~Ye jun~
Monday morning came so fast…. .
I walked into the creative floor at 8:57, technically early for once. Mom had texted me three times already: "Junnie, did you and Si-woo talk? He seems so quiet!" Yeah, Mom. He's quiet because he's plotting my slow death. Thanks for the concern.
Si-woo was already in the conference room when I got there. Door open. Everyone else filed in behind me like sheep who knew the slaughter was coming but couldn't afford to miss it.
He didn't look up at first. Just kept clicking through slides on the big screen. My slides. The ones I'd bled over all weekend after he'd canceled my actual weekend.
I sat. I tried to look normal. Failed.
He finally glanced my way.
"Kang Ye-jun."
My name sounded like a curse.
"Present."
I stood. Legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
Started talking. My voice cracked on the first sentence. Great start.
He let me get maybe thirty seconds in before he cut me off.
"Stop."
I stopped.
He leaned back in his chair. Arms crossed. That coffee-stain ghost still faintly visible under the fresh shirt like he was wearing my humiliation as a badge.
"Still drawing like a child who needs approval from Mommy?"
The room went dead.
Someone, Min-ji, I think choked on their coffee.
I felt heat crawl up my neck so fast it hurt.
"I… "
"Quiet." He clicked to the next slide himself. "This layout? Preschool project. This headline? Sounds like you wrote it while crying in the bathroom. Which, judging by your face right now, isn't far off."
Laughter scattered and I got even more nervous. Then louder when he didn't stop them.
I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached.
He kept going.
"Color palette looks like you picked it blindfolded after too much soju. Concept? Nonexistent. Execution? Embarrassing. Overall?" He paused. Smiled. Small. Mean. "Pathetic. Sit down."
I sat.
Hands shaking under the table.
Min-ji leaned over while he moved on to the next person. Whispered, "Jesus, dude. What'd you do, fuck his dog?"
"I exist," I muttered back. "That's enough."
She snorted. "Lucky you. He usually saves the personal shit for people he actually notices."
"Yeah. Thrilled."
The meeting dragged on. Every time my name came up he found a new way to twist the knife. "Still waiting for you to grow a spine." "This is why we don't hire charity cases." "Try harder. Or don't. Same difference."
By the end I was numb. Just nodding. Taking notes I didn't read. When he dismissed us I stayed seated until the room cleared.
He stayed too.
He walked over. Stopped right in front of my chair. Leaned down. Hands on the armrests. Caging me.
"Family dinner tonight," he said. Only for me. "Dad, your dad now insisted. Be there. Smile. Or I start making calls about her medical coverage."
I looked up. Met his eyes.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
He smiled again. Same one from the wedding.
"I know. And you're still here."
He straightened and walked out.
I sat there until my legs stopped feeling like jelly.
Then I went back to my desk and worked like nothing happened.
Because what else was I gonna do? Quit? Pay the penalty with what, my tears?
Around six everyone started packing up. Min-ji waved goodbye with a pitying look. "Don't die, okay? We need someone to take the heat off the rest of us."
"Love you too," I called after her.
The office emptied.
I stayed.
Had to finish one last set of changes he'd demanded at 5:58.
By 11:30 I was done. Exhausted. Starving. Pissed.
And I remembered the sketch.
Still in my jacket pocket. Folded small. Burning a hole.
I'd meant to put it back days ago. Return it to his desk when no one was looking. Pretend I never saw it.
But every time I thought about it my stomach flipped in a way that wasn't just fear.
So yeah. I went to his office.
The door was unlocked. Light off.
I slipped in. Quiet. Heart hammering.
His desk was tidy. Too tidy. Like he hated mess as much as he hated me.
I opened the top drawer. Empty except pens. Then when I opened the second drawer. Locked.
I froze.
He kept it locked?
The sketch was in my hand now. I pulled it out. Unfolded it in the dark.
Same wrists. Same rope. Same hungry mouth.
My thumb brushed over the line where the rope dug in.
I swallowed. Then the door opened behind me.
The Light snapped on.
I spun.
And guess who I saw? Si-woo.
Shirt half-unbuttoned. Collar open. Sleeves rolled. Hair messed like he'd been dragging his hands through it for hours. Eyes bloodshot. Tired and furious.
And something else.
Something raw.
He saw me.
Saw the paper in my hand.
But he didn't yell. He just closed the door behind him. Click.
"Pervert," he said. Voice quiet.
"Me? You're the one who drew porn on company time."
He stepped closer. I backed up. Hit the desk.
He kept coming.
Stopped inches away.
"Looked long enough?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
He reached out. Took the sketch from my fingers. Slowly .Our hands brushed. I felt it everywhere.
He folded it. Put it in his pocket.
Then he just… stood there. Staring at me. I stared back. And neither of us moved.
Then I looked down. I Couldn't help it. His pants were tight. It was obvious.
Hard.
My brain shorted.
I laughed again. Short. Panicked.
"Wow. Really?" His jaw clenched.
"Get out."
I didn't move.
"Get. Out."
I swallowed. Hard.
Turned.
I walked to the door.
Hand on the knob. Stopped.
I looked back.
He hadn't moved.
Just standing there. Breathing hard. Shirt open enough I could see the line of his chest. The way his hands were fisted at his sides like he was fighting something.
I opened my mouth then I closed it.
Then I ran.
Not walked. Ran.Straight to the bathroom down the hall. Locked myself in a stall. Back against the door. Panting. Hand already down my pants before I could think.
I was hard too.
Rock hard.
Thinking about the sketch.
Thinking about his face when he saw me holding it.
Thinking about the way he'd said "pervert" like it was an accusation and a confession at the same time.
I was so hard it hurt.