“Today the Director has no afternoon appointments, so you can wait in the office.”
“Wow… I’m saved. I was so busy this morning I didn’t even get a chance to use the restroom.”
In Juhan, about to step out of his office, froze in the doorway at those voices in the hallway. He glanced out and saw one was Cha Gyeoul—and the other was someone he’d never seen before. From the way he was dressed, Juhan guessed he must be one of his security team.
“Really?! Holding it in too long can damage your bladder… you might have to live with an artificial bladder! And if it gets worse, your kidneys could fail, requiring a transplant. And if there’s rejection….”
Juhan was speechless. Gyeoul explained as if it were a dire emergency, but he’d gone way overboard. Claiming that simply waiting to pee could lead to kidney transplantation or even death—this was like some absurd reality show.
Lately, Juhan’s little amusement had been Cha Gyeoul. He behaved dumb and clumsy, yet occasionally showed a meticulous cleverness that made him downright funny. Whenever he stood before Juhan, he trembled like a condemned man, unable to form a sentence. What on earth had Cha seen in Juhan?
Either way, this eccentric omega was occupying Juhan’s thoughts—whether for better or worse.
“Heh heh. Secretary Cha is hilarious. Seriously, that was the funniest thing I’ve heard today.”
What the hell?
Juhan scowled. What was so funny? It disturbed him that the man guarding him possessed the kind of warped humor that found Gyeoul’s nonsense amusing.
“It’s not a joke, it’s serious….”
“Got it. I’ll be careful. Haha! Hey, Secretary Cha—lunch is coming up. Want to join me?”
So blatant a pickup line. Or maybe Gyeoul wasn’t entirely uninterested, which was why he played along? Wait—how could Gyeoul speak so fluently? Juhan had assumed he stuttered constantly.
But outside of Juhan’s presence, Gyeoul spoke almost without stammering, his voice steady and clear. Why did he sound like a broken radio only in front of Juhan?
“Lunch… what should I do? I brought my own lunch.”
That was a firm refusal—using a homemade lunch as an excuse to avoid sharing a meal.
Just as erratic as his actions, his rejection was absolute. Juhan snorted in amusement.
“Oh? Then I’ll buy a lunch too! Let’s eat boxed lunches together. I’ve been craving one since yesterday.”
Now Juhan saw that this persistent security guard was an alpha—likely an extreme alpha bordering on beta. A serviceable physique—muscular—and a face that didn’t disgust him—handsome enough.
“Really? Wow, you’ve wanted a boxed lunch for two days… You really like them.”
Gyeoul seemed to believe it outright.
Or at least pretend to believe it. Who in their right mind would swallow that nonsense? Maybe Gyeoul was more of an expert manipulator than he appeared.
After arranging to meet in the break room at noon for boxed lunches, Juhan returned to his office.
“Kang Cheol-jun, Kang Cheol-jun….”
Muttering the alpha’s name as he sat down, Juhan called Director Um.
“Director, should we have the entire security team join us for lunch today? No one excluded.”
“Suddenly… a group lunch?”
“It’s not sudden. Encouraging hardworking staff is only right.”
It was sudden—this was a first. Juhan had never shown the security detail such attention.
“Oh, and there’s that Kang Cheol-jun, right?”
“Y-yes, there is.”
“Send him to the Burkina Faso branch.”
“…Burkina… yes?”
“Somalia or South Sudan would do as well. Just make sure he never appears before me again. Understood.”
There was no other reason. Juhan simply did not want an unprofessional employee near him—one who flirted with an omega. Demotion was the least he deserved. No other motive, absolutely none.
“Secretary Cha, what’s on the Director’s schedule this afternoon?”
“Th-this afternoon the executive team has… one meeting planned.”
Juhan frowned. Why was this happening? Every time Gyeoul spoke to him, he shouted as if in agony—his voice wavering and stammering, clearly nervous.
Just days ago, when talking with Kang Cheol-jun, he spoke confidently, without trembling.
“Why?”
“Y-yes?”
“Why only that one meeting? Isn’t it chaos with the new product launch?”
“Uh, well… just a moment!”
Gyeoul dashed off to check his tablet, then re-entered breathlessly, and Juhan thought: who on earth hired this guy?
If Juhan himself had been the interviewer, Cha Gyeoul would never have set foot in Saegyeol Group. He was too scatterbrained, too timid, unable to answer simple questions. He might be useful for copying documents in a back corner, but as a secretary, he was hopeless.
Gyeoul’s lips moved as if forming vowels without sound, then he sighed and spoke.
“Today is the birthday of Chairwoman Hong Seol, the wife of Chairman In Tae-young of Saegyeol, and director of the Saegyeol Cultural Foundation….”
“Mother.”
“What?!”
“My secretary’s mother is the Chairwoman.”
Look at that. Just how clueless was he?
“Ah! Yes! Today is the Director’s mother’s birthday!”
Juhan had never heard that.
“Oh?”
“I—I told you last week… and yesterday too….”
Now that Juhan thought about it, maybe he’d been told. But a birthday seemed no different than any other meeting—he barely registered it. He’d drop in at dinner, fulfil the minimum courtesy. Especially for his mother.
“I see.”
Juhan responded with all the detachment of hearing news about a neighbor’s mother. Though a flicker of contempt passed over his face, Gyeoul did not notice.
“…So, may I be excused for a moment?”
Excused? From what? Juhan nodded without understanding, curious as to what unpredictable breach this omega might attempt next.
Gyeoul rubbed both palms vigorously on his shirt, then circled to Juhan’s side. He turned Juhan’s chair towards him, bowed his head, and began untying Juhan’s tie. His face flushed crimson, his trembling hands fumbling with the knot.
What was this now?
Juhan, having never imagined an omega disrobing him in broad daylight at the office, was taken aback.
Intriguing. Every move this Cha Gyeoul made was impossible to predict.