The Office Air, Dry and Hypocritical
The office air is always dry and hypocritical. Seo Harin's day as a new employee begins, as always, with a irritated summons from her direct superior, Kim Manager.
"Seo Harin. Come over here and look at my monitor screen. Why is the font spacing in this planning proposal all wrong? How many times have I told you to pay attention to readability? Can't you do it right?"
In the corner behind the office partitions, Kim Manager roughly taps his mouse and calls Harin to his side. She swallows a deep sigh inside and approaches his desk, cautiously bending at the waist.
"I'm sorry, Manager. I'll go back to my seat, fix it right away, and bring it back."
The moment Harin leans in a little deeper to check the text on the monitor—Kim Manager's dull, greasy eyes slide not toward the screen, but toward the front of her blouse, with the most lecherous, sticky gaze. There's only one reason he keeps this new hire named Seo Harin glued to his desk, nitpicking over trivial, absurd things.
It's absolutely not because her work skills are lacking or she can't do her job. On the contrary, Harin is the standout ace among her peers—fastest at handling tasks, sharpest instincts. The real reason Kim Manager torments her so relentlessly is that violent body of hers, impossible to hide or contain in standard office attire.
Every time she bends over, the deep, heavy cleavage crushed within her thin white silk blouse teases into view, precarious and alluring. The texture of her overflowing white flesh spilling over the thin lace of her bra. The second button on her blouse, stretched taut to the bursting point, maintains a dangerous tension with every breath she takes, threatening to pop off at any moment.
Kim Manager fidgets with the fingers gripping his mouse, brazenly scanning her body from the corner of his eye. As she shifts slightly to adjust her posture, her tight black H-line skirt rides up her thighs. The firm lines of her legs and the violently wide spread of her hips reveal a naked silhouette. That overwhelming, sensual curve of her lower body is more than enough—perfect prey to stir the rotten lust of a horny middle-aged man.
"Ahem. Seo employee. This paragraph's context is off too. Come closer and look properly."
Kim Manager deliberately shoves his chair back at an angle, coaxing her to bend even deeper. Harin instinctively feels the sticky, repulsive gaze crawling up her spine. Goosebumps prickle her skin; she wants to scream and flee right then. But as a fresh hire at the bottom rung, she lacks the guts to call out her boss's lechery head-on.
She simply covers the front of her blouse with one hand, bites her lower lip hard, and endures this nauseating moment, praying it passes quickly.
And watching it all—the filthy maneuvers and eye-rape—from beyond the premium floor-to-ceiling glass partition with the coldest detachment is a towering man. The young, flawless ruler of the branch. Executive Director Park Minhyuk.
Through the sliver of blinds, he reads Kim Manager's beastly, aroused glare perfectly. A chilly sneer of contempt and disgust curls Minhyuk's lips. This clueless, old, disgusting beast pup dares drool over prey I've marked?
Minhyuk's fierce eyes pierce past Kim Manager's balding head to pin on Harin's back. The slender line of her waist as she bends, swelling explosively into the perfect curve of her ass below. With one hand in the pocket of his custom suit, he savors the deep taste in his mind.
A woman with such a perfect, lewd body deserves only the most superior, overwhelming predator to rip her apart and devour her. Minhyuk wants to burst through the door right now, snap that filthy manager's neck.
But he's no fool driven by base emotions like inferiors. To perfectly tame a cautious, skittish pretty prey, brute force won't do. He must approach slowly, dismantle her defenses. Become the most gentle, perfect sanctuary in her world—a refined, elegant buildup. That's Minhyuk's favorite way to hunt.
Late afternoon, well past lunch. Harin leans against the corner of the break room, unable to eat properly with peers thanks to Kim Manager's spiteful pile of absurd extra work. A vicious migraine and gnawing hunger hit her at once.
She brews cheap instant coffee in a paper cup and habitually unlocks her smartphone. On the screen, messages stack up from her one-year-older lover, working far away: Kim Junho.
Whining. Endless pathetic complaints. Harin frowns at the screen.
He's her lover by name, but Junho offers not a shred of shield against the horrific sexual harassment gazes or killer work stress she faces daily. Instead, from hundreds of kilometers away, he selfishly dumps his own hardships, weighing heavier on her slender shoulders.
I'm barely holding on myself, on the verge of breaking down in tears. The misery of this older man not just failing to support her, but burdening her instead, squeezes her chest.
The moment she exhales a deep sigh without touching the instant coffee—
"Skipped lunch?"
A low, smooth baritone seizes the break room's dry air. Harin startles, head snapping up. At the entrance stands Executive Director Park Minhyuk, hands casually in pockets.
A physique overwhelming compared to Junho. Towering over 180cm, broad shoulders like the Pacific. Chiseled, magnetic features without flaw. His navy suit of finest fabric hugs firm muscles, exuding suffocating sensuality.
"Ah, Executive Director. I hope you enjoyed your meal?"
Harin panics, bowing hastily. Minhyuk offers only a faint, kind smile, approaching slowly. As distance closes, his niche perfume's heavy woody notes mingle with premium cigar afterglow, assaulting her senses fiercely. Nothing like Junho's cheap skin scent mixed with sweat and fabric softener—a true grown man's aroma. Just inhaling makes her heart lurch unwittingly.
Minhyuk gently places the luxury hotel bakery bag in her hand with his large palm.
"Kim Manager has a habit of being extra harsh on ace employees who are competent and eye-catchingly pretty. You're a newbie handling things so sharply, so he keeps you close to torment. Don't take it to heart."
Harin's eyes widen hugely. Not scolded for incompetence, but targeted for excelling—perfect comfort. Instead of badmouthing Kim Manager outright, Minhyuk tenderly bolsters her wounded pride.
"Eat this. Starving all day then chugging instant coffee on an empty stomach will ruin you. Sandwiches and macarons inside—fuel up and get back to work. I watch how hard Seo Harin employee works from behind, cheering you on."
A gentle, warm smile like a kindly giant. Harin stares up blankly at his face, clutching the bag. This man is freakishly perfect. Looks, talent, wealth. Even his treatment of a lowly newbie feels like a fairy-tale savior—superior in every way.
But what shakes her reason most dizzyingly, lethally, is separate. His long, firm left ring finger handing her the bag. The coldly gleaming platinum wedding band there.
He's married. A husband's role in a perfect home, with an excellent wife. An absolute forbidden other—crossing that line unthinkable. Yet that fact mercilessly plants the most dangerous, thrilling seed of taboo in the deepest recesses of her mind.
My lover's so pathetic and weak, can't protect me. How can someone else's husband have such perfect, massive embrace? What nation did his wife save in a past life to live under this man's protection?
Minhyuk lightly pats the back of her white hand clutching the bag with his big, hot palm.
"Hang in there. If the manager nitpicks absurdly or something tough comes up, don't suffer alone—come to my office anytime."
A fleeting skinship. But like massive static, her hand burns hot. Minhyuk catches the subtle tremor in her eyes perfectly, swallowing the cruelest smile inside.
Minhyuk exits leisurely; Harin remains alone. She stares blankly at the handmade macarons and sandwiches worth tens of thousands won inside the bag. Junho's whiny, incompetent messages flash through her mind again.
Stark, cruel contrast. Her energy-draining same-age lover versus the perfect married boss quietly saving her. Harin dumps the cheap instant coffee mercilessly down the sink.
She carefully takes out the expensive, luxurious macaron Minhyuk gave her and bites. Intense, ecstatic sweetness melts perfectly on her tongue, surging through her veins across her body.
His warm gaze, looking at her pitifully, tenderly.
But Harin has no idea. Beneath that kindness, the predator imagines ripping off her blouse buttons, shredding her violent body, ejaculating like a beast.
Like Eve biting the fruit of knowledge. Harin's tightly shut door of morality cracks open oh-so quietly.
Toward a path of no return, forever.