Jo Dongjin turned it over in his mind. The executive floor assignments were reserved for veteran-level staff only. Ah — the memory came to him quickly, and his face shifted with surprise.
“No, I placed one of our most capable employees there….”
— Capable my ass.
“I mean it. They’ve been on the job a long time and have never once received a complaint. Except occasionally when someone takes their frustrations out on them.”
— ……Are you saying I take my frustrations out on people?
“No, no. Of course not. It’s just, this sort of thing has never happened before….”
And that was the truth. Im Munyeong had joined the company quite some time ago — one of the very few young people who had thrown themselves wholeheartedly into applying for a position that mostly sought senior workers, and an unusually diligent, steady presence for someone his age. He never complained, just did his work, and whenever someone dropped the ball midshift, he would step up and cover for them without being asked. He was one of the employees Jo Dongjin valued most.
— Forget it, send them back up.
“Ah…. Yes. Understood.”
— Tell them to do it properly.
Haejeong said what he had to say and hung up without ceremony. Strange. Jo Dongjin looked down at the ended call with a tilt of his head, then picked his phone back up with a troubled expression. Really now. That’s just not the kind of person Munyeong is. Maybe that floor is cursed…. The last person working there up and quit without a word either.
Though, come to think of it, with the notorious disaster that was Director Hwang already in place, and now Haejeong — the one and only unruly wild card of Baekil Group — having come on board too…. Jo Dongjin even started to wonder if he’d been unfair to Munyeong by sending him there.
He rang Munyeong, who would be in the middle of cleaning the staff break room. The line connected and a neat, composed voice came through.
— Yes, Manager.
“Hey, Munyeong. Have you eaten?”
— Yes.
No matter when he heard it, it was a calm voice that didn’t sound like someone his age — no mischief in it, no bravado, the kind of steadiness you just didn’t find in that generation.
“Good. So, um, it’s nothing major…. Were you feeling off this morning by any chance?”
— …Pardon?
“No, it’s just, I got a call from upstairs.”
— Ah…. Did I do something wrong…
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just, you know how it is. The people up there can be a bit particular.”
— Ah….
“Could you finish up where you are for now and head back up?”
Jo Dongjin kept his tone gentle, careful not to bruise Munyeong’s feelings. Even in contract work where staff could always be replaced, there were people you didn’t want to lose. Turnover was constant in this line of work as it was, so sensitive matters like this needed to be handled carefully. That was part of a manager’s job — and Munyeong was someone he was just as reluctant to lose as any of his veteran seniors.
— Ah, yes. Understood. I’m sorry.
“Oh, don’t apologize. It didn’t sound like they were seriously upset, so don’t worry.”
— Okay. But could I ask which person—
“Oh right, of course. You know that Executive Director, the one who just took his position. You know who I mean, right?”
That floor had nothing on it except Director Hwang’s office, the Executive Director’s office, and the offices of the support staff and personal secretaries serving them.
Jo Dongjin had expected Munyeong to be a bit flustered, since this sort of thing had never happened before — but he took it with more composure than expected, which was a relief. Then suddenly, from the other end of the line, there was nothing.
“Hello? Munyeong?”
— Ah…. Yes.
A voice came back after a brief blank, as though he’d been spacing out and was just now coming back to himself.
“If they’re being too difficult, just reach out to me directly, alright?”
— ……Yes.
Jo Dongjin caught something strangely subdued in his voice — had he heard wrong? Up until just now the voice had been composed as ever, but after hearing it was the Executive Director, something had shifted, leaving a faintly sour note behind. A change in demeanor or any trace of personal feeling from Munyeong was something Jo Dongjin had never encountered before, so after he hung up, he paused in thought for a moment — then settled back in his chair and opened an app on his phone. To get back to the webtoon he’d been reading. Maybe it was just because it was Munyeong, but even with a call like this coming in, he wasn’t particularly worried. Soft and unassuming as he might look, the kid had real backbone — Jo Dongjin knew that well. It was the kind of certainty you could only have from watching someone for several months.
Having received Manager Jo’s call, Munyeong’s feet were heavy on the way back to the executive office. Facing Haejeong always required steeling himself, going in with a solid resolve — and he’d used up every last bit of that resolve this morning. Spending all of yesterday with him, weathering his prickliness this morning without showing it — none of it had been easy, even if he’d kept a straight face. Not professionally, and not personally.
It wasn’t only because Haejeong was his first love. It was because he knew that around him, he got swept up without even realizing it. But what could he do. It was an order from someone who might as well be the sky above him.
Munyeong pulled his mask on tight and pushed the cart forward. There was no one in the world who only ever got to do what they wanted. He told himself he had no choice but to endure, gathered his resolve, and knocked on the office door.
“Come in.”
“Excuse me.”
Munyeong said it out of courtesy and entered with his head bowed. Haejeong didn’t spare him a glance. He had both legs propped up on the desk, a document resting over his face, his body sunk deep into the chair.
“Um….”
What on earth could the problem be. He called out quietly, and Haejeong tipped his head back and slowly lowered the document covering his face.
“…I heard you called for me.”
Munyeong added softly, and Haejeong scanned him over with that perpetual look of dissatisfaction. Whatever it was that displeased him every single time — Munyeong couldn’t figure it out.
Munyeong stood with his hands folded neatly in front of him, and Haejeong, who had been looking him over in silence, gave a tilt of his chin toward the floor. Crumpled paper balls and what appeared to be forgotten chocolate wrappers were scattered messily across it.
“Ah….”
Munyeong let out a small, quiet sigh. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say.
“…These things, we clean those up the next day during our scheduled rounds….”
He wasn’t a personal cleaning attendant, and cleaning up whatever had been dirtied overnight was something they did when they came in the following day — that was how it worked.
“Do it now.”
He gave the order in a few short words. Then, as if to make a point of it, he deliberately picked up the snacks spread out on the desk and dropped crumbs everywhere as he ate. It was such a childish thing to do — and looking at it, the first thought that crossed Munyeong’s mind was: he still has a sweet tooth. The fact that he’d already gone through a whole pile of chocolates, and now there were biscuits stacked up beside them too.
Munyeong let out a silent exhale and picked up the tongs, carefully working through the larger pieces of trash and putting them into the waste bag one by one. He felt eyes flicking toward him, and when he turned his head slightly, there was only Haejeong — chewing on a snack with the same detached expression, attending to his work. Did I imagine it, he thought — and just then, the phone inside the work lanyard pouch around his neck buzzed. It was an older model by quite a stretch, so the vibration was noticeably louder than most phones.
Shin Juho. The name was showing, but Munyeong quietly pressed the end button. He’d declined it on purpose, not being able to answer while working — but the phone buzzed again, just as insistently. Concerned that the sound might be bothersome, Munyeong instinctively glanced sideways at Haejeong. It had been an unconscious look, under the assumption that Haejeong would naturally not be paying him any attention — but their eyes met directly, and Munyeong’s body locked up for a moment.
“…Why don’t you answer it.”
He’d apparently heard the repeated buzzing too, and tossed the words out like a permission. Munyeong shook his head.
“It’s fine.”
“Answer it. The constant buzzing is more distracting.”
Haejeong shot back immediately and flipped through a work file without interest. Munyeong found himself in an awkward position no matter what he did, and carefully answered the call as it rang again.
“Yeah. You called?”
Munyeong spoke in a very quiet, near-whisper. Haejeong turned in his seat, shifting his body all the way to the far side of the room, watching the back of Munyeong taking the call, and furrowed his brow. What’s so secretive about it.
“Still a while before I’m done.”
What grated on him most was that the whispered voice was entirely different from the businesslike tone he’d always heard — it was strikingly warm.
“…You’re in front of the building?”
