Chapter 77: Dinner, Beer, and Temptation

The smell of fried chicken and melted cheese filled the villa’s living room, thick and comforting, cutting through the clean, woodsy scent of the seaside air drifting in from the half-open balcony doors. The low table was crowded with greasy boxes—golden-crisp chicken glistening under the overhead lights, wedges of pizza still steaming, bowls of pickled radish and fries tossed in almost as an afterthought. It was the kind of spread Ji-hye used to look at longingly on TV commercials when she was younger, but never dared indulge in. She stared down at it now, lips parting, a knot of temptation curling in her stomach. It wasn’t the kind of meal she ever had these days. "Delivery’s here!" Harin sang out, as if the boxes themselves weren’t proof enough. She plopped down cross-legged in her loose pajamas—tiny shorts, a soft oversized top slipping off one shoulder—and reached for a can of beer. With a satisfying pshhht, she cracked it open and raised it high in the air. "Cheers!" Without waiting for anyone else, she tipped it back, gulping greedily. The fizz crackled audibly, and she let out a dramatic sigh of satisfaction, shaking the can in triumph. "Ahhh... that’s the stuff. Nothing beats this after a long day." Ji-hye eased down onto the carpet more cautiously, legs folded neatly to the side as if posture alone could shield her from guilt. She reached for a slice of pizza, her fingers brushing the warm, oily cardboard. "It’s been... forever since I ate like this," she admitted, voice carrying both nostalgia and restraint. "Usually it’s salads, grilled chicken, carefully weighed rice portions—club and national team diets don’t exactly allow this." Harin snorted, already pulling apart a drumette with her teeth. "Then tonight, you break the rules." She reached across the table and shoved a crispy wing into Ji-hye’s free hand. "Here. No calorie counting. No weighing. Just eat it. You deserve to relax every now and then." Ji-hye stared at it, conflicted, but the smell was too much. She hesitated only a moment before biting in. The coating shattered under her teeth with a crunch, juices spilling hot across her tongue. She closed her eyes for a brief second, chewing, and when she opened them again, a guilty smile had slipped onto her face. "Mm. Okay... maybe just tonight." "See?" Harin said smugly, pointing her greasy wing bone at her. "That’s happiness right there. You’ll thank me later." Across from them, Joon-ho didn’t bother with fanfare. He leaned back against the sofa with casual ease, beer in one hand, already halfway through a drumstick in the other. His movements were simple, unhurried, utterly unselfconscious. Compared to Ji-hye’s careful, delicate bites, he tore into the chicken with the easy confidence of a man who didn’t think twice about what he ate or how he looked doing it. Ji-hye glanced at him sidelong, a little envious of how at ease he seemed. He looked perfectly content, like the food, the cold beer, and the two women in front of him were all he needed. The sight made something warm stir in her chest, something that had nothing to do with pizza or fried chicken. Harin noticed too, her lips quirking as she watched Ji-hye sneak another shy bite. "Careful," she teased, tilting her can toward Joon-ho. "Eat too much, and you’ll have to run double laps tomorrow." Ji-hye shot her a glare, cheeks warm. "Unnie!" But Harin only grinned wider, knocking her can against Joon-ho’s. "To greasy food, forbidden carbs, and corrupting innocent national players." Joon-ho chuckled quietly, lifting his beer to drink. Conversation drifted as the food disappeared, leaving only grease-stained boxes and half-finished cans of beer on the table. Ji-hye picked at the edge of her pizza crust, then glanced across at Joon-ho with curiosity she couldn’t keep down anymore. "So... your clinic," she asked softly. "I’ve never been there. What’s it like?" Joon-ho wiped his fingers slowly with a napkin before answering, his voice steady and practical as always. "Private. Quiet. It’s in a high-end apartment complex. My house is connected directly to the clinic—it’s convenient. No commute, no noise. Just work, rest, repeat. If you’re in Seoul, you should come visit." Before Ji-hye could form a response, Harin leaned forward, mischief already gleaming in her eyes. "It’s only the two of us right now. The more the merrier. Imagine it—living together, sharing meals, bumping into him half-naked in the kitchen. Three’s always better than two." She clinked her beer can against Ji-hye’s untouched glass of water with a wicked grin. The image sent a jolt through Ji-hye’s chest. She tried to keep her tone casual, but the flutter in her heart betrayed her. "I’ll... come. Honestly, I’m jealous. You get to live with him, see him every day." Joon-ho didn’t look away, didn’t soften his gaze—he just held her with it, calm and direct. "Then come live with us. Anytime you want." Ji-hye’s heart skipped hard enough to make her breath catch. Her lips parted. "Even if... even if I retire?" "Yes." His answer was instant, certain, leaving no room for doubt. "Harin’s here with me now. She doesn’t work anymore. You’d be the same. If you want it, it’s yours." Harin chuckled and lifted her can in mock toast, always ready to cut the heaviness with her playful edge. "Yep. I’m the receptionist-slash-companion these days. Handle clients, pick up calls, make sure he doesn’t forget meals. And keep him in line—don’t forget that part." She winked at Ji-hye. "Though honestly, business has been slow. Nothing much to do except watch him brood and make sure the sheets stay clean." Ji-hye flushed at the last part, but before she could say anything, Joon-ho’s voice cut through, firmer. "It won’t stay slow." He set his empty can aside, his expression focused in a way that made both women straighten a little. "Madam Seo already told me—my old clients found out on SNS that I’m still active. They’ve been calling her, asking where I am. Once we reopen, they’ll come." Both women blinked at that. "Just like that?" Ji-hye asked, almost in disbelief. "They’ll just... follow her word?" Harin gave a low, impressed whistle, tilting her head. "That’s Madam Seo for you. One whisper from her and doors open, phones ring, and rich women line up like it’s a red-carpet premiere. She’s got connections everywhere." The mention of Madam Seo tightened something in Ji-hye’s chest. She looked down at her lap, running her finger around the rim of her glass. A mix of awe, jealousy, and gnawing curiosity burned inside her. This woman again—this shadow in Joon-ho’s past who seemed to shape his entire path, from the broke, desperate years to the confident man sitting across from her now. She wanted to know more. Needed to. And yet, another part of her—one that flushed warm under her skin—wondered if she was even ready to. The conversation shifted, Ji-hye brushing crumbs from her fingers. "At the end of the month, the national team list will be finalized. Then next month we go on tour—friendly internationals, then qualifiers. Based on results, we should qualify smoothly for the Olympics in summer." She exhaled. "After that... nonstop training, conditioning, and club games toward the end of the season." "At least you’ve got a break from commercials," Harin teased, biting into another wing. "Thanks to that cheating ex." Ji-hye rolled her eyes. "Yeah, a blessing in disguise, I guess." Harin licked sauce from her thumb, then leaned closer, grin sly. "If you need him to work on you—massage, therapy—just text me. Hell, if you need a good fucking, I’ll bring him along too. We’ll both come to your place." Ji-hye’s ears went hot. She tried to glare but couldn’t stop the small, embarrassed smile curling her lips. "Unnie..." "Say the word," Harin sing-songed. They finished dinner slowly, washing down the last slices of pizza with cold beer. Plates were cleared, boxes folded, and the living room tidied until only the faint scent of food lingered. By the time night had fully settled, the villa was hushed, the chaos of delivery boxes and laughter faded into stillness. Only the low hum of the TV remained in the living room, a soft backdrop against the ticking clock. In the bathroom, steam lingered faintly from the earlier showers. Ji-hye stood at the sink, bent forward slightly as she rinsed her mouth, foam clinging to her lips. Beside her, Harin leaned lazily against the doorway, toothbrush hanging loose in her hand, hair tousled from the evening. Her gaze lingered on Ji-hye through the mirror, sharp and playful, lips curving into that dangerous smirk. "So," Harin began casually, voice rich with mischief, "want to have sex tonight? The three of us." Ji-hye froze mid-rinse. The water sloshed awkwardly in her cheeks before she sputtered, choking as she spat it into the sink. "Wh—what?" she managed, spinning halfway, foam still clinging to the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were wide, startled deer-like. "You heard me." Harin’s tone was unshaken, wicked, like she had tossed a grenade into the room just to watch Ji-hye scramble. She leaned in the frame, one hip cocked, toothbrush dangling carelessly between her fingers. "Threesome." The single word landed like a physical touch, slamming through Ji-hye’s chest. Her pulse kicked into overdrive, heart hammering so loud she was sure Harin could hear it. Heat crept fast up her neck, her face betraying her even as her lips parted uselessly, no denial, no protest. Her silence was louder than words. Harin’s grin widened, satisfied. She pushed off the doorway and stepped close, lowering her voice into Ji-hye’s ear. "Knew it," she whispered, teasing, like she’d already won a game. Then, louder, she clapped Ji-hye’s shoulder with playful finality. "Go get ready. I’ll prep her." She turned her head toward the bedroom. "You wait for us there." From within, Joon-ho’s even voice carried out, calm as though they were discussing laundry instead of sex. "Fine." That calmness only made Ji-hye’s nerves spike higher, twisting her stomach with a heady blend of panic and anticipation. She gripped the edge of the sink, trying to steady herself. The mirror reflected her own flushed face back at her, wide eyes and trembling lips—someone caught between fear and desire. Her chest rose and fell too quickly. She knew, deep down, she wasn’t about to back out. The night had just taken a turn she never imagined, and yet... every cell in her body buzzed with the certainty that she was stepping into it willingly.