Dawon’s messages didn’t stop. It felt like the sound of her pounding on the keyboard could be heard all the way to Seungju’s desk. The long, long message that started with “I knew something was off lately” and ended with “General Manager Mu really isn’t an ordinary person” could be easily summarized as follows:
General Manager Mu definitely said something to his father. I don’t know what he said, but anyway, he said something, and the President, who’s a complete pushover when it comes to his son, immediately agreed.
There wasn’t a single piece of concrete evidence in what she said, but everyone who received that information was satisfied. Yeah, I knew it. For a political master fox like the Director to be pushed out at this company, something even more ridiculous and petty like blood relations would have to come into play for it to make sense.
If it had been before, Seungju would have heard such talk and narrowed his eyes, falling into contemplation. Using dirty tricks to clean up dirty problems with dirty methods wasn’t really the direction Seungju wanted.
But the devoted care that Seungju had experienced from Baek Muyeon all this time made him think excuses like there must be some reason for Muyeon’s methods.
Besides, it wasn’t just any problem—it was the problem of the Director disappearing. Yeah, he wouldn’t have to see that bastard ever again. Wait, is this really happening? As expected, holding out leads to victory.
So Seungju raised his hand to cover his mouth. And with the corners of his lips raised in a smile, he blinked once and thought: I should ask Muyeon what happened.
***
“Why are you so busy when the Director isn’t even here?”
“Because I’m not the kind of person who works overtime to look good for my boss.”
Seungju and Muyeon were sitting in the 12th floor conference room. Beyond the blinds, the city lights of the night sparkled. Seungju clicked his mouse and glanced at Muyeon. He looked displeased.
Well, that was understandable. Muyeon had said something like that before. What was it—”Why would I work overtime?” Thinking about it again, it really was a cheeky thing to say. Seungju pouted. I have to work overtime when there’s work to do. And for Seungju, there was always work, regardless of whether the Director was at his post or not.
Why? Because in this godforsaken Planning Team 6, only Heo Seungju was employed.
However, Seungju didn’t want to say anything more prickly to Muyeon, who had bought him dinner, cleaned up after him, and was now obediently waiting for him after being coaxed by Seungju’s suggestion to drink together when he was done.
Of course, just considering the reason why Seungju had gone to the trouble of coming down to the 12th floor conference room to work instead of at his own desk in the office, he was already exercising enough patience. When Muyeon found out Seungju was working overtime, he threw a tantrum saying that if they were going to work at the office anyway, they should go somewhere they could be alone together. So Seungju had loaded all his work onto his laptop and even brought an external hard drive, thinking the effort he put into coming down to the conference room would make up for taking care of Muyeon.
But his heart had become far too soft for that during this time. So Seungju turned his attention, which had been focused solely on his laptop monitor until now, to Muyeon. Since the Director had come up, he brought up a topic he’d been curious about.
“Muyeon-ssi.”
“Yes.”
“What method did you find that there are rumors the Director is being transferred?”
“It’s not a rumor. He’ll be leaving for another affiliate soon.”
“People are saying you pestered the President.”
“What are you talking about? It’s the opposite.”
Muyeon put down the phone he’d been fiddling with for a while and propped his chin in his hand. He tapped the table with his fingers as he spoke.
“From the beginning, when I joined the company, Father hoped I would take the position of Planning Division Director.”
“Really? Come to think of it, I have heard that before. When the Sales Team was still separate, the President kept trying to persuade you to come to the Planning Division.”
“That’s exactly right. But I said I didn’t want to.”
“Why?”
Seungju looked at Muyeon sideways. Muyeon met his eyes and smiled.
“Because I don’t know the practical work. I wanted to learn.”
While spending time with him repeatedly, Seungju had noticed that Muyeon’s eye-smile was a kind of coyness. It meant “I chose pretty words, so please find me pretty.” How cute. But Seungju wasn’t really in the mood to play along. He responded dismissively.
“I see. Well, that was easy.”
“Was it?”
Seungju nodded. Things that feel like huge, enormous evils, absurdities that make people incredibly powerless—to someone else, they might not be important at all, or they might not be particularly difficult either. That could be the case. Seungju traced his thoughts backward to avoid arriving at the sense of futility that came from that gap.
As if to offset that, Muyeon opened his mouth.
“It wasn’t that easy.”
“What wasn’t?”
“Even so, he’s someone who worked with Father for ten, twenty years. Well, a lot happened, but wasn’t all that for the company too?”
“……”
What an innocent thought. But Seungju listened silently.
“Now that he’s leaving… Father seemed to have sorted out his feelings about it already. But I found myself thinking a lot.”
“Right… Yeah… In the end, he’s just a salaried employee too.”
And Seungju let out a deep sigh. Silence settled over the conference room for a moment. Seungju was thinking this: Muyeon’s words were things Seungju didn’t need to know, nor did he have any reason to put himself in that position and think about them. Those were, quite literally, words from a manager’s mindset considering the position of a subordinate employee, the Director. Seungju was neither a manager nor did he have any subordinate employees.
But Seungju understood. Thinking that understanding is always the burden of the weak.
And rationalizing that he was trying to understand not for any other reason, but solely because of his own selfish desire to properly comprehend what Muyeon was saying.
Recalling the lesson the company had taught him—don’t think deeply—Seungju shook off his disturbance and sense of futility. He finally arrived at a positive thought. The fact that the Director would ultimately fuck off. Seungju let out a snicker and opened his mouth.
“Still, I’m happy the Director is leaving.”
“Well then, that’s fortunate.”
“Do you know what I even thought about?”
“What was it?”
“I really hated the Direct—I mean, the Director so much that I wished he would die.”
“Yes.”
“Then at some point, I just thought I didn’t care if the Director lived happily somewhere else, as long as he just wouldn’t be involved with me.”
Muyeon blinked. He made a slightly sad expression. Thinking he knew the reason, Seungju looked into Muyeon’s eyes with a similar face. Muyeon opened his mouth.
“That’s… you’ve really reached a state of enlightenment, Seungju-ssi.”
“I think so too.”
“Remember what you said?”
“Which thing?”
“That it was the first time you’d thought about someone you dislike so obsessively. So you’ve reached enlightenment.”
Seungju burst into laughter. Because Muyeon’s tone was quite serious. And seeing Muyeon’s still serious expression, he quietly put away his laughter. Muyeon pulled his chair closer and leaned in.
“I want you to only think more about the people you like.”
So, these words and these moments.
From the beginning until now, Muyeon had always been good at saying these kinds of things. And only now did Seungju stop doubting the sincerity of these words.
So he kept wanting to understand his words, to chew them over, to comprehend them. Setting aside the heart that didn’t know what to do with itself at times like these. To hide his embarrassment, Seungju replied awkwardly.
“Are you telling me to stop talking about the Director?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“Spend that time thinking about me instead.”
A pretty person is also good at saying pretty things. The eyes that drew close, the hand pressing down firmly on his thigh were just as satisfying as his words. So, shaking off the bitter feeling that had been lingering just moments ago, Seungju now made up his mind to find him pretty.
“Then should I try to make that happen?”
Muyeon smiled. Seungju closed his eyes as slowly as the lips approached.
***
He thought this every time they kissed, but Muyeon’s lips were as soft as they were pretty. When their lips touched, his own lips, roughened by chronic fatigue and lack of care, became embarrassing. Bothered by it, he’d actually said something about it once.
‘Muyeon-ssi, do you take care of them?’
When Muyeon laughed through his nose, Seungju could feel his breath. Licking his rough lips with his tongue, he’d replied.
‘Seungju-ssi.’
‘Yes.’
‘This is really funny in a good way.’
Funny, huh? Thinking it was fortunate at least, Seungju waited for Muyeon’s next words.
‘Want to kill the mood?’
The voice that had been submerged in excitement was much colder than Seungju had expected. Seungju shook his head slightly. So from then on, Seungju made an effort not to talk nonsense to escape from embarrassment. Just stay quiet.
Whether he knew of Seungju’s efforts or not, Muyeon rubbed their lips together softly. When the mucous membranes inside their lips touched, the nape of his neck tingled. Seungju slowly opened his mouth. A slippery tongue slid into his mouth.
The feeling when their tongues first touched was unfamiliarity. It soon changed into a dizzying sensation and vertigo that turned everything before his eyes white. Muyeon groped at his sides and waist before wrapping his arms around his back. The fingertips pressing and rubbing against his flesh were stimulating even through his shirt.
Seungju stretched out his arms and pulled Muyeon’s neck into an embrace. He could feel the corners of Muyeon’s mouth lift slightly. It would be a lie to say he didn’t like this kind of thing. The speed at which Muyeon moved toward Seungju was unhindered. Even so, he was always purely delighted by the progress in the opposite direction—from Seungju toward Muyeon.
