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5. You’re no longer a designer assistant
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2021-05-01 11:55:02“Aish, my natural beauty shines since birth," I muttered unintentionally.
"Lee Yongju!" One of them calls out, startling me. Did she hear me? "What are you saying?" she asked, narrowing his eyes. My heart races, a chill runs down my spine. Am I caught? "Uh, nothing. I'm just chatting with my friend," I stammer, holding up my phone as evidence. "Hey, Yongju, do you know about our President Director's son's wife?" She looks eager to gossip. "Um... yeah, I know, haha," I said awkwardly. "Aren't you heartbroken?" You don't know who Byun Baekhoon's wife is? The beautiful woman you accused of having plastic surgery is standing right in front of you! “Why would I be heartbroken? Hahaha,” I reply with a forced laugh. “You’re always so boring, Yongju.” “I don’t care, sorry.” “Oh, it’s tragic. The whole country’s heartbroken since Byun Baekhoon got married,” one of them quips. Is Baekhoon's popularity so immense that his wedding left the whole nation heartbroken? Unrealistic! -o0o- The next day. My daily routine remains unchanged. I go to work in the morning, return home in the evening, and spend my time reading comics, novels, or watching dramas. Occasionally, I watch EXO, Super Junior, or Sistar music videos. This cycle repeats itself daily. "Lee Yongju, come to my office now!" Designer Joe has just arrived at our office and is already summoning me. I trail behind her, my heart racing wildly. Does my marriage secret teeter on the brink of exposure? As the young mistress of the Byun family, fear perpetually haunts me. I move stealthily, hiding the truth like a thief. This clandestine existence fuels my suffocating frustration. “Sit down!” She settles into the sofa, her expression solemn, before I follow suit. “What’s this about, Mrs. Joe?” My mind races, frantic with anticipation, preparing answers to the unknown. She takes a deep, measured breath, as if steeling herself for an unpleasant revelation. God, please help me. “Yongju, I’m truly, deeply sorry,” she said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. This isn’t what I expected; a mix of curiosity and trepidation swirls within me. “This isn’t easy for me, Yongju. You’ve been an invaluable assistant for years, consistently delivering outstanding results with your impeccable discipline. But...” Her voice falters, uncertainty etched on her face. “Please, Mrs. Joe, tell me. I can handle it.” I muster a reassuring smile, despite my racing heart. “Lee Yongju, starting today... your role as my assistant comes to an end.” Her words hang in the air. “W-what? I don’t understand,” I stutter, shock and confusion overwhelming me. “Today, you’re no longer a designer assistant.” The words strike me like lightning, leaving me breathless and bewildered. “What?! Am I being let go? Why is this happening? I thought my work was satisfactory,” I asked, my voice rising uncontrollably. “No, you’re being reassigned to... the janitorial department, effective immediately,” she explains, her expression unreadable. “WHAT?! This can’t be serious! How could you demote me like this?” I exclaim, incredulous and shocked. “This isn't my decision. The order comes directly from the division head, possibly our superiors, or perhaps those influential figures higher up the corporate ladder.” I'm utterly bewildered. How many tiers of leadership does HK Group have? I'm exhausted and despairing. The janitorial department? I fought tooth and nail to become a design assistant with just a high school diploma. But why must I face this devastating downfall? My world is crumbling. Why is my life spiraling out of control? Why must I endure this crushing defeat? WHY MUST I SUFFER SO?! -o0o- As I step out of the imposing skyscraper, my weary legs carry me forward with leaden weight. Fatigue gnaws at my body, my back throbbing in protest. My once-delicate palms now threaten to become coarse and calloused, like the rugged hide of a crocodile. My heart bleeds, shattered by the cruel twists of fate. And then, a sleek black car glides to a stop before the HK Group lobby. A man emerges, resplendent in a tailored dark blue suit that accentuates his commanding presence. An aura of icy confidence and charisma envelops him, leaving me breathless. My eyes widen in stunned recognition. “Byun Baekhoon?” I whisper, incredulous. What mysterious purpose brings him to this place? My feet instinctively move toward him, but caution reins me in. Prudence dictates I bide my time, reserving my queries for the sanctuary of home. . . . After getting home, Baekhoon’s place felt completely lonely as usual. Besides us, this house was empty. Only Auntie Yoo dropped by daily, from morning till afternoon. As she departed for her own haven after a long day's work, her kindness lingered, manifesting in the form of a lovingly prepared dinner, waiting patiently in the fridge for Baekhoon or me to reheat whenever hunger struck. As I flick on the bedroom light, I hasten to the shower, shedding the day’s exhaustion. Baekhoon and I live parallel lives, our separate rooms a testament to our unconventional bond. Refreshed, I pad downstairs, drawn by the promise of a warm meal. Frugality aside, Auntie Yoo’s lovingly prepared dinner is a comfort I can’t resist. Moments later, Baekhoon walks in, his arrival a welcome sight. With his own wheels, he should’ve beaten me home, not stuck in transit like me, bus-bound and waiting. Maybe he made a pit stop somewhere along the way. "Skipping dinner?" I asked. “I’ve had my fill,” he responds, shedding his tie and pouring himself a refreshing glass of water. "Baekhoon," I called. "Hm?" "I saw you at the HK Group office, what were you doing there?" Baekhoon puts down his glass and looks at me. “Can’t I go to my Dad’s office?” “No, I mean... If you’re just going for money, why not get a job there?” Baekhoon's smirk cuts deep. "Mind your own business," he snaps, disappearing into his room. "If murder didn't come with a prison sentence, he'd have been gone ages ago," I seethe under my breath. Fine, I get it. This marriage is fake, just for Baekhoon’s image. Why bother? He won’t answer my questions anyway. He’s always silent. Sometimes, his creepy stare is his only answer. Other times, just a blunt “yes” or “no.” Can’t he just talk normally? His relentless provocations are draining my sanity. His infuriating behavior threatens to consume me; patience is my only refuge. -o0o-Related chapters
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Merely half a day’s work has left me utterly drained. The relentless cycle of sweeping, mopping, and polishing seems endless. Though I’m not the one physically toiling, my muscles sympathize with the exhaustion. This colossal building demands constant attention, its pristine floors and sparkling surfaces a testament to the tireless efforts behind the scenes. Yet, some people seem oblivious, traipsing in with dirty shoes and deliberately scuffing the floor as I sweep, as if assuming I’m their personal shoe cleaner. The audacity is staggering. "Yongju!" My partner chimed in. "Yeah?" I responded lazily. "Designer Joe wants to see you in her office," she said matter-of-factly. I groaned inwardly. "Great, what's this about?" I hastily abandon my task and sprint upstairs, destined for my former boss’s domain. Memories of the design department flood my mind – the hum of my computer, the gentle spin of my chair, and the creative chaos that once fueled my passion. I reach the door,
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"Baekhoon! You're Bastard! Damn!" I yell, my eyes blazing with uncontrollable fury, my finger jabbing accusations at his icy face. I continue screaming, desperately defending myself as the two security guards drag me out of the room. But who will listen to the cries of a lowly janitor like me? A crowd gathers outside the CEO's office, their curious gazes fixed on me. Instead of offering help, they whisper among themselves, reveling in my misery. Who dares challenge the CEO's authority to aid someone like me? It's better to suffer in silence. -o0o- I lie awake, past midnight, anxiously pacing outside Baekhoon's room, awaiting his return. My mind races with worry, not for his well-being, but for my own fate. Whether he lives or dies is of no consequence — resolving my predicament is all that matters. My hands itch to throttle him. Where has he gone? Why hasn't he returned? Now, nearing 3:00 a.m., exhaustion consumes me. Two cups of coffee can't fight the sleepiness. Frustration
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Baekhoon's obsessive fans won't leave me alone, constantly harassing me at the office. It's a personal issue between Baekhoon and me, so — why do they feel entitled to take revenge on me? Their relentless actions fuel my frustration, testing my patience. Don't they know we're husband and wife? I'm tempted to confront them, to scream the truth in their faces and put an end to this madness. But I must restrain myself, swallowing my anger to avoid escalating the situation. "Yongju, grab three cups of coffee for the design department!" Soohe, one of the gossiper, ordered, kicking the broom I held. Making coffee wasn't part of my job, but the more I gave in, the more they'd demand. "Can't you wait until I finish my work?" I replied. Soohe's eyes narrow. "Yongju, we were once colleagues, but now you're beneath me. Do you dare defy my orders?" I stand firm. "Ask someone else, Soohe." Soohe's smirk falters. "Fine, I won't force you." Soohe stalks off, her heels clicking defiantly
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"Sadly, I don't indulge in gossip; it's beneath me," Baekhoon said, closing his laptop. "Then who's behind the office rumors?" I press. Baekhoon shrugs nonchalantly. "No idea." "Wow, I didn't expect they'd seriously take your side," I muttered, thinking of the gossiper in the design department. Baekhoon rises, walks towards me, and gently lifts my chin with his elegant hand. "I'm grateful for that," he whispered low, his warm breath dancing across my skin. "Now, hurry downstairs and prepare dinner for me. I'm starving." His intimate touch sends shivers down my spine, unsettling me. No one has ever touched me like this before. -o0o- One bottle, two bottles - the soju disappears before my hazy eyes. I've recklessly crossed the line, surrendering to Baekhoon's persistent toasts. My head spins violently, consciousness slipping away, each thought a blurry haze. My alcohol tolerance was only two or three drinks, yet I've downed two entire bottles. I feel like I'm drowning, suff
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"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Euna said, her voice laced with insincerity. She's Soohe's friend and a notorious gossip in the design department. I know she did it on purpose. "It's fine. Can you please move? I'll clean this up." I force myself to remain patient. "Of course," Euna said, her voice dripping with malice as colleagues pass by in the hallway. "I assumed you'd been fired, no wonder Designer Joe relegated you to this humble floor. Turns out your betrayal of your own boss sealed your fate." I pause, my gaze narrowing as I lock eyes with her. "Are you attempting wit, Euna? Your sarcasm falls woefully flat. Gather credible intel next time — your misinformed jabs only betray your insecurity. Thanks for the fleeting attention, though." Euna's face contorts in frustration as she struggles to craft a retort, but words fail her, and she storms off — stomping her feet in a childish tantrum. Her dramatic exit is a calculated move, broadcasting her malice and ensuring everyo
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"Are you crazy? What do you really want to hear?" "Say it's not you..." "I said it earlier, didn't you hear?" "Say it right!" It feels like my face is getting hotter. I am ashamed to death if Baekmyo did all of that. "Why is your face red?" Baekmyo observes my face then laughs mockingly. "Think what you want! Ha ha ha." Baekmyo pushes me and then runs to his room, his satisfied laughter makes me even more nervous. -o0o- Today is Saturday, I wake up a little late than usual due to a break from work. After wash my face and brush my teeth, I go downstairs intending to help Auntie Yoo cook in the kitchen. But strangely, in the emp
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In less than half an hour, Baekmyo comes here. I am shocked to death, how can he be here? More precisely, knowing that I am at the police station. Even Baekmyo confesses that he is my guardian when ask by the Officer. The clerk explains about our problem to Baekmyo, Baekmyo listens carefully, I see him as if he is looking at a father whose daughter is in trouble. This foreign man also do not remain silent and insists on asking for compensation, what else has he seen Baekmyo drove a luxury car here. I am sure, this foreign man intends to blackmail me. "Sir, are you sure my wife stole it?" Baekmyo asked the stranger. His tone sounded dignified and calm like a stream of water. 'My wife'? A Byun Baekmyo recognizes me as his wife? Hit me! I am not dreaming, right?
Last Updated : 2021-06-18
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