This comfort, my home. My bed.

Twisting her body half a turn and laying flat, Ji An opened her eyes to greet the new morning.

What a healthy body with no hangover. It’s such a shame that there’s no place to show off.

But what is it?

The familiar space was different. What should she say? The scent of the air? She sat up and looked around the room.

“Ah! Ha Joon.”
A dreamy memory came to mind. She had heard the electronic sound of the door lock and the noise of a vacuum cleaner.

Right. It could only be Yoon Ha Joon.

Ha Joon was a friend who was more like family than her actual family.

The friendship that started in kindergarten had already lasted twentyseven years. Ha Joon would say, he should not have held her hand back then.

Muttering, Ji An got up.

“You were the one who grabbed it first. I didn’t want to.”
She walked into the kitchen, took out a bottle of water from the fridge and unscrewed the cap.

Gulping down the water, she scanned the induction stove, the sink, the dining table, and then the desk in the living room. Lastly, the laundry on the veranda.

She snorted at that moment.

“This guy is truly dedicated to our friendship.”
Sometimes, the perfect Ha Joon could be annoying. No matter how close they were, doing the laundry was a bit much, wasn’t it?

What’s this?

Ji An pulled off a bill stuck to the sink and opened the lid of the pot on the induction stove.

A lovely hangover soup with radish and bean sprouts, chunks of sliced beef tripe, and finely chopped green onions.

“I can’t resist this.”
Her appetite surged and Ji An turned on the stove and put instant rice in the microwave.

She took out the kimchi and cabbage in a disposable container and lifted the rolled omelet, probably grumbling while making it, in Yoon Ha Joon’s style, onto the table.

“Ah!”

Ji An’s hand, which had been filling her stomach with food after a night of drinking in celebration of her resignation, paused. Ha Joon’s voice echoed in her mind, which was caught in thought.

‘There is no such thing as a free lunch.’
It was a saying Yoon, the attorney who liked to give and take with words, liked.

Right! There was no such thing as free for my longtime friend.

The receipt.

This is not a favor from Yoon Ha Joon. It’s clear.

Pushing her chair away and getting up, Ji An opened the lid of the pot on the induction cooker. The hangover soup had noticeably diminished.

Even cleaning is okay, but the hangover soup? This was undoubtedly a sign that he wanted a favor.

“Why not order more? What’s the big deal? Do you think there’s money in arguing?”
Ding. It was a text from Ha Joon.

[Saturday. 3 p.m. Libera Hotel Coffee Shop.] Ji An understood the meaning of this text. It meant that there was a woman who had fallen for Yoon Ha Joon.

Ding.

[Did you enjoy the hangover soup? When you take off your socks, match the pairs and leave them together. Or buy them all the same.] Shaking her head from side to side, Ji An muttered,

“Why are you like this? Even socks have fashion.”

That night, in the basement parking lot of the Happy Officetel.

A softdriving, mediumsized white car accurately stopped within the parking line of Zone B.

After finishing gear operations, Ha Joon, who had taken his briefcase and stack of papers from the passenger seat and his cell phone from its holder, got out of the car.

Rrrrr. Rrrrr.

The name on the screen was Choi Da Som. She was the granddaughter of Samjin Construction. In other words, an annoying, persistently clinging client.

“This is Yoon Ha Joon.”

Oh! Attorney Yoon, you’re even answering calls at this time.
“Yes. What can I do for you?”
You haven’t forgotten about our Saturday appointment, have you? I just want to show my gratitude, so don’t feel pressured.
“I can’t do Saturday.”
Why are you like this? I’ll wait until the end.
“You’ve had quite a bit to drink. Please get home safely.”

Ha Joon’s eyebrows furrowed deeply as he hung up the phone with an unpleasant expression.

Just how far will she push? I don’t like it.

He thought of Ji An, who had been silent all day.

“Kim Ji An! You have to go. There’s no choice.”
Descending from the elevator, he glanced at 902 and unlocked the door to 901.

Beep beep beep beep.

Ji An, who was lying calmly on the modernly designed leather sofa, jerked upright at the sound of the door lock.

As she leaned against the sofa’s headrest watching the entrance, the inner door opened.

What a killer suit fit. Yoon Ha Joon.

Sensing Ji An’s presence with his clunky slippers, Ha Joon gave her a glance as he opened the door to the study.

He set his briefcase and documents on the desk and asked briefly.

“Why?”
“Ah? Well, the thing is.”
As Ha Joon moved from the study to the kitchen, Ji An followed him and added,

“The power went out.”
Ha Joon, who had placed a tall glass under the water purifier’s ice chute, asked with his eyes. Explain more about what you’re saying. That was the meaning.

Clang, thud, thud.

Listening to the sound of the ice falling, Ji An spoke.