Salvation's Snare
Late at night, Kim Junho untangles the knots of the day's crushing workload under Yoon Jiyeon's intimate tutoring. Her soft voice and the thick, powdery scent wafting from her body pleasantly numb his senses. The thrill of shoving it in the faces of those seniors who had dismissed him. For the first time in this distant land, he tastes perfect growth and belonging.
He bows repeatedly to Jiyeon in gratitude, grabs his things, and slips out of the office. With light steps toward home, he pulls his smartphone from his pocket. The moment the screen lights up, his heart plummets.
Dozens of missed calls from his lover, Seo Harin. She's never been one to bombard him like this irrationally. A chilling premonition crawls fiercely up his spine. With trembling fingers, Junho frantically hits the call button.
The signal barely rings once before it connects.
"Harin-ah. What's wrong? Why so many calls—"
Before his urgent question finishes, a wretched, eerie sob rips through the receiver, tearing at his eardrum.
"H-heung. Hic. O-oppa. Hwaaang."
Unable to string words together, she wails like a beast. Junho freezes in the street, his face ashen, and shouts.
"Harin-ah! Calm down and tell me. What happened? Something at work? Did someone harass you?"
After gasping and choking for a long while, Harin finally spills every horrific detail of the sexual assault and verbal abuse from Kim Manager at that evening's bar gathering. The demonic boss who groped her thighs and ass like she was some room salon hostess. As Junho listens, uncontrollable rage and murderous intent blaze in his eyes. The smartphone screen creaks under his grip, on the verge of shattering.
"Hah. That crazy bastard. Is that fucker insane?"
Junho kicks a street tree, roaring.
"A big corporation, and they still have trash like that? I'm taking tomorrow off and going up there to smash that fucker's head in. Harin-ah, you okay? I really wanna kill that bastard."
The fact that his beloved has suffered such humiliating violence boils his blood. He empathizes perfectly with her pain, raging alongside her. But at the end of that raw fury surges bone-deep self-recrimination and helplessness from being so far away.
"Harin-ah, I'm really sorry. This is all because I'm not by your side. I should've protected you, but I left you alone in that hell while I holed up here. I'm truly sorry. I'm the one who deserves to die."
Thick tears splash onto the asphalt. From the receiver comes his lover's heartfelt self-blame and sobs. Curled on her studio floor, Harin shakes her head.
"No, oppa. Why are you sorry? It's my fault for being inadequate. I was too stupid to handle it and gave him an opening. Not your fault at all."
"No, Harin-ah. Don't say that. You're the most perfect, best woman in the world. You're my most precious person—how could I let you hurt like this? Whatever it takes, I'll come to Seoul this weekend. Screw duty or whatever—I'll be there, so please don't cry alone."
The purest, most devoted lover's comfort. Feeling his burning sincerity through her whole body, Harin barely stops her tears. The existence of a man who cherishes her above all else seems to stitch up her shredded sanity, if only a little.
The call ends, the screen goes dark. But the moment Junho's earnest voice fades into the air, only the coldest, cruelest reality lingers in Harin's studio.
Empty rage. Comfort like formless text. No matter how much Junho screams into the phone about killing Kim Manager, tomorrow morning Harin must return alone to that hellish office and face the devil's face.
No matter the whispers of love, the void left by her lover's physical absence—right here, right now—is a vast, vicious illusion no words can fill.
Harin hugs her knees, staring wide-eyed into the chilly emptiness through the sleepless night.
The next morning, the office air hangs heavy and sharp, frozen like evidence of last night's atrocity.
Kim Manager, publicly humiliated by Harin's rebellion at the bar, decides on revenge the moment he arrives. He unleashes his most vile, ruthless retaliation on her.
"Assistant Manager Seo Harin. Why isn't the data I assigned yesterday on my desk? Too busy grandstanding at the dinner to do your job?"
He bellows for all nearby employees to hear, flinging her submitted papers at her face without even glancing. The fluttering A4 sheets scatter like wretched snowflakes at her feet.
"Redo it. Not a single letter wrong—even if it takes all night. Newbies these days bare their fangs at superiors over a touch. Seems like you think this is a joke; I'll rewire that rotten brain of yours, so brace yourself."
Relentless mental assault leaves no room to breathe. Terrified by his madness, no senior steps up for her. Harin bites her lip, gathering the scattered papers with trembling hands. Hellfire consumes her soul without mercy.
And witnessing this dismal scene most chillingly through the full-glass window is the predator: Executive Director Park Minhyuk. Seated with fingers steepled, he savors Kim Manager's flailing like a hyena eyeing prey.
Clumsy torment breeds resistance. But soul-crushing isolation at the precipice drives the prey to crawl to the savior's feet.
Minhyuk confirms the last spark of hope extinguishes in Harin's eyes. Time to end this tedious hunt and execute his plan perfectly.
Ditching trash like Kim Manager is easier for him than lifting a finger.
Two p.m. Unable to endure the torment, Harin flees to the deserted rooftop.
Cold wind whips across. She grips the railing, collapses, and sobs into her hands.
What sin did she commit to deserve this agony? The urge to hurl herself over surges.
"H-heuk. Hic. Uwaaang."
Her wretched cries scatter in the wind—that instant.
Kkiiigeek. The heavy iron door creaks open.
Harin startles, lifting her tear-streaked face. At the entrance stands Executive Director Park Minhyuk in his impeccably tailored black suit. His tie flutters in the wind, features chiseled and unflawed.
He withdraws his hands from his pockets, approaches slowly. Harin panics, straightens her clothes, and stands.
"E-Executive Director."
As she bows, he closes in. This man of absolute power bows deeply to a lowly newbie, offering sincere apology.
"I'm sorry, Assistant Manager Seo Harin."
Her eyes widen in disbelief. The man holding the branch's life-and-death power submits. Her brain freezes, unable to process.
Minhyuk lifts his head slowly, gazing down with the warmest, kindest eyes—yet calculated hypocrisy to the bone.
"I promised to crush that bastard Kim Manager yesterday, but a sudden head office executive video meeting last night tied my hands. Thinking of the senseless wounds you suffered this morning because of my negligence fills me with shame. I apologize sincerely."
Perfect alibi, sweetest apology. Last night, her absent lover just cried sorry with her. But this flawless man admits fault and takes responsibility for her pain.
Overwhelmed by mad gratitude and guilt surging in her chest, Harin waves her hands frantically.
"N-no, Executive Director. Absolutely not. That you care this much leaves me at a loss. I overstepped your undue kindness and forgot my place. It's my presumptuousness that caused this."
Tears welling, she debases herself. Minhyuk's flawless psychological manipulation whites out her mind.
He smiles most tenderly, steps closer. His large hand settles softly yet firmly on her slender shoulder.
Yesterday, Kim Manager's touch crawling her body felt like nauseating bugs. But Minhyuk's grip is utterly different. His man's heat seeps through her blouse; her body melts thrillingly, a dizzy relief tingling low in her belly.
"It's not your fault, Miss Seo. Don't say that."
He pats her shoulder gently, locking eyes perfectly.
"I won't fail twice. I'll make sure that trash never touches a hair on your head—ever. Miss Seo, worry no more. Trust only me."
Trust only me. The ultimate promise of salvation only a god could make.
Enthralled, Harin nods, inexorably drawn into his deep, intense gaze.
And mere hours later, his chilling vow manifests in the most violent, overwhelming reality.
Lazy afternoon. As Kim Manager summons Harin again to hurl papers—
The office's heavy glass door bursts open. Five head office audit team members in black suits storm in like lightning.
Their entrance halts the air. The lead team leader strides to Kim Manager, thrusting a thick binder.
"Marketing Department Manager Kim Jong-sik. Head office audit team."
Kim Manager's face drains to ash.
"A-audit team? What brings you here?"
"Over three years, your rebates from partner firms, misuse of corporate cards, and clear evidence plus reports of persistent, malicious sexual harassment and abuse of power. We're seizing your computer hard drive and personal cabinet now. You're on standby and must come with us immediately."
Thunderbolt execution. Kim Manager trembles like a leaf, springing up.
"N-no. Misunderstanding. I never did that. Reports? This is a trap. Let me see the Executive Director now."
He thrashes and screams, but burly auditors wrench his arms, subduing him mercilessly. As colleagues hold their breath,
The once-invincible demonic boss is dragged out in the most pathetic, wretched state.
"Let go! I'm innocent! I did nothing!"
His screams fade down the hall. Shock, terror, heavy silence remain.
Harin stares blankly from her half-risen seat at the surreal scene. The towering oppressor who crushed her last night shattered to pieces. And the absolute power that erased this hell in hours.
Her dazed gaze slowly slides to the hallway's full-glass wall at the far end.
In the distant corridor corner, Executive Director Park Minhyuk stands, hands in pockets.
Their eyes meet precisely. He flashes the most seductive, chilling smile, slowly raising his right thumb to her.
Only you and I. Our shared, most intimate, overwhelming secret signal.
"Ah."
Harin's lips part slightly, a short gasp escaping. Her heart pounds wildly beneath her thin blouse.
Not mere gratitude or relief. Primal longing for this flawless, ruthless male who twists necks for her sake. And the horrific superiority of being under absolute power's protection.
Her mind burns; in her heart's depths, a treacherous, fatal thrill—never felt for Kim Junho—blazes fiercely.
The devil's lifeline had already perfectly coiled around Harin's neck.