After throwing his fit for a while, he suddenly flung the door open and stuck only his face out. Then, in a cold, clipped tone, he issued his instructions to the front desk staff.
“Call the maintenance team and have them clear all of this up.”
After making such a massive scene, that was all he had to say. What a complete lunatic, the front desk employee thought, smiling brightly and answering with a meek “Yes,” before immediately picking up the intercom.
Yeon Haejeong went straight back into his office and sprawled out on the sofa. Whether from exhaustion or from trying to tamp down his irritation, he lay flat on his back and draped his arm over his eyes. After lying completely motionless for five, ten minutes, Yeon Haejeong suddenly checked the time.
“Why is it taking so long?”
When a superior calls for you, you’re supposed to come running immediately.
Yeon Haejeong shot a glance at the unmoving office door and clicked his tongue in annoyance. At that very moment, the sound of a knock came from outside. In an instant, Yeon Haejeong quickly resumed his position, laying back down with the back of his hand resting over his eyes. Arranging himself in a pose that vaguely suggested he was napping, Yeon Haejeong deliberately said nothing.
The one who had knocked was none other than Munyeong, and he quietly slipped inside Yeon Haejeong’s office without getting any response. His gaze swept over the disaster of an office before coming to a stop on the figure lying there as though thoroughly worn out.
“…You’re awake… I could see everything from outside… you know.”
Munyeong ventured the words carefully, glancing around to read the atmosphere — and in response, a low, muttered curse came from beneath the arm.
“…Shit.”
“…So, what do you want me to do about it.”
Yeon Haejeong always responded like that whenever he was caught at a disadvantage — shameless and unapologetic.
“…Should I clean up?”
But Munyeong wasn’t thrown off, and brought the conversation around to the practical matter at hand.
“Do whatever you want.”
Yeon Haejeong retorted in an irritated tone and rolled over to face the other way. The moment he turned over, the sound of movement began — someone picking up shattered glass and broken objects from the floor. The quiet sound of things being sorted neatly into a recycling bag followed. A calm, unhurried presence — no impatience, no noise. Yeon Haejeong found himself focusing on those sounds, and he turned only his head slightly to steal a glance at Munyeong. Munyeong was genuinely focused solely on the work. He picked up the books that had fallen off the shelves and slotted them back in neatly, and for the things that were broken and dangerous, he was pulling out newspaper from the cart and carefully wrapping them. Watching him work so professionally, a short, dry laugh escaped Yeon Haejeong without his meaning it to. It was a professionalism that truly didn’t spare even a scrap of attention his way.
Yeon Haejeong turned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. Honestly, ignore me or don’t. I can just ignore you back. He muttered to himself below his breath and deliberately tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere. How he might avoid being caught in the crossfire of the succession battle as he continued working at the company, and how he could get away with slacking off more cleverly while still maintaining the bare minimum presence that was neither important nor expendable. There was, in truth, a great deal to think about. He had four meetings lined up for the afternoon alone.
Into his ears, the sounds of cleaning came in steady and calm. Like ASMR, they tickled at the edges of his hearing — not a single note of disruption. Without meaning to, Yeon Haejeong began to focus on those sounds. He knew he shouldn’t, and yet his eyes were slowly falling shut.
Huh. Am I actually getting sleepy?
He had pulled an all-nighter, but staying up one night was never enough to keep his insomnia in check. The only things that ever worked were getting blackout drunk or having aggressive sex — one or the other. And yet.
Yeon Haejeong’s eyelids began to droop, little by little. The longer the soft rustling sounds continued, the more the light faded from his eyes. I shouldn’t… He repeated only those words to himself inwardly, and slowly, he began to sink into the depths of sleep.
**
Munyeong had long since finished the cleaning, and he looked carefully down at Yeon Haejeong, who was now fast asleep and even letting out a good hearty snore.
…He must have been really exhausted.
He was still in yesterday’s clothes, and from the state of the office, it seemed like he’d spent the night here. The way he was sleeping so soundly, as if advertising the all-nighter he’d pulled, confirmed that Munyeong’s guess wasn’t wrong. Looking at him sleeping so deeply, a strange, complicated feeling welled up inside him.
…What am I doing.
He was doing his job — and yet he couldn’t quite make sense of what it was he was doing here, having run into Yeon Haejeong again like this. When he’d heard that Yeon Haejeong remembered him, the first thought that had come to mind was, Ah, I want to run away. He had liked him in a way that overstepped his place, and Yeon Haejeong had found his feelings deeply unpleasant. It was such an old story — and yet somehow it felt like it was being revived right now, in a strange way. He didn’t like him anymore. So why did it feel like he’d been sent back to that time?
That strange feeling left him unsettled. The worry that he might, just like that, end up falling for him again. Feelings were like a floodgate — open even a single crack, and they’d swell beyond all control. As he’d told him, he was clear-headed now, and he didn’t think he could possibly fall for him again — but the repeated situation of being swept up whenever he was around him was uncomfortable.
Yeon Haejeong must be uncomfortable too. Having to still look at the creep who’d liked him as a kid, even now, more than ten years later. That was part of why he’d wanted to run away too. Because he felt sorry that Yeon Haejeong — for whom he existed as an unpleasant memory — still had to lay eyes on him.
“……Maybe I should quit.”
Munyeong murmured quietly, his gaze drifting over Yeon Haejeong’s fine features as though simply taking them in.
It was, honestly, the best solution if he wanted to avoid getting tangled up with him again. It was a job too good and too precious to walk away from, but the ongoing situation of having to keep facing him like this wasn’t something he welcomed. He didn’t want to keep dredging up unpleasant memories for him. And he didn’t want to be an unpleasant person to someone, either.
The truth was, he was embarrassed. About having lied with a false name to hide himself, about pretending not to know him. The fact that he’d been so desperate in front of someone who already knew everything — it was mortifying. How ridiculous, how pathetic it must have looked. Munyeong let out a deflated, hollow laugh and pulled his gaze away from him.
Then he tidied up the cart of supplies and gathered the garbage. He was trying to tiptoe out of the office without making a sound so as not to wake the peacefully sleeping Yeon Haejeong — when his eye caught on Yeon Haejeong’s coat, hanging on the coat rack. I know it’s overstepping, but…
Munyeong took the coat and quietly approached him again, draping it gently over his body. Then, wishing him all the sleep he could get while he could, Munyeong slipped out of the office without a sound.
**
When he was young, falling for him had been the most natural thing in the world.
He had honestly expected that once the ringleader of the theft was found out, Yeon Haejeong would relentlessly hunt the culprit down and take revenge. He’d watched enough of his personality at school to know he wasn’t someone to be trifled with, so he’d assumed that even if Munyeong begged and pleaded, Yeon Haejeong would do it anyway — but Yeon Haejeong had genuinely let it go and looked the other way. He had seemed angry, but watching him grudgingly pretend not to know — that was the first time Munyeong had ever felt another person’s goodwill.
Letting something go — something whose worth couldn’t be measured — simply because of one request from him, was not an easy thing to do. Especially not with that personality.
And then, watching him notice Munyeong’s predicament and help him, Munyeong came to understand naturally that Yeon Haejeong wasn’t such a bad person after all. Had Yeon Haejeong not shown that mercy, he would have reported the orphanage children even despite Munyeong’s plea, and he would have turned a blind eye to Munyeong’s difficult situation out of sheer spite for being the one who’d shielded them.
That Yeon Haejeong wasn’t a bad kid — Munyeong had kept that secret tucked away inside himself, like something only he knew. He had liked him so much back then that the secret, known only to himself, felt tender and precious. Back then, he was a child who couldn’t resist even the smallest kindness. Easy, starved for affection, naive, and ignorant of the world.
“You want to change your zone?”
Section Chief Jo looked back at Munyeong in surprise and repeated the question. Munyeong had gone to find his supervisor, Section Chief Jo, around the time work was ending that day, and spoke carefully. Could he be reassigned to a different zone? He’d tried to hold on for as long as he could, feeling the responsibility of what he’d been entrusted with, but it seemed that wasn’t the only answer anymore — so he’d finally said something. Munyeong gave a small nod to the worriedly staring Section Chief Jo and continued.
“I’m sorry. I wanted to do well….”
“No, no. I mean… it’s hard, isn’t it?”
Of course it would be. Section Chief Jo muttered to himself and nodded his head. Well, after all — even the seasoned young veteran before had run off with nothing but a text message. That floor had Director Hwang, who was a landmine in himself, and on top of that, the newly arrived nightmare Senior Managing Director Yeon — as the manager, he had nothing to say for himself either.
“What, is Director Hwang giving you trouble?”
Director Hwang, the biggest landmine on that floor — he asked whether he might have caused some new incident, and Munyeong gave a small shake of his head.
“Ah, then — it’s Yeon Haejeong — no, Senior Managing Director Yeon, isn’t it?”
So it was the new nightmare causing the problem.
Section Chief Jo said he’d figured as much, letting out a weary sigh as he asked, and Munyeong forced a smile and shook his head.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I was more comfortable in my old zone.”
“Hmm…. But right now I don’t have anyone I can trust and assign there….”
Section Chief Jo trailed off, lost in thought. The reason he’d assigned Munyeong there in the first place was because he was as capable as any veteran, and a worker he could trust to handle things. Finding someone like that among the irregular labor staff was its own challenge. And yet, assigning senior female staff to a floor with a male executive who resorted to verbal and physical abuse was a problem too.
“…Is Senior Managing Director Yeon harassing you?”
“…Yes…?”
“No, I just — I had a feeling he might be. Calling you in at every chance, asking about your schedule on top of that. And then the whole thing of personally using you for his own errands too. I know, it must be tough.”
