” Lee Jeno huffs, reaching for his phone for the third time since they got in the car.
Now, Jaemin looks at him. His hair is straight, concealing his forehead without looking too nerd-ish. The makeup is subtle, but definitely noticeable under warm-toned light. His suit is more than fine, too.
With pursed lips, Jaemin puts his own phone down and takes another good look at his boss, who sits up diligently under the scrutiny of his assistant. “I think that Choi Shinji and Uchinaga Aeri will be too busy salivating over your handsome face to remember to make a proper move on your heart.” Or wallet .
His boss glares at him and grabs his phone again, reaching to rub the eyeshadow off his eyelids. Jaemin, experienced, plucks the sleek rectangle out of Lee Jeno’s pale hands and shoves it in his own pocket. There is no time for protests, though, as the car rolls to a stop and a valet opens the door for Lee Jeno to step out and into the flashes of papz’ cameras.
“A heads up: Minister Park likes brunettes. I hope you two have a pleasant conversation while I hide in the toilets.” Jeno shoots him a sweet smile and takes the lead.
“Admitting that you will be hiding in the toilets, somehow, makes your warning a little funnier than it should be, Mr Lee.” Jaemin relaxes his face and falls in rhythm with his boss’ walk, one step behind him.
“I bet Minister Park would love that playful tongue of yours.”
Jaemin has to bend his head, pretending to check his phone, just to roll his eyes without being caught by any of the continuous flashes.
And, of course, Lee Jeno charms a senior gentleman- an actor, into the seat between his own and Choi Shinji’s, while Jaemin dutifully sits next to Uchinaga Aeri. He exchanges pleasantries with the young singer and tries his best to follow the conversation between the actor and Lee Jeno. Politely, he declines offered champagne; he doesn’t drink on the job and his boss avoids getting tipsy around certain crowds such as this one.
The speeches are boring, of course, they are. Uchinaga Aeri’s eye-rolls are entertaining enough. The steady flow of guests thirsty for a smidge of Jeno’s attention, too.
“So, is your boss seeing anyone at the moment?” Asks Aeri, out of the blue and straight to the point. If the topic was anything else, Jaemin would raise an impressed brow and consider spending an extra minute or two in her pink-lipstick-and-velvet-gown-ed company. Alas…
“At the moment?” Jaemin smiles politely, letting the first drop of blood fall into the water. At once he feels Jeno’s elbow against his arm. When did he move so close? He must be even more desperate to evade these women than Jaemin thought. “I, unfortunately, am not allowed to disclose this type of sensitive information.”
The elbow disappears and Jaemin’s smile takes on a sharper edge, even though he knows Jeno’ll give him the cold shoulder tomorrow.
Aeri’s eyes glide from one man to the other, pausing between them for a split second. “That’s too bad.” She clicks her tongue and flicks a wrist in the air, an eager penguin of a waiter appearing at her service out of thin air.
“I wonder,” Choi Shinji’s mellow voice floats over the buzzing of the room, “Does a man as busy and successful as Mr Lee ever find enough time to entertain romantic partners?”
The actor- Kim Something- coughs a laugh and pats Jeno’s shoulder in sympathy. “I can only tell you, ladies, it ain’t easy!”
Things are peaceful after that: Jaemin texts Donghyuck and checks a couple of reports from their head of the sales department under the table, while Aeri ropes Jeno and Shinji in prolonged discussions about gods-know-what above it. Obviously, the younger girl is attempting to outshine her opponent by introducing some niche musical, spitting half a dictionary of musical terms over a couple of empty flutes. The actor has disappeared somewhere.
Jaemin looks up, finally, and now the conversation revolves around the high-end gowns the women have chosen for the evening.
“Jaemin,” Lee Jeno calls quietly, “I see Doctor Min and his family have arrived. I haven’t seen them in a while, I want to catch up.”
Jaemin is out of his seat before he even finishes. “Of course, sir.”
“Excuse us, ladies.” Lee Jeno inclines his head and walks into the crowd, Jaemin hot on his heels.
Three tables before Doctor Min’s actor Kim Something is slow-dancing the minister of healthcare. Just a few metres away is the bar. That is where Lee Jeno swerves to the left.
“You said you know a guy.” Jeno throws back over his shoulder.
“Choi San, black hair, undercut.” Jaemin says immediately, “Are we leaving already, sir?”
“I have no more patience for Inkigayo talk and Dior rebranding gossip.” Jeno sighs, exhaustion prickling his words, “Introduce me, please.”
Choi San is already looking at them, whispering in another barman’s ear. Next thing Jaemin knows Lee Jeno is shaking hands with his friend, laughing about the choice of white wine and French cheese appetisers, sneaking away through the back door of the establishment.
“You owe me~” San sings playfully by Jaemin’s side as the younger calls his boss’ driver.
“Yeah, yeah” Jaemin chuckles, scrolling through his contacts and pulling up a phone number. “Jung Wooyoug, was it?” One of the more diligent members of the Lee Corps.’ accounting team.
“Mhm,” San lights up a cigarette and grins gratefully when Jaemin shoots him a text with said boy’s number. “Thanks, man.”
Jaemin only shakes his head and squeezes the other’s arm, “Pleasure doing business with you”
San salutes them and sinks back into the shadows by the tall ashtray/ trash bin situation.
Just in time, a sleek black Benz rolls to a stop before them. The chauffeur gets off and after a word or two exchanged with his boss, he strolls away, lighting a cigarette as well.
“Get in” Jeno instructs a surprised Jaemin.
“You’re driving, sir?”
“Mr Yoon needs a break.”
Without further ado, they leave the venue.
Unsurprisingly, a medium-sized crowd of journalists and gossip-seeking vultures swarm the entrance of the venue. Thanks to the blacked-out windows of the car nobody notices Lee Jeno of the Lee Corps. and his devoted right hand sneaking out. In case anyone does notice, Jaemin is three flimsy explanations ahead of them. Hypothetical situation (1):
Bitch-faced journalist on the twenty-eighth hour of her shift: Why did one of the most eligible bachelors of Seoul’s corporate wall leave a charitable dinner to munch on a juicy burger from a 24-hour fast food joint with his secretary?
(Renjun or a random intern with one free hour) A representative of Lee Jeno’s team: Mr Lee had to step out due to intense dizziness, caused by fatigue. As you may already know, he has been discussing mutual projects with a foreign company, all the while living on an inhumane schedule due to time differences and utter devotion to his work. That, unfortunately, has led to a lot of stress… His personal doctor advised bringing his sugar levels back up as soon as possible, hence the hurried leave.
“Jaemin”
Lee Jeno’s voice rips Jaemin’s attention away from his open notes app at once. He blinks at his boss and hums to let him know he is listening attentively.
“We’ve arrived.”
“We have-” Jaemin glances out and all he sees is the entrance to the apartment building he lives in.
“You spent more than enough time in my presence today, I think.” Jeno offers a smile, small and soft around the edges.
Jaemin can’t help but chuckle as he unbuckles his seatbelt, “That’s my job, sir.”
“And you work overtime” Jeno adds with a playful tone and all the seriousness in the world. Sometimes Jaemin wonders how this man manages to embody such paradoxes so effortlessly. “Oh, and this is for you.”
He reaches behind the younger’s seat and presents him with a brown paper bag. The logo appears faded, but Jaemin knows for a fact that the Indian guy who printed it has run out of ink; as he did the Tuesday the previous week and the Tuesday before that, and the Tuesday before that… All he can make out of the “BBiT” logo is the ‘BB’ part and one-half of the flaming bull above it.
Jaemin grins excitedly and pulls the bag out of his boss’ hands with the speed of light, ripping it open and inhaling the sweet aroma of a fat beef patty with the expression of an experienced addict. “Extra mystery sauce? Thank you, sir!”
“Of course. No need to thank me. And, please, don’t call me ‘sir’ after hours.” Jeno grins and pats Jaemin’s knee when the younger nods sheepishly. “Goodnight, Jaemin.”
“Goodnight, Jeno”
The sleek black Benz doesn’t leave until Jaemin has safely entered his building.
And if he struggles to wipe the smile off his face while eating his greasy, heavenly dinner, that is absolutely nobody’s business, but his own.
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