Cozy Obsession

Chapter 18

Heemin swallowed dryly.

He told himself over and over again that this was just another performance test—a practical final exam replacing the written one for Introduction to Theater. Only then did he manage to open his mouth and speak.

"I'm sorry, Father. I haven’t been feeling well, so I didn’t have the presence of mind to reach out."

Up until yesterday, Heemin had been indulging in his life as an unemployed freeloader with the utmost laziness. The only days he had actually felt unwell were the first two.

He could feel Iheon’s gaze pressing against the side of his face, filled with silent suspicion.

"I see. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes. I’m fine."

Though Heemin’s reply was calm, Kwak Yoonseong couldn’t fully hide his displeasure as he asked:

"May I ask what kind of relationship you have with President Cha?"

"The kind you can see for yourself."

Iheon, who had remained silent the entire time, finally interjected.

Yoonseong’s gaze dropped to their interlocked hands, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke.

"When we signed the acquisition contract, there was no mention of this. This is quite a surprise. You could have at least given me a heads-up, President Cha."

"You look far too well for someone who supposedly lost both a husband and a son. So I didn’t think it was necessary."

It was true.

For someone who claimed to have suffered, Kwak Yoonseong’s complexion was suspiciously clear—his entire appearance that of a man who had been living comfortably, without a single worry.

At the pointed mockery in Iheon’s words, Yoonseong’s expression hardened like stone.

It was bad enough that this young brat had taken over the company. Now he was mocking him, too?

I shouldn’t be provoking Kwak Yoonseong...

This man was nothing but a harbinger of misfortune for both him and Iheon.

That was precisely why Heemin had planned ahead—to deal with Do Junyoung by pretending to be in a relationship with Iheon, and then lure Kwak Yoonseong onto their side by dangling an introduction to one of Wooshin Group’s subsidiary presidents.

The goal was simple: subtly suggest that he move on, forget about his dead father, and start fresh with his wealthy lover.

But now, the situation had veered slightly off course.

God, you’re useless.

Heemin silently cursed Cha Iheon for making that unnecessary remark.

And yet, at the same time, it felt like taking a gulp of ice-cold soda—frustrating, yet undeniably refreshing.

He almost wanted to give him a thumbs-up.

“...Um, excuse me, everyone. The entire company is waiting. Shall we continue this conversation upstairs?”

A staff member, checking the time on his watch, spoke hesitantly, glancing between Iheon and Kwak Yoonseong.

"Yes, Father. Let’s talk more after the inauguration ceremony. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you—I’m really glad to see you again."

Heemin made an effort to sound as mature as possible, adapting Seo Heemin’s lines to match the demeanor of a thirty-year-old.

Iheon, on the other hand, continued to stare at him with an unreadable expression.

But Heemin refused to drop his smile.

After all, he had aced his Introduction to Theater course.@@@@

The group stepped into the elevator and rode up to the tenth floor, where the president’s office was located.

The entrance required an employee ID for access.

Inside, the sterile corporate atmosphere loomed over him—the walls lined with boards displaying the company’s history, research achievements, and product models of various concrete mixers and factories.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Despite trying to maintain a composed front, Heemin couldn’t help but glance around with curiosity.

This was, after all, the first time he had ever set foot inside an actual company.

To someone barely in their second year of college, everything was fascinating.

“How long until the ceremony starts?”

Just the word alone had been enough to make him nervously lower his request.

But then—

"Bring everything you have."

Iheon, still staring at his tablet, spoke without hesitation.

The employee blinked, startled, before quickly bowing and rushing out of the room.

For the first time, Heemin felt a deep sense of gratitude toward Cha Iheon.

Perhaps, at this moment, he should have said—

"Thank you, President."

—

The timing was perfect.

Heemin had been craving snacks while watching TV lately, but Ms. Ahn, for all her culinary talent, wasn’t skilled at baking.

Suppressing the grin threatening to creep onto his face, he tore open the wrapper of a Busan waffle.

The thin, diamond-patterned wafer crunched satisfyingly between his teeth.

Iheon, who had been seated across the room, suddenly got up and walked over to the table.

He picked up his coffee, glancing down at Heemin’s snack with a blank expression.

"You should try one. It’s good."

Busan waffles had a crisp texture, yet they were soft enough to melt in his mouth.

The deep, rich butter flavor spread across his tongue—it really did live up to the packaging’s claim of being the ‘noble of cookies.’

Still savoring the taste, Heemin reached into the bag and pulled out another piece, holding it out to Iheon.

The Cha Iheon he knew—the ruthless ‘Chairman’s Dog’—wasn’t the type to eat something as trivial as cookies.

But Heemin figured that if there was any chance he would someday return to his softer, more human self...

He needed to start getting used to these little things.

So, knowing full well he would be rejected, Heemin extended the cookie toward him anyway.

If he took it, great.

If not, whatever.

Iheon’s sharp gaze narrowed.

As expected, his eyes alone delivered a firm refusal.

"You have absolutely no sense of danger. Unlike Seo Heemin."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Was he expecting him to act like a cat with its fur standing on end, all on edge?

Heemin frowned in confusion.

Then, their eyes met.

Iheon’s gaze was cold, piercing—like the chill of a winter wind.

He spoke in a voice that sent a shiver down Heemin’s spine.

"The man who sold you at that auction is walking around this building right now. And that’s what you’re focusing on?"

Heemin froze, almost dropping his cookie.

He hadn’t expected Iheon to already know.

That revelation wasn’t supposed to come until much later in the original novel.

"...How do you know about that?"

Iheon didn’t even blink.

"The bastard who sold you spilled everything."

Then, he fixed his unreadable gaze on Heemin.

"What about you? How did you find out?"