The Contract Nanny ; Mission Failed

MY CONTRACT NANNY ; MISSION FAILED CHAPTER 1: THE BIG MESS The night smelled like rain and bad decisions. Lee Sieun stood in the hallway of a 5-star hotel in Gangnam, clutching a plastic bucket in both hands. Inside was green poster paint. Thick. Gooey. The kind that wouldn’t come out of expensive fabric. Her phone was pressed to her ear. On the other end, her best friend Hye-rim was crying. “Are you there?” Hye-rim asked. “I’m here,” Sieun whispered. “Room 1205. Like you said.” “Good. That’s his room. Park Min-jae. The jerk who dumped me. Pour it the second the door opens. Make him pay.” Sieun closed her eyes. This was a terrible idea. But Hye-rim was the one who brought her soup when Grandma was in the hospital. “Okay,” Sieun said. “For you.” The door in front of her was heavy, dark wood with a gold 1205. She could hear men’s voices inside. Talking about contracts. _Just three seconds. Pour and run._ She lifted the bucket. The door opened. “Who are you?” The voice was low. Cold. And it was not Park Min-jae’s voice. Sieun looked up and froze. The man in the doorway was tall. Black suit that probably cost more than her rent. Hair perfect. And eyes like ice. Gray. Unforgiving. He was not the man in Hye-rim’s picture. “Ah,” Sieun said. “I… wrong room?” The man’s eyes flicked to the bucket. “You do,” he said. That’s when Sieun panicked. “YOU JERK, EAT THIS!” she yelled, and threw the entire bucket of green paint at him. The paint hit his suit. His shirt. His shoes. It dripped down the door frame. For one second, nothing happened. Then the man stepped aside. “Come in.” Sieun stepped inside. The suite was huge. Three men in suits sat at a table, staring at her with their mouths open. Papers everywhere. And in the middle, standing in green paint, was the man from the door. “Who are you?” one of the men asked. “I’m sorry,” Sieun stammered. “I thought this was Park Min-jae’s room—” “Shut up,” the man in paint said. The room went silent. The man walked to the table and wiped his face with a towel. Green paint smeared across his cheek. He didn’t look angry. He looked calm. And that was worse. “Park Yunsu,” he said to the men. “CEO of Y.K. Company.” One of the men choked. “The Y.K.?” “Yes,” Yunsu said. Then he turned to Sieun. “And you are?” Sieun’s mouth was dry. “L-Lee Sieun.” “Lee Sieun,” he repeated. “You broke into a private hotel room. You ruined a business meeting. You assaulted me. In front of my investors.” “I didn’t know it was you!” “I don’t care,” Yunsu cut her off. “Do you know how much that suit costs?” Sieun looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay for the cleaning. I work two jobs—” “You can’t,” Yunsu said. “You can’t afford this.” He walked closer. Sieun could smell his cologne under the paint. “So here are your options,” he said. “Option one: I call the police. Trespassing, property damage, assault. Jail.” Sieun’s stomach dropped. “Option two: You work it off.” “How?” Yunsu smiled. It wasn’t kind. “As my nanny.” Sieun blinked. “What?” “My nanny. For one month. Live-in. You cook, you clean, you follow my rules. At the end of one month, we call it even.” “Nanny? But I don’t—” “Children?” Yunsu interrupted. “Don’t worry. There are no children.” Sieun frowned. “Then who am I nannying?” “You,” he said simply. “Me. My house. My schedule. Personal assistant, housekeeper, errand girl. Consider it compensation.” The men at the table were trying not to laugh. Sieun crossed her arms. “That’s ridiculous. No.” “Then it’s police,” Yunsu said. He pulled out his phone. Sieun looked at the phone. Then at the door. Then at the green paint on his suit. Grandma’s hospital bills were due next week. She couldn’t go to jail. “Fine,” she gritted out. “One month.” “Good girl,” Yunsu said. He put his phone away. “Tae-jun. Cancel my meetings. Reschedule for Wednesday.” “Yes, Mr. Yunsu,” one of the men said. Yunsu wrote something on paper and handed it to her. “My address. Be there Wednesday at 8am. Don’t be late. If you’re late, it’s police.” Sieun took it with shaking hands. “What do I call you?” “Mr. Yunsu.” Sieun nodded. Then she turned and ran. She didn’t stop until she was out of the hotel and on the street. Rain started falling on her hair. She called Hye-rim immediately. “HYE-RIM!” “Sieun? Did you do it?” “I poured it,” Sieun said. “On Park Yunsu. CEO of Y.K. And now I’m his nanny for a month.” Silence. Then Hye-rim burst out laughing. “Nanny?! You?!” “Don’t laugh! This is serious! He said police!” “I’m sorry,” Hye-rim giggled. “I didn’t know he’d be there. I thought it was Min-jae.” “You got me into this mess.” “I know. I’m sorry. Please forgive me?” Sieun sighed. “Fine. But you owe me.” “Come over. We’ll figure this out.” Hye-rim’s apartment smelled like kimchi stew. She opened the door in pajamas, eyes red. “Oh my sweet friend,” Hye-rim hugged her. “I’m so sorry.” “Did you know your mistake would cost me my life?” “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” “Forgive you? As if. I am now Park Yunsu’s nanny.” Hye-rim burst out laughing again. “Nanny?!” “Stop laughing!” “I can’t help it! You, cooking for a CEO? This is going to be a disaster.” They talked for hours. About the paint. About the contract. About surviving one month with the coldest man in Seoul. That night, Sieun went home to Grandma. “Grandma, I won’t be home for a month,” she said over dinner. Ginger tea and rice. Mrs. Lee looked up. “Why? Where are you going?” “I got a job. Live-in. Good pay.” Mrs. Lee studied her. “Be careful. And eat well.” “I will,” Sieun promised. She hugged her tightly. The next two days were a blur. She packed. She quit a job. She tried not to think about Yunsu’s ice-cold eyes. Wednesday came fast. 8am. Hannam-dong. A huge black gate. The address on the paper. Behind it, a mansion. She pressed the doorbell. The gate opened. A man in a suit. “Lee Sieun?” “Yes.” “Mr. Yunsu is waiting.” The house was all marble and glass and silence. No pictures. No color. Park Yunsu stood in the living room. New suit. No paint. He looked her up and down. “You’re on time.” “I said I would be.” “Rules,” Yunsu said. “One: You work. Two: No private office. Three: No questions. Four: Call me Mr. Yunsu. Five: Last one month.” Sieun nodded. “Good. Tae-jun will show you your room. You start now.” The next month was hell. Yunsu was cold. He left early, came back late. Ate alone. Worked all night. But slowly, things changed. One night Sieun had a fever. She was making tea, shivering. “What are you doing?” Yunsu asked. “Tea.” “You’re sick.” “I’m fine.” Next morning, there was soup on the table. And medicine. Another night she fell asleep on the couch cleaning. She woke up with a blanket over her. She didn’t know why he was being kind. She didn’t know why her heart raced when he looked at her. All she knew: Mission: Survive 1 Month. Mission: Don’t catch feelings.