Proving he wasn't tired was a difficult task for Park Kyung. As he huffed and puffed to the door to pass the stacks of papers to Mi-seol, who would divide them into piles, he couldn't find the energy to say his pickup lines, let alone speak coherently without having to take deep breaths every now and then.
Mi-seol smiled at him from the door as he dumped it on the floor of the entrance. "Aww, Kyung-nim, you look positively exhausted," she commented.
Kyung let out heavy breaths, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Are you...kidding me? It's been...hours...since you...made me...your slave!"
Mi-seol merely rolled her eyes. "Kyung-sajang, it's only been twenty minutes."
He held up a hand as he dropped to his knees. "Matter of perspective, Mi-seol. What is minutes to you is hours to another."
"Oh please. It's only been a couple of trips," she said, coming up the steps. "Here. Let's swap duties. I'll bring the piles over. You organize them. Deal?"
Kyung looked up as she pushed him away from the door so she could enter. "Wait," he said, getting up, puffing his chest, "Lifting heavy things is a man's job."
She turned around, scoffing. "What if the man is unfit to do that?" she said, although it was more of a joke and they both knew it. She waved a hand dismissively. "I can do it. We'll swap again when you start complaining. See those piles?" she said, pointing, "That's cirque suppliers and warranty matters, that's company records, and the rest are pretty self-explanatory."
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe. "I don't see why I have to be the paperwork guy when I'm head of logistics," he grumbled.
She gave him a look.
"What?" he asked, "It's true!"
She massaged her temples. "Logistics handle paperwork, or do you not know that?" she said, deadpan. "What are those papers and books doing in the Logistics trailer for? Aesthetics?"
He let out an exhale. "How would I know? I don't read them!"
"Look, let's stop bickering. You're distracting me from my job."
She made a move to enter the trailer, but his arm shot out, preventing entry.
Mi-seol's lips pursed into a thin line as she looked up at him. "Come on, we're wasting time," she said, trying to duck under his hand. But he wouldn't let her through, instead beaming at her like he always did before he tested her with his cheesiness.
She frowned. "I am not having you or your pickup lines," she muttered, not facing him.
"Just one, okay?" he whined as she let out an exasperated sigh, and leaned closer. "Look at me."
She rolled her eyes. "What is it now?" she asked, tilting her head sideways. Her eyes regarded him, dark and suspicious.
Perfect for my little trick, he thought to himself gleefully.
"What's your favorite color, Mi-seol?" he asked innocently.
She frowned at his unexpected question. "Why are you asking me-"
He shook his head, hair falling over his eyes. "Just answer the question," he said urgently.
"Black," she replied immediately, her eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"
He grinned mischievously. Her answer made it easier for him to carry out his little mission. "You know, just curious," he said conspiratorially, earning an amused twinkle in her eyes, "If you must know, Beautiful is my favorite color."
YOU ARE READING
If there is one thing Shin Hyejeong doesn't understand, it's why her parents never allowed her to go to the circus out of town. Little does she know that it would be her unraveling. Shin Hyejeong is every successful chaebol's dream daughter. Sh...