Chapter 51

The meeting ended at last. I followed Harin out, keeping my head low and my face calm until I reached my desk. The moment I sat down, I let my back sink into the leather chair, exhaling like I’d just surfaced from drowning.

“What the hell was that…” I muttered under my breath, dragging a hand down my face. My chest was still tight, trying to process what had just happened. How could they think it was fair to fire off questions like that at someone who’s only nineteen? Somehow, I’d managed to keep my expression calm, my answers steady. But inside, it had felt like I was suffocating.

A shadow fell over my desk. I straightened instinctively, but it wasn’t another executive. It was a man about ten years older, sleeves rolled up, an easy smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said, leaning a little toward me. “You okay there? Looked like they put you through the wringer just now.”

I blinked, then managed a faint, polite smile. “Ah… yes. I’m fine. Just a little overwhelming, that’s all.”

He chuckled, tapping his knuckles lightly against my desk. “That’s normal. First time facing our executives is like being tossed into a shark tank. They smell new blood from a mile away.” He extended his hand “Kang Daejin, Strategy aide. You can just call me sunbae.”

I shook his hand, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. “Kim Haemin. Junior assistant under Miss Yoo.”

His brows lifted slightly, though his smile never faltered. “Not a bad place to start. She’s strict, but she’ll keep you alive in this building.” He gave a small laugh, then leaned in conspiratorially. “And between us, she’s scarier than half the executives if you ever cross her.”

I allowed myself a soft laugh, though it came out more awkward than I intended. “I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Before I could say more, a cheerful voice chimed in from behind.

“Oh, so this is the new junior everyone’s whispering about?”

I turned to see a woman approaching, slightly older than Daejin, her dark hair tied neatly in a bun. She carried herself with the kind of casual authority that told me she’d been here long enough to know exactly how things worked.

“Nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “I’m Han Jiyoo, Legal aide. But you can call me noona if that’s easier.”

I scrambled to return the bow. “It’s an honor, Jiyoo-noona.”

She laughed lightly, waving a hand. “Honor? You’re making me sound old. You’re younger than most of us here, but don’t let that scare you. If you need anything, you can come to me.”

The kindness in her voice was disarming, enough that I found myself relaxing—if only slightly. For the first time since stepping into this building, the weight pressing against my chest began to lift.

But the moment didn’t last.

“Mr. Kim.”

Harin’s voice cut through the air like a knife. I turned quickly to find her standing a few steps away, her expression polite but edged with authority. Daejin and Jiyoo immediately straightened, bowing slightly.

“Assistant-nim,” Daejin greeted.

“Harin-ssi,” Jiyoo echoed with a smile.

Harin gave them both a nod before turning her attention back to me. “Come with me.”

I stood, smoothing my suit, and bowed quickly to Daejin and Jiyoo. “It was nice meeting you both.”

“Don’t get too nervous,” Daejin said with a grin.

“We’ll talk again soon,” Jiyoo added warmly.

I followed Harin across the floor. The moment her office door shut behind us, the hum of the workplace faded, leaving only silence and the faint ticking of a clock. She turned, her expression shifting—still composed, but her eyes sharpened with intent

“Mr. Kim,” she said evenly, “I trust you understand it’s best not to… engage too freely with the female staff here.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Eh? I wasn’t—”

She lifted a hand, silencing me with the smallest gesture. “It’s all right. I know you weren’t trying to. And I don’t take issue with it myself.” For a brief moment her tone eased, almost reassuring, before the steel returned. “But you’re not just another employee here. You’re… different. If the Chairwoman were ever to see this…” Her words hung, heavy, deliberate. “…it wouldn’t end well—for anyone.”

The weight behind her voice left no room for misinterpretation.

I swallowed, throat suddenly dry, and gave a stiff nod. “Understood.”

Only then did Harin’s expression soften, her professionalism sliding back into place. She gestured gracefully to the chair opposite her desk. “Good. Now, sit. Let’s begin.”

For the next hour, she walked me through the foundations of the job—document management, scheduling, note-taking, screening calls, and the delicate hierarchy of communication within the company. Everything had to be precise, everything filtered correctly. She emphasized the importance of discretion, of moving quietly but effectively, like a shadow.

I did my best to keep up, jotting notes, asking questions when I could. Harin’s explanations were precise, her tone steady, and though my nerves still clung to me, the way she carried herself made it easier to breathe. Each time she paused to check if I understood, I found myself calming little by little.

The clock was nearing 1:00 PM. I was midway through organizing a set of sample documents when my phone buzzed softly against the desk.

A message.

From Yuna.

[Yuna: Come to my private lounge later. I want to have lunch with you.]

My breath caught for half a second and I quickly typed a reply.

[Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.]

______

The door to the private lounge clicked shut behind me, and a faint sense of familiarity settled in. Nothing much had changed since the last time I was here.

Yuna was already there, seated gracefully at the table as though she had been waiting for me all along. When she noticed me, her gaze softened just enough before she gave a subtle nod toward the chair opposite her.

I obeyed, sitting down. The table between us was already set—two trays of polished silver and lacquer, each arranged neatly with rice, steaming bowls of doenjang-jjigae, assorted namul, grilled mackerel, and a spread of kimchi and side dishes. 

Yuna’s eyes lingered on me for a second longer, then she picked up her chopsticks. “Enough staring. Eat.”

We ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the clink of chopsticks and the faint simmer of the stew. 

Halfway through the meal, she finally spoke again. “You did well today,” she said, her tone softer now. “Answering those questions.”

I paused mid-bite, my lips pulling into an awkward smile. “I… tried.” I mumbled, eyes fixed on my bowl.

But then, her tone shifted. A little sharper. “You’re not upset that I put you in that situation, are you?”

“Can I?” I murmured with a small smile, half-joking to myself, eyes still lowered. I was about to look up at Yuna, ready to tell him I wasn’t upset but she was already staring at me, cold and unblinking. Her fingers clenched so tightly around the chopsticks that her knuckles had gone pale, the thin wood trembling as if it might snap in two.

Panic hit me. “I wasn’t upse—”

“Repeat that.” Her voice cut through me, cold and deliberate.

“I wasn’t upset with you?” I finished, forcing the words out.

She didn’t relent. Her gaze bored into me. “No—before that. The other thing. Say it again.”

My mouth went dry. I swallowed hard and tried again, urgency bleeding through my words. “No, really. I’m not upset with you. I know you had your reasons.” The sentence tumbled out clumsy and too eager; I could have slapped myself for the way it sounded.

She kept staring for a long beat, as if weighing my tone for truth and intention. Then, impossibly, the tension in her shoulders eased. The tightness in her fingers loosened. “Good,” she said simply, and bent back to her food.

I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and tried to focus on eating again. Inside, I sighed. It’s impossible to predict her mood. One wrong word, and everything tilts. Talking to her feels like walking on glass sometimes.

The rest of the meal passed in quiet. When we finally finished, she rose first, moving with the same effortless grace as always. I followed her to the door, but before stepping out, she spoke.

“Go first,” she instructed. “I’ll leave in ten minutes.”

I nodded, adjusting my sleeves.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a slim black lift card. Handing it to me, she said, “Later, after work, wait for me at my private parking. Use this.”

I hesitated only for a second before taking it. “Understood.”

Then, before I could move, she leaned closer, her perfume brushing past me, and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek.

Heat bloomed instantly across my skin.

“See you later,” she said quietly, her eyes still lingering on me.

I swallowed, gave the smallest nod, and slipped out of the lounge—my heart thudding far louder than my footsteps down the hall.

_______

The floor was alive again as I made my way back to my desk, the muted hum of conversation and shuffling papers filling the air. Laughter drifted from one corner, the clipped rhythm of heels echoed down the hall from another.

A few people looked up as I passed. Some only spared a glance before returning to their screens, but others lingered—eyes sharp with curiosity, lips bent close to one another as they whispered behind folders or coffee cups.

Then came the group of female employees near the far desks. They noticed me almost at once. One raised her hand in a playful wave, another winked with exaggerated boldness, and the rest broke into soft laughter, their voices low but not nearly low enough to escape my ears.

For a moment, my steps faltered. My instinct urged me to retreat, but I steadied myself. Keeping my expression composed, I returned a faint smile and offered them a polite bow before continuing past.

As I straightened, their voices trailed after me, fragments of conversation catching at my back.

“Polite and good-looking. He’s exactly your type, isn’t he?” one teased, her tone edged with amusement.

“You always said you don’t like shorter men. And younger ones at that. Maybe I should give it a try instead,” another countered, laughter spilling through her words.

“With that kind of face? His height and age don’t matter in the slightest,” came a third voice, unapologetically bold.

“I could keep staring at him all day,” another admitted with a dreamy sigh.

“Careful. If Harin-ssi hears this, she’ll have your head,” one of them warned, dropping her voice just slightly.

“I’m so jealous of Harin-ssi,” came the final whisper, threaded with both envy and resignation.

The words lingered in my mind, but I kept my pace steady, pretending not to have heard them.

At last, I reached my desk and sank into the leather chair, letting out a quiet sigh. I still wasn’t used to being surrounded by adults like this.

After a few minutes, Harin returned, signaling me to come to her office. She didn’t press further—she probably already knew where I had gone during lunch. She placed a stack of neatly organized documents on my desk. “We’ll continue where we left off,” she said.

The hours crawled by. I threw myself into the tasks Harin assigned—writing memos, revising documents, and sorting through notes.

A soft knock broke the silence. One of the communications staff stepped in—a woman with glasses, calm and composed, her presence understated yet commanding. She offered Harin a stack of printed reports, then glanced briefly toward me.

“So you must be the new junior assistant,” she said evenly. “Welcome.”

I managed a polite bow from my seat. “Thank you.”

Before she could speak further, Harin’s voice cut in smoothly. “He’s still under training. If there’s anything requiring his attention, go through me.”

The woman blinked, then inclined her head with a small, professional nod. “Of course, Assistant-nim.” She glanced once more at me, as if curious to linger, but Harin’s poised presence left no room for it. She excused herself and slipped out.

The moment the door closed, Harin looked at me and smiled warmly. “Don’t worry—they won’t get close to you as long as I’m here.”

I gave a small, awkward laugh. “I understand. Honestly, I don’t know how to politely reject them without being rude.”

Harin just returned my smile, and we continued.

_______

Later in the afternoon, Kang Daejin—the strategy aide I’d met earlier—passed by my desk on his way out. He slowed, flashing a grin. “Still alive, junior?”

I gave him a dry smile. “Barely.”

He chuckled, dropping his voice so only I could hear. “Don’t worry. We’ve all been through the grinder. Just… your grinder happens to have sharper blades.” His eyes flicked briefly toward Harin’s office, then back to me with a wink.

I almost laughed, but before I could reply, Harin’s door creaked open. Daejin straightened instantly, offered a polite bow, and hurried off.

I sighed quietly.

As the afternoon stretched on, Harin drilled me further—organizing Chairwoman’s correspondence, handling internal requests, and arranging schedules without error. My pen scratched across paper, my head filled with details that left little room to breathe.

By the time the clock neared six, my body was stiff, but my hands moved almost on instinct. I stacked the last folder neatly, glancing at Harin’s composed figure across the desk.

Maybe… I can survive this after all.

And then my phone lit up.

[Yuna: I’ll be finished in a few minutes. I expect you to be there when I arrive.]

My throat tightened. I slid the phone face-down on the desk, trying to mask the flicker of nerves.

Harin’s eyes softened as she noticed, the smallest knowing smile on her lips. “It’s okay, Mr. Kim,” she said gently. “The work you’ve done today is more than enough. Nothing urgent needs finishing today. Take your time.”

“Thanks, Harin-ssi,” I replied, standing and quickly gathering my things. “Then I’ll get going first.”

She just watched me with that composed, almost maternal smile, and as I reached the door, she added softly, “Thank you for your hard work today. See you tomorrow.”

I bowed politely. “See you tomorrow, Harin-ssi.”

The hallway was quiet; it looked like almost all the staff on this floor had already gone home. My pace quickened. I reached the private elevator at the end, pulled out the sleek black card Yuna had given me, and tapped it against the sensor. The light blinked green, the doors sliding open with a soft chime.

Inside, the mirrored walls reflected back the tension in my shoulders. As the doors closed, I leaned against the cool metal railing, exhaling a long breath. My thoughts replayed the day. Somehow, I had made it through all of it.

A small sigh escaped. “It’s not a bad start, huh…”

For the first time that day, I allowed myself a small,  faint smile.