Chapter 1
Boredom settled in…
In that office, there were no amusements. Just stacks of papers, pens, sticky notes, formal suits, white shirts, and computers storing numbers and data. Everything here was steeped in monotony.
In that stifling and dull atmosphere, the employees’ only form of entertainment came from private conversations among themselves. And now, a new opportunity had arrived—their colleague, who had just broken up with his girlfriend the night before, had brought them fresh drama to devour.
“Jungkook, I thought you’d stay home today, nursing your broken heart.”
The man in question smiled as he sank into his chair. He knew exactly what would happen the moment he set foot in the office. Not that he minded—his coworkers’ banter was a welcome distraction from his sorrow.
“Do you think it’s even worth it? She should be the one crying with regret right now.”
Jungkook wasn’t heartless. The end of a three-year relationship, of course, hurt. But the signs had been there for a long time—the two of them had already been drifting apart even while still together.
“You keep your pride in front of her. I bet you cried a river into your pillow last night.”
“You’ve caught me,” he replied, feigning sadness. Not a single person believed his act.
“Have you finished your part of the project yet? We need to deliver it to the manager today.”
At that, Jungkook’s cheerful expression vanished, replaced by a mocking sneer. It wasn’t just that he hadn’t completed his work—it was the mention of the manager. He simply hated him.
Everyone here did, but Jungkook’s share of the hatred was the largest. The reasons were many. For example, when the manager divided the team’s workload, Jungkook alone was given forty percent of the tasks, and he wasn’t allowed to ask for help from anyone else.
“He didn’t do anything,”
one teammate answered for him, his expression saying either Jungkook had forgotten or couldn’t finish on time.
“God, I hate him,”
Jungkook growled, clenching his elbow and punching the air. Soon he would be facing yet another harsh scolding alone in that cold office. He always wanted to punch the man—just to see a different expression on that lifeless face.
“Who doesn’t?”
Wooyoung, one of the team members, sighed. She was seriously considering becoming a housewife because of the work pressure.
“Jungkook, of all of us, you should hate him the least. Sure, you get the biggest share of the work, but your salary is double ours. He trusts your abilities. I envy you.”
Jungkook smirked, glancing toward the manager’s office at the end of the hallway.
“Is that what you call a salary?”
“Don’t be greedy. Compared to most tech companies in Korea, our pay is very good,”
Wooyoung said, trying to be honest without letting her own dislike for the manager overwhelm her tone.
“How many years would it take you to save enough for a mansion like his? Or even a car like his?”
Wooyoung fell silent. Each of them had gone at least once to deliver papers or reports to the manager’s house. It was indeed a house, but they called it a mansion because of its sheer size. None of them had made it past the front gate, but a glance from the outside was enough to see how massive it was—especially for one person living alone.
He owned only one car, but Jungkook knew he could buy a car for each member of his family of five for the price of that single vehicle.
“You should have been born the son of a world-class surgeon if you’re that envious,”
Hyun said, hinting plainly that their manager’s wealth came from his father, the famous surgeon who owned multiple medical centers worldwide.
They all laughed at Hyun’s remark—not with joy, but with a shared bitterness. The manager was young, around their age, but while they struggled to save for an apartment, he lived alone in a mansion.
“Jungkook.”
A voice—soft and deep at the same time—cut through the air. Their bodies stiffened, and whispers began.
Oh God, did he hear us?
Hyun murmured without looking at anyone.
Speak of the devil,
Jungkook muttered under his breath, his anger briefly flaring before he plastered on a polite smile.
The manager had likely heard them, but didn’t care. They all acted politely to his face, and perhaps he had figured that out long ago.
“Yes, sir.”
“Follow me to my office.”
As always, Jimin left quickly after speaking. He never lingered around his employees, as if he despised them—or worse, was disgusted by them. At least, that’s what they thought.
But Jungkook, in particular, felt that the manager hated him most of all. He rarely summoned anyone else, and each time Jungkook was called, he knew he’d be trapped in that office for no less than thirty minutes.
The reasons for summoning him were often petty. If he made a single typo in a report, he’d be lectured. Even if there were no mistakes, he’d still be called in—to discuss some work matter or to give Jimin his opinion on something. Always work-related.
Though his friends thought he was lucky to have such trust, Jungkook never saw it that way.
Does he already know I haven’t finished the project?
he wondered. It couldn’t have reached him already—he had just told his friends.
When Jungkook arrived at the office, he entered without knocking. After four years here, he knew the rule: the manager hated people knocking. He loathed having to say “Come in.” He disliked speaking unless necessary—though he spoke plenty when it came to scolding.
“Sit.”
Jungkook obeyed immediately, taking the chair opposite the desk and bracing for a new order—or a reprimand. He was ready for the manager to say anything. Anything—except what came next.
“Jungkook, marry me.”
It was an order, not a request. His manager’s face, colder than usual, made it clear he expected Jungkook to agree—perhaps was even certain he would.
The man looked so serious that Jungkook thought if he laughed now, it would be his last day as an employee. Not just here, but anywhere. Yet the absurdity of his boss saying such a thing was almost too much to bear.
He wasn’t even sure anymore if he was in the manager’s office or dreaming in bed.
“Excuse me?”
He asked for clarification, a forced chuckle escaping him. But when the manager’s face darkened further, he realized this was no time for laughter.
“Before you speak, read this contract.”
Jimin slid a document across the desk toward him. Jungkook glanced at it briefly, then looked up without reading a single word.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jimin, but if this isn’t about work, I’ll be leaving now.”
He stood, bowing several times, ready to leave. He had no idea what was happening—whether this was reality, a dream, or proof the manager had lost his mind—but he decided to retreat without asking questions.
“Two hundred thousand dollars a month.”
The words froze Jungkook mid-step, his hand still on the doorknob. His mind stalled completely.
“Three hundred thousand,”
Jimin added when Jungkook didn’t turn around. That did it—he slowly pivoted to face him.
“If you’re interested, come back and read the contract.”
—To be continued—
