RB - 19

Miss Kim Min-a cautiously glanced around as she slipped out of the office. 

Her destination was the company rooftop, and today she wore a modest beige two-piece suit—a stark contrast to her usual short, revealing dresses. 

Creak. Pushing open the heavy iron door to the rooftop, she passed a group of men smoking and headed toward the far corner. 

There, a sharp-eyed man with slicked-back hair motioned for her to come closer. It was Park Cheol-young, a manager from the audit team. 

Clearing her throat with a soft “Ahem,” Kim Min-a approached him. Without preamble, Park Cheol-young got straight to the point: 

“What is this tip you’re reporting?” 

His voice was clearer than she expected, prompting her to nervously glance left and right, worried someone might overhear. 

“It’s a good-faith tip. An internal whistleblower report, so you must protect my identity. Absolutely.” 

Park Cheol-young nodded wearily, masking his fatigue. 

Late last night, at nearly 11 p.m., Kim Min-a had called him, claiming it was an “urgent tip.” 

And not through the company directory—she used his personal phone number. 

No matter how many times he asked what it was about, she insisted, “I’ll tell you in person tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. on the rooftop.” 

If that was the case, why go through the trouble of digging up his personal number via the intranet and then harassing him with five calls in the middle of the night? 

Manager Park suppressed his irritation, reminding himself of his role in the audit team. 

“Isn’t this why we’re meeting here now? You wouldn’t do it over messenger or by phone, and you insisted I couldn’t trust you until we met face-to-face.” 

“Han Seo-yeon from the Business Planning Team—it’s related to her.” 

Park Cheol-young’s thick eyebrows twitched slightly. He knew Han Seo-yeon well. 

She was in charge of PR, and they had exchanged guidelines several times for press releases. He remembered her as someone who handled tasks cleanly and communicated effectively. 

Seeing the seriousness in his expression, Kim Min-a leaned in. 

“She has some… issues with the HR team leader. Between a man and a woman… something like that.” 

She trailed off after throwing out this insidious topic. 

The only scenario where the audit team would investigate “issues between a man and a woman” was infidelity. 

The HR team leader, nearing 50 and married, already flagged for a few suspicious incidents—was he involved with Han Seo-yeon? 

Park Cheol-young’s eyelids quivered faintly before he furrowed his brow. 

“Miss, do you have any evidence?” 

Fidgeting with the buttons on her blouse, Kim Min-a stared at the ground and kicked the dirt with her foot. 

Growing impatient, Park Cheol-young pressed her: 

“I appreciate your good-faith tip, but without evidence, you could be counter-sued for false accusations.” 

“I… I saw Han Seo-yeon slap the HR team leader across the face. I witnessed it myself.” 

“What? There was an assault?” 

“Lately, there have been many private meetings between just the two of them. And it was strange that the HR team leader joined the TF team dinner.” 

Glancing at Park Cheol-young, she added, “What reason would a female employee have to slap a male colleague? Plus, the HR team leader looked teary-eyed afterward.” 

“What about the context? Did you hear any prior conversation? Who else was present?” 

“I don’t remember the conversation because I was very drunk. Director Jung and Shin Jin-hyuk were also there.” 

You don’t remember the conversation due to intoxication, yet you vividly recall the slap and the teary-eyed expression? 

Park Cheol-young’s piercing gaze pinned Kim Min-a in place. Flustered, she blurted out: 

“Ask Director Jung! She really did hit him. The HR team leader was minding his own business when he was attacked!”

Wait, didn’t she just say she couldn’t remember any of the conversation? Yet now she’s suddenly providing context favorable to the HR team leader. 

“If we open an investigation, Shin Jin-hyuk will also be questioned. And inevitably, Miss, you’ll be summoned as well.” 

“What? No, I can’t! You have to protect my identity as a whistleblower—I refuse!” 

Kim Min-a stomped her feet and whimpered. She had no intention of getting her hands dirty in this mess, so panic set in. 

Manager Park calmly explained: 

“Excluding you from the list of attendees would only raise suspicions.” 

With her hands clasped tightly together, Kim Min-a begged him repeatedly to frame the story as if another customer at the restaurant had reported it. 

The preview of what would become a clichéd corporate scandal—”the office affair”—was unfolding on the rooftop. 

That afternoon at 3 p.m. 

Seo-yeon froze as she checked her inbox. 

The sender was the audit team, and the subject line read: “Request for Cooperation in Investigating Workplace Misconduct.” 

She clicked slowly, skimmed the contents, and was utterly shocked. 

A report had been filed regarding the altercation at the restaurant. Not only Seo-yeon and the HR team leader but also everyone present at the dinner would be investigated. 

Seo-yeon felt the ground beneath her feet tremble violently with fear. 

When she looked up over the partition, her eyes met Jin-hyuk’s. He, too, had clearly just read the email. 

Almost immediately, her phone buzzed. 

―This is Shin Jin-hyuk. Since internal messengers aren’t safe once the audit begins, I’m contacting you via text. Please keep the recording I secured confidential. 

Seo-yeon felt her strength drain away as she leaned on the armrest of her chair. 

She understood Jin-hyuk’s position. It was only natural for a new employee to distance himself from involvement with the audit team. 

Moreover, he likely wanted to avoid direct confrontation with his superior, Director Jung. 

Though she told herself this was the right course of action, an inexplicable sense of disappointment seeped into her lungs like air. 

―Don’t worry. I’ll handle this carefully, Jin-hyuk. I won’t let you get dragged into anything. 

Her trembling fingers sent the message before she rose from her seat. 

Suddenly struck by dizziness, she swayed but forced herself to walk down the hallway without showing it. 

That morning, both Director Jung and the HR team leader had remained eerily silent, offering no reproach or mention of the “Chinese restaurant incident.” 

They probably wanted to forget it too, Seo-yeon had thought with relief—until just a few hours ago. 

So who could it be? 

As she passed by Jin-hyuk, his expression was as cold as winter. 

She turned her gaze toward Kim Min-a, who was typing furiously on her keyboard. The awkward way she adjusted her posture caught Seo-yeon’s eye. 

Pretending not to notice, Seo-yeon left the office. 

With a vacant expression, she boarded the elevator—not heading to the rooftop but choosing the first floor instead. She needed to clear her head with a walk. 

Once Seo-yeon was gone, Jin-hyuk entered an empty meeting room and made a call. 

“Hey, hyung, it’s me. Can you connect me with one of your law firm’s lawyers? Someone who used to be a chief judge.” 

“What’s going on? Doesn’t Taesung Group have a legal team?” 

“It’s personal. Find someone specializing in criminal litigation. I need someone ruthless enough to send a couple of people straight to hell.” 

After scanning her employee access card with a beep, Seo-yeon stepped into the first-floor lobby. 

Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, echoing loudly. Suddenly, she staggered—dizziness more intense than before washing over her.

From behind the glass window of Café Le Rêve, Jung-hyuk bolted out and caught Seo-yeon just as she was about to collapse. 

Before he could even ask what was wrong, an unexpected request slipped from her lips. 

“I didn’t have lunch. Can you buy me some food?” 

Near the office, at a modest restaurant styled to vaguely resemble a traditional Korean house, they settled into a seat deep inside. 

It was past 3 p.m., and there were hardly any diners left. 

They ordered two bowls of pork soup with rice and a large plate of boiled pork slices. Seo-yeon pulled the bowl closer to herself. 

She hastily stirred the broth with her spoon to cool it down, then dumped an entire bowl of rice into the soup and mixed it vigorously. 

With hurried movements, she shoveled the food into her mouth, not forgetting to take a bite of the pork here and there. 

Suddenly, she gulped down a bottle of mineral water, then finally drained the remaining broth in one long sip. 

It was a meal consumed with the resolute spirit of a warrior preparing for battle. 

Jung-hyuk had barely touched his portion when he finally spoke. 

“Is something wrong? Want to grab a drink?” 

“I need to get back to the office soon—I’ve already been away too long.” 

Seo-yeon stuffed the last few slices of pork into her mouth, forcing them down her throat as if trying to swallow the rising tide of injustice within her. 

Jung-hyuk didn’t press further, instead folding his arms and watching her intently. 

He wondered who the hell could have reduced the radiant Han Seo-yeon to this state—what kind of face did that person have? 

And how did her brain manage to cram all this food into her flat stomach? 

“Let’s go.” 

Seo-yeon rose with a smile as bright as sunlight. 

How unbearably sad her forced smile looked—it was something he’d have to point out to her when the time came, Jung-hyuk thought to himself. 

As Seo-yeon took a step forward, she suddenly darted toward the back of the building, and Jung-hyuk followed. 

Clutching her mouth with one hand, she frantically scanned her surroundings until she spotted a sewer grate. 

Then, without warning, she bent over and vomited everything she had just eaten. 

Rather than bursting into tears, Seo-yeon expelled the boiling lump inside her with heaving gasps. 

After wiping her lips and lifting her head, she spoke in a surprisingly cheerful tone. 

“Thanks for the meal. I’ll head back now. I’ll see you later at the café—you can take me home today.” 

Jung-hyuk silently watched her retreating figure as she dashed off, her jet-black hair fluttering behind her. 

When Seo-yeon was angry, it brought him joy—but only when the source of her anger was Shin Jung-hyuk, himself. 

Pulling out his phone, Jung-hyuk dialed a few numbers. 

“Ethan, tell the companies in Yeseong Building to pack up their things. Daniel Shin won’t be renewing his contract. Inform them immediately that a Taesung Group subsidiary will be moving in.” 

The priorities of every matter were crystal clear. The distinction between friend and foe was unmistakable. 

All Jung-hyuk needed to do was love Seo-yeon in his own way—that was all. 

Now, she was his precious treasure, his beloved Han Seo-yeon, whose beauty only he could bring forth. It was time to place the hilt of a dagger in her hands. 

For Seo-yeon, a dagger suited her far better than a bouquet—and Jung-hyuk was thoroughly satisfied with that thought.