Chapter 4: The Reindeer’s Dignity

The flash of Ji-soo’s smartphone was bright enough to temporarily blind a man, but Se-jun didn't flinch. He stood by the punch bowl, his expression a mask of stony stoicism, despite the two plush, glittery antlers sprouting from his head. A small bell jingled every time he breathed.

"I’m going to delete that," Se-jun said, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave.

"You most certainly are not!" Ah-ri chirped, hugging her clipboard to her chest. She was practically vibrating with triumph. "This is evidence. This is a monument to human emotion. Look at you, Se-jun! You’re... festive."

"I look like a disgruntled forest animal," he muttered.

The office party was reaching its peak. The "Ice King" in reindeer ears was the undisputed highlight of the fiscal year. Employees who usually scurried away when they saw Se-jun’s sharp silhouette were now lingering nearby, whispering and giggling. Even the Head of Finance, a man who hadn't smiled since the market crash of '08, gave Se-jun a thumbs-up.

"See?" Ah-ri leaned in, her shoulder brushing his. "People aren't laughing at you. Well, okay, they’re laughing a little bit at the antlers. But they’re also seeing that you’re approachable. You’re part of the team, not just the guy who sends the 'Meeting Invitation: Immediate Attendance' emails."

Se-jun looked down at her. The anger he expected to feel—the cold, calculated irritation at having his dignity compromised—was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a strange, buzzing warmth in his chest that the dark chocolate hadn't even come close to mimicking.

"The bet is satisfied," Se-jun said, reaching up to adjust a sagging antler. "But we have a problem."

Ah-ri tilted her head. "A problem? Did I miss a variable?"

"The red envelope," he said, pulling the small, crumpled paper from his pocket. "The one you addressed to Office 1204. You said it was a 'Secret Confession.' But you never actually wrote a confession inside. It’s blank."

Ah-ri’s face went from victorious pink to a deep, alarming crimson. She looked at her shoes, then at the punch bowl, then at a stray balloon. "Oh. That. Well, I... I ran out of time. I had to deliver forty-eight other letters, and then I ran into you, and the coffee happened, and—"

"Min Ah-ri," Se-jun interrupted, stepping closer. The jingling of his bell was the only sound between them. "Are you telling me the 'Cupid' of the office is actually a coward when it comes to her own feelings?"

"I am not a coward!" she huffed, finally meeting his gaze. "I’m a strategist. I was waiting for the right data set."

"Is that so?" Se-jun’s lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. "Then let’s gather some more data. Tonight. After this farce is over."

"You mean... a date?"

"I mean an evaluative dinner," he corrected, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. "8:00 PM. No spreadsheets. No antlers. Just you, me, and a very expensive steak that you are going to pay for, since you're the one who won the bet."

Ah-ri laughed, a bright, melodic sound that made Se-jun’s heart skip a beat—a biological anomaly he decided to investigate later. "Deal. But I’m picking the place. And they only serve pasta."

"Acceptable," he murmured.

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