I was sitting inside the café opposite my ex-workplace, dressed like a fashionable detective on a low-budget stakeout. The café smelled like burnt espresso and broken dreams, which—frankly—matched my mood perfectly.
"Can you believe it?" I hissed, clutching my mocha like it held the answers to life. "The security guard—yeah, the bald one with the bushy caterpillar eyebrows—didn't let me in just because I didn't have my ID."
Yuna slurped her iced Americano with the calm of a Buddhist monk. "Well… you don't work there anymore."
I gasped. "YUNA."
"What?"
"You're supposed to take my side. Not that Baldy's."
She sighed, "Okay. That rascal. How dare he do his job correctly?"
I narrowed my eyes but chose not to retaliate. Mostly because I didn't have a comeback ready. Instead, I dramatically flung my gaze toward the tall, glass building across the street—the place that used to be my own personal hell. And yet, I missed it.
Imagine waking up every day and knowing your boss makes Voldemort look like a Hello Kitty plushie. That was me, working for Mr. Jeon Jaehyuk.
On my very first day, I accidentally spilled hot coffee on his table (not on him, mind you—just the mahogany). He looked me dead in the eyes and said, "You have two minutes to replace it. Go."
I ran.
From then on, my life became a series of speed runs:
3 minutes to reprint a 56-page report he "accidentally" shredded.
10 seconds to explain why a comma existed in his email draft.
0.5 seconds to "breathe quieter" during meetings. I wish I was kidding.
And God forbid if someone brought him the wrong brand of water.
"I asked for glacier-filtered Swiss water, not this peasant sparkling nonsense," he'd say, tossing the bottle like it personally offended him.
Every employee called him "Ice king" behind his back. I survived longer than most. But my streak ended last week… when I dared to ask for a half-day leave.
My grandma was fine, in heaven, thank you very much. But he didn't need to know that.
I told him she fell down the stairs. He let me go.
Then saw me later that evening… dinner with my friends.
Oops.
Next morning: You're fired.
Boom. Just like that. No trial. No mercy. No bonus.
🕕 Present Time: 6:00 PM
Yuna left around evening to attend her hot yoga or hot date or something equally hot. I sat by the window, sipping the cold remnants of my coffee, when I saw him.
Mr. Jeon.
Leaving the office. On the dot. Sharp 6.
He looked like a serial killer. Sharp jaw. Sharp car. Probably even sharp toenails. He got into his luxurious RUV—so glossy it could blind satellites—and drove off like a k-drama CEO who just crushed someone's dreams.
So naturally, I did what any sane, heartbroken ex-employee would do.
I followed him.
🕖 6:40 PM
I reached the front of his house. And by house, I mean architectural flex. The gates were taller than my self-esteem. Security cameras blinked at me like robotic tattletales.
I stood in front of the entrance, nervously holding my tote bag like it could shield me from trespassing charges.
After 10 minutes of pacing like a confused delivery girl, I approached the security.
"Excuse me, I need to speak with Mr. Jeon."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"…No. But I used to work for him."
He looked at me like I was a cockroach trying to file a tax return. "No ID. No entry."
RUDE.
🕢 7:00 PM
As if destiny got tired of my embarrassment, the security guard left right at 7.
I blinked.
Did he just… abandon his post?
Well then. Fate had opened a door.
I, Mira Kim, survivor of spreadsheets and corporate trauma, took a deep breath—
—and jumped the gate.
"WHAT THE—HOW TALL IS THIS—"
I flopped over and crashed onto the other side like a potato sack.
"Ouch," I groaned, clutching my butt. "Oh my pancreas…"
My legs wobbled like cooked spaghetti as I stood up. And then I saw it.
His house.
No. Mansion.
No wait.
Was I in a palace?!
There were marble lions. Fountains. A driveway long enough to host the Olympics. I gawked up at it, slack-jawed, like a villager seeing WiFi for the first time.
And then…
Grrrrrr.
I looked down.
A dog.
A Doberman.
A very angry Doberman.
RUN, MIRA, RUN!!
"NOPE NOPE NOPE—"
I screamed as the beast barked and chased me like I owed it money. I took off sprinting like my life depended on it (because it did) and did something I've never done in my entire life.
I climbed a tree.
Don't ask me how. Adrenaline makes you do strange things.
Now I was perched on a branch, clinging for dear life, as the dog barked murderously below me.
Tears welled in my eyes. "Why me?! I just wanted my job back! I DIDN'T SIGN UP FOR WILD DOGS!"
That's when I heard the door open.
Out walked him.
Mr. Jeon Jaehyuk.
In all his expensive-shirt-wearing, cold-stare-giving glory.
"BAM!" he shouted.
Oh. That's the dog's name.
"Bam?" I gasped. "More like BAMBI'S REVENGE!"
The dog stopped barking and trotted over to him like it didn't just try to eat me. Traitor.
He looked up at me, arms crossed. "What are you doing here?"
"I—uh—" I stammered from my branch.
"You trespassed?"
"You fired me for a lame excuse and expect me to just disappear into the void?! I need closure! A reason! Something! ANYTHING!" I shouted, waving a leaf for dramatic effect.
We bickered for a full minute, my words echoing across his vast lawn while I clung to a tree like Tarzan with drama issues.
He finally glanced at his Rolex. "Look, just come down—"
"Not until you promise to give me my job back!"
He sighed, exasperated. "Are you coming down? Or should I let Bam climb up?"
"YOU WOULDN'T DARE."
His hand hovered over Bam's collar.
I shrieked.
"OKAY OKAY OKAY FINE! I'LL COME DOWN! CALL OFF THE BEAST!"
"Bam, go inside," he said with a chuckle.
The demon dog obediently disappeared.
I inhaled sharply as he extended his hand.
My heart thumped.
What if I slipped?
What if I fell and fractured both arms and had to get surgery and then sued him and finally got revenge?
I hesitated.
He raised an eyebrow. "You'll be fine."
I finally grabbed his hand and leaped down—
AND LANDED STRAIGHT ON TOP OF HIM.
Oh.
Oh no.
Our bodies smushed together like a live-action rom-com cliché.
AND THEN.
Our lips touched...