The Promise That Betrayed Her
Harin clings blindly to Park Minhyuk's tender and resolute promise from last night, when he held her close. That cool, reassuring voice urging her to go home, vowing to take responsibility. This morning, her commute feels lighter than ever. She has no doubt the hellish office air has been perfectly purged. Executive Director must have crushed Kim Manager under his heel. Today, she can finally breathe in peace, free from that relentless torment—a naive, foolish illusion.
But the office reality mocks her shallow hope in the most grotesque, insidious way. Stepping into the marketing department partition, her direct superior Kim Manager shows not a single trace of being chewed out or scolded by Park Minhyuk. Instead, he wears the slyest, most lecherous grin, as if his prey is perfectly ripe for the taking.
Park Minhyuk never issued any reprimand or warning about Harin to Kim Manager. Last night's gentle soothing of her tears and sending her home wasn't salvation. It was the most meticulous, vicious trap—to paint her as a lowly subordinate who defied her boss's orders, abandoned unfinished work, and fled.
Kim Manager yanks off his tie the moment he sits, growling like a beast. "Seo Harin. Get over here. Now."
The office air freezes in an instant. Harin's heart plummets as she rises from her seat. Executive Director said he'd handle everything. Why is he acting like this? Anxiety surges, but she forces calm, approaching his desk.
"Y-you called for me, Manager?"
Kim Manager slouches crookedly in his chair, raking his eyes up and down her body. "The inter-departmental summary data compilation I assigned yesterday. Bring it. Now. You didn't just brazenly show up empty-handed after ditching the sweet task your boss gave you overnight, did you, newbie?"
Color drains completely from Harin's face. "Manager, I... I stayed late, overtime, trying to finish it. But it was just too massive for me alone. And luckily, Executive Director was still there late, so—"
The moment Harin's trembling voice utters Park Minhyuk's name:
"Right, right, Seo. Sure, it can be overwhelming alone. You're just a newbie." Kim Manager nods, smacking his lips. As Harin exhales in relief—
His muddy eyes twist demonic in a flash, erupting in thunderous rage. "What the hell do you mean 'right'? You stupid bitch! They said you came in with top scores, made a big fuss. And this is your output? You treating this company like a joke?!"
His lion's roar slams the partitions. Harin flinches, shoulders hunching in terror.
"And what? Ex-ec-u-tive Di-rec-tor? You think you're in any position to casually drop his name like he's your buddy? You got a private audience or something? If you're gonna make excuses, make ones that hold water. Don't hide your incompetence behind some higher-up bullshit."
Kim Manager leaps up, shoving right into her face. His foul cigarette-and-stale-coffee breath assaults her mercilessly. Harin trembles, head bowed, speechless. Hot tears well in her eyes. Executive Director promised to fix it all. Why is this hell unfolding again?
Kim Manager savors her crumbling expression, inwardly cheering his dirtiest victory. He jabs his finger at her shoulder and collarbone, thin blouse no barrier. "Back in my day, if the boss said jump, we jumped—pulled all-nighters to get it done. You young folks lack that basic grit? Company life's a joke to you?"
Poke. Poke. The creepy fingers dig slyly into her skin. Harassment disguised as scolding, blatant and vile. Harin bites her lip bloody, too paralyzed to shove him off.
"Want me to show you real hellish office life? Think crying and whining fixes everything? This ain't school. What right you got to bawl?"
His violent gaslighting shreds her soul. Harin breaks, fat tears spilling. Was Minhyuk's promise a lie? Or did he forget a lowly employee like me in his busyness? Her self-esteem plummets, blaming her own incompetence, collapsing utterly.
After a torrent of abuse, confirming her total submission and tears, Kim Manager clears his throat in satisfaction. "Haa. Really, Seo Harin. I'm saying this for your good—blood and flesh advice. No boss cherishes and teaches newbies like I do. Got it?"
His thick, clammy palm grips her shoulder, patting "kindly." Classic predator taming—poison then antidote. Harin nods frantically, sobbing in terror. "Y-yes. Hic. I'll remember, Manager. I'm sorry."
"That enough to sink in bone-deep? Back to your desk, beg seniors for help. No need to finish today—skim it. Department dinner tonight. Mandatory."
Harin flees to her partition. Collapsing into her chair, suppressed sobs erupt again. Senior colleagues glance over, gently stroking her shoulder.
"Harin, don't cry. Manager's always been a psycho. We'll help with the data later—don't worry."
"Yeah, total overkill. Yelling at a newbie for mentioning Executive Director."
Their warm comfort explodes her grief into gratitude. With her sole lifeline—Park Minhyuk—severed, this meager camaraderie is all she has.
Swallowing sobs, staring at her monitor, Harin's day is ashen hell.
Late evening, past quitting time. The whole department dragged to a massive raw fish joint nearby. The room reeks of raucous toasts and booze. Kim Manager forces Harin into the seat right beside him, as if it's natural. She fights nausea, forcing a smile.
"Alright, a shot from our department ace, Seo Harin?" Kim Manager thrusts his glass, grinning sleazily.
Harin demurely lifts the soju bottle with both hands, filling it.
"Kya. Booze hits different poured by a pretty office lady. So sweet. Right, Kim?"
"Haha, yes, Manager."
Sycophantic seniors chime in. Antiquated boomer rants and sexual harassment unfit for a boss roll like side dishes across the table. Harin endures the filth silently, clutching her skirt hem.
As time passes and the mood loosens, Kim Manager's eyes gleam red with booze and lust. He turns, devouring her profile: cheeks flushed from alcohol, precarious cleavage heaving with each breath, firm thighs pressed together under the table.
His left hand snakes under stealthily. Slide. His thick, sweaty palm lands creepily on her knee above.
"Gasp."
Harin inhales sharply. But it doesn't stop. He savors her thin stockings, rubbing her thigh slowly, then shoves deeper, groping the sensitive curve where ass meets hip. Blatant, violent molestation.
Her reason whites out. Reflexively, her hand dives under, seizing his filthy wrist hard.
"Manager. What. Are you doing?"
Her trembling warning only makes him smirk, eyebrow twitching disgustingly. "Huh? What's wrong, Harin? You liked it, staying still. You sat next to me yourself. Ace thighs—nice and firm."
Twisting his crime into consent—the worst predator logic. Uncontrollable rage and shame blaze in Harin's eyes. She yanks his hand free, bolting up.
"Stop it. This is disgusting, Manager."
Her sharp cry ices the rowdy room like cold water. All eyes lock on them. Kim Manager's face flushes crimson. How dare a lowly newbie shame him publicly? Petty fury erupts.
"Disgusting? You crazy bitch lost it?"
He hurls his soju glass to the floor, smashing up. Glass shards fly with the crash.
"I go easy at work, so you see your boss as a joke? Little green girl screaming? Think I groped 'cause I like you? You flirt all the time, so I patted encouragement."
Drunk, unhinged, spewing unspeakable insults. Harin clutches her face, collapsing into sobs. The world crumbles.
Male seniors rush, restraining his flailing arms. "Whoa, Manager, calm down. You're wasted."
"Cool it—everyone outside hears."
Two female colleagues lift weeping Harin. "Harin, get out. Go home, hide. We'll cover tomorrow—run!"
Pushed out by their urgent pleas, Harin stumbles into the night. Her heels clatter wildly on the street. Tears blur her vision; she can barely walk. She hails a taxi roadside with shaking hands.
Slumping in the back, she stares blankly at Seoul's blurring neon splendor. Streets so beautiful, radiant—why does her life wallow in the gutter?
College days, strolling campus with Kim Junho, promising futures—world all pink. Job hunting together, mutual cheers. Dual big-corp hires, badges around necks, dazzling moment. We'd find a cute Seoul newlywed home, be the perfect happy couple.
"Hic. Sob. Why. Why did it end like this?"
Harin buries her face, wailing desperately. Physical distance's cruel rift. Workplace power and violence prying it wider. All shredding her pure dreams.
Back in her studio apartment, she slumps against the door, pulls out her smartphone, dials the familiar number. Only her longtime lover Kim Junho can pour out this madness, comfort her. Please, oppa. Pick up just once. I might die today.
Ring. Ring. Dry tones fill the room heavily. No answer.
"The customer is unavailable. Connecting to voicemail."
Cruelest mechanical rejection. Harin stares at "Missed Call" on the screen, drops the phone with a thud.
This utter isolation, abandoned to the world. While enduring horrific molestation, wandering streets sobbing—her one lover didn't pick up.
"Haa. Hic-sob."
She crawls to the bed. Trembling hand rummages deepest drawer. Two premium silk handkerchiefs: one from Park Minhyuk in the emergency stairs. The other from the break room, wiping her late-night overtime tears.
She clutches them tight. Whenever utterly crushed and discarded, it wasn't her lover wiping her tears, protecting her. The only man with power to save her: this handkerchief's owner. Park Minhyuk alone.
Kneeling, she buries her face deep in them.
"Haa. Ahh."
Minhyuk's violent, sensual woody scent permeates, invading her lungs madly. The man's aroma numbs her brain via bloodstream. Harin experiences the horrific miracle: day's shame and terror transmute to fierce arousal, ecstasy.
Her married boss's massive embrace. That cool, arrogant gaze. She pants beast-like, inhaling the scent like a drug. Her body on the floor heats, writhes.
Clinging to a perfect stranger's—not boyfriend's—scent to endure this vile, pathetic night. Harin's soul has sunk fully to the sweetest, most nauseating swamp of depravity.
