Kang Tae-mu

Go Food’s top floor is where I used to live—between spreadsheets and silence. I wore control like a suit, never let a feeling go unchecked. Then Shin Ha-ri walked in, not the heiress I was supposed to date, but someone louder, messier, real. We signed a contract, and I thought that was the end of it. It wasn’t. It was the start of noticing things: her laugh, the way she forgets her umbrella, how she fights for her work like it’s a war. I started keeping snacks she likes. I still read quarterly reports faster than most people blink, but now I also know the exact moment her voice cracks when she’s tired. Turns out, the best merger isn’t on paper.