008. Tribulations (3)
‘Strong denial is strong affirmation.’ How much misunderstanding has this baseless, conceptually flawed saying caused?
Because of that one phrase, countless couples still end up in court even today. They couldn’t distinguish between rape and playful refusal.
The saying tormented plenty of people even without dragging them to court—especially long-married couples.
‘No way... Does he really think I hate it? Just because I say [no] in bed?’
‘Ha, fuck. Please. The obligatory defense battle is exhausting...!’
A phrase that only bred communication errors. It was utterly useless in this world.
Some clients who visited sex counselors were victims of it too.
—Um, I tried anal sex once?
—Pardon...?
—My girlfriend goes, ‘Ugh... No! I said nooo...! Pull out!’ So, is she actually enjoying it and wanting more, or does she really hate it? What do you think, Counselor?
—...
And so, an era dawned where men had to wage fierce psychological warfare with their wives or girlfriends. In bed, no less. Truly tragic.
In any case, Kim A-ram’s words had caused a massive stir.
“Actually, Se-hee’s mom passed away today... Ngh!”
“?”
“Se-hee... I’m sorry! Go home early!”
Kim A-ram had swiftly killed off Yoon Se-hee’s parents. Sure, it was fake news, but Yoon Se-hee’s cardboard-thin mentality shredded apart under the unexpected blow.
‘W-Why the hell are other people’s parents suddenly...? Why? Whyyyyy?’
The smartest thing Yoon Se-hee could’ve done was flee the scene without showing her face. Even if she got exposed on YouTube, her face only appeared for about ten seconds. Running away right then would’ve kept it from blowing up.
But Yoon Se-hee wasn’t the type for calm actions like that. Her mental fortitude was too fragile, and she ended up flailing in denial.
“N-No! That’s not true! My parents... th-they’re not dead!”
Se-hee desperately protested. Tears streamed from both eyes as she fiddled with the flyers like a tragic girl, sobbing pitifully.
And then—
people interpreted Yoon Se-hee’s communication in a whole different way.
“Ah...”
“Oh no... She’s really in denial...”
“Strong affirmation is strong denial, huh...”
Studies showed that verbal communication only accounts for 30% in human interactions. No matter how truthful the words, if the 70% nonverbal cues failed, misunderstandings were likely.
And right now, her behavior screamed ‘poor girl denying the loss of her parents.’
Straight-faced yelling, ‘What are you talking about? My parents are fine!’ would’ve been better. But Yoon Se-hee lacked even that much communication skill.
“C-Camera... please stop!”
Too late, [DarkSoulsScholarWhoLovesItSicko] snapped to and took control of the surroundings.
“You can’t just film this!”
He quickly killed the live stream and contained the situation. If someone’s parents had actually died, it wasn’t something to capture on camera for laughs.
His intentions were pure enough. Kim A-ram rolled her eyes dramatically and mimicked him.
“Sob... One of our employees’ parents passed today... Cameras might be a bit tough right now...”
She even picked fights sometimes.
“Is this what you wanna film? Desperate for views with this crap? Sure!”
The YouTubers, grossed out by Kim A-ram’s Oscar-worthy performance as if her parents had died, slunk away. She seemed to be cleaning up the mess, but it only made Yoon Se-hee’s parents look deader by the minute.
Se-hee’s face drained white.
‘No... why...’
After the chaos died down, Kim A-ram slung an arm around Yoon Se-hee’s shoulders.
“Se-hee...”
“Y-Yes? Why... snif... my parents...?”
“This is...”
Kim A-ram put on a gravely serious face.
“A sacrifice of the calf for the greater herd.”
Yoon Se-hee gaped at the shamelessness of turning other people’s parents into livestock. Rage boiled over into cold clarity. For the first time, she calmly reviewed her life from the start. Memories flashed by: her timid elementary days, ignoring a bullied outcast in middle school.
‘No... this isn’t the time... for that...!’
Yoon Se-hee was timid but wise. She’d long known Kim A-ram was nuts. But in this extreme situation, Kim A-ram’s antics had surpassed mere madness.
Kim A-ram said, “Se-Se-hee, you did screw up, right? Yeah!”
“No...”
‘B-Blame shifting here?’
Yoon Se-hee was dumbfounded.
‘...Ugh, I should’ve... just cried... said it was anxiety disorder...’
Admitting her anxiety disorder outright would’ve been smart. No dead parents then, right?
Fueled by fury, Yoon Se-hee’s lips twitched faintly.
“I-I... should’ve... just said I was sick...”
But the response was shameless beyond imagination.
“Sorry. That excuse got me out of too many group projects...”
‘This “for the community” bitch skipped group assignments?’
Flames with nowhere to vent scorched Yoon Se-hee’s chest black. PTSD resurfaced.
—Looks like you were the last one on server duty, Se-hee! Explain yourself! Why’d you delete the files!
Kim A-ram had tried to scapegoat her when deleting server files. Yoon Se-hee had planned to forgive it. Not because she liked Kim A-ram or pitied her—just to escape the awkwardness.
But this was too much.
“Why, Se-hee? Why?”
Alone in the barracks-like room. Flames roared in Yoon Se-hee’s chest.
“Th-this... urgh! Uuugh!”
“You okay?”
Asking if she was hurt was the last straw. Yoon Se-hee snapped.
Out of her mind, she jabbed a finger at Kim A-ram.
“Y-You... you!”
“...Me?”
Three seconds later, Yoon Se-hee roared and lunged like a leopard stalking prey. A crescent-moon slap worthy of some bizarre sect martial art exploded.
“You fucking bitch!”
—Smack!
Kim A-ram’s head snapped 90 degrees, and she crumpled to the floor.
“Eh?”
Im Su-yeon, returning from a smoke break, froze like stone.
The great madhouse party had begun.
Monday morning. The text from Han Yu-ra was ominous.
‘Ah... shit. Busted...?’
She only used formal address like that in private. A chill prickled his spine.
‘Did she find out I ditched for sex with Na-young?’
His heart pounded. He pictured Han Yu-ra leaving early Friday, checking the office. Sure, he was the one doing the work, but facts were facts. If weekend trouble brewed, it’d likely fall on him.
Kim A-ram’s face flashed in his mind.
‘No way... she didn’t cause chaos in that short time. Even for her.’
He texted back.
‘Phew...’
Relief at last. Her tone implied ‘not your fault, but trouble happened.’
‘Fish tank management’s tougher than I thought.’
He’d figured full honesty meant no anxiety. But ‘caught banging another girl’ plus ‘skipping work behind the boss’s back’ piled on the guilt. He wasn’t that shameless.
Anyway, crisis averted for now.
‘Gotta get ahead of it soon.’
Shaking off useless thoughts, he headed to Railroad Software.
“...Hey. Morning?”
He greeted cheerfully, but the staff just nodded curtly. No friendly hellos.
‘Shit... something did happen.’
First sight on arrival: bizarre. Desks shoved to one corner, three employees standing ramrod straight before Han Yu-ra, hands clasped politely.
And Han Yu-ra glared at them, backlit by the sun like a mafia don. No indie game studio vibe.
“Director Im Seong-u. Good morning.”
“...Yes.”
One week to open beta. Pulling this amid the crunch signaled her mental state at breaking point.
Han Yu-ra’s voice was ice-cold.
“Director Im Seong-u. Haven’t heard yet? Come sit by me.”
“Yes.”
Now their faces came into view.
‘Server nuker’ Kim A-ram. ‘Lackey’ Im Su-yeon. ‘Comm cripple’ Yoon Se-hee.
Three hopeless losers, really. He questioned why Han Yu-ra hired them.
‘She really dragged her club buddies straight in.’
Starting a business with friends: a startup CEO’s classic blunder. The expressway to ruining both friendship and venture.
‘How’d she even pick these idiots?’
If they were the three little pigs, Kim A-ram would’ve nuked the house like server files, Im Su-yeon would’ve snitched to the wolf, and Yoon Se-hee would starve barricaded inside while the others died.
‘I... I worked here?’
Dizzy. How tough was [past me]?
The trio peeked nervously around, eyes down.
Han Yu-ra spoke.
“Alright... Let’s start the second Railroad Software emergency countermeasures meeting.”
“...”
“...”
“...Wow!”
Clap clap clap. Kim A-ram jumped up applauding, met our icy stares, and sat back down.
Han Yu-ra stared blankly before barking in squad leader tone.
“I’m... disappointed in you all.”
Maybe because she picked them herself? Or college buddies? Her sorrow and disappointment hit harder today.
“Last Friday, Im Seong-u and Shin Na-young skipped the event due to programming crunch. Right?”
Guilty twinge. A bead of sweat rolled down Na-young’s temple—visible.
What face would Han Yu-ra make if honest? ‘Ditched your company for Na-young sex. Three rounds... and shit hit the fan meanwhile. Sorry!’
Luckily, she continued herself.
“Ten days to open beta. Right call, and I trusted Director Im’s judgment.”
“...”
“But what was the result?”
Han Yu-ra played a video with ~600 views. Yoon Se-hee huddled on flyer-strewn ground, sobbing wretchedly. Beggar vibes.
Yoon Se-hee watched, face crumbling in self-loathing, suicidal expression.
“Read the description.”
‘Yoon Se-hee’s parents died? News to me.’
Her presence was that faint. But she’d made her mark now: orphan Yoon Se-hee, parentless waif.
—Sad story. Will delete if it causes issues.
Despite that, the video lingered. Han Yu-ra had emailed, but no takedown.
“Before open beta, this blows up—what happens? Huh? You’re all over twenty!”
“...”
“...A-ram. Care to answer?”
“I-I...”
Kim A-ram rolled her eyes shamelessly.
“On the contrary... it could be noise marketing.”
“Urgh!”
Han Yu-ra gnashed her teeth, entering perfect mid-boss CEO mode, snatching an ashtray like a helmet pitch.
Kim A-ram’s skull nearly split.
“Eek!”
She flinched. But Han Yu-ra still had reason. Her hand just trembled as she set it down.
“Noise marketing needs real controversy, not ‘dev employee’s family dies.’ Period. And it’s fake. Big scandal? A-ram? Funny? Entertaining? People’ll love it? Huh?”
“...S-Sorry.”
“Bow! Properly!”
Han Yu-ra bellowed.
“Namuwiki gets a ‘Railroad Software Incidents/Accidents’ line—company booms? More gacha pulls? Huh?”
“Hiiik! Sorry! I’m sorry!”
“P-President!”
Then Im Su-yeon piped up boldly.
“I-I saw everything! Not involved, but as witness, I saw it all!”
Kim A-ram and Yoon Se-hee shot her annoyed glares. Oblivious, Im Su-yeon spilled.
“What I saw was...”