A Perfectly Controlled Morning in My Exclusive Cage
My morning routine in the perfectly controlled VVIP waiting room—or rather, my personal breeding pen—is so peaceful it's practically making my brain cells atrophy. I'm sunk deep into the premium chair, binge-watching my third Moflix original series on the 32-inch 4K monitor. Whenever my mouth gets bored, I mechanically grab a French macaron or handmade chocolate from the mountain piled on one corner of my desk. Without me lifting a finger, my dedicated secretary slips in every 30 minutes without a sound to check the temperature and humidity, swap out the sparkling crystal glass of fruit-infused water and ice, and leave.
Beyond the transparent glass partition, the Strategy Planning Division—the beating heart of Taesung Group, ranked fifth in Korea's corporate world—is spinning like mad. Employees dash around clutching stacks of documents, executives bellow, and at the center, Director Han Seol-ah decides the group's major affairs with the most flawless, chilling expression. Even as she signs off on a project worth billions, she lifts her head exactly once a minute to check on me through the glass. And every time our eyes meet, that face that had the execs frozen solid melts away, replaced by a honey-dripping eye smile and a little pinky heart thrown my way.
At first, I broke out in cold sweats from the insane temperature swing, but humans are animals of adaptation, right? Now, when she sends a heart, I've got the leisure to munch a macaron and mechanically wave back with one hand. Capitalism's perfect conditioned reflex.
11:50 a.m. Soft classical music flows from the office speakers, signaling lunchtime. Seol-ah gives me an eye signal through the glass and gestures to wait a bit. She's probably wrapping up the final morning exec meeting before coming to get me. I stretch my stiff back and stand, my body all achy from three straight hours glued to Moflix in even the best chair.
Maybe hit the bathroom quick. Taking advantage of her focus on the meeting, I cautiously open the VVIP waiting room door and step into the hallway. It's swarming with employees heading out for lunch. But the moment my foot hits the corridor, they part like the Red Sea, clearing a path. Their eyes mix shock, awe, and some inexplicable fear. The deputy manager who had me fetching coffee just yesterday avoids my gaze, staring into space, while the section chief who witnessed Park Team Leader's head figuratively roll off this morning backs away slowly.
The multimillion-won suit hugging my body and the watch gleaming on my wrist must look to them like the absolute mark of ownership by Director Han Seol-ah. My face burns under the onslaught of stares as I hurry toward the bathroom.
That's when it happens.
"Uh... Jinwoo? Intern Kang Jinwoo?"
A familiar, exhaustion-drenched voice stops me. I turn to see my fellow interns from Team 4, the ones I was pulling an all-nighter with on the proposal just yesterday. They look wrecked—dark circles down to their chins, arms loaded with stacks of photocopies and document boxes. Seeing them in the same cheap 10,000-won spa-brand slacks I wore makes me flash back to my own state just a day ago.
"Hey, heading to lunch?" I ask with an awkward smile, approaching them. They set down their boxes and circle me.
"No way... you're really Kang Jinwoo?"
"Word spread like wildfire in the office this morning."
"Park Team Leader got axed, and you're now the director's personal special intern."
"But what's with the outfit?"
"Insane—you look like a third-gen chaebol heir!"
Jiyeon, the female intern my age, gapes with wide eyes, making a fuss. She's the nice one from Team 4 who shared canned coffee with me and treated me kindly.
"Oh, this... uh, the director lent it to me for maintaining dignity on the job."
"It's not mine."
I cobble together a lame excuse. No way can I spill the truth: that I'm the first love and perfect attachment doll of the chaebol heiress director, kidnapped and confined to her penthouse.
"Whoa, Taesung Group's perks are no joke."
"But yesterday, when you got dragged into the director's office, I thought you were done for."
"What the hell happened in there?"
"How'd you tweak the proposal to catch her eye?"
"Share the secret—we're getting reamed by the new team leader, another all-nighter tonight for sure."
Jiyeon looks up at me with envy, lightly fingering the cuff of my suit sleeve as a friendly gesture.
"From what I saw in the meeting room yesterday, the director seems heartless."
"Must be tough serving her up close."
"You've had it rough..."
Before Jiyeon can finish, a chilling, destructive click of high heels striking the marble floor echoes from the end of the hall.
Click. Click. Click.
In an instant, the whole 15th-floor corridor feels like it plummets below freezing. The chatter dies abruptly, leaving dead silence. And striding toward me in that suffocating quiet is, of course, Han Seol-ah. Her perfectly made-up face shows no emotion. But the razor-sharp glare she fixes on me—or precisely, on Jiyeon's hand on my sleeve—is pure predator, ready to rip someone apart.
"D-Director!"
The interns sense the killing intent and bow 90 degrees, faces ashen. Jiyeon startles, yanking her hand away. Seol-ah ignores their greetings like they're invisible and approaches me. With slow, elegant motions, she pulls out her premium silk handkerchief and meticulously wipes the cuff Jiyeon's hand touched—as if invisible germs or filth had contaminated it.
"Intern Kang Jinwoo."
Her voice echoes coldly down the hall—low, but oppressively spine-chilling.
"I clearly instructed you this morning."
"Never leave my sight."
"And no unnecessary contact with random staff from other departments."
"Ah, that... Se— I mean, Director."
"I was just heading to the bathroom and bumped into them by chance, said hi..."
"A greeting?"
Seol-ah's head turns slowly toward Jiyeon, who freezes like a frog before a snake, trembling.
"You there, Team 4 intern."
"Y-Yes! Director! I'm sorry!"
"I have no idea when Taesung Group's intern hiring standards got so lax."
"Casually touching a superior's direct secretary during work hours."
"And badmouthing a company executive as heartless behind their back."
Jiyeon's legs buckle, and she collapses on the spot, face pale, eyes brimming with tears.
"Don't come in starting tomorrow."
"I'll notify HR to revoke your internship acceptance."
"And for that remark slandering my honor just now, expect a registered letter from our legal team."
"Better get a lawyer ready."
She's lost her mind. Just for touching my cuff for three seconds, a fellow intern's life is getting wrecked. To halt this capitalist rampage, I rush in front of Seol-ah and grab her hand tight.
"Director! Please hold back!"
"I called her over!"
"I greeted first, and she just brushed some dust off my suit!"
"Please, just let it slide this once."
"It's all my fault!"
As I plead desperately, Seol-ah looks up at me, her eyes wavering. That feral glare ready to tear someone limb from limb softens instantly at my touch, turning into the hurt, aggrieved eyes of a little kid.
"...Jinwoo-ya, why are you defending her?"
"You two close?"
"Why be nice to another girl?"
"I'm seriously going crazy here."
She brings her lips perilously close to my ear, whispering just for me with a sniffle—her voice laced with extreme separation anxiety and jealousy.
"No, we're not close at all."
"From today, I won't even talk to her or make eye contact."
"I swear."
"So please, just don't cancel her internship."
"Okay?"
"I'm begging you like this."
I stroke her hand softly and whisper earnestly. Seol-ah bites her lip, then nods reluctantly. She turns back to Jiyeon, collapsed on the floor, and spits coldly.
"At Intern Kang's earnest request, I'll let it go just this once."
"But never approach within one meter of my intern again."
"Next time, I'll wipe your entire family from this industry."
"Get out of my sight now."
The fellow interns hastily help Jiyeon up and flee down the hall. Only then do I let out a deep sigh of relief. It's the moment I truly etch into my bones: for every living thing around me to survive the disaster named Han Seol-ah, I have no choice but to submit perfectly to her control.
"Now that the pests are gone, let's go eat, Jinwoo-ya."
With the situation cleared, Seol-ah latches onto my arm like nothing happened, beaming the world's brightest smile.
"What'd you prepare for lunch?"
"Cafeteria?"
"Cafeteria?"
"How could I feed my precious Jinwoo's refined palate that group slop."
"Follow me."
Instead of the first-floor lobby, Seol-ah leads me to the VVIP-only elevator. It shoots straight to the pinnacle of Taesung Group HQ—the 50th-floor rooftop sky garden, a place no regular employee will ever see.
Ding. The doors open, and I'm speechless at the sight. In the vast rooftop garden overlooking downtown Seoul, a lavish outdoor table is set amid thousands of fresh roses. Suit-clad hotel-concierge-level waiters bow 90 degrees to greet us.
"Weather's so nice today, so I went for an outdoor picnic vibe."
"Meat yesterday, so light sushi today."
Seol-ah pulls out my chair herself and seats me.
"Sushi...?"
"For a picnic?"
"Yeah."
"Flew in Japan's top Michelin three-star sushi chef from Ginza on our group private jet at dawn."
"He's over there sharpening his knife now."
"Fish is live, helicoptered in fresh—zero fishy smell."
At the outdoor kitchen far off, a white-haired elder in Japanese artisan garb slices sashimi with grim determination.
Haha. A hollow laugh escapes me. My fellow interns are probably lining up in the cramped cafeteria for pork stir-fry right now. Meanwhile, I'm surrounded by thousands of roses on the 50th floor, about to devour an omakase from a chef jetted in from Japan. The 20-million-won watch on my wrist sparkles brilliantly in the sunlight.
"Jinwoo-ya, ahh~."
"I'll feed you again today."
"Soy sauce perfect."
Seol-ah picks up a fatty bluefin tuna belly nigiri with chopsticks and brings it to my lips. Her eyes brim with blind affection and obsession for me alone. I open wide without resistance. The oily bluefin melts on my tongue, the rice temperature perfect, assaulting my taste buds. The ethereal flavor slides down without chewing, vaporizing my flimsy moral guilt and rights as an ordinary human.
Yeah, nothing's free in this world. To enjoy the pinnacle of capitalism like this, I pay the price: never even glancing at another woman, living forever as Seol-ah's pretty attachment doll in her arms.
Honestly? At this treatment, I'd have no complaints even if I sold out my country.
"Good? Jinwoo-ya?"
"Yeah. Delicious."
"Seol-ah-ya, you eat too."
"I'll feed you."
I pick up sushi with chopsticks and pop it in her mouth. Overwhelmed with emotion, tears welling, she peppers my cheek with kisses.
Free will? I don't need it anymore. The perfect man for Korea's richest, most lethal chaebol heiress—that's my new lifelong dream and career, starting today.
Long live Taesung Group. Long live capitalism. My first love Han Seol-ah, I pledge eternal loyalty.