Page 79 of When Worlds Collide
He was convinced that her even agreeing to see me was a good sign. I, on the other hand, suspected it was probably because Jihoon had asked her. Nepotism at its finest.
The elevator doors dinged, and then slid open a moment later, and Jihoon and I stepped a respectable distance apart. We stepped out into a long corridor that must span the full length of the building, and Jihoon led the way. It opened up into a largely open-plan area. One side was completely glass – the front of the building – looking out onto the busy streets below. The amount of natural light pouring in from that wall of windows was incredible, especially as on this side, ENT had no taller neighbours blocking the sun. No doubt some clever architect had designed it to face this direction for just this reason.
On the right, an open plan office spread out, people sat at smart desk spaces, or grouped up in comfy-looking break-out areas. All the white desks, green plants everywhere, and all that natural light gave the impression of a pretty holistic working environment. I wondered if the culture matched the theme.
We approached a small seating area, with a couple plush-looking cream sofas and matching coffee tables, and just past them was a desk manned by a smartly-dressed young woman who smiled at us as we approached. Her smile notched up substantially higher when she recognised Jihoon, and I couldn’t blame her. Even in baggy, nondescript clothes, he was breath-taking. Just because I was biased, didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
Hearing my name be mentioned in a string of Korean brought my focus back in, and the secretary and I locked eyes, briefly. She smiled at me with a more professional wattage, before indicating the sofas behind me.
Not needing a translation for that, I moved back and sat down.
Jihoon stood in front of me, with his hands shoved into his pockets. He briefly glanced behind me to the open plan area, where the quiet murmurings and keyboard taps drifted over to us.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No.” I waved him off. “This is not my first rodeo.”
“It’s your first Korean rodeo.”
“Does Korea have rodeos?”
“Focus, Ky.” He smirked.
“Fine. We’ll look it up later.” I waved him off again as he rolled his eyes.
“I’ll be downstairs in my studio. Come down when you’re done.”
I wiped my clammy hands down the front of my smart, black trousers, but pretended nonchalance when I responded, “Okay, cool. See you then.”
He gave me one last look before turning around and heading back down the corridor. I watched him go, feeling suddenly very alone in this strange, glass castle.
Just then, a large group of people filed out of the office to my left. They were all laughing, clapping each other on the back and just generally seemed in good spirits. I hoped that meant Director Kang would be in equally good spirits. Good enough to be generous to a plucky, young British girl.
Following the group of obviously corporate people, was a petite young woman, probably around my age. She was carrying a laptop in her arms, and looked a bit harried. She was also not dressed like they were. Something about her set her apart, and when she glanced over and met my eyes, there was something in her expression that confirmed my suspicions, although I couldn’t name exactly what those were. Her eyes widened a fraction as she looked me over, face plainly curious, before the moment passed and she hurried to catch up with the group.
“Kaiya Thompson?”
Hearing my name shook me out of my reverie, and my head snapped around. I recognised her immediately from her professional profile on the ENT website.
“Follow me, please.” Not waiting for me to respond, Kang Jihye strode back into her office, and I darted up to follow her, trying not to trip over my new shoes.
The door closed behind me, which was either magic, or the secretary stationed outside the door.
Director Kang moved around to sit in an armchair that was positioned at the head of a group of several similar, but slightly smaller armchairs. She graciously indicated the chair to her immediate left. She sat, and I nervously followed.
Director Kang looked to be in her early forties, but she was so immaculately presented it was hard to tell. Her glossy, black hair was cut into a no nonsense, razor-edged bob that swayed just above her shoulders. She was dressed in a simple skirt suitthat quietly whispered ‘expensive’. Next to her, I felt positively scruffy.
“Miss Thompson.” Her voice startled me back into the present, and I inclined my head respectfully.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me today, Director Kang.”
She smiled, but there was no real warmth to it.
“When a member of the company’s most successful group asks a personal favour, one makes the time.”
I couldn’t place her accent. It wasn’t Korean. Australian, maybe?
“For whatever the reason, I sincerely appreciate your time.”
