"Ah~" For some reason, people sigh after drinking.
Worldwide, it's like this exhale proves the liquor's depth.
Releasing life's troubles and misfortunes in one breath.
Setting down the beer, thinking of his exertion, Park Sun-young pointed to the side dishes.
"Enough to eat? How about jajangmyeon?" Koreans loved jajangmyeon as much as ramen.
With radish kimchi, it was irresistible.
"Delivery?" Lee Jin-woo asked.
Licking sauce off her fingers, she headed to the entrance. "I have a card. Their food's great."
Two jajangmyeon sets, four sides, 6,400 won total.
Radish kimchi, spicy cabbage, two rice cakes, and a small dish of ginger paste.
Garlic-tinged ginger paste, spicy and fresh, paired perfectly with jajangmyeon.
"Take mine too." Seeing him devour the sides and nearly finish his noodles, she pushed her bowl and sides over, wiping sauce from his lips with a tissue.
"Not hungry?" he asked.
She shook her head, her gentle eyes smiling as she watched him eat.
Her upturned lips and crescent-eyed smile radiated happiness.
Picking half from her bowl, he slid it back. "Together."
"Mm." Nodding happily, she ate, stealing glances.
Handsome features, sharp brows, starry eyes, chiseled ruggedness.
So hot, really…
Why so hot!?
"What're you looking at?" He looked up suddenly, making her dive back to her noodles.
"Nothing, not looking at you."
[…] Her flustered denial screamed guilt—self-incriminating!
"Oh, forgot the TV." She scurried to turn it on, dodging embarrassment.
"Remote, remote…"
From cool beauty to ditzy cutie—how could you not love that gap?
"Brother, long time no see."
"Kyung-sik, calling me? Missing Jeonju bean sprouts and makgeolli?"
A cultural hub, Jeonju's bean sprout rice, handeul, and makgeolli were famed.
"Aigoo, Jeonju's bean sprout rice—makes my mouth water, haha…"
"I'll send some tomorrow, plus today's fresh makgeolli."
"Really? That's great… Jeonju's makgeolli is the real deal."
They bantered about food and drink like old pals.
"By the way, brother, know what Jin-woo's been up to?"
"Heard some things."
"Didn't expect that kid to do so much alone. Aigoo… Brother, you didn't secretly fund him, did you?"
"Even if I wanted to, would he take it?"
"Haha, true… Kids these days, don't appreciate things."
"They're grown, with their own ideas. Were we any better young?"
"Brother, thought you'd be mad."
"Whatever, he's got Jeonju Lee blood."
"So family's what matters. When Jin-woo asked for help, I agreed right away.
But that kid's temper—beating someone to a pulp in the studio…"
"Tell me, what's it about." Lee Kyu didn't buy that he'd care about trash.
Kim Sung-hoon was less than an ant to them.
Crush him deliberately—so what?
He'd used that excuse with Jin-woo once already.
So direct, Son Kyung-sik dropped the act. "This time, who's got the better odds?"
"Investing now, isn't it too early?"
"Who'd complain about early? Hungry, anything tastes good. Full, even Hanwoo's passed up, right?"
"Jin-woo's out there struggling alone. Heard he even mortgaged his company."
Son smiled faintly. "I heard too. Planning to ask him about it. If he needs money, tell the family. Why mortgage the company?"
"Yeah, pity I, his father, can't cough up cash. Useless."
[…] Son forced a dry laugh. "The company's got some spare cash to lend—20 billion."
"Kyung-sik, one jar enough? If not, I'll have more made."
Son's expression froze, teeth gritted, forcing a smile.
"My mistake—50 billion."
"Two jars? Still not enough. Tonight, I'll have more brewed."
Son clenched his jaw, struggling, then spat out, "80 billion. That's the limit."
"Hm… Two days from now, I'm meeting party reps. Join me."
"Brother, anything to prepare?"
"What's better than makgeolli? I'll handle it, your share too."
"Thanks, brother… I'll talk to Jin-woo tomorrow."
"That's between you and the young. I'm out… Aigoo, it's late. Sleeping."
The call's abrupt tone deepened Son's view of this brother's shamelessness.
Trading 80 billion for a chance—what a wolf cub.
Aigoo, was Lee Jin-woo another heartless, cold-blooded guy like him?
Past noon, Lee Jin-woo called it quits, grabbing the buzzing phone.
"Three Inches…" Phone to ear, his smile stiffened.
"80 billion, wei ei?" He couldn't fathom what Son was up to.
An old saying: unsolicited kindness hides schemes.
Lending him 80 billion out of nowhere, at the lowest bank rates.
Practically giving him money—what for? What did he want?
"Jin-woo, the ones who care most are always family, got it?"
"Noon, send someone to the company. I'll have Exec Choi coordinate."
"Got it. I'll send Ying-jun."
"Jo Young-joon? You two are tight."
"Ne!"
"That's it then. Won't disturb your fun, haha…"
Setting down the phone, he stroked Park Sun-young's hair, sprawled across his lap, like petting a cat.
"Bo~" She looked up, seeing his puzzled face. "Leaving?"
"Nah, no rush." He sensed someone was helping him.
"Family" hinted at their identity.
Who else could make Son cough up 80 billion?
Reality said it was true; reason said impossible.
He was torn—what was going on?
Park Sun-young, gazing up, her big eyes curious.
Her glossy, flushed lips glistened with elite finesse.
His irritated heart exploded.
Pressing her head down, "I'm fired up. Cool me off!"
Half an hour later, flushed and panting, she asked, "Oppa, what are we? Boyfriend-girlfriend?"
Pinching her collagen-rich cheek, dressed neatly, he flashed a bright smile, leaning close.
"Aigoo, our Sun-young's so cute!"
Patting her cheek lightly, he turned, waving without looking back.
Leaving her alone, quietly heartbroken, knowing she'd misjudged.
"80 billion—your old man step in?"
"With this, our plan's solid."
"Aigoo, a rich dad's nice, hyung. When you go home, take me. I'll call your dad 'godfather.' He'll love me…"
"Hyung, you there? Hyung?" Pulling the phone away, Jo sighed. "Ugh, so rude, hanging up."
Parking the Land Rover downstairs, Lee Jin-woo strode inside.
"President, morning."
"Is Rep Yoon here?"
The new receptionist was pretty—youth was great!
"She's here."
"Mm, keep working!"
Taking the elevator to the top, he signaled Ha Joo-hee to stay seated, pushing open the door.
"President." Yoon Hye-na stood from her papers.
"Continue." Waving her down, he sat on the sofa.
"Schedules going smoothly? How's Ji-eun and Han So-hee's training?"
"Teachers say they're gifted."
She skipped training details.
Worried he'd meddle, wasting two good talents.
Training was grueling, no matter the company.
"Hm, Lee Joo-bin?"
"She's started gigs. Her face is popular."
New models all started the same—entering the circle via events like expos, openings, mall festivities.
Then, photographer-led outdoor shoots for networking.
Free for all—photographers honed skills, models practiced expressions, poses, and camera feel.
Plus, mingling for future connections.
For models without channels, that was the path.
Lee Joo-bin, backed by Zy's modest channels, didn't need to slum in the freelance scene.
Her manager would find gigs—maybe low-pay, high-intensity.
But steady income helped her learn the industry fast.
She'd also join small contests to get noticed.
Small contests had their use, like school.
Entry = enrollment, then climbing step-by-step.
Some learned slow, following the crowd to "graduate."
Some, gifted, skipped grades fast.
Others dropped out, unable to keep up.
Lee Joo-bin was the star student—quick, talented, with a teacher's backing.
Small contests to show face, grab a ticket.
Then straight to big stages, aiming for a breakout.
(End of Chapter)