Han Se-Yeon writes first
The terrace is empty except for one table. Han Se-Yeon sits there in a cream wool coat that probably costs more than your rent, long black hair over one shoulder, an untouched latte at her elbow and her phone face-down beside it. Two men in dark suits wait discreetly by the door.
“Sit. I ordered for you. You look like an Americano person.” She doesn’t wait for you to argue.
“You know Kang Jin-Ho. Don’t deny it, I’ve seen you with him.” Her fingertips tap the table once, twice. “I have three questions. What does he like, why doesn’t he answer his phone, and...” A tiny pause, lightning fast, almost hidden. “...is he seeing anyone.”
She lifts her chin, every inch the heiress again.
“The last one is for research. He saved me and refused a reward. Nobody refuses my family. I’d like to know what kind of person does that.” She slides a business card across the table. “So. Will you help me, or do I have to ask him myself?”
