I changed trains once during my subway ride. By the time I got to the station near the hotel, it was 10 o’clock, leaving an hour until the agreed-upon time.
Hence, I exited through the station’s other entrance and proceeded along a bustling street illuminated by vibrant neon signs. I leisurely wandered beneath the signs of various shops and cafes, noticing that several establishments remained open, likely due to it being a Saturday night. Near what appeared to be the entrance of a club, university students were creating a commotion, crowding the street in a lengthy line.
As I walked by, I noticed a tavern emitting a warm, yellow glow. A crimson sign on the door urged, “Heating on, keep the door shut!” Inside, an oval table near the window was surrounded by individuals in cozy clothes, their shoulders brushing in the dimly lit space. Some were flipping meat with tongs while others clinked glasses. I briefly glanced at the moving mouths through the glass before redirecting my attention. The cold breeze made my fingertips ache, and my breath turned into a white mist in the chilly air.
I stepped into the hotel’s entrance, greeted by a grand lobby featuring a lofty ceiling adorned with an elegant chandelier. Moving through the silent elevator and the hushed carpeted corridor, I triple-checked the room number before taking a step back. My clenched hand pressed firmly against the cold, unyielding surface of the wooden door.
A smiling face emerged through the crack in the door.
“It’s nice to see you here again.”
Seeing him, my limbs began to shake uncontrollably, as if I were breaking free from a trance. Even then, the impulse to turn and run surged within me. Yet, he, still adorned with a smile, extended his arm and clasped my wrist. An unsettling strength, akin to a haunting force, pulled me into the room.
***
The desk’s potted plant showed signs of decline. Once half the height of the computer monitor in the fall, it steadily diminished over time, its stem now tilting to the side. The once-plump leaves had wilted and curled, exhibiting red spots akin to marks on statues. It might have endured a difficult winter or suffered from dryness. On pressing the soil, it felt damp. White roots were visibly spreading across the gravel.
From the adjacent desk, a half-conversation had been audible. Yeah, I know, it’s Sunday. Yeah, I’m just going for New Year’s, not this time… Okay, I’ll call you later. Yeah, I won’t drink much. You too… See you tomorrow.
The sound of a short kiss over the phone came through. It was a rather private conversation. It had been dark outside for a while, and office hours had passed. There was the sound of a phone being gently placed down, the sound of zipping a bag shut, and the supervisor pushing in the chair.
Before the hand could fall onto my shoulder, I turned around. I dropped my outstretched hand, and the supervisor, with his eyebrows furrowed, spoke.
“Lee Seodan.”
“Manager.”
Eyes that briefly passed by me were wandering near my monitor. I silently traced the edge of the flowerpot, waiting for words.
I thought I had taken good care of it. Should I have given it more water, less water? If only plants could speak. Even a wag of a tail or a nod would have sufficed.
Eventually, perhaps having made up his mind, the supervisor, adjusting his bag, spoke to me.
“The year-end gathering, will you at least consider coming?”
“…No.”
“Moving to another department, it’s the Chief’s suggestion. It’s the last event, just bear with it to make a good impression. I’ll mention it as well…”
Before he could finish, I shook my head briefly. The man looking down at me gradually stiffened his expression. The discomfort and awkwardness dissipated, replaced by a stoic, inscrutable demeanor. He seemed to have deemed that he had done what he could.
“Okay then. Let’s meet on Monday.”
“Take care.”
I rose and gave a nod of farewell. He had been in charge of me since I finished my training and received department assignments. We had lunch a few times, exchanged casual chatter. Some private stories were shared too—about family, his cat, complaints about the boss. He knew I had a younger brother and that his girlfriend had an unusual fondness for flowers.
As the supervisor stepped back, he said in a formal tone, “Have a good weekend, Lee Seodan… See you next year.”
Then, turning away, he smiled like a deflating balloon.
“Yes.”
Only after the footsteps had completely faded away did I sit back in the chair. The sound of sensors lighting up along the corridor echoed. The words I had just heard seeped into me like screws turning. Today was Friday, December 30th. The upcoming Monday would be January 2nd.
I turned off the computer screen. There wasn’t much to take along, but I tidied up the desk. I peeled off the colorful notes stuck to the monitor and collected a few pens rolling around. Honestly, there seemed to be no point in packing; just a plant, a couple of books, and two mugs. A large rabbit-shaped ornament. That was it. I had worked in the same spot for almost a year, and now, it seemed like it would only take a few minutes to tidy up.
I opened the water bottle and poured the remaining sips onto the plant. I grabbed my bag and pushed in the chair. As I was about to put on my coat, my hand slackened.
“Ah…”
I dropped my bag on the floor and slowly approached the large window that traversed one side of the office. Flurries of snow were softly falling, dusting the ground. The windows of the opposite office building were darkened. Unremoved Christmas decorations adorned the cafe windows on the ground floor.
The office behind me echoed faintly with the sound of heating. Cars with their red tail lights illuminated were stopped at the traffic lights on the road below. I gently pressed my palm against the cold glass. I took a long breath and slowly exhaled.
Turning around, I put on my coat, grabbed my bag, and left the office. I had to take the bustling end-of-year subway ride home, even though it was late at night. But I just couldn’t get my steps together. The daily routine felt strangely distant, as if it were the first time.
Condensation fogged the window. I returned to my seat, pulled out the chair, and sat back down. I clicked the mouse on the computer’s loading screen.
The main page of the portal showed snow falling over a snowman. I closed the window and opened a folder. I brought up a draft of a resignation letter. The cursor was blinking in the middle of a sentence.
I minimized the screen, rested my chin on my hand, and slowly closed my eyes.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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A new window opened with the board. Mentoring system, year-end holidays… I scrolled through the content from the bottom of the screen, then paused as I noticed a bold title at the very top.
[Job Post] Recruitment Notice for Short-Term ITF in the First Half
The view count was a clean 0. Just from the title, I knew it had nothing to do with me. But still, I moved the mouse. I leaned in closer to the bright screen.
As I continued to read, I became increasingly convinced that it had nothing to do with me. The required qualifications seemed high, and typically, one needed to have been with the company for at least three years to apply for such projects. Given the three-month deadline, it would proceed quickly, requiring manpower capable of working at full speed, equivalent to one or two people’s work. In every aspect, it didn’t seem like a fit for me.
Yet, despite this, as I scrolled to the bottom, I almost slammed my forehead into the screen.
Responsibility Team Leader (PM): Han Juwon, Consulting Team 2 Leader
The cursor automatically obscured the name. I cleared the cursor to the corner of the screen and squinted at the dry Times New Roman text a few times.
And then, at that moment, something unexpectedly warm surged from my stomach, which had felt empty all day. It felt dizzying, as if the blood in my body was circulating rapidly. A faint ringing echoed in my ears, and for no reason, I felt tears might well up.
With numb fingertips, I gripped the mouse. I opened the still-existing resignation file, held down the backspace key for a long time. The cursor rapidly devoured the letters. I pasted the application form from the bulletin board onto the clean, empty page. Click, click, I stopped the cursor decisively at each blank space.
It took less than thirty minutes to paste the provided email address into the mail program, attach the application, and send it. I pressed the send button and leaned back slightly in my chair. The inside of my eyes felt burning and dry.
When I checked the email address again on the intranet, the view count of the notice I had seen earlier was still at 1.
I raised my legs onto the chair and huddled up. I buried my face in my knees and closed my eyes. The sleepless nights of the past few days weighed heavily on my eyelids. Outside the window, the snow was thickening.
***
January 2 felt more like a Monday than usual. Everyone I encountered in the lobby seemed to carry the murky remains of the year-end, unable to shake off the dull atmosphere. While descending from the third floor, I overheard the tail end of a conversation between two female employees who had boarded from the second floor. Just before the door closed, words like ‘project’ and ‘application’ were distinctly audible.
It was the same when I reached the department. My supervisor was conversing with Kang, the assistant team leader, on the opposite side of the partition. As I entered, our eyes briefly met over the partition. I gave a slight nod and took my seat, and the interrupted conversation resumed.
“Apparently, someone among Sunbae did it.”
“Oh, really? Is he like that usually as well?”
“Ah, back then, we drank together, and she cried her heart out.”
“Still… I kind of want to try being a TF (Team Leader) at least once.”
I turned on the computer and glanced up. The partition buzzed softly, blending with the sounds from the neighboring department, half-buried within it. Huh, my supervisor chuckled.
“Working with a team leader would be nice, right? I guarantee you’ll regret it. Besides, even if you apply, you won’t get selected.”
“Wow, that’s harsh.”
“That Sunbae of mine, even though he had a rapid promotion to Elite, he got chewed out by a slow-working team leader with verbal abuse. Why else he would cry in front of anyone?”
“But still, let’s pretend and apply…”
“All those positions already have internal candidates. Oh, and about our team’s future staffing…”
Then the voice lowered significantly. It probably was about me. No longer interested in hearing more, I stood up. I had planned to stop by the restroom, but I had to pause after just a few steps. The department head was entering the hallway from the other side.
With no way to avoid him, I just stood there until he approached. His expression, frowning upon seeing me from afar, was now explicit and obvious. The assistant from the neighboring department following behind also averted their gaze, their expression frozen.
Stepping aside, I wordlessly lowered my head. I saw people passing by. Even the supervisor, abruptly halting their chatter and swiftly returning to their position, their footsteps echoed.
“Hello, sir.”
“Sir, Happy New Year!”
“Yes, let’s work hard this year too.”
The department head, standing next to my partition, tapped my supervisor’s shoulder and turned his head towards me.
“Can I see you before you start working, Lee Seodan?”
I turned off the computer screen. Without waiting, the department head headed towards the hallway leading to the conference room. I hesitated for a moment, considering handing in my resignation now. But then my supervisor made a shushing noise to grab my attention. When I glanced over, they subtly gestured to lower the volume.
“Please be careful with your words when you go in.”
“…Yes.”
“Even if you have to look at me, don’t nitpick or lecture like last time… I don’t want to see anything completely wrong, considering the time I’ve invested in teaching you, Mr. Lee Seodan.”
They probably weren’t a bad person. It was evident they didn’t want to be seen as a thorn in the department head’s side because of me, but there was also a genuine concern in their eyes. Unable to find any words, I just sighed quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.”
At that moment, Assistant Manager Kang peeked over the partition. With a slight gesture, he caught my attention and whispered softly.
“Mr. Lee Seodan.”
“Yes?”
“…I’m sorry.”
I glanced down at Assistant Manager Kang’s awkward and ambiguous expression. Asking what the apology was for would have been mischievous at this point.
“No, it’s fine. Thank you for everything so far.”
Leaving the department, it was quiet behind me. I could feel every eye beneath lowered eyelids trailing after me.
The first door of the meeting room was open.
I paused at the threshold. I lightly knocked on the door a couple of times. The department head, turned away and standing there, didn’t acknowledge my presence. I entered quietly and closed the door behind me. I stood by the central table, waiting. The department head’s expression, as they swiftly turned their head, indicated their eagerness to wrap up the conversation more than anything else.
“Go to sales.”
They spoke abruptly, cutting me off before I could even respond.
“I’ve talked to the other manager. If you don’t like that, then head down to Daegu. That’s been lenient enough.”
“Sir.”
“Decide by tomorrow.”
As the words formed in my mind, the manager nodded briefly and left the conference room. It was like shaking off an attached dog. I stared blankly at the vanished figure and slumped into a chair by the table. Even though I didn’t have much to say, it felt disheartening to heed advice about being careful with my words in situations like this. It would have felt unjust if I had prepared something to say.
Returning to my seat, my team members were engrossed in their screens. It was a desperate attempt to avoid misfortune. Although it wasn’t yet 8 o’clock, my body slouched in the chair. The desire to go home was intense. I felt like I could get up and walk out, and no one would stop me. Would I even have work left to do by the end of the week, given that I should clear my desk within a week?
Laughter got stuck in my throat. I casually moved the mouse and opened my email. Even if I managed some piled-up emails, I planned to take a day off and go home.
The list of emails received over the weekend was long. As I scrolled through, mentally sorting them, my mouse suddenly halted.
Subject: Individual Interview for TF Applicants
Sender: Han Juwon [email protected]
My heart sank. Looking back at it from the perspective of someone who had received the application, it was almost ridiculous.
I took my hand off the mouse, leaned back, then ended up reading a few more emails for no reason. Even after re-reading them, the content didn’t register. I minimized the email program and then reopened it. The emails remained in bold, vivid as ever.
Taking a deep breath, I clicked on the subject. The email was concise to the point of being curt.
Interview Date: January 2nd, 3:10 PM Interview Venue: Room 4, Floor 3
Please confirm upon receipt.
January 2nd was today. I had pressed my nails into my palm too hard; it hurt.
Confirmed. I will be there today.
It took just ten minutes to write the short reply. The read receipt appeared within a minute, but there was no response.
The name Han Juwon was first heard during training at the institute. It was a popular term among the education supervisors at that time. When someone acted particularly picky, they’d say, “That person is heading to be a team leader,” or they’d mockingly say, “Looks like the mighty team leader has descended upon us,” about someone showing a strong temperament. All we gleaned from the recent uproar at headquarters about an incident involving this Han Juwon character was the name without a face. We naturally accepted the name, as it surfaced now and then, associating it effortlessly with terms like demon, dictator, and madness, as is typical of inside jokes that faded in less than a week.
Once inside headquarters, I entirely forgot about that name. I was busy adjusting to a department that differed from my expectations, just like my fellow trainees scattered across various departments. Occasionally, during company dinners or gatherings, that name popped up when least expected. The anecdotes heard were all similar—being overly critical to the point of making business partners cry or getting into a spat with an executive in the corridor. Reactions upon the mention of that name ranged from a mixture of awe and concealed disdain to outright fear veiled with contempt.
Somehow, I ended up in the electronics division. The realization that the name from the institute referred to a real person was intriguing. It was intriguing to have a consistent image akin to a comic character. Given the timing, it might have been more intriguing. Having spent slow months adapting, I started feeling that the company I was in and the one led by Han Juwon were entirely different places. Perhaps over there, it was a place devoid of layered constraints, where an arrow shot would cleanly cut through the air without any stifling walls or ceilings—a vast space with no constricting boundaries.
Around that time, I started having a recurring dream every night. Falling into a state of near-unconsciousness due to sleeping pills, I found unfamiliar landscapes coloring the insides of my eyelids with a moist, verdant hue—a sky that might not even exist.
The manager was absent from lunchtime onward. Still, feeling like I couldn’t just leave without saying anything, I hesitated and, leaving a few minutes before three, called my supervisor out to the corridor for a moment. When I mentioned that I needed to attend an individual meeting with a team leader after applying for the TF job posting, my supervisor looked at me with a puzzled expression.
“Are you serious?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t apply thinking it would actually happen, did you?”
I stayed silent. My supervisor, leaning against the wall, let out a long sigh.
“Is this what you think should enter the manager’s ears right now, in this situation?”
“…It doesn’t matter.”
“Why are you resigning? This is driving me crazy, seriously. Why would you, Lee Seodan, apply for that?”
“I’ll just go and come back.”
Three o’clock was drawing near. As I nervously rattled off words in my head all day, rehearsing for an interview that was about to happen, I grew increasingly anxious as time passed. I couldn’t properly see my supervisor, who was irritatingly shaking their head.
“If the manager isn’t around, do as you please.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but Lee Seodan is still a part of our team. If you were going to apply, you should have at least told me beforehand. Do you know how frustrating it is for me alone?”
“I’m sorry.”
Covering up my almost elongated explanation with an apology, I rushed to the nearby staircase. Checking my phone’s clock while ascending, it was three-o-five. Opening the door to the fourth-floor corridor, I was met with a crowd pouring out of the elevator. I momentarily imagined this many people waiting for a meeting with a team leader, which seemed absurd.
Thankfully, the floor’s layout was similar. I swiftly found the corridor with the small meeting rooms without getting lost. I checked the closed door of Meeting Room 3 and leaned against the wall, taking a breath. Three-seven. It was tight. My heart pounded like a club hitting it.
I took a deep breath, straightened up, and stood alert. I had no idea when or where the team leader might appear. I held the application’s printed end tightly, having nothing else to bring. With each approaching footstep, my heart rate rose steeply. None of the prepared words came to mind.
Regardless of what I had prepared, it would have been useless anyway. The formal language that could represent heartfelt sincerity was nowhere to be found. Even carefully selected words similar to what was on my mind turned dull when taken a step back. They sounded hollow when tapped. Words like best effort, passion, all carefully chosen, felt the same.
Creak.
The door behind suddenly opened. I stiffened in surprise. The woman who emerged glanced at me briefly, then walked past without a word.
Light seeped out through the open door. I sensed movement inside even without looking; someone was definitely in there.
Trying to calm my racing heart, I took a deep breath. My mind felt blank, my palms damp. I wiped them on my pants and pushed the door open.
The handsome man seated behind the conference table glanced up briefly. His gaze swept over me standing at the threshold, and he spoke curtly.
“Please, take a seat.”
I hesitated, searching for an appropriate greeting, but remained silent. After closing the door, I approached the chair he gestured toward and sat down.
It wasn’t a face-to-face position. Chairs were placed at a 90-degree angle on either side of the round edge of the desk. So, even sitting down, I didn’t have to look directly at him. I settled onto the chair that still retained warmth from whoever sat there before, gazing at the thick file resting on the desk and the hands folded upon it.
They were handsomeness personified. His hands were robust and manly, with long, elegant fingers. The neatly arranged nails displayed perfect white half-moons. As my gaze traced the faint veins along the back of his hand, a smooth voice came from above his lowered head.
“I’ve read your application thoroughly.”
“…Thank you.”
“Raise your head a bit. I don’t converse while inspecting the top of someone’s head.”
His low voice was clear enough to feel the sharp edges of each enunciation. I straightened my chin and met the gaze of his silently observing, coal-black eyes.
It was my first time seeing him this close. My dry throat seemed to stick to the roof of my mouth.
“Your application suggests you have a good understanding of the project.”
“Yes, I’ve been interested in it for a while…”
“Last year’s project happened around the time you joined. Did you go through the details later on?”
“Yes.”
Perhaps the reason his name echoed so frequently during the training was due to the ongoing project at that time. And over the past year, just as he mentioned, I intermittently sought and read whatever materials I could access.
Thank you again for the translation!
no of course! i kept everything in the same way since it was like this in the raws. i will try to adapt the changes from the next update, no problem! thank you for reading 🙂
Sorry for another long message, I’m just making suggestions since imo the novel is good and the translation is also good so I hope more readers find it and have good reading expirience and contunie supporting it.
Hope you have great holidays!
I understand what you mean! I will format my chapters so it’s easy to understand from now on. thank you and happy holidays to you too 🙂
OMGGGG I DIDN’T KNOW CG HAS TRANSLATION OF THIS NOVEL!! I TRIED READING THE RAWS USING TRANSLATION MACHINE BUT IT DIDN’T GO WELL SO, I JUST STICK TO THE MANHWA BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PUTTING AN EFFORT ON TRANSLATION I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!!!