Reverse NTR is Bad Civilization!
…………… At 7 p.m., in my one-room apartment. The table was laden with doenjang stew, spicy pork stir-fry, and an assortment of side dishes. It was the dinner Seori sunbae had prepared.
The menu was the same as always, prepared with the same care as always.
"I'll dig in."
"Eat slowly."
Today's Seori sunbae showed no trace of the suspicious glint she usually had. Our conversation stayed firmly in the realm of everyday chit-chat—how my day had gone, whether I was tired or not.
Was I just overthinking it after all…?
No matter how much Seori sunbae monitored me, she couldn't check the company lobby every single day. Even if there were CCTV cameras, they wouldn't record audio.
She ate quietly across from me. It was a peaceful dinner hour.
Thank goodness. Really, thank goodness.
The tension slowly ebbed away. The anxiety that had gripped my chest the entire commute home after talking with Lee Seo-ah began to melt bit by bit.
Lee Seo-ah's date invitation had been sudden, sure, but I'd handled it cleanly in the end. She'd backed off once she heard I was seeing someone, so she wouldn't approach me again.
And Seori sunbae was human, too. What I'd done today amounted to nothing more than a brief chat with one employee in the company lobby. There was no way she'd interfere over something that trivial.
My heart felt lighter. I scooped up a spoonful of doenjang stew and slipped it into my mouth. The briny broth, laced with thin slices of brisket, coated my tongue luxuriously.
As the meal neared its end, Seori sunbae set down her chopsticks. She took a sip of water, then opened her mouth as naturally as if commenting on the weather.
"No troubles today… right, Minseo?"
She was still smiling.
……………
No troubles?
Was she asking because she knew about what happened with Lee Seo-ah today, or was it just casual small talk? There was no way for me to tell.
Truth be told, it was a perfectly innocuous question. But there's that Korean proverb: the thief has itchy feet. It was only natural that her words made me flinch.
What do I do? Come clean? No, that's not it.
I didn't even have time to think it through properly. In the end, I schooled my expression as best I could and played dumb.
"No, nothing out of the ordinary. Why?"
Seori sunbae stared at me wordlessly after my reply. After a moment, the faintest smile tugged at her lips.
"Nothing. Just asking. If anything did happen… I'd want you to tell me first."
With that, Seori sunbae said nothing more. She simply lifted her glass from the table and took another quiet sip of water.
Her face gave nothing away. She was the same Seori sunbae as always, as if nothing had happened.
Just asking if there were any troubles… was that really all?
My mind grew tangled. If she'd truly asked without a second thought, as she claimed, that would be a miracle. But if she did know about Lee Seo-ah…?
Then was that question indirect praise for rejecting her well? Or a warning to make sure nothing like it ever happened again?
I couldn't figure it out just by thinking. There was no way to peer into Seori sunbae's head.
Since agonizing over it yielded no answers, I decided to rationalize it to myself. That was the path of least resistance for my peace of mind.
Yeah. I didn't lie to Seori sunbae. Not technically.
Lee Seo-ah had confessed, I'd turned her down, and that was the end of it. So in the end, it wasn't the kind of "trouble" Seori sunbae meant.
It was all over and done with, so it didn't qualify as "trouble."
No need to dredge up a finished story and stir up trouble. This is consideration for Lee Seo-ah, Seori sunbae, and me—all three of us.
That was my conclusion. I took a sip of water, pretending nothing had happened, just like Seori sunbae.
……………
The next morning, the office air felt off. It was chaotic overall, with everyone failing to focus on their work.
What the hell? Did they announce layoffs or something?
Something had clearly happened, but the vibe was far from one where I could casually ask what was up.
Feeling baffled, I crossed the office to my desk. I was curious as hell, but what could I do? I turned on my computer like always and got to work.
Out of habit, I pulled up the company intranet homepage.
But there, in the top right of the intranet main page—under [Today's Most Viewed Posts] at #1—stood out a title highlighted in garish, provocative red.
I couldn't resist; I moved my mouse cursor and clicked it.
The screen shifted, and the post's title appeared in stark clarity.
"Wh-what the…."
My finger froze on the mouse wheel.
Whether Lee Seo-ah had done it or not, digging it up and posting it on the company intranet? This was blatant, egregious invasion of privacy—a serious crime.
Did they think they'd get away with it by posting anonymously?
The intranet did allow anonymous posts, sure. But the company wouldn't let something like this slide. If they investigated for real, the poster's identity would come out, and they wouldn't get off scot-free.
Who would do something this cruel…
Nausea churned in my gut. Whatever Lee Seo-ah had done in the past or was doing now—it was her private life.
Sure, it was an illegal side hustle without proper taxes, morally dubious and all that. But still.
Someone had brutally exposed her most intimate secret like this. In a place visible to the entire company, easily leaked outside, branding her for life.
This is murder… social murder.
Lee Seo-ah was done for. She couldn't stay at the company anymore. And that was just the start—if the exposer or anyone who'd seen the post harbored malice, it could follow her forever.
She might never work in the industry again, or even land a decent job anywhere. I knew all too well how ruthless Korean society could be about this stuff.
She might carry that stigma her whole life.
……………
That's when a sob echoed from the far side of the office.
It started as a soft whimper, then swelled into uncontrollable wailing.
I turned to look. It was from the marketing team—Lee Seo-ah.
She was slumped over her desk. Her shoulders shook violently; she clutched her face, sobbing.
Even stifled, her cries reverberated through the entire office.
Her colleagues were at a loss. Comfort her, and it'd be like admitting they'd seen the post; ignore her, and it'd be too heartless.
Honestly, everyone in the office had probably seen it by now. They all knew her shame—and how this exposé had wrecked her life.
This is too cruel…
Lee Seo-ah suddenly lifted her head. Her face was a tear-streaked mess, smudged makeup streaking down her cheeks.
She staggered to her feet. Trying to grab her things from the desk, her hands shook and sent them clattering to the floor.
She didn't even pick them up—just snatched her handbag and bolted from the office.
Fleeing. From this hellish place, from dozens of staring eyes, from her shattered present and future.
The office door swung shut. Dead silence fell, like a tomb.
I stared blankly at the spot where she'd vanished.
And right then—a presence at my back.
I didn't need to turn. I knew who it was. Every day, I breathed in her perfume from her embrace, heard her heels clicking right beside me.
It was Seori sunbae.
She held her usual morning coffee. Standing by my side, looking exactly the same as always—as if the commotion in the office belonged to another world entirely.