Page 20 of Tell Me Where It Ends

He allows himself a small, smug smile. “I have a second-danblack belt in Taekwondo, actually.”

My jaw actually drops. “Are you serious?”

He nods, expression flat. “Didn’t think it’d be a relevant skill for this job.”

And then I laugh, amazed at this new discovery. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Didn’t want to intimidate my client,” he says, the tension finally leaving his shoulders.

I take a moment, still smiling, letting that information sink in.So that’s how he got his toned body—the realization hitting me.

But the laughter can’t last forever. My gaze drifts back to the door, and that familiar knot of frustration tightens in my chest. “I hate how he does that. Always knows which buttons to push.”

Shin’s expression hardens. “It’s emotional blackmail, Min-hee. That’s all it is.”

I blink, taken aback.

“He knows you’re dutiful,” he continues. “You know, you don’t have to entertain him just because he’s family.”

This isn’t manager-speak. It’s a line drawn for me. Just for me. No one has ever stood up for me like this—not Yeong-gi, not Dad, not even myself.

It’s too raw to acknowledge directly. So my brain does what it always does when things get too real: it pivots.

It finds a safer topic, any safer topic. And the first, most ridiculously random thing that pops into my head is a clumsy, heartfelt compliment disguised as a joke.

I look at him—the kind eyes, the warm voice, the sudden knowledge of his secret Taekwondo skills. “You should get a girlfriend,” I blurt. “Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

I catch it immediately—a faint flush spreading across his cheeks. His ears are red. “That’s… not simple.”

“Why not? Because you’re stuck with me 24/7?”

“That’s part of it,” he admits. “Besides… it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I press, my curiosity piqued.

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes. “The person I’m interested in… it would be complicated.”

The air stills. “Wait—you’re interested in someone?”

He doesn’t answer. He just gives me a long, unreadable look before his gaze drops to the counter. “I said it would be complicated, Min-hee.”

“You know,” I say, leaning forward across the counter, my voice dropping a little, “in our world, a non-denial is practically a press release.”

His complete lack of reaction is, in itself, an answer.

“So,” I press, my voice softer now, sharper, “anyone I know?”

His eyes flick to mine—just for a second, but it’s the tell. “It doesn’t matter.”

“So I do know her.” A hollow, sinking feeling opens in my chest.

“Is it an actress? My stylist?” My brain starts running diagnostics, flipping through a mental database of every woman in our professional orbit.

“Min-hee,” he says, his voice a soft warning, a clear‘do not cross’line.

But I’m already over it. “What? Why is it a secret?”

“Because I don’t want to make things awkward.”