The Chairman's Female Secretary

Kim Chirok walked Oh Ha-young all the way into the station to see her off. She looked far too drunk to manage on her own, so he felt he had no choice. She staggered along, clinging to his arm, and anyone watching the two of them hooked together like that would have taken them for a couple. The thought made him uneasy — what if someone he knew happened to see?

He finally managed to get both women onto the train. It was late enough that the car wasn't crowded, and fortunately Oh Ha-young and her friend found seats. Kim Chirok waved. Oh Ha-young was too far gone to even lift her head, but her friend, apparently less drunk, waved back.

Finally. They're gone. Clingy as leeches, the both of them.

A new week began.

The workload at the Strategic Planning Office was, without question, heavy. It felt like twice what he'd had at the affiliate, H Chemical. One day, Assistant Manager Song Yi-hwan, who served as his mentor, remarked on it.

"A lot of work now that you're here, right?"

"It does seem that way."

"Honestly, an affiliate planning office is the kind of place where you can just coast along day after day. That's why some people actually try to get sent back out to an affiliate once they get promoted."

"The affiliates really are full of older people. The promotion bottleneck is pretty bad."

"Once you make Manager, Kim Chirok, you'll get sent out to an affiliate too. Ulsan, Changwon, Yeosu — those wouldn't be bad. You could kill time fishing by the sea and let the years drift by."

"I'd rather go overseas, actually."

"Overseas? If you're not careful, you'll have a miserable time of it. The foreign branches come with real pressure to deliver results."

"Is that so?"

"The developed countries wouldn't be bad — the States, Japan. Just don't go anywhere like Southeast Asia or the Middle East. That's a living hell."

"Have you ever been posted overseas, Assistant Manager?"

"I haven't. One of my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cohort is in Vietnam, and he told me not to come. He says the massage parlors are great, but the food doesn't agree with him and the culture's completely different. He just wants to come back to Korea."

"By the way — they don't offer morning language classes here, do they?"

"They don't. There used to be some, but attendance was so poor they shut them down."

Kim Chirok had been hoping to keep up with his Japanese lessons, and the news left him a little disappointed. He couldn't help commenting.

"Everyone in the Strategic Planning Office is an open-recruit hire, but it doesn't seem like anyone's working on self-improvement."

"They're too busy drinking to have time for that. Anyway, it's lunchtime. Let's go eat."

Kim Chirok went down to the company cafeteria in the basement with Assistant Manager Song. Employees were already pouring in from every floor, and the line stretched long. The group headquarters building also housed the life insurance and airline affiliates, so the headcount was considerable.

Since transferring here, Kim Chirok had been issued a new employee ID on a lanyard. Without it, you couldn't even get into the cafeteria.

The executives sat at a cluster of tables up front. There were plenty of empty seats on that side, but none of the regular employees dared take one. The tables weren't officially designated as executive or staff — it had simply arranged itself that way. The employees packed themselves in tightly among their own.

It was a conglomerate cafeteria, and the side dishes were excellent, as one would expect.

Midway through his meal, Kim Chirok glanced over at the executive tables. A young woman was sitting among them, eating her lunch. She wore heavy makeup, and she had a fine figure.

"Assistant Manager Song," he asked, "who's that woman eating in the middle of the executives? Is she a secretary?"

"Ah, her? That's the Chairman's secretary. She always eats over there, as if she were an executive herself."

"Is that right?"

"She's not the type who mixes with us regular employees. Dance major from S Women's University in Seoul."

"She's not an open-recruit hire?"

"She joined through the airline. Pretty face, so they pulled her into the Chairman's office."

"I see."

"She's younger than we are, too, but she cakes on the makeup."

"She does look sophisticated, I'll give her that."

"There's a rumor that even the executives in their fifties suck up to her, since she's the Chairman's secretary. That's why she always walks around with her chin up, putting on airs."

"Really?"

"So the group employees have a nickname for her. They call her Bang Yeo-jeong."

"I'm sorry — Bang Yeo-jeong?"

"Her real name is Bang Mihee. The way she struts around with her chin in the air and her nose stuck up, she looks just like North Korea's Kim Yo-jong. So everyone started calling her Bang Yeo-jeong."

"Haha. Is that so?"

"But looking at that face, doesn't it seem like it's all plastic surgery?"

"I don't know. We're pretty far away. She has good features, and her figure looks nice."

"No. The women in our office say it's definitely surgical. Women always know these things about other women."

Kim Chirok figured that as the Chairman's secretary, Bang Mihee had every reason to put on airs. It wasn't hard to imagine the presidents and executives of every affiliate falling over themselves to flatter her.

The fact that she was using the cafeteria today, though, suggested the Chairman was probably out of the office.

Bang Mihee seemed to have finished eating first. She returned her tray and headed out, and every employee in the room lifted their heads in unison to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠watch her go. She passed by with her chin held high, for all the world like Kim Yo-jong herself.

As she walked past Kim Chirok's table, a faint scent of Chanel drifted over. Looking at her face, he couldn't quite tell whether she'd had work done or not. And then, unbidden, the geisha poster he'd seen at that izakaya in Osaka rose in his mind.

The geisha in that photograph had looked like a genuine natural beauty — cute, feminine, the sort of woman who would never go around putting on haughty airs.

Ah... Hirosue Yoshiko.

He wanted, truly wanted, to see Hirosue Yoshiko — Kyoto's most beautiful geisha — in the flesh.

Kim Chirok finished his meal and went back up to the office. He drank a cup of coffee and got back to work. Yoshiko's face seemed to flicker across his computer screen.

He glanced at the desks beside him. His colleagues were absorbed in their monitors, buried in their work. He opened a Japanese portal site on the sly and typed in her name in kanji: Hirosue Yoshiko.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

It was a promotional poster for the city of Kyoto. The Chairman's secretary at H Group couldn't hold a candle to her. She was a perfect beauty.

What am I doing? Why am I so interested in a beauty from another country I'll never have any connection to? At this rate I'm going to end up as Hirosue Yoshiko's fan.

The next day, the team leader called Kim Chirok over.

"Kim Chirok. Settling in all right?"

"Yes. I'm learning as hard as I can."

"The Division Head has taken a real interest in you. So keep at it."

"I will."

"And I heard from Assistant Manager Song that you asked whether there were morning language classes?"

"That's right."

"Your personnel file has you in the upper tier for English. Looking to pick up a second language?"

"Yes. After I went on that business trip to Osaka while I was at Chemical, I found myself wanting to learn Japanese."

"Any interest in Vietnamese? The group is expanding its Vietnam operations this year."

"Vietnamese is..."

"The morning classes were discontinued because of poor attendance, but if you're willing to go to an academy, the company will subsidize the tuition."

"Is that right? Does Japanese count?"

That was the best news he'd heard all day. He'd already been considering an academy, but he'd taken out so many savings plans to put money aside that the tuition had felt out of reach. The company covering the fees was enough to make his ears prick up.

"Japanese counts. But you'll have to fulfill the attendance requirements and bring back a completion certificate."

"Understood. I'll do that."

"Even better if you bring back a JLPT certificate."

"I'll do that as well."

That evening, on his way home, Kim Chirok registered at a Japanese language academy. It was in Yeoksam-dong, along his route. He signed up on the spot. Unlike the middle-aged woman who'd taught at H Chemical, the instructor here was a young woman, and her pronunciation seemed better.

The next day, Kim Chirok received a thoroughly unpleasant phone call. It was Manager Lee from H Chemical.

She posted the pictures again.

Oh Ha-young had gone and uploaded the photos to show off, no doubt — the ones from when they'd met at Sindorim Station. Kim Chirok was furious.

What am I supposed to do about this? I shouldn't have been so careless about being seen with her. I messed up again.

The friend who'd tagged along that evening was the one who really got under his skin. She must have timed it perfectly to snap a shot like that.

What a pair of awful women.

Manager Lee laughed heartily and went on.

And with that, Manager Lee hung up.

Kim Chirok was so furious he grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it down.