One day passed, then another, and another.
After Yena’s birthday and the weekend, Monday arrived once more.
Thankfully, the first proposal sent to Dawon Liquor last Friday received a positive response. They requested that we prepare a storyboard and a mock-up for the product packaging based on that initial proposal.
Jeong-o, who had suffered through the previous days, finally found some comfort from Miran. If Miran hadn’t properly soothed her on Friday, Jeong-o might have truly made up her mind to quit.
Jeong-o’s virus-infected laptop was back, too. She had expected it on Wednesday, but it was ready by Monday; it seemed the IT staff had rushed the repair due to Ji-Heon’s special request.
“This wasn’t just bad luck; someone intentionally planted a virus,” the technician revealed.
Jeong-o had suspected as much. It was strange that a computer issued shortly after she joined—which should have been relatively clean—had contracted such a vicious virus.
Regardless, it was a relief to have the laptop back; it contained not only the Dawon Liquor materials but also the documents for an upcoming competitive bid. The technician shook his head, looking as though the task had been so grueling he never wanted to face it again.
Since the overtime work on Thursday, Jeong-o had managed to avoid Ji-Heon. She had come into the office over the weekend, but he hadn’t been there.
Part of her felt relieved, as she was too furious to see his face, but another part of her was so angry that she wanted to confront him and snap. Yet, beneath that, she felt a flicker of worry. *Was he alright? Was he safe?*
While working overtime on Yena’s birthday, Jeong-o had inwardly cursed him with everything she had.
*I hope he’s stuck in bed starving for three straight days,* she thought. *I hope he wakes up famished after three days only to find there isn’t a drop of water in the house, and he has no strength to go buy any. And when he calls a friend for help, I hope all his friends are out having fun.*
She had poured quite a bit of sincerity into those curses, so she wondered if they’d actually worked.
It seemed not. He had come to work this morning looking perfectly fine, even appearing to work quite diligently.
Several people from the first division were called into Ji-Heon’s office for individual assignments. Some left in high spirits, while others stumbled out looking like their souls had left their bodies.
Gihun Song from Jeong-o’s team was one of them.
“Assistant Manager, I want to die….” Gihun sighed, staring blankly at the paper he’d received.
“Why? What is it?”
“What on earth is this?” Gihun handed the paper to Jeong-o.
“Director Jeong showed me this and said it’s how it should be done… but I don’t know what ‘this’ is.” It appeared to be a promotional webtoon for the home camera brand Gihun was managing.
What on earth had he done to this paper? Jeong-o’s brow furrowed as she looked at the drawing.
“What is this? A complete lack of talent?”
“It’s not just a lack of talent. It’s bottom-of-the-barrel,” Gihun lamented.
Jeong-o peered closer at the bizarre drawing. *Ji-Heon Jeong, you man… did you draw a dog or a bird?*
If you can’t draw, you shouldn’t draw at all. Why are you acting up, losing your dignity, and making your staff suffer?
*So that’s where Yena gets it from—drawing imaginary animals; it’s all in the genetics.* She felt even more frustrated, as she could somehow foresee Yena’s art grades ten years into the future.
Miran Seong, having approached to see what the commotion was, let out a laugh.
“Team Leader, you shouldn’t laugh. This is serious for me.”
“Ah, Gihun. Sorry, sorry. It seems the Director has insight, but his drawing skills are a total disaster.”
“So, based on this, should I draw a dog or a bird?” When Gihun asked that, the other team members who had been laughing went quiet.
After thinking it over, Jeong-o stepped up.
“Leave it to me.”
“How are you going to handle it?”
“I’m going to throw it right back at him.”
“…Throw it back?”
“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A dog-bird for a dog-bird.”
*Just you wait, Ji-Heon Jeong.* She was determined to take this chance for retaliation. After answering, Jeong-o looked at Miran. Miran sighed and nodded; it was a silent gesture of trust.
***
Monday arrived after a tedious weekend. Following the weekly business reports at the team leader meeting, Ji-Heon called a few staff members in for individual assignments.
Until a month ago, neither work nor life had been fun, but after being posted to Max Planning, he had finally found some interest in his work. Still, his mood, which had been sour since Thursday night, hadn’t improved.
After being stood up when he offered to drive a cranky Jeong-o home, Ji-Heon had looked for chances to talk to her again, but failed. He still hadn’t been able to give her the snack he’d bought on Friday specifically for her.
Jeong-o was constantly away from her seat or accompanied by someone else. The most annoying among them was undoubtedly Gihun Song.
After reviewing Gihun’s work, Ji-Heon had given him a task he thought Gihun would enjoy, despite the heavy workload. However, when it was time for the evening report, Jeong-o Lee and Assistant Manager Eun-Ju Go were stuck to Gihun’s side as they entered.
It was annoying to see Jeong-o Lee so close to Gihun Song, but he was satisfied to at least see her face.
“I gave the task to Gihun Song, didn’t I?”
“Yes. We came together to explain, as we’re helping him with the parts he was struggling with,” Jeong-o said spiritedly.
Was she trying to protect Gihun in case he got scolded? Ji-Heon looked at the three of them with suspicious eyes.
Assistant Manager Eun-Ju Go placed a tablet PC on Ji-Heon’s desk. The sight of the three of them moving together like participants in a three-legged race was quite ridiculous.
“The Director’s insight was so, so, so groundbreaking that we decided to use it as is,” Jeong-o opened the floor.
“What insight are you talking about?”
“This one right here.” Jeong-o pointed to the character on the screen.
Wondering what it was, Ji-Heon narrowed his eyes and leaned in close. It was the puppy he had drawn for Gihun earlier that morning. They had copied and pasted the drawing.
“Since it’s unclear whether the character is a dog or a bird, we’ve decided to call it a ‘Dog-Bird’.”
Only then did he realize why the three of them had come together. Jeong-o Lee had brought two more members just to make fun of him.
While Jeong-o explained the webtoon, Eun-Ju Go’s face—which usually remained stiff—contorted a few times. She looked like she was struggling to hold back laughter. Gihun was trembling; he found the explanation hilarious but was clearly nervous about Ji-Heon’s reaction.
Jeong-o was quite sly. She had looked so angry on Thursday, but now she had as many colorful expressions as a storyteller from the Joseon Dynasty. Even though Ji-Heon knew he was being teased, he found it strangely pleasant. He found himself looking at Jeong-o’s mouth rather than the screen.
“The webtoon is good, but are you trying to play games with me, Assistant Manager Jeong-o?” he asked with a chilly smile. Since they had attacked first, he had every right to fire back.
But Jeong-o didn’t flinch. “Oh…? What do you mean, Director?”
She was clever. Her feigned look of a flustered employee was excellent.
“You must have instigated taking the drawing I gave Gihun and using it as is. You, Assistant Manager Jeong-o.”
“Honestly, we had no choice. We really couldn’t tell. Whether this was a dog, or a bird,” Jeong-o continued shamelessly. “Director, please tell us. Then we will revise it. Is this a dog, or a bird?”
“……”
“Did you draw a dog or a bird?”
“……”
“Or is it just an imaginary animal?”
*Pfft.*
Eun-Ju Go couldn’t hold back her laughter and burst out.
“A dog,” Ji-Heon replied, staring straight at Jeong-o.
“Ah, a dog. Understood. A dog.” Jeong-o nodded grandly, like someone who had just reached a profound enlightenment.
Ji-Heon turned his head to Eun-Ju. “Assistant Go Eun-Ju. Are you finished laughing?”
“Hic. I apologize.”
“That’s quite alright. I’m the one who should be sorry for drawing it poorly. Though, I must admit, it was quite amusing for me as well.” The trio looked surprised at his reaction.
Ji-Heon stood up with a soft, albeit chilling, smile. “Mr. Gihun Song, please revise the character and contact the artist immediately. Assistant Jeong-o Lee, you stay behind for a moment.”
The trio was stunned. Just before entering, they had formed an alliance: if one were called in, the others would follow to ensure no one was left alone with him. That had been the promise, but this unforeseen hurdle appeared the moment they met him.
Gihun and Eun-Ju remained rooted to the spot, stuck in a difficult situation.
“But, Assistant…” Gihun looked at Ji-Heon in a bind.
Jeong-o had no choice but to send them away with composure. “Go ahead. Assistant Go, Mr. Gihun.”
After watching them leave with dim eyes, Ji-Heon gestured for Jeong-o to take a seat. “Sit over there.”
Jeong-o sat down, looking sullen. Ji-Heon didn’t sit across from her; instead, he turned away and retrieved a box from beside his desk. It was large. He opened it in front of her.
*What in the world is all this…?*
Jeong-o’s mouth parted slightly at the colorful contents: a package filled with beautifully arranged, assorted cookies and chocolates. Her brows furrowed in bewilderment.
“You said to call you if I was going to throw away food,” Ji-Heon said. She recalled having told him once, “If you’re ever going to throw away food in the future, please give it to me.”
“…So, are you saying you’re throwing these away now?”
“That’s how it is, so take them.”
Jeong-o let out a faint, cynical laugh. The absurdity of him purchasing items just to call them “things to be thrown away” was laughable. *Is this how he apologizes? Does he feel a shred of remorse?*
She stared at him across the silence. She couldn’t read an apologetic look on his face. It was just an arrogant gaze that seemed to say, “Take this and stop sulking.”
Jeong-o snapped back. “I don’t want them. I’ve changed my mind. Since you were planning to throw them away, just go ahead and do so.”
“Then you throw them away, Assistant Lee. I only did as you requested.”
“I don’t want to do that either. If that’s all, I’ll be taking my leave.” Jeong-o stood up.
Ji-Heon sat with his arms crossed, watching her. *This woman, she’s still sulking.* He realized she was the type to hold a grudge.
“Are you that unhappy about having to work overtime just once?”
“Obviously.”
“Everyone works that much overtime.”
“I begged you. I was desperate. I told you I had to go home that day. I told you that if it was absolutely impossible, I would come back in two hours.” Jeong-o felt as if she were back in that moment. A wave of injustice washed over her, and tears welled up.
“So, what kind of family matter was it anyway? I need to know so I can understand where you’re coming from, Assistant Lee.”
*It was your daughter’s birthday!* She couldn’t scream it out, so the frustration felt like she had swallowed a heavy stone.
“If I told you, you would just judge the importance of that family matter as you pleased. Even if it was incredibly important to me, you might think it wasn’t.”
At her bold retort, Ji-Heon stood up. The distance between them closed. Jeong-o flinched, but didn’t step back.
“If you’re doing this because of the lingering bad feelings from what happened, you should apologize properly instead of using cookies as a ploy.”
“What exactly should I apologize for?”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought up the word ‘apology.’ He seemed to know nothing. But she couldn’t take it back now. Jeong-o spoke honestly about what had disappointed her.
“Pretending to be my father in front of the convenience store the Thursday before last, and making me work overtime while sitting next to you last Thursday.”
“The Thursday before last, it was your fault for being deceived. Last Thursday, I was doing what a superior ought to do. The overtime pay was already agreed upon when you signed your contract. Why should I apologize for that?”
“Because I was deceived. And because I asked you desperately, but I was completely ignored. Because of you, I had to feel emotions I shouldn’t have had to feel.”
*Maybe I’ll regret saying this one day. But I have to live by saying what needs to be said. I have dignity.*
“How could you pretend to be my late father? You shouldn’t do that even as a joke. And regarding the overtime, I would have done it if it were any other time. It’s my responsibility, so I would have stayed up all night. But that time, I pleaded with you. It was work that could have been done perfectly well from home. I even told you I would return in two hours if it was absolutely impossible.”
Of course, she understood that he was just doing his job as a director. But he hadn’t made the slightest effort to consider her situation. He insisted only on his own answer.
“And when you guard me like that while I work, everyone’s productivity drops. If you hadn’t been right there, I would have finished much faster.”
“….”
“So, if you apologize, I will accept it.”
“And if I don’t?” he replied coldly. His expression didn’t falter.
At his lofty pride, a hollow, bitter laugh escaped Jeong-o. “If you can’t, then you don’t have to.”
Jeong-o finally let go. If he still couldn’t apologize after she specifically laid it out, she had no choice but to give up. On the person named Ji-Heon Jeong.
“You might regret this a little one day, but I don’t think it will cause you any trouble if you don’t apologize now.” *If I give up, I’ll be at peace, too.*
She felt a little lighter. Stepping toward him with newfound courage, she spoke in a low, intense voice.
“You think what you have is something incredibly great, don’t you?”
“….”
“I wouldn’t trade my everything for all that you have.”
*My everything.* Thinking of Yena and her family, her nose tingled. *I decided to keep working at this company because of you, so if I give up on you, I have no reason to stay here. If you are that kind of person, I can’t let you meet Yena. I can’t let her be hurt. I want my daughter’s world to be warm.*
“I quit.”
His eyes widened for a moment.
“I’m quitting it all. This damn company.”
“….”
“The moment I open that door and walk out, it’s over. Do you understand?”
Speaking boldly, Jeong-o stepped back and gripped the doorknob.
The door opened.
At that moment, Ji-Heon lunged forward and urgently covered her hand with his own. The door slammed shut again.
Jeong-o’s shoulders were trapped against his chest. His embrace was burning hot, as if it were boiling over. He was looking down at her with eyes that burned like fire.