Chapter 81: Field Day Follies

It’s not like you need a romance mentor in life. These days, dating’s optional—do it or don’t.

Hearing Yeon Seok wasn’t even in the country lifted my mood. No hard feelings toward him; he’d thrive anywhere.

“Just saying, since you two were close.”

Do Yoon’s face soured.

“Not that close. Why do you remember every random person?”

Because they’re key supporting characters. Anyway, he’s gone, so whatever. Hesitating, Do Yoon asked.

“…Come over tonight?”

I jumped. That soon? I wasn’t ready. Panicking, I lied.

“Oh, no. I’ve got… plans tonight.”

“When, then?”

“…I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

He stared, then leaned in, whispering in my ear.

“You have to.”

Goosebumps erupted. For a split second… I thought his lips brushed my cheek. Absurd. My face burned.

“Y-Yeah.”

My heart raced so hard I nearly couldn’t answer. Lately, my body acted up around him—freezing or heart-stopping when he stared or got close. After so long, and him returning as the perfected male lead, I instinctively trembled in fear.

Need to adjust fast.

I sighed quietly.

But visiting Do Yoon’s place got delayed until spring. Work got insanely busy, and then he suddenly went on a month-long overseas trip. Even abroad, he texted constantly, whining about wanting to come back. Each time, memories of our childhood surfaced, and I’d start replying, then stop. Staring at his latest message, my face twisted.

[I miss you, hyung.]

“…”

Him suddenly acting friendly upon return wasn’t the issue anymore. His behavior was the same as six years ago, but my feelings weren’t.

Back then, when he texted all day from an MT trip, I worried he wasn’t making friends or had no one else. Sometimes his clinginess annoyed me.

Now, I waited all day for his texts. If he didn’t message, I’d spiral into worry and anxiety. Then a [I miss you so much] would arrive, and my heart would inexplicably flutter.

Feeling fear even when he wasn’t around was strange.

I suppressed the urge to reply to everything, limiting myself to one or two [Got it, sleep soon] at the end. Otherwise, I didn’t know what I’d say.

Fortunately—or not—upon his return and as the weather warmed, the company held a bizarre “team-building” sports day. After last year’s Marketing leadership change, I never imagined such an outdated event.

Do Yoon, who’d pestered me daily about visiting during his trip, threw a fit when I mentioned tug-of-war on his first weekend back in Seoul’s outskirts. He even threatened to fire the planner.

“People like it. Chill.”

“Why like that crap?”

“First prize is a kimchi fridge. Second’s an AC, third a TV…”

The prizes were stacked. Even participation got you a pen. Aware it was a Saturday, they’d splurged. Other departments started clamoring for their own events.

Ji An, especially, was thrilled. She’d marked it on her calendar. But Do Yoon still looked sour.

“You don’t need that stuff. Skip it and hang with me.”

My heart lurched. I played it cool.

“Can’t. The whole team’s going.”

“…Bae Ji An too?”

I froze. My heart sank like before, but the feeling was different—undeniable hurt.

“Y-Yeah.”

Avoiding his eyes, I answered. Then he said what I dreaded.

“Then I’m coming.”

The chartered bus arrived early Saturday at a massive grassy field in Gyeonggi—60,000 pyeong, used for corporate training. Day trip only, no pensions needed. A nearby river allowed water events.

Do Yoon insisted on crashing Marketing’s event and actually showed up, arranged through organizers. On stage, he flashed a sunny smile.

“Sorry for intruding on Marketing’s picnic. I prepared a small personal gift.”

He pointed to 200 cases of premium imported beer and snacks. Cheers erupted—domestic cheap beer was originally planned.

Initially curious why Strategic Planning’s director was here, people forgot upon seeing the beer. Money buys likability. After a brief greeting, he joined me, sparking whispers: “They seem closer than rumored.”

If he planned that PR flip, Do Yoon’s a mastermind…

“You look gorgeous today, hyung.”

He slipped an arm around my waist. I flinched but hid it.

“What’s gorgeous? Same old tracksuit.”

I wore my navy set from home. Do Yoon, in beige chinos, white collar tee, and light gray cardigan, screamed no physical labor. He grinned.

“Exactly.”

I frowned. What did he mean? Then I spotted Ji An with Ah Young—jeans, pink tee, effortlessly vibrant. Everyone stared. With Do Yoon, they’d be a painting.

Following my gaze, his face hardened. He sighed, annoyed. Realizing I’d stared too long, I looked away.

Never show interest in Ji An around him. Too late. He glared terrifyingly.

“You’re on the same team as her?”

“Guess so…?”

He gritted his teeth, muttering, “So annoying.”

My liver shrank. I’d be marked a rival without kidnapping her.

Surprisingly, we weren’t teamed. Lottery gave Ji An pink, me orange. 120 people split into six 20-person groups.

Do Yoon, ecstatic we were separated, declared himself orange team. No one dared object—not power, just his popularity.

Female employees swooned over his looks; male ones… more so.

“Nice one, Director!”

After spiking in volleyball, male staff acted like starting a fan club. He’d ditched the cardigan long ago. The 20-something director leaping for spikes looked like a movie trailer.

“Wooaaaah!”

His win edged us closer to big prizes. Team prizes too—he was welcomed everywhere. He dominated volleyball, tug-of-war, even arm wrestling, sweat glistening in his hair.

He’s having a blast?

With comfier clothes, he’d have run track. He was great at swimming too. All-rounder? Stat-dumping protagonist in a filthy unfair world!

But Ji An was the real surprise. She won women’s sprint and relay, then screamed her lungs out in balloon-popping, leading her team to victory. She looked demure but was a beast today.

Thumbs up from me; she shyly replied, “I did shot put as a kid.”

I was dumbfounded.

*The tragic heroine has this backstory?