Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg

Harin arrived at the clinic a little before ten, clutching an iced latte like it was a lifeline.She still wore her casual white blouse and high-waisted jeans—clothes that felt normal, comforting, a tiny piece of the life she'd left behind.

The clinic was spotless as always. Minimalist dark wood, cream walls, soft lighting. A faint floral scent — not too heavy, discreet, expensive.It still amazed her that Joon-ho both worked and lived here, the private area tucked just behind a sliding door near the massage suites.

She set her bag down on the small reception desk.

Joon-ho appeared from one of the back rooms, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing as he wiped his hands with a soft towel.The bastard looked devastating even doing something mundane.

"You're early," he said with a grin.

"Wanted to impress my new boss."

His smile softened. He crossed the small lobby and leaned against the desk. "How do you feel? About leaving that black company?"

Harin let out a breath, then gave a slow smirk. "Relieved. Also smug as fuck. My manager practically begged me to stay. The CEO? Didn't even pretend he cared. He was too busy hugging his half-naked secretaries and ranting about paper crypto."

Joon-ho chuckled. "Office porn drama. I should charge admission."

She laughed, then flicked his arm. "I should've recorded it. The way their lipstick was smudged… it was tragic."

They fell into an easy silence.

Harin looked around.She drummed her fingers on the desk.

"So… no uniform?"

Joon-ho raised a brow. "You want a uniform?"

She gestured down at herself. "I look like I'm about to run errands, not greet CEOs' wives who pay millions to let you ruin their spines."

"You look sexy. That's professional enough."

She rolled her eyes. "We're charging high-end rates, remember? You should at least have me in something sleek. Discreet. Maybe with the clinic's name embroidered. Makes people trust you more."

He leaned closer, lowered his voice. "Or we could have you in nothing but heels and a silk robe."

"Be serious, Joon-ho."

He grinned. "I am serious. Very."

She groaned. "Fine, I'll look up suppliers later. We're getting uniforms. At least for me."

The soft chime of the entrance bell interrupted them.Harin jumped slightly, clutching the edge of the desk.

"You have anyone scheduled today?" she asked.

Joon-ho shrugged, unfazed. "Not officially. Probably one of the regulars."

The door slid fully open.

Madam Seo stepped inside.

She wore a pale blue blouse that hugged her curves, a pencil skirt slit high up her thigh, hair in a loose chignon. Her lips were painted a deep, almost bruised red. A soft designer perfume followed her in like a whispered secret.

Her eyes immediately found Harin.

"Oh," she purred, "you must be new. The receptionist?"

Harin managed a polite nod. "Yes. First day."

Madam Seo's gaze swept over her — the casual blouse, the snug jeans, the slightly flustered smile — and a small, knowing smirk curved her mouth.

"How wonderful. I'm Madam Seo. Joon-ho knows my preferences."

Harin's cheeks warmed under that frank stare.

Joon-ho stepped up beside her. "Madam Seo," he greeted smoothly, taking her hand briefly. "Always a pleasure."

Her eyes lingered on him."Of course it is."

She turned back to Harin, smile playful but eyes sharp. "Will you be observing today?"

Harin swallowed. "I—I'm mostly handling administrative things. Still learning."

"Mm. Then watch carefully," Madam Seo said lightly, strolling past them. "You'll understand exactly why he's worth every won you'll invoice me for later."

Harin stood frozen at the desk, feeling heat crawl up her neck.Her thighs squeezed unconsciously.

Joon-ho brushed her arm lightly. "Take a breath. Get used to seeing how people look at me. How they beg."

She glanced at him.He wasn't bragging.

He was warning her.