A Senior's Solace
Late at night in the empty office corridor. The sharp click-clack of Yoon Jiyeon's high heels shattered the silence, echoing softly through the stillness. Trailing behind her, new hire Kim Junho's footsteps dragged heavily, his posture hunched in utter defeat. Jiyeon glanced back over her shoulder as she led the way, fixing her gaze on his slumped shoulders. A young, sturdy build, but crushed completely by the bullying and isolation of this unfamiliar city. All the men in the company would assume she was deliberately approaching him to seduce the young man. But Jiyeon's true feelings couldn't have been further from their shallow imaginations.
She simply felt a profound pity for this pitiful junior. Jiyeon remembered her own days as a fresh recruit straight out of Seoul. She'd endured far worse—a nauseating hell much more horrific than what Junho faced now. Her overwhelming, sensual body and baby face had always been fodder for the lecherous gazes of old bosses, prime targets for sexual harassment. The sneers that a pretty face meant she could slack off on work. Enduring the contempt and jealousy with her whole body, Jiyeon had gritted her teeth through it all, vomiting blood in her heart. Only after clawing her way up with venomous determination, seizing the title of youngest Senior Manager, could she finally crush those filthy stares beneath her feet.
That's why Jiyeon understood Junho's plight better than anyone—the kid dropped into Busan from Seoul, suffering under the subtle hazing. The image of that fresh-faced youth clutching the copier, swallowing his resentment amid unfamiliar jargon and cold shoulders, overlapped perfectly with her past self. It wasn't seduction or hunting. It was pure compassion from a senior who'd escaped hell first, Simply wanting to hand this pitiful comrade a warm can of coffee.
In the company café tucked in the connecting passageway to Building B. In the silent, deserted space, Jiyeon sat across from Junho, handing him a steaming Americano.
"Here, drink up, Junho. Adapting in a strange city must be tough, right? I know all about those headquarters snobs giving you the cold shoulder."
Jiyeon's words hit the nail on the head, making Junho flinch as he gripped the cup.
"N-no, Senior Manager. It's just that I haven't gotten a handle on the work yet. My shortcomings."
At Junho's stiff demeanor, Jiyeon let out a light, bubbly laugh. Her blouse trembled dizzyingly with the motion of her massive breasts. Unthinkingly, Junho's eyes dropped to the floor.
"Relax. No team leads or managers here right now. Where in Seoul are you from, Junho? What school did you go to?"
Jiyeon shifted from rigid work talk to casual, everyday topics. Junho gradually let his guard down, stumbling through his school and major.
"No way, really?"
Jiyeon's eyes widened like a rabbit's. She clapped her hands in delight, beaming.
"You're from my alma mater. Humanities department, right? I graduated from there too. Who would've thought I'd run into a direct junior here."
This perfect coincidence. The single fact of shared alma mater crumbled the massive wall of hierarchy between them in an instant. A faint smile—the first all day—spread across Junho's face.
"Really? I had no idea you were my sunbae from school, Senior Manager."
"Exactly. This is some serious fate. How about we drop the formalities off the clock? I'll call you casually too."
Jiyeon rested her chin on her hand, flashing her most charming, affectionate eye smile.
"Yes, Senior Manager."
Junho's habitual reply made Jiyeon's brows furrow cutely.
"Hey, none of that 'Senior Manager' stuff. That hurts my feelings. Outside work, just call me noona. I'm your direct sunbae—can't you manage that much?"
Her playful whine. Junho's face flushed as he waved his hands.
"Aw, come on. We're still in the company building."
"Ugh, so rigid and stuffy. How'd you even get a girlfriend? Ever dated before?"
Jiyeon laughed teasingly, reaching across the table to lightly pat his shoulder. A fleeting, innocent touch. But the moment her hand made contact, Junho's heart lurched, a strange sensation racing up his spine. The thick, powdery scent wafting from her body, the femininity emanating from her perfect, sensual form. It was pure goodwill on her part, but Junho's healthy young instincts went wild at that subtle contact.
He gulped down his coffee to steady his pounding heart.
"I-I have a girlfriend. Same age, working in Seoul."
Jiyeon nodded with a warm senior's smile.
"Lucky you. Long-distance must be rough. Junho, I'll teach you all the tricks to survive company life here so you can tough it out in this branch. We'll make it, okay?"
Her kind, reassuring words. Meeting her clear eyes, Junho felt a swell of gratitude. In this horrific, lonely hell, she was the only one treating him like a human—a warm savior. But gazing at Harin's bright smile on his phone wallpaper, he clenched his fist, crushing the fleeting male instinct stirred by Jiyeon's overwhelming beauty.
Right. Yoon Jiyeon Senior Manager is just a respected sunbae. I have to be a man Harin can be proud of. I'll survive here, carve out a place, and get back to Seoul no matter what. We'll have that happy married life.
Using his kind sunbae's comfort as a springboard, Junho solidified his desperate, pure love and resolve for his lover.
But at that very moment, the Seoul reality he so desperately wanted to return to was hurtling down a far crueler path than his naive vows.
Harin was withering away under her direct superior Kim Manager's sly, vicious torment at the company. He treated her like she was invisible, openly dismissing her proposals in front of others or dumping them in the trash. Professional exclusion and brutal mental isolation. Harin's eyes lost their spark, her plump lips cracking dry.
Day after day of soul-draining torture. And overseeing it all from beyond the full-glass window with the utmost leisure and chill was one man: Executive Director Park Minhyuk. He was fully aware of Harin being summoned by Kim Manager for humiliation, sobbing quietly in the pantry corner. He knew he could snap the manager's lifeline with a flick of his finger.
But Minhyuk never moved. A savior stepping in too soon was just a grateful boss. To make the prey wrap the rope around her own neck, she had to plunge to the darkest, deepest abyss—until she could barely breathe.
Wither a bit more, Seo Harin. Until you're so utterly broken you can't even remember that pathetic boyfriend's name. Then I'll gift you the sweetest hell.
Minhyuk sipped his premium espresso, a venomous smile on his lips. Harin's suffering was merely the perfect appetizer to his hunt.
Finally, the weekend arrived. This time, Junho was stuck with company weekend duty, unable to head to Seoul. Left alone in her empty studio apartment, Harin couldn't bear the depression and joined her college friends' gathering.
In a flashy, exorbitant Italian restaurant in Gangnam. Before Harin sat friends who'd established themselves socially or were marrying into wealth.
"Guys, my oppa proposed and got us a jeonse in a new Gangnam apartment. Apartment hunting for wedding gifts is killing me."
"You're the one marrying up. My husband's switching to a foreign luxury car, but the maintenance fees are insane."
Stroking flashy diamond rings, their sly boasts and pretensions poured out. The table held wines costing hundreds of thousands of won and premium steaks. Harin gripped the hem of her worn dress. She forced soulless smiles and congratulations, but deep in her heart, vicious inferiority and relative deprivation boiled fiercely.
While she slaved over Excel sheets, gnawed by her beastly boss. Her lover slurped cup ramen far away, whining. Her friends shone gorgeously in a perfect, leisurely world she could never touch. Their laughter tore at Harin's eardrums cruelly.
After the gathering, late at night. Harin trudged through the rainy, damp streets back to her cramped, shabby studio. The moldy wallpaper stench hit her harder than ever, nauseating. Still in her coat, she collapsed onto the cold floor.
She turned on her smartphone and video-called Junho. After a few rings, his exhausted face appeared from the duty room, bleary-eyed.
"Harin-ah, how was the friends' meetup? Fun?"
His tender voice. But hearing it unleashed the tears she'd held back. The misery and loneliness from the restaurant crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning her reason.
"Harin-ah, what's wrong? What happened? The manager harass you again?"
Junho paled on screen, asking frantically. Guilt stabbed him—because he couldn't come up this weekend, Harin was crying.
"Sorry, Harin-ah. I should've come no matter what, but couldn't shake the duty. Really sorry. Oppa did everything wrong."
Endless apologies. But Harin shook her head desperately at the screen, sobbing aloud.
"No, not your fault, oppa. I'm just... so lonely. I want to live with you. Can't take being apart anymore."
Her raw truth burst out. Run away with me. Pull me from this hell, be by my side now. At her desperate plea, Junho swallowed bloody tears, fists clenched.
"Harin-ah, listen. Oppa will stake his life to secure a spot here. I'll grit my teeth and make it back to Seoul somehow. Just wait a little. I'll make you happy. Believe me once, please."
Tears streamed from Junho's eyes too. The most wretched, beautiful lover's oath. Harin gently stroked his sobbing face on the screen with trembling fingers.
"Yeah. I'll wait, oppa. Love you. Miss you so much."
She kissed the screen and ended the call. The smartphone went dark, silence reclaiming the studio viciously. Junho's vow was hot and true, but before the cold wall of reality, it was just a frail scrap of paper.
Curled on the floor, Harin pulled a silk handkerchief from deep in her handbag—the one Park Minhyuk had given her days ago in the emergency stairs. Burying her face in it, that overwhelming, heavy predator's scent flooded her lungs fiercely, unerasable by Junho's tearful oath.
The woman who'd just vowed love and kissed the screen for her lover now sought dizzying thrill and solace in the scent left by a complete stranger's man. The most horrific, nauseating duality of emotions. Harin's body and soul were sinking—slowly, but most fatally—into an abyss of perfect corruption beyond even her control.