It had been two months since I started working at Tottenham Hotspur, but it wasn’t what I had expected. Moving to England was already difficult—leaving everything I loved behind and trying to build a new life… but the problem was more than that.

The problem was Heung-min Son.

The man everyone described as cheerful, kind, and perfect was distant and cold toward me. Maybe “cold” wasn’t even the right word—he was rude. Unnecessarily harsh, as if I had done something wrong. The hardest part was knowing he wasn’t like that with anyone else.

But I was already a shy person. I didn’t connect with people easily, and I certainly didn’t have the courage to ask him what was going on. So, I pretended not to care about his behavior, even though each day his silence and coldness wore me down a little more.

That evening, as I finished my shift and stepped outside the stadium gates, the weight of exhaustion felt heavier than usual. The air was freezing, and I had a 30-minute walk ahead of me. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets, bowed my head, and quickened my pace to escape the cold.

A few minutes later, a car slowed down next to me. A sleek black Porsche rolled to a stop, and when I turned my head, my breath caught for a moment.

It was Heung-min Son.

He rolled down the window, his usual expressionless look on his face.

“Are you seriously planning to walk in this weather?” he asked, his tone tinged with mockery.

“My house is close,” I replied, my voice hoarse. I avoided meeting his cold gaze, but it was hard not to feel its weight.

“Do you consider a 30-minute walk ‘close’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He paused, then added, “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

I didn’t want to get in the car with him, but it would have been strange to refuse. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.