The next morning, the birds in a tiny, run-down neighborhood of Seoul seem to chatter more loudly than usual to each other as they flutter from branch to branch. "Look, look," they appear to cry, pointing to a window of one of the apartments in the area. The shutters are partially open, just enough to illuminate two intertwined figures, one tall and one significantly shorter, both peacefully asleep as the sun rises.
Slowly but persistently, though, both the morning light and the chattering of the birds grows stronger, and the outside world makes its presence known to the two dreamers.
Jeong-hyeok is the first to wake. Accustomed as he is to high-tech blackout curtains, he blinks confusedly at the sudden brightness that streams upon his face. Yawning, he instinctively tries to turn away, only to find, bewildered, that one of his arms has gone completely numb.
And then he looks over at where Se-ri's dark head is nestled into the crook of his arm, and he smiles.
Moving ever so carefully, he extricates his numb arm and slides a pillow under Se-ri's head. She mumbles something under her breath, and her eyelids flutter dangerously, but they do not open. Jeong-hyeok leans on his elbow and allows himself a few stolen minutes to watch her.
In the morning light, her face is fresh and calm and she's... snoring, he realizes with a stifled chuckle. Although very softly.
What time does she wake up without an alarm clock? He wonders suddenly. Does she talk in her sleep?
He wants to know.
Jeong-hyeok has always been a private man. Growing up in a society where gossip was rampant and reputations were carefully polished, he was perhaps the lone one who preferred to keep silent. He believed that his actions would and should speak for him. And so he never gave an interview; he barely spoke at shareholders meetings unless it was necessary to reassure them. He did not seek to know too much about others, nor to reveal too much about himself.
But for the first time in his intensely private life - he found himself wanting to know every minuscule detail about someone, to know and be known as he had never been before. He wanted Se-ri to wake up so he could hear all of her stories. He had stories that he wanted to share with her too.
After a few moments, he rouses himself and gets up softly from the bed, padding with light feet towards the kitchen. In the madness of last night they hadn't eaten anything, he realizes guiltily. Breakfast would be the first order of business: omelettes, perhaps Gaeran Mari, rolled with finely diced vegetables inside.
Jeong-hyeok also has slightly more of a selfish motive for making omelettes. He's been told by several people - some of them actual chefs - that he's capable of working miracles with them.
"Ah, Jeong-hyeok-ah!" He remembers his cooking instructor in France, Chef Pepin, saying. "Zis is the best omelette I have had in twenty years!"
He wanted to see the look on Se-ri's face when she tasted Chef Pepin's favorite omelette, trademarked by Ri Jeong Hyeok.
There's just one problem.
They had bought vegetables yesterday at the store, and she had eggs in her fridge. But the kitchen conspicuously lacks one thing which he had bargained on any kitchen having. Opening Se-ri's cabinets one by one, he is astounded by the absence of...salt.
He himself had a well stocked spice cabinet at home: paprika, turmeric, cinnamon, rosemary. Somehow he did not think Se-ri was the type of person to have basil or thyme.
"But surely she should have salt?" Jeong-hyeok mutters to himself in a bewildered way, opening the last cabinet to find...yet more ramen.
He sighs, making a mental note to speak with Se-ri about her eating habits. Jeong-hyeok then crouches down to open the drawers down below the counter.
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Fanfic"Jeong-Hyeok," his father says in a tired voice, "This is how it's going to be. The general shareholder meeting is in five weeks from now. If you are not firmly engaged by then - I am going to recommend that the board make someone else the Chairman...
