when the phone rings novel

"Applicant numbers 4, 5, and 6, please prepare."

Hee-joo awkwardly touched the numbered badge pinned to her shirt as she stood up. The expansive courtyard and the imposing blue-tiled roofs loomed around her, a vivid reminder of where she was.

Today was her interview at the Blue House.

Even though she'd slept well last night and felt physically prepared, a strange lethargy weighed on her, as if she were recovering from a cold.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol she usually avoided. Or maybe it was because the man's "comfort" kept replaying in her mind, unshakable.

And this morning... could she run into him here?

The memory of that firm grip on her ankle and the heat of his touch lingered too vividly on her skin.

She shook her head forcefully.

Focus, focus!

She had to clear her mind of everything. Especially today. She needed to excel.

Inhaling deeply, Hee-joo tried to calm herself in the tense atmosphere. She flexed her fingers, preparing for what was ahead.

"I really want this."

The experience of being a sign language interpreter at the Blue House would be invaluable. Whether she went on to work at a local center in a smaller city or pursued international opportunities in sign language interpretation, this would bolster her résumé like nothing else.

But when they called her name, she froze.

"...!"

Wait. Wait.

Why is he here?

The moment her eyes landed on the panel of interviewers, her vision darkened.

"Why is he sitting among the interviewers?!"

She avoided his sharp gaze, her heart racing faster than ever.

"The final stage of the interview involves a practical exercise in live sign language interpretation," one of the panelists explained. "We have invited Spokesperson Baek Sa-eon to assist with this portion of the assessment."

"Real-time translation is critical for the Blue House, where quick response times and sign language fluency are essential. We're looking for candidates who can accurately translate the spokesperson's speeches on the spot."

Although Hee-joo prided herself on separating personal feelings from professional situations, she couldn't shake the feeling that Baek Sa-eon's eyes were glued to her.

She did her best to avoid his gaze, but his expression only grew colder.

"Now, we'll play a segment from a past briefing. Each applicant will take turns translating. Members from the association here will evaluate your performance."

The screen flickered to life, displaying a familiar blue podium.

"Applicant number 4, Interpreter Hong Hee-joo, please begin."

Hee-joo took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The video on the screen started playing, and Spokesperson Baek Sa-eon appeared.

With just a glance at his tie, the fabric of his suit, his hairstyle, and his expression, Hee-joo instantly recognized the briefing.

The 8th Annual Local Autonomy Day Commemoration Speech.

The moment Baek Sa-eon's voice rang out in the video, Hee-joo's hands moved instinctively.

"Honorable citizens, residents of Gyeongbuk, citizens of Gyeongju, local government leaders, and local council members..."

"Honorable citizens, residents of Gyeongbuk, citizens of Gyeongju, local government leaders, and local council members..."

Her hands translated his words in flawless synchronization with his voice, her timing precise and confident.

The man, arms crossed, stared unblinkingly at her gestures.

"Her eyebrows move just like mine."

Usually reserved and introverted, Hee-joo seemed like a different person now. Her movements were fluid and quick, exuding clarity and confidence.

There was no hesitation in her posture—she radiated vitality.

Baek Sa-eon, though outwardly composed, was taken aback.

Her hand gestures were sharp, rhythmical, and clear.

This isn't the timid woman who avoids my gaze. This is someone entirely different.

Rich expressions, subtle nods, the shifts of her eyebrows, and other non-manual gestures.

Hee-joo's sign language was alive, her intensity ebbing and flowing with punctuation—commas, periods, and exclamation points expressed through her entire body.

Baek Sa-eon observed it all in meticulous detail, noting the skill and presence radiating from her small frame.

"When did you become this..."

He frowned as though suppressing something.

"Put it down. Please."

Her voice from that night echoed in his ears, humid and heavy like a summer evening.

The heat that had coursed through him abruptly chilled, as though doused in cold water. That voice, so unfamiliar, still struck him as foreign no matter how many times he replayed it in his mind.

It was her hidden voice—one he'd never known existed.

Damn it.

The pen in his hand bent under his grip.

Meanwhile, Hee-joo, oblivious to the storm brewing within him, remained engrossed in her translation.

The demonstrations for applicant numbers 4, 5, and 6 concluded, and the candidates returned to their seats, catching their breaths. The interviewers, meanwhile, began to jot down their notes.

At that moment, Baek Sa-eon leaned back leisurely, tapping his face lightly before speaking up.

"Applicant Number 4, Interpreter Hong Hee-joo."

"...!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it immediately drew everyone's attention.

Nowhere to hide, Hee-joo's gaze met his. It was the gaze she had been avoiding, yet now it bore down on her more coldly and dryly than she had anticipated.

She swallowed nervously, her hands clenched tightly on her knees.

"Interpreter Hong Hee-joo, did you know the script beforehand?"

"...!"

"Sometimes, your hands moved faster than the voice."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"After observing the three of you, I noticed one performance gave me an overwhelming sense of dissonance. Let me ask again: did you know the content of the script beforehand?"

His second question, delivered with an icy detachment, left no room for hesitation.

Hee-joo bit her stiff tongue and forced herself to nod.

"That was... a video I had practiced with before," she explained, supplementing her answer with sign language.

Hearing the translation from a fellow interviewer, Baek Sa-eon raised an eyebrow.

"Then, can we test with another video?"

"Yes," Hee-joo replied, rising nervously to her feet.

The new video began to play. But it, too, was a familiar script—the 4th Korea-Russia Local Cooperation Forum briefing.

This was from her early days practicing sign language.

"Stop," Baek Sa-eon commanded, pausing the video with the remote.

"This is another script you're familiar with, isn't it?"

"...!"

How does he know?

Startled, Hee-joo nodded again.

He switched the video another four or five times: the ASEAN+3 Summit briefing, the Fair Economy Strategy speech, the Children's Day event at the Blue House, the Private-Led Innovative Growth briefing...

"That's enough. Stop."

"...!"

"This is endless."

His gaze landed on Hee-joo with a mix of complexity and intrigue, prompting her to lower her head in embarrassment.

Finally, summoning her courage, she confessed.

"No matter how many videos you choose, the result will be the same."

After hearing the translation, Baek Sa-eon asked, "All of them?"

"Yes."

"Care to explain why?"

Hesitating for a moment under the watchful eyes of the panel, Hee-joo answered.

She thought showing a bit of loyalty might work in her favor.

"I've practiced many of Spokesperson Baek Sa-eon's videos."

"No matter how much you practiced—" He frowned.

"These videos were chosen at random, without regard to year or content. But your sign language synchronizes perfectly with my voice. Are you saying that's just a coincidence?"

"..."

"Not once or twice?"

More than her rigorous preparation, Hee-joo was baffled by how precisely he had pinpointed her familiarity with each clip.

Even when she deliberately slowed her speed or inserted minor errors, her small tricks were useless against Baek Sa-eon.

"Interpreter Hong Hee-joo, answer me."

"That's because..." She hesitated, then steeled herself.

"I'm obsessed with your speeches."

"What did you just say?" Baek Sa-eon raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm obsessed with your speeches," she repeated, flustered but determined. "I aspire to be a sign language interpreter for national institutions, and I've grown deeply invested in your work... I apologize. No matter which video you pick, the result will be the same."

"..."

"I've studied your speech patterns extensively," she added, lowering her voice slightly. "Particularly the movements of your upper lip and teeth. I've even trained myself to predict consonants based on the way your tongue presses against your palate..."

Her explanation trailed off awkwardly as she tried to salvage her confidence.

I hope they see me as someone thoroughly prepared...

After explaining that her performance was not due to opportunism but the result of diligent practice, the interviewers exchanged satisfied glances. Baek Sa-eon remained expressionless, but when one of the interviewers conveyed the explanation with a smile, his demeanor briefly softened. The usual stern furrow of his brow was replaced by an uncharacteristic gentleness.

"Interpreter Hong Hee-joo," he called, his tone even.

"...!"

Though his voice was not loud, it commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Inevitably, her gaze met his—the same gaze she had been avoiding. This time, it felt colder, drier, and sharper than she had imagined.

Hong Hee-joo swallowed hard, feeling her palms grow clammy and a chill run down her back.

"The interviewers present here are meant to evaluate your performance, not to translate on your behalf. Please speak directly."

"...!"

What?

She felt sweat bead along her spine.

According to Director Han Joon, personal health conditions or issues wouldn't impact the evaluation results. Their hiring policies were like a blind test—focusing solely on sign language skills.

In the recommendation letter, Han Joon had detailed Hee-joo's long history of mutism, highlighting her extensive experience in translating for broadcasts, conferences, lectures, religious events, and educational programs. Despite her limitations, she had successfully passed the written review.

But...

She never imagined Baek Sa-eon would treat her this way.

Was this outright nitpicking?

Hee-joo bit her lip, which was on the verge of trembling.

"Since you're so keen on studying me," he said, his tone edged with cold amusement.

"..."

"Then I'd like to hear your brilliant insights as well."

His piercing gaze fixated on her lips, unrelenting and sharp.

"Applicant numbers 4, 5, and 6, please prepare."

Hee-joo awkwardly touched the numbered badge pinned to her shirt as she stood up. The expansive courtyard and the imposing blue-tiled roofs loomed around her, a vivid reminder of where she was.

Today was her interview at the Blue House.

Even though she'd slept well last night and felt physically prepared, a strange lethargy weighed on her, as if she were recovering from a cold.

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol she usually avoided. Or maybe it was because the man's "comfort" kept replaying in her mind, unshakable.

And this morning... could she run into him here?

The memory of that firm grip on her ankle and the heat of his touch lingered too vividly on her skin.

She shook her head forcefully.

Focus, focus!

She had to clear her mind of everything. Especially today. She needed to excel.

Inhaling deeply, Hee-joo tried to calm herself in the tense atmosphere. She flexed her fingers, preparing for what was ahead.

"I really want this."

The experience of being a sign language interpreter at the Blue House would be invaluable. Whether she went on to work at a local center in a smaller city or pursued international opportunities in sign language interpretation, this would bolster her résumé like nothing else.

But when they called her name, she froze.

"...!"

Wait. Wait.

Why is he here?

The moment her eyes landed on the panel of interviewers, her vision darkened.

"Why is he sitting among the interviewers?!"

She avoided his sharp gaze, her heart racing faster than ever.

"The final stage of the interview involves a practical exercise in live sign language interpretation," one of the panelists explained. "We have invited Spokesperson Baek Sa-eon to assist with this portion of the assessment."

"Real-time translation is critical for the Blue House, where quick response times and sign language fluency are essential. We're looking for candidates who can accurately translate the spokesperson's speeches on the spot."

Although Hee-joo prided herself on separating personal feelings from professional situations, she couldn't shake the feeling that Baek Sa-eon's eyes were glued to her.

She did her best to avoid his gaze, but his expression only grew colder.

"Now, we'll play a segment from a past briefing. Each applicant will take turns translating. Members from the association here will evaluate your performance."

The screen flickered to life, displaying a familiar blue podium.

"Applicant number 4, Interpreter Hong Hee-joo, please begin."

Hee-joo took a deep breath and stepped forward.

The video on the screen started playing, and Spokesperson Baek Sa-eon appeared.

With just a glance at his tie, the fabric of his suit, his hairstyle, and his expression, Hee-joo instantly recognized the briefing.

The 8th Annual Local Autonomy Day Commemoration Speech.

The moment Baek Sa-eon's voice rang out in the video, Hee-joo's hands moved instinctively.

"Honorable citizens, residents of Gyeongbuk, citizens of Gyeongju, local government leaders, and local council members..."

"Honorable citizens, residents of Gyeongbuk, citizens of Gyeongju, local government leaders, and local council members..."

Her hands translated his words in flawless synchronization with his voice, her timing precise and confident.

The man, arms crossed, stared unblinkingly at her gestures.

"Her eyebrows move just like mine."

Usually reserved and introverted, Hee-joo seemed like a different person now. Her movements were fluid and quick, exuding clarity and confidence.

There was no hesitation in her posture—she radiated vitality.

Baek Sa-eon, though outwardly composed, was taken aback.

Her hand gestures were sharp, rhythmical, and clear.

This isn't the timid woman who avoids my gaze. This is someone entirely different.

Rich expressions, subtle nods, the shifts of her eyebrows, and other non-manual gestures.

Hee-joo's sign language was alive, her intensity ebbing and flowing with punctuation—commas, periods, and exclamation points expressed through her entire body.

Baek Sa-eon observed it all in meticulous detail, noting the skill and presence radiating from her small frame.

"When did you become this..."

He frowned as though suppressing something.

"Put it down. Please."

Her voice from that night echoed in his ears, humid and heavy like a summer evening.

The heat that had coursed through him abruptly chilled, as though doused in cold water. That voice, so unfamiliar, still struck him as foreign no matter how many times he replayed it in his mind.

It was her hidden voice—one he'd never known existed.

Damn it.

The pen in his hand bent under his grip.

Meanwhile, Hee-joo, oblivious to the storm brewing within him, remained engrossed in her translation.

The demonstrations for applicant numbers 4, 5, and 6 concluded, and the candidates returned to their seats, catching their breaths. The interviewers, meanwhile, began to jot down their notes.

At that moment, Baek Sa-eon leaned back leisurely, tapping his face lightly before speaking up.

"Applicant Number 4, Interpreter Hong Hee-joo."

"...!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it immediately drew everyone's attention.

Nowhere to hide, Hee-joo's gaze met his. It was the gaze she had been avoiding, yet now it bore down on her more coldly and dryly than she had anticipated.

She swallowed nervously, her hands clenched tightly on her knees.

"Interpreter Hong Hee-joo, did you know the script beforehand?"

"...!"

"Sometimes, your hands moved faster than the voice."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"After observing the three of you, I noticed one performance gave me an overwhelming sense of dissonance. Let me ask again: did you know the content of the script beforehand?"

His second question, delivered with an icy detachment, left no room for hesitation.

Hee-joo bit her stiff tongue and forced herself to nod.

"That was... a video I had practiced with before," she explained, supplementing her answer with sign language.

Hearing the translation from a fellow interviewer, Baek Sa-eon raised an eyebrow.

"Then, can we test with another video?"

"Yes," Hee-joo replied, rising nervously to her feet.

The new video began to play. But it, too, was a familiar script—the 4th Korea-Russia Local Cooperation Forum briefing.

This was from her early days practicing sign language.

"Stop," Baek Sa-eon commanded, pausing the video with the remote.

"This is another script you're familiar with, isn't it?"

"...!"

How does he know?

Startled, Hee-joo nodded again.

He switched the video another four or five times: the ASEAN+3 Summit briefing, the Fair Economy Strategy speech, the Children's Day event at the Blue House, the Private-Led Innovative Growth briefing...

"That's enough. Stop."

"...!"

"This is endless."

His gaze landed on Hee-joo with a mix of complexity and intrigue, prompting her to lower her head in embarrassment.

Finally, summoning her courage, she confessed.

"No matter how many videos you choose, the result will be the same."

After hearing the translation, Baek Sa-eon asked, "All of them?"

"Yes."

"Care to explain why?"

Hesitating for a moment under the watchful eyes of the panel, Hee-joo answered.

She thought showing a bit of loyalty might work in her favor.

"I've practiced many of Spokesperson Baek Sa-eon's videos."

"No matter how much you practiced—" He frowned.

"These videos were chosen at random, without regard to year or content. But your sign language synchronizes perfectly with my voice. Are you saying that's just a coincidence?"

"..."

"Not once or twice?"

More than her rigorous preparation, Hee-joo was baffled by how precisely he had pinpointed her familiarity with each clip.

Even when she deliberately slowed her speed or inserted minor errors, her small tricks were useless against Baek Sa-eon.

"Interpreter Hong Hee-joo, answer me."

"That's because..." She hesitated, then steeled herself.

"I'm obsessed with your speeches."

"What did you just say?" Baek Sa-eon raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm obsessed with your speeches," she repeated, flustered but determined. "I aspire to be a sign language interpreter for national institutions, and I've grown deeply invested in your work... I apologize. No matter which video you pick, the result will be the same."

"..."

"I've studied your speech patterns extensively," she added, lowering her voice slightly. "Particularly the movements of your upper lip and teeth. I've even trained myself to predict consonants based on the way your tongue presses against your palate..."

Her explanation trailed off awkwardly as she tried to salvage her confidence.

I hope they see me as someone thoroughly prepared...

After explaining that her performance was not due to opportunism but the result of diligent practice, the interviewers exchanged satisfied glances. Baek Sa-eon remained expressionless, but when one of the interviewers conveyed the explanation with a smile, his demeanor briefly softened. The usual stern furrow of his brow was replaced by an uncharacteristic gentleness.

"Interpreter Hong Hee-joo," he called, his tone even.

"...!"

Though his voice was not loud, it commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Inevitably, her gaze met his—the same gaze she had been avoiding. This time, it felt colder, drier, and sharper than she had imagined.

Hong Hee-joo swallowed hard, feeling her palms grow clammy and a chill run down her back.

"The interviewers present here are meant to evaluate your performance, not to translate on your behalf. Please speak directly."

"...!"

What?

She felt sweat bead along her spine.

According to Director Han Joon, personal health conditions or issues wouldn't impact the evaluation results. Their hiring policies were like a blind test—focusing solely on sign language skills.

In the recommendation letter, Han Joon had detailed Hee-joo's long history of mutism, highlighting her extensive experience in translating for broadcasts, conferences, lectures, religious events, and educational programs. Despite her limitations, she had successfully passed the written review.

But...

She never imagined Baek Sa-eon would treat her this way.

Was this outright nitpicking?

Hee-joo bit her lip, which was on the verge of trembling.

"Since you're so keen on studying me," he said, his tone edged with cold amusement.

"..."

"Then I'd like to hear your brilliant insights as well."

His piercing gaze fixated on her lips, unrelenting and sharp.