Accidental Intentional Accident 3

From that day on, the boss came into the office every single day. Even so, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never felt like he was actually working.

Whenever I went in for an approval, he'd have his chair reclined as far back as it would go, either asleep or glued to his phone. And he seemed to be building up frustration — probably because he felt too watched to head out to the hostess bars the way he used to.

I couldn't say for certain, but that was the feeling I got.

"Yeeun. Have you decided what you want to eat?"

Today, as always, he called me in just to ask that.

"I haven't decided yet. Shouldn't we consider Secretary Choi's tastes as well, not only mine?"

His face twisted like he'd bitten into a sour persimmon.

"Well, yeah... but I was going to let Secretary Choi leave early. He's earned it."

"In that case, I'll just go with a light dinner."

Silence stretched for a while.

"...Fine. Then when should we set it for?"

"The Chairman is scheduled to visit, so things are a bit unsettled in the business division. After the meeting would be best."

"Guess I don't have a choice."

I'd expected him to try locking something in before the meeting — those bottled-up urges of his had felt ready to explode. But he backed down more easily than I'd anticipated, which left me a little puzzled. Still, the situation itself wasn't bad.

"...May I leave?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

I bowed and stepped out of the president's office.

Whether it was because his original plan had fallen through, the boss stayed remarkably quiet right up until the day of the meeting. Of course, he still did nothing of use when he came in — but he seemed to be keeping his head down more carefully than usual.

And then the meeting day arrived.

The fact that the Chairman was attending didn't particularly put me on edge. Secretaries waited outside the conference room anyway; we didn't go in. And while the field secretary would stand by at the entrance, as an office secretary I was supposed to return to my desk.

The meeting was scheduled for thirty minutes, starting at 10:55, so by the time it wrapped up it would be nearly lunch.

Usually meetings ran about twenty minutes, but given who was involved, they'd allotted a generous thirty. Then again, if the boss was going to get chewed out the way everyone expected, it might run even longer.

At least today ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠should be quiet.

On days he came in before lunch, he'd cling to me about eating together. I'd gone along a few times since Secretary Choi was there too, but he was like a leech about it — always pushing for a meal. And today was a day that leech would be absent.

If I had nothing else to do, my routine was either hunting down a new restaurant or buying a warm americano and walking through the park.

In that moment alone, I had the life I'd always wanted. My mind felt at ease.

Following the footprints left in the soft-fallen snow, a large park came into view. People out for a lunch-hour stroll, kids packing snow into snowmen.

Tiny hands rolling snowballs into a misshapen snowman. But they were happy with that alone.

If I'd gotten married early, I might have had a child just about that size by now.

Back when my friends were gradually getting married, I'd been deliberating whether to marry the girlfriend I was seeing.

Looking back, I was glad I'd hesitated. I hadn't wanted to make her a widow right after the wedding.

Being in the same world, the same country, my previous life kept rising to the surface.

It had been well over ten years since my discharge, but snow in my past life had still just been white trash. Yet either because I barely felt the cold now, or because I was a woman — the snow felt new.

White snow... was nice.

I finished my walk and returned to my desk, but the boss still hadn't come back.

Lunch came and went. He still wasn't there by the time quitting hour rolled around. So just as I was packing up to leave, my phone rang.

The caller was Secretary Choi.

A sigh came through the receiver, then a whispered voice.

Suddenly I heard Secretary Choi's voice answering someone in the distance.

He was responding with careful deference, polite and proper, but I could only catch the tone — not the details.

The call ended before I could reply. And only after a long while did a text with the address arrive.

When I plugged it into the map app, it was near a strip packed with nightlife venues.

I could only sigh.

I couldn't believe this lunatic had gotten chewed out today and still gone to a room salon. But having been asked, I couldn't just ignore it, so I caught a taxi and headed to the address in the text. There was no one who looked like they were there to meet me, though.

Given it was a nightlife district, I'd figured the greeter would be a male waiter or a bouncer. But there was no one waiting. Everyone just looked like ordinary passersby.

I tried calling Secretary Choi, but he didn't pick up. Just as I was wondering whether I should wait indefinitely, I spotted a yellow sports car in the distance.

I didn't know the model, but the license plate matched the boss's, and it was parked at a karaoke place that only allowed customer parking.

When I went inside, I saw a woman who looked to be in her thirties and a few men.

"Oh my. What brings you here?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

"Is President Park Han-pil inside?"

She shot a quick look at the man beside her, then disappeared into the back.

Judging by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the atmosphere, he was here.

"What's this about?"

"I'm the president's secretary. I've come to deliver something to him."

"Ah, is that so? You can just give it to me."

I hesitated over whether to hand the wallet to this woman.

"I'm sorry. I think it would be better if I delivered it myself."

"Could you wait just a moment?"

After a short wait, several women emerged from a bent corridor. Then the woman at the counter spoke to the man behind her.

"Show her to room 27."

I followed the man through a maze of hallways. He opened a door with a sticker reading 27.

"Here you are."

I stepped inside, and the door closed behind me.

The thick smell of cigarettes hit me, and a silent disco ball spun overhead. In the middle of it all, my eyes met the boss's as he knocked back drink after drink.

I didn't know what to say.

Then he flicked his fingers and patted the sofa next to him, gesturing for me to sit.

I sat down, and he filled a glass packed with ice with a generous pour of whiskey.

"Drink."

I barely wet my lips and set the glass down. Then I pulled the wallet from the coat's inner pocket.

"I came to deliver your wallet, sir."

He made no move to take it, just drained the whiskey in his glass. Then he picked up a piece of fruit from the snacks and said,

"What are you doing. Eat."

"I already drank."

With no further business, I set the wallet on the table and stood. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me back down.

"Finish that and then go."

He jerked his chin toward the glass still full to the brim.

His coercive attitude sparked a flicker of anger in me.

"I'll be taking my leave."

I tried to stand again, and again he seized my wrist and pulled me down.

"Fuck! Are you looking down on me too?"

"..."

"Answer me, you bitch."

"Sir. You're drunk. I think you should get up."

"You're not going to answer?"

He filled the glass with whiskey again and chugged it. Then he looked at me as if to prove he wasn't drunk.

"Is drinking one glass of that so hard?"

I activated my Charm skill and looked at him. When our eyes met, the face that had been twisted with rage softened slightly.

"Sir. You're drunk."

His expression scrunched up again. But while his raised voice had eased a little, nothing else really changed.

"Bullshit."

"...I'll be going."

This time he didn't yank me down — he just held my wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I tried to peel his hand off, but I didn't have the strength.

"..."

"I told you. Finish it and go."

The Charm skill barely had any effect. And because he kept looking away to drink, the charm kept wearing off.

There was no other way.

Sitting there and glaring at him with eyes full of irritation was the only protest I could manage.

"Yeah. You fucking bitch. I like those eyes of yours."

He downed the full glass of whiskey in one shot and slammed it onto the table with a loud crack.

"I'll be leaving now."

"Where are you going? There's still more."

Just as I tried to stand, he poured whiskey into the empty glass again.

"You've been playing hard to get this whole time. Just think of tonight as finishing everything."

My breathing felt short.

As a worn-out office worker, I could drink cheerfully enough with people I merely disliked. That was just how society worked. But with someone I hated this much, I couldn't stand the drinking itself.

"This is the last one."

Whether it was because I was only drinking straight whiskey, I forced it down but it wouldn't go smoothly.

Whiskey ran down the corner of my mouth and soaked into my white dress shirt.

"Fucking sexy."

As the shirt got wet, my light blue bra showed through.

"I'm really leaving now."

The moment I stood, he grabbed my wrist again.

"What. Now it's getting fu—"

"You son ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of a bitch!!"

With my free hand, I grabbed a beer bottle. And

I brought it down on his head.