The Office Worker's Ultimate Fantasy: Quitting in the Boss's Face
Throwing a resignation letter right in the boss's face—every office drone's wildest dream!
……………
After my vision shattered like broken glass, my consciousness plummeted into darkness.
The place I'd fallen into was pure nothingness—a void devoid of sight, sound, or touch. In that space, I couldn't even be sure if I was still alive.
How long had I been in that darkness? Without any warning or prelude, the fragments of the shattered world began gathering back toward the center, like a video rewinding. One by one, piece by piece. The moment the final shard snapped into place with a crisp click—
My vision returned like a miracle. I blinked a few times. Gray partitions, a monitor with its screensaver on, a keyboard—all came into view.
A company? I couldn't tell if it was an office or some government building, but it was definitely some kind of workspace.
But something was off. My hands were resting on the keyboard, but these weren't my hands. Pale, slender, veins faintly visible under the skin—a man's hands. I suspiciously lifted a finger. It moved. At my command. But these were definitely not my hands.
Have I... become someone else? Possessed a body? Reincarnated or something?
Hey, I'm a pro reader, even if I do say so myself. Thanks to that, I grasped the rough outline of my situation pretty quickly. The problem was, I had no clue who this guy was or where he lived—let alone why this had happened.
I scanned the desk. Post-it notes plastered everywhere, a paper cup with coffee gone cold. On impulse, I picked up the cup and sniffed it. In that instant, unfamiliar memories flooded my mind.
Last night... more precisely, this morning at 2 a.m. I was working. Right here, in this body. And I'd come in on time this morning. Naturally, I hadn't slept much. I'd been so drowsy that I'd dumped three packets of instant coffee into one cup and chugged it.
"Ugh."
The fatigue from those memories hit me as vividly as if it were my own.
How hard had this body's owner been grinding? Like a dog?
As irritation surged and I scowled, a cheerful ding! rang out from the bottom right of the monitor. A messenger notification. And then I saw the sender's name in that tiny popup window.
Gasp... I didn't need a mirror to know the blood had drained from my face.
Against my will, chills raced down my spine and cold sweat beaded on my skin.
What the hell? Why is my body reacting like this to that name on its own?
Along with the instinctive terror, memory fragments struck my brain like lightning.
The first was in a meeting room. In front of a crowd of colleagues, she pointed at the code I'd written and said,
"What is this? It's worse than what a 30,000-won monthly AI language model would spit out. You're getting paid, and this is the garbage you produce?"
The colleagues said nothing. They wouldn't even meet my eyes. Some might have pitied me. But what could they do when the boss was pissed? Everyone just watched my humiliation in silence.
The second memory was in her office. I'd cautiously brought up my severe grievances about the excessive overtime—though honestly, it was more a negotiation tactic than a real intent to quit.
She was smiling. But her eyes weren't.
"Quit? Of course you can. But it might be very painful. Why? Check your contract again. There's a five-year non-compete clause for the industry. Think that's all? Hardly. If even a single line of code you made here shows up anywhere similar outside? I'll sue you into oblivion, civil and criminal."
Her smile was still vivid.
"Oh, and I'll use the most expensive law firm in the country? Gotta make an example out of traitors."
Crazy bitch... what kind of monster is she?
I needed to escape this storm of chaotic memories. As I tried to stand, my hand gripped the armrest. The cold plastic touch triggered the third memory, piercing my brain.
Midnight last night, empty office. As I stood to leave, she blocked me.
"Han Minseo. Where do you think you're going?"
Her cold voice came with a hand clamping my shoulder. Shockingly strong grip—I froze solid.
"You can't leave without my permission."
Her whisper in my ear. I wanted to run, but my body wouldn't obey. Absolute powerlessness dominated me.
......
Now all the puzzle pieces fit. This body—my body's name was Han Minseo. And the woman who'd driven him to this state was Choi Seori.
I clutched my head. Han Minseo's memories and mine tangled, blurring where my thoughts ended and his emotions began.
Right then, a voice came from the next desk over.
"Minseo, you okay? You pulled an all-nighter again, huh? You look like a corpse."
A familiar yet unfamiliar voice. Kim Daeri.
I mumbled a reply without looking up.
"Ah, yeah... just a bit tired."
I needed time. Time to adapt amid this chaos.
But Kim Daeri delivered a despairing update.
"I get you're tired, but snap out of it. You've got a one-on-one code review with the CEO in ten minutes. She was in a foul mood this morning—everything ready?"
"Uh..."
Choi Seori, one-on-one, code review. Was there a worse combo?
I felt like a condemned man hearing his execution date. Darkness closed in.
……………
The door to the CEO's office shut with a sound like a coffin lid slamming closed.
Choi Seori's office was frigid. The vast space held only minimal furniture and chilly air. A massive monitor dominating one entire wall overwhelmed the eyes. On it floated the code that I—or rather, last night's and this morning's Han Minseo—had slaved over all night. Red revision marks were plastered everywhere.
Without turning to me, eyes fixed on the screen, she spoke.
"Sit."
I sat silently in the chair opposite. Only then did she finally look at me.
Choi Seori's black hair fell neatly to her shoulders, her porcelain-pale skin gleaming like ceramics under the lights. She was undeniably beautiful. But her stunning face held no warmth whatsoever.
She picked up a laser pointer. It moved to the first red mark.
"This variable name—userDataTemp? Anyone would get confused. Do you not grasp the concept of team collaboration?"
"Th-that part has comments explaining—"
"Code that needs comments to understand is a failure by definition. I told you last time. Are you ignoring me? Or are you too dim to comprehend and remember?"
Is a variable name really worth this humiliation?
Han Minseo's body trembled with remembered fear. Palms slick with sweat, heart pounding like it might burst. But my mind seethed with rage at the absurdity of insulting his intelligence over a variable.
"And this part." The pointer moved again. "No error handling at all? No consideration for exceptions?"
"I tested all the basic cases."
"Just basic? So in edge cases, the program just crashes? Han Minseo. You were here with me until 2 a.m. last night. What were you doing all that time?"
She attacked relentlessly, devoid of emotional fluctuation.
"Is your brain sluggish? Lack of will? Or both?"
……Like this, peppered with personal jabs throughout.
Choi Seori finished the review. She sipped from a glass on the table. Then delivered her final verdict.
"Fix it all. Tonight. Here. I'll be watching, so don't even think about leaving until it's done."
Even tonight I'd left past 2 a.m., and now more overtime? This crossed the line. Something in my head snapped—not a metaphor; I swear I heard it.
Han Minseo's body reflexively tried to reply like a slave: Yes, understood...
But I clamped my mouth shut through sheer willpower. Then, Han Minseo did something he'd never done before. He lifted his head stiffly and met Choi Seori's eyes straight on.
Her dark pupils stared back. At this unexpected defiance from her usually terrified subordinate, her eyebrow twitched faintly.
"I can't."
The words tumbled out, trembling slightly from the body's fear, but true to my intent.
Choi Seori blinked, as if she hadn't heard right.
"What... did you say?"
No turning back now. I enunciated clearly, word by word.
"I can't do overtime. And I won't fix this code."
Not enough. I paused, then corrected myself.
"No— I won't. I'm quitting."
……………
Silence blanketed the office. For the first time, a crack appeared in Choi Seori's perfectly controlled expression. Shock and bewilderment seeped through.
Her mouth opened, then closed. She seemed to struggle for words.
"Han... Han Minseo. You, you..."
She stammered. The CEO of a unicorn company, fielding love calls from U.S. Big Tech, rattled by one subordinate's resignation.
It was thrilling. No memory of Han Minseo's ever showed her like this.
Hah. Whatever's got her like that, serves her right.
I didn't wait for a reply. I turned, opened the door, and left.
Back in the main office, every eye locked on me. They sensed something huge had gone down. I ignored them. Not my company anymore.
I swept my few personal items into my bag at my desk. Adrenaline made my hands shake faintly.
"Uh, um. Minseo?"
Kim Daeri asked cautiously, but I didn't answer. I shouldered the bag and strode out.
The elevator hit the first floor. I pushed through the revolving door into the outside world.
City air thick with exhaust, sunlight pouring onto asphalt. Things I'd normally find unwelcome felt insanely refreshing right now.
"Uwaaaah... I'm free...!"
A sigh of relief and joy escaped me. A wry smile followed. To think leaving a job could feel this good.
I wanted to tell someone. At least contact Han Minseo's contacts? As I pulled out my smartphone and unlocked it—
Bzzzrrrrrr. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.
The phone vibrated like it was seizing. Notifications blared madly. The screen was flooded with one name.
The phone's vibrations didn't stop.