Your New Home (1)
In the car.
The world outside the window was already pitch black. The city's lights flowed backward like a river rushing in reverse.
Kang Mi-young's face flushed red in the glow, then green, then yellow again.
The car pressed on through the disorienting reality and the vague seasonal chill.
And, in a truly creepy twist, Kang Mi-young was wearing sunglasses.
'It's nighttime!'
I was so terrified I wanted to scream. Oblivious to my panic, she muttered,
"It's chilly tonight, huh? Want me to turn on the heated seats?"
"N-no, I'm fine."
"What do you mean fine? You're shivering like a leaf."
She grinned beneath her sunglasses and flicked on the heated seats. And the heater—though she might not have finished her sentence.
I melted into the seat, warm yet profoundly uneasy.
The car pulled into a parking lot in some Seoul alleyway—nothing special, just like any other street, any other lot.
"Up you get. We still have a bit of a walk."
We stepped out. Kang Mi-young wore a beige coat.
People glanced our way—maybe because of her sunglasses, or her striking looks.
Not a situation I relished.
'At this rate, they'll stare right through me.'
The ten-minute walk down the street was plenty of time for an exhausted office drone like me to turn full zombie.
So ordinary, so predictable, that even my hollow-eyed reflection in a shop window didn't faze me.
"Oden place, huh."
"Yep, oden."
"……."
"……."
We entered. A Japanese-style bar with private rooms.
My stomach was still holding up, at least. I could handle a couple drinks if my boss insisted.
Pity that.
They led us to a cramped two-person room.
From wide-open spaces to tighter and tighter confines—it stirred a ridiculous pity in me.
"The oden here's pretty good. I'm picky about food, but I come once a week."
Kang Mi-young shrugged off her coat as she spoke. The buttoned-up look had hidden it before—a form-fitting turtleneck sweater.
I awkwardly looked away.
"Y-yeah... I like oden too."
A lie.
I hated oden. That weird texture and taste—neither quite meat nor fish.
But I was a high-performance company man.
The kind who could fawn over dog shit in front of the boss.
"Looks delicious. As expected of Department Head Kang's taste."
The broth bubbled in the pot. That was her only reply.
No—there was one more thing. Her gaze.
An unrelentingly intense stare from Kang.
"Pfft."
She watched me silently, then chuckled as if struck by a sudden thought.
"How long have you even known me to flatter my 'taste'? Oh Assistant Manager Oh, didn't peg you for the bootlicking type."
'You've barely known me either, Department Head.'
I swallowed the joke that could never leave my lips. She smirked and continued,
"Still, it's not a bad trait. Keep it up. Someday, it'll save your skin."
"...Thank you. I'll keep it in mind."
"Don't make it too obvious, though. Plenty of people hate that sort of thing. Not me, of course—I love being pampered."
What a troublesome, terrifying personality.
A few soulless, ready-made compliments spilled out. Matching her fake grin with my own iron mask was draining my soul too.
Finally, as the oden pot hit the perfect boil, she got to the point.
"Let's eat. It's ready. Hand me a bowl."
"No, let me—"
"Tsk. 'Thank you' and take it. Come on."
Kang Mi-young ladled oden into bowls and asked,
"No questions? Must be confusing. Scary, even."
I'd decided to play the naive newbie at this not-quite-company-dinner.
"I'm thinking about how to adapt. But yeah, can't help worrying."
The key was three-fold.
One: Deflated tone.
Two: Slightly skeptical glance.
Three: Trail off sentences to show uncertainty.
It worked like a charm.
"If there's nothing, just say nothing. What's with the 'same'?"
"Sorry. It's just... too much hitting at once."
"Hmm. I see."
The classic boss reaction: No real interest in subordinates, but pretending there is.
Perfect timing to probe.
"Um... Department Head."
Right then, she spoke up.
"Speaking of adapting... Adaptation's good."
Her gaze sharpened.
"But Oh Assistant Manager, seems like you're already adapted. Slippery as an eel."
"...Pardon?"
"No need to hide your thoughts. I can hear them from here. 'Why'd she call me out? What's wrong? What's this company really?' That stuff."
And just like that, she saw through me.
My face stiffened involuntarily. She chewed and swallowed an oden piece.
"Relax. I just wanted to give you one piece of advice."
"...Advice?"
"Yeah. Advice. Important stuff—listen up."
I tensed right on cue.
"But..."
Kang Mi-young picked up her glass. She eyed it, then my face, muttering,
"Your glass is empty."
She beamed.
This was a hint. I hurried to refill it.
The sharp booze scent hit my nose, and her smile deepened.
"Rank's got real power, huh? Talented young folks pour drinks without a fuss."
"Ahaha..."
I laughed awkwardly. She refilled mine and went on,
"This is 'cause I like you, Oh Assistant Manager..."
"Thanks for thinking well of me."
She paused, staring at my face.
Her words came abruptly.
"Oh Assistant Manager, you're in deep shit."
'Deep shit' from a boss was scarier than any monster.
One thing came to mind.
My aptitude. Follow-up Special Tasks.
"Is it... about aptitude?"
"Sharp. Yeah. Aptitude. Follow-up Special Tasks."
"...The elite team, right? That's why?"
I stammered. Elite meant grueling work. So deep shit made sense...
"Not quite. Follow-up Special Tasks is... elite. Haha. 'Elite'..."
Kang Mi-young sighed. I flinched at every little reaction—hated that about myself.
"It was elite. Until seven years ago."
That ominous line chilled me more. She lifted her glass, whispered,
"Not curious what Follow-up Special Tasks does?"
Of course I was.
"If you advise me, I'll take it to heart."
She sipped without answering, chewed oden. Silence didn't last.
"Listen up. Follow-up Special Tasks is a dumping ground."
"...Dumping ground?"
"Classic demotion spot. Where fallen stars go to rot—a hell for salarymen."
Demotion department? Why me...?
I was a newbie. Never pissed off the higher-ups. No reason for demotion.
Infuriating.
'Corporate life's screwed again...? Already?'
No, focus. Ask about what'd bugged me.
"What's Follow-up Special Tasks' job?"
"Investigation Team probes new anomalies. Exploration Team explores them. Follow-up Special Tasks deploys when both fail."
Kang Mi-young's face turned downright eerie.
"And for anomalies, 'failure' means 'death.' Get what I'm saying?"
......
"It's a suicide squad."
My head throbbed. Dizziness hit. Vision blurred.
Ah.
Damn.
"...Cheers."
"Huh?"
"The drink."
First move after that horrific truth? Down my glass.
Kang Mi-young's eyes widened like a rabbit's—or a earthling meeting an alien.
"Kuh—!"
The booze burned high-proof fire down my throat. I could map my esophagus and stomach.
I politely offered my empty glass. She refilled it, asked,
"...You're weird, Oh Assistant Manager. Not worried?"
Worried?
"Of course. After hearing that."
Another tilt, another shot.
"But..."
Worrying changes nothing?
I'm a textbook businessman.
Profit and efficiency matter. I endured four years of gossip and bullying unbowed.
"Gotta trust, right? I trust the company. Or rather, the seniors."
"......"
"They're all capable. Failures aren't that common... so I won't die much."
Moping like a doomed man wasn't my style.
She chuckled after a pause.
"Even if death comes knocking? Still chill then?"
Even then...
"What can I do? Give it my best."
That summed my feelings. She stared piercingly, refilled my glass.
"I like that. That attitude."
A beat later.
"Cheers!"
The mood loosened.
Turmoil's great drinking fuel. Even a lightweight like me turned into a champ.
"Damn, you drink well! More! Here!"
"Department Head! Let me pour one!"
"Good! Make it snappy!"
We ate and drank heartily. Outside work, she was a generous boss.
Surprisingly good company. I got into it, felt like college days.
"Cheers!"
We got properly smashed, and night fell.
The warm vibe cooled. Just watery broth left in the pot.
Silence settled. We grinned, stared, swapped idle chatter—or stuff improper for subordinate-boss.
"Time to head out. It's late."
The night ended. Kang Mi-young snapped back to her career-woman steel.
No drunkenness. She'd been buzzed moments ago.
I stared, amazed. She explained,
"Field staff bodies stop being fully human past a point. Usually manager level, but I'm elite."
Eerie words.
"Y-yeah... Impressive."
"Not impressive—annoying. Can't get properly wasted anymore."
"Haha..."
Not just her—I slipped back into naive smiles too.
She smirked—god knows how many times.
Drunken haze, warm bar air, flushed cheeks.
And her words.
"Survive three months probation. Then transfers open. I'll pull you to my team."
......Wait!
'Jackpot!'
No—don't show it too obviously.
She liked me. Maintain the image to the end.
"Why go so far for me?"
"What, not happy? Kinda hurt. Hard to find newbies with your potential here. Most just whine—you don't."
Grumbling, but explanation thorough!
Perfect!
Just endure three months!
We left. She handed me her card for the bill.
Pretty cool, honestly. Even if it wasn't my idea of fun.
Heading to the lot, she dispensed work-life wisdom.
'She's a light. Light Mi-young. Shining Department Head...'
I decided to make Kang Mi-young my mentor.
Homeward bound. Booze-scented car. City lights reversing again.
'DUI...? Nah. Booze buzz is gone anyway.'
Anyway.
End of a long day.
Arrived home.
"Oh, Oh Assistant Manager. Here."
Kang Mi-young offered her phone as I unbuckled to exit.
"Put in your number. Call anytime with questions. Follow-up Special Tasks' boss won't be so welcoming."
"...Pardon?"
"Don't love shop talk off-hours... but it's a dumping ground. Middle management's not exactly sane."
......Aigoo. Next three months sound painful.
"Take care going home."
"You too, Department Head!"
Exchanged contacts. Her car drove off.
Entered my place. Hit the bed.
Replayed the day's events in my head.
'...A new job.'
A strange liberation washed over me.
Maybe this gig fit me perfectly.
Monday.
Right before heading in, I got the obituary text.
Kang Mi-young, Department Head of Exploration Team 1, has passed away.
Kang Mi-young was dead.