The soft hum of early morning announcements echoed through Incheon International Airport. Seol Yoonah wheeled her sleek suitcase behind her, her cream-colored trench coat swaying as she walked. She had tied her hair back neatly, her makeup minimal but polished. She looked Fashionable, Chic and beautiful. A sight for sore eyes.
She spotted him almost immediately.
Kim Tan stood near the check-in counter, hands in his pockets, dressed in a charcoal suit with a midnight-blue shirt. He looked like he belonged in a fashion spread—still, his expression was unreadable as ever.
"You're on time," he said without glancing at her.
"I always am," she replied smoothly, though her heart was thumping for no reason she could understand.
They moved through check-in with minimal conversation. Yoonah was reaching for her passport again when her suitcase caught awkwardly on someone else's bag. Her balance shifted sharply—she nearly tripped.
A firm hand caught her wrist before she could fall forward.
She froze.
So did he.
Their eyes met.
His grip was strong and steady, but not harsh. There was the faintest flicker of emotion in his gaze—almost like concern—but it vanished before she could pin it down.
"Careful," he said, his voice low.
"Thank you," she muttered, pulling her wrist back once she'd found her footing.
Neither spoke again until they reached security.
---
The business class cabin was quiet, bathed in the glow of soft ceiling lights. A peaceful hum of distant engines filled the space. Yoonah had just settled into her window seat when a sharp voice cut through the serenity.
"I paid for peace and quiet, not—this!"
Yoonah turned her head to see a middle-aged woman in designer everything—loud scarf, louder perfume, and a face taut with irritation. The woman's eyes were fixed on Yoonah.
"I asked the stewardess to give me this seat. I always sit here. I don't know who you are, but you're in the wrong place."
Yoonah blinked, taken aback. "My boarding pass says this is 2A. I'm pretty sure—"
"I don't care what your boarding pass says!" The woman's voice rose a pitch. "I'm a Platinum Elite! This is my seat on every Friday morning flight to Taipei."
Other passengers began to glance over, some rolling their eyes, some watching with mild interest. A flight attendant hurried over, bowing apologetically.
"Ma'am, this seat is correctly assigned to Ms. Seol. We double-checked during check-in—"
"Well then change it now!" Karen snapped. "Move her somewhere else. I can't sit next to people who look like this."
Yoonah stiffened, trying to hold back the scoff that threatened to rise and a 'lady, do I look like a beggar to you?' In English. Kim Tan, seated just beside her in the aisle seat, had been silent until now. But slowly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and stood.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't need to.
He simply looked down at the woman and said, coldly, "If you don't like who you're sitting next to, perhaps you can charter your own jet next time. I hear it's quieter."
The woman blinked.
"W–what?"
"You're disturbing my secretary," he said simply, adjusting his cufflinks, "and my peace."
There was a chill in his tone that didn't allow for argument. Karen spluttered, then seemed to deflate like a balloon. With a huff, she turned and stomped toward the back—where the crew eventually managed to seat her elsewhere.
Yoonah sat frozen.
He sat back down, not even sparing her a glance.
She looked at him, stunned. "Thank you... sir."
"I didn't do it for you," he replied coolly, eyes flicking to his tablet. "I did it for my ears."
Yoonah bit back a smile.
They barely spoke during takeoff.
She stared out the window while he pulled out a sleek tablet. An hour into the flight, turbulence shook the plane slightly. She gripped her armrest tightly—she wasn't scared, just startled. Still, he noticed.
"You alright?" he asked without looking up from his screen.
"I'm fine," she said quickly.
A moment passed.
Then, without a word, he took off his blazer and draped it over her shoulders. She blinked.
"I'm not cold," she murmured.
"I didn't ask," he replied.
Yoonah huffed softly but didn't shrug it off. She pulled it closer instead, his subtle cologne enveloping her.
He leaned back in his seat, loosening his tie just a little. "Wake me when the food comes," he said, eyes closed now.
Yoonah glanced at him.
Without the sharpness in his gaze, his features were softer—more human. Not the aloof CEO. Just a man, perhaps a tired one.
She looked away quickly and adjusted the jacket over her shoulders, sighing quietly.
After the "Karen Incident," the plane eventually lulled into a calm cruising altitude. The lights dimmed. Most passengers began to doze or watch in-flight movies. Kim Tan had returned to his silent brooding, and Yoonah was too wired to sleep.
At some point, he slipped on a sleek pair of noise-canceling headphones and reclined his seat just slightly, eyes closed. He looked unfairly graceful, like a CEO version of a sculpture—until a faint, furious screamo riff escaped his headphones.
Yoonah blinked.
What in the hell...
She leaned ever so slightly closer.
Yup. That was definitely loud rock. The screaming, growling kind.
The kind she'd expect a teenage rebel to play in a garage band, not the buttoned-up ice prince beside her.
She tried not to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.
Time passed. The flight attendant wheeled over the meal cart and paused at their row. "Would you like the bulgogi or the pasta, Miss?"
Yoonah answered softly, then turned to Kim Tan, gently tapping his shoulder. "Mr. Kim... food's here."
He didn't stir.
"Sir...?"
She gave his shoulder a firmer nudge.
His eyes cracked open—just barely. In a dazed, sleep-rough voice, he murmured, "Mm. Pasta."
As he reached for his tray, his headphones slipped off one ear, and Yoonah and the flight attendant was treated to a full two seconds of savage drum and vocals:
"I'LL TEAR MY HEART OUT JUST TO FEEL ALIVE—"
Yoonah flinched. The flight attendant froze. The nearby businessman turned his head in front of them turned.
Kim Tan, now blinking at her, finally seemed to come to. His expression was blank for a beat—until he caught the look on her face.
"You heard that, didn't you?" He asked, his tone dry as he promptly turned off the headphones.
YES! YES I DID!! She cleared her throat, struggling to keep her face neutral. "A little."
The flight attendant left.
He popped a piece of garlic bread into his mouth. "I suppose I should apologize for corrupting your classical sensibilities."
"No, I mean… it's fine. Just unexpected."
He gave her a sidelong glance. "You assumed I meditate to the sound of Gregorian chants?"
"Well… no, but—"
"But what?"
Yoonah looked away quickly, ears warming. "Never mind."
A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "Relax. You can judge me. I judge you all the time."
She frowned. "For what?"
He took a slow sip of his sparkling water, gaze heavy. "We'll start with the fact that you still don't know how to whisper."
She bit into her pasta, muttering, "Maybe I should've let that lady take this seat."
He heard that—and chuckled.
Softly.
The sound of it surprised them both.
Kim Tan sighed, wore his headphones and closed his eyes. Yoonah merely stared at him for a few moments before looking away.