The Moment of Farewell
A cold wind blew across the platform at Busan Station as the moment of parting drew near. The announcement for the Seoul-bound train's departure echoed heavily from the speakers.
Standing in front of the ticket gate, Harin couldn't tear her feet away, clutching Junho's jacket sleeve tightly with both hands. "Oppa... I don't want to let go."
Her voice, laced with moisture, slipped from between her lips. The tenderness and devotion Junho had shown all weekend weighed even more heavily on the guilt rooted deep in her heart. If she released this hand now and returned to Seoul, she had no idea what harsh reality awaited her.
Junho wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gently stroked her hair. "Harin-ah, if it gets too tough, just tell me anytime. We can drop everything, come down to Busan, and start small here—build a foundation together. Then later, we can head back up to Seoul as a team."
It was sincere comfort, offering everything he had. Junho only understood the weight of her pain as the exhaustion of office life.
"We'll keep in touch a lot. If anything happens, you have to tell me—no bottling it up alone."
Harin buried her face in his chest and nodded. "Yeah... I'll go, oppa."
"Okay. I'll message you all the time. And wait for me. I'll come back up anytime. If it's really bad, don't force yourself—just say the word."
Junho gripped her hand tightly until the very end, then slowly let go. He stood on the platform, waving until Harin boarded the train and settled by the window.
As the train began to move, pulling them apart once more, Junho watched its receding form and let out a deep sigh. He had no inkling what situations his choice and resolve would bring. His chest was filled only with a firm determination to grow stronger and succeed for the woman he loved.
The next morning, back at the Busan office after his day off, Junho sat at his desk, turning on his monitor and resting his hands on the keyboard. But his gaze kept drifting into space, his fingers heavy and unresponsive.
It was the aftermath of sending Harin back to Seoul. With the warm presence that had filled his weekend gone, the office air in this unfamiliar city felt especially cold and chilling. The reality of being left alone after sending away the one he loved sapped the energy even from a healthy young man.
As Junho listlessly flipped through documents and sighed deeply, a bright, soft voice came from behind him.
"Junho-ssi."
He turned to see Senior Manager Yoon Jiyeon standing there in a neat beige office outfit, smiling. During work hours, her demeanor and address were impeccably professional and polished.
Junho hastily half-stood from his chair and bowed. "Ah, Senior Manager. Good morning."
Jiyeon lightly tapped the edge of his desk with her finger, her eyes twinkling playfully. "Didn't go overboard playing during your leave? You were so excited about seeing your girlfriend last Friday, but now you're back looking all gloomy—what's up?"
Caught off guard by her spot-on question, Junho scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Surprised by her keen observation, he also felt a quiet gratitude for his boss's concern.
"Ah, Senior Manager... yeah. After a few days together, it feels so empty without her right from the morning. Was it that obvious?"
Jiyeon let out a light laugh at his honest confession. "Oh man. Rubbing it in a single's face first thing in the morning. Is this how all couples are?"
Her joke eased his tension, drawing a faint smile from Junho.
Jiyeon glanced at the work screen on his monitor and made a warm suggestion. "No big plans after work today, right, Junho-ssi? Let me buy you a drink. Nothing beats venting about the company over drinks with a colleague or senior to shake off that emptiness."
It was a senior's kind gesture to soothe the loneliness of life away from home. Junho sensed no ulterior motives or pressure in her offer—just a solid sense of reassurance from a caring boss.
"Really? Thank you, Senior Manager. I'll wrap up work quick today."
"Sounds good. See you later, Junho-ssi."
Jiyeon returned to her seat with light steps. Watching her go, Junho reaffirmed his gratitude. The emptiness in his heart felt a bit filled by his senior's warmth. To become someone Harin could be proud of, he turned back to his monitor and dove fiercely into work.
Meanwhile, Harin's commute back to Seoul was endlessly heavy and melancholic. Entering the marketing department office, exhaustion was etched deeply into her expression.
The tender time with Junho over the weekend hadn't healed her heart—it had only amplified her strange anxiety and disconnect from reality.
Harin tried desperately to hide her feelings. Avoiding everyone's eyes, she went straight to her desk, set down her bag, and buried herself in her monitor when colleagues asked about her weekend. "Just tired, rested at home," she replied curtly.
She threw herself solely into work. Opening documents, she hammered the keyboard without pause—a desperate struggle to allow no room for other thoughts.
And from his office, Park Minhyuk watched her quietly through the blinds.
He knew she'd gone to Busan for the weekend to see her young boyfriend. He could vividly picture the confusion and self-reproach she was flailing in now. He decided not to rush. Dragging her into his office for interrogation or demands would only provoke her flimsy defenses.
A tightly pulled string snaps easily. For now, he wouldn't touch her personally. Better to let her delude herself into thinking she'd adapted to routine.
But he had no intention of letting her forget him and enjoy peaceful office life. He'd keep physical distance but tighten the psychological chains. Using the official work system, he devised a cunning ploy to bind her perfectly within his orbit.
Afternoon meeting time. Minhyuk summoned the marketing staff to the conference room. Seated at the head, his demeanor was impeccably rational and composed, as always.
"Everyone, take your seats. Let's begin."
The staff opened notebooks, focusing on him. Harin gripped her pen, head bowed.
Minhyuk methodically covered the agenda, then dropped the core issue. "As you know, I'm temporarily handling both Executive Director and marketing department head duties. I'm doing my best, but realistically, I'll spend most time in my personal office. It's physically impossible to oversee every detail myself."
He steepled his fingers on the table, slowly scanning the room. "So, I need someone from the team as a go-between for me and the department. No more inefficiency with staff trekking approvals back and forth. Someone to gather department input, report to me, and relay my instructions accurately."
It was a perfectly reasonable, logical improvement. No trace of personal emotion in his voice.
"Who do you think would suit this role? Speak freely."
Silence fell subtly. Staff ran quick mental calculations. Direct liaison to the director meant burdensome grunt work—reading his moods, absorbing team gripes.
But they'd noticed: since Kim Manager's dismissal, Minhyuk had especially looked out for Seo Harin. For smooth department vibes, the director's favorite was the safest pick.
Harin's fingertips began to tremble faintly. She instinctively sensed the trap—this was a perfect noose to summon her to his office endlessly, legally.
She prayed inwardly for some senior to volunteer.
But in vain, the most senior colleague spoke cautiously. "Director, I think Seo Harin-ssi would be best. New hire, but her document handling and compilation skills are the fastest and most meticulous in the department. No issue relaying your instructions."
Others nodded eagerly. "Yes, I agree—Seo's the one."
"She's diligent; she'll handle it well."
Harin's vision blurred. They meant well, but to her, it was a death sentence.
Minhyuk nodded contentedly at the consensus, his gaze piercing straight to the bowed Harin. "The team agrees. What do you think, Seo Harin-ssi? Can you handle it?"
No escape. In a room full of watching colleagues, a junior like her had no grounds to refuse the director.
Biting her lip, Harin slowly raised her head. Meeting his calm, rational eyes sent chills down her spine.
"Yes, Director. I'm lacking, but if you entrust it to me, I'll do my best."
She steadied her trembling voice. Only then did Minhyuk curve his lips in the faintest smile.
"Good. Seo Harin-ssi, please take it on."
As he rose to end the meeting, he added casually before leaving, "Seo-ssi, it might seem like grunt work, but think of it as director's personal assistant. Handle it like a real secretary, and I might place you in a solid official secretary role. I expect great things."
To colleagues, it sounded like warm encouragement. To Harin, it was the most chilling shackle, proclaiming endless private summons and covert control ahead.
Staring at Minhyuk's broad back as he exited, Harin realized bone-deep she'd never escape this web. Even the public space of the company was now fully under his control.
The vows and promises with her lover in Busan faded powerlessly atop the cold office desk. The horrifying future of daily treks to that heavy office door loomed.
