HR Media.
That’s the official name of our company. It’s one of the many subsidiaries of HR Group, but it has enough clout to scoff at the rest. After all, being “media,” we’re closely tied to the press, and we consistently rank in the Top 10 in group revenue.
My team is Planning Team 2—more precisely, the advertising planning department. We handle everything from TV commercials (CFs) to PPLs in dramas and films, plus SNS ads, short-form ads, YouTube promotional videos—whatever you can think of. Think of us as the corporate flagship of the ad world.
Many assume we only plan in-house ads, but we take on far more external contracts. Just recently, we handled the video planning for “MacDoria” hamburgers. In short, we’re responsible for ad “direction”: when a client comes to us, we connect them with a CF director, brainstorm, and execute the shoot with various directing techniques.
Work is intense, but I love it here. Designing a new ad every day, at the forefront of marketing, makes me feel alive. But what really satisfies me is:
‘It’s a big company.’
When I meet friends at reunion dinners:
“Wow, you made it.”
“Incredible—how’d you land at HR?”
“I heard HR even gives a day off for National Foundation Day. Being at a chaebol is great.”
Their eyes brim with envy every time.
On blind dates:
“HR Media Headquarters? No way.”
“Must have amazing benefits. Pension, too?”
“I’ll cover dinner. How about drinks after? I want to hear more.”
Just my business card makes me an A-list husband material.
For so many reasons—
‘I’m never quitting this company.’
Even though I spent the night with the female intern from my department, I couldn’t resign because of it.
‘Let’s be honest—I didn’t do anything wrong.’ No forced wrongdoing; two consenting adults, both satisfied. ‘It’s not a weakness-worthy mistake.’
Still, my leg was bouncing nonstop.
After all, I’d spent the night with her—and she happened to be my subordinate. I couldn’t shake my unease.
‘I can smooth this over, right?’ No—I have to.
“You’re early today, Assistant Manager?”
“Oh, Sia.”
Sinsa Station, Exit 3.
I arrived five minutes early, and Yoo Sia was already there.
“You even changed clothes?”
At work she wears casual office attire, but now she had on a V-neck blouse that revealed her collarbones and an H-line skirt with a thigh-high diagonal slit. The outfit accentuated her curves at every glance.
“Oh, yes.” She smiled and smoothed down her skirt. “I felt sweaty after work, so I changed.”
I’d heard she didn’t live nearby—so she must’ve taken a taxi.
“I’ve reserved a steak-and-pasta place nearby. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“Just this way.”
We began walking. I’d always thought she was attractive, but in the heart of Gangnam-daero—where so many young, beautiful women pass—men still blatantly stared at her. Naturally, I’d been drawn to her beauty myself, not just the alcohol. Men gawk at her, then turn envious eyes on me. I shook my head sharply to dispel the odd superiority I felt.
We arrived at a small steakhouse under all those stares.
“I’ll have the beef tenderloin steak.”
She picked the top item. “I’ll have the shrimp rosé pasta,” I said, choosing the bottom.
Given last Friday’s events and no resolution, I expected a serious talk today, but—
“I heard you played baseball, Assistant Manager?”
“Oh, right.”
“A former player?”
“Only through college.”
“Wow, amazing. It’s my first time meeting an athlete.”
“You’re teasing me, right?”
“No. My family—especially my grandfather—loves baseball. You still play?”
“…That was ages ago.”
Now it’s a distant memory.
Whimun Middle, Deoksu High, then Korea University’s baseball team. I became the ace starter as a freshman and led the team to victory. In the national college league final:
“Coach, let me pitch.”
“Didn’t the doctor say your shoulder’s shot for life if you use it now?”
“Even with surgery, the chances of returning are slim.”
“Still…”
“I want one last outing. If I’m retiring anyway, I want at least one lifelong drinking story.”
I argued and insisted—and proved myself.
“Final score, 1–0! A perfect-game championship, no runner allowed!”
We won, but the victory felt hollow.
“Sorry, but baseball’s impossible now.”
My shoulder shattered just before the pro draft. My dream collapsed. I thought my life was over without baseball, but reality proved me wrong.
Fortunately, my academics were strong. Since my injury freshman year, I focused on studies and earned good grades. That led to my fortunate hire at HR Media.
‘Looking back, I’m glad I quit.’ My shoulder was always a problem. Even in the pros, I wouldn’t have lasted long. Better to prepare than to be tossed aside.
I’d be lying if I said I had no lingering regret, but I value a solid reality over an unattainable dream.
“So, Sia, what did you major in?”
“Business Administration.”
“A solid, employable major.”
“Yes. Also my father recommended it.”
“Ah, a wise man.”
(Us ordinary folks rarely get to manage anything ourselves.)
“So in college….” We talked on many topics until the food arrived: the company, personal views, various banter. I found, ‘She’s more compatible with me than I thought.’
At work, our chats had been strictly business or noisy group dinners. But this one-on-one felt different. Not a naive rookie, but a witty, engaging companion. ‘I’ve been on plenty of blind dates, but this is rare….’
“Your food’s here. Enjoy!”
Soon pasta and steak appeared. Before even picking up utensils, she raised her hand.
“I’d like to order wine. Do you have a wine list?”
“Yes, I’ll bring it.”
The word “wine” jolted me back to reality. Places like this don’t do cheap wine. Between pasta and steak alone, the bill was steep—and now wine?
‘This spending pattern is disastrous.’
Attractive girl or not, marriage isn’t just looks. And she’d ordered an imported Italian wine, not the house.
‘I saw prices—over ₩100,000 per bottle.’
My head spun thinking of this month’s card bill. Damn. I’d been living a pleasant daydream until now.
“Assistant Manager.”
“…Huh?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing….”
I blamed the wine nervously.
“Did you know what you were ordering?”
“Well, I’ve never tried it. My usual wines weren’t on the list.”
Right—ordinary folks like us buy house wine or cheap sparkling from Emart. Who orders that expensive stuff at a steakhouse?
“Sia, you don’t seem to save money.”
“Hm, true.” She answered honestly. “I don’t feel the need.”
That’s wrong! Don’t order unfamiliar wine just because you’re dining with a man. Don’t YOLO away your savings! Who pays the price? Ultimately, the spouse does.
Sia leaned forward. Her moist eyes and pronounced collarbones sparkled under the lights.
“But, Assistant Manager.”
“…Yeah?”
“You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”
She didn’t hesitate. But I was already alert to financial prudence.
“No, I don’t.”
“Ah, good.”
She smiled, but I spoke bluntly.
“But, Sia.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want us to think we’re dating just because of last Friday.”
“Oh, of course. I think it’s best to get to know each other slowly.”
Not what I meant. I needed to be clearer.
“Frankly, I prefer someone who’s thrifty.”
“…Huh?”
“Sigh—. You don’t have a housing-subscription savings account, do you?”
“Housing-what?”
She looked puzzled.
“See? You haven’t. I want someone to plan a future with. I believe at least 20% of salary should go into savings, taxis are wasteful, phones should be used through contract, and spending like coffee should be planned, not impulsive.”
She blinked, flustered.
“But you have so many luxury items and travel so much….”
I hesitated whether to say this, but I needed to.
“In my view…”
I took a breath.
“You seem vain, Sia.”
“…What?”
Her eyes widened.
“What do you mean…?”
“Let’s be blunt. That bag you have—it’s clearly an expensive designer piece. Even at a big company, an intern can’t afford that. Maybe it’s fake—but the mindset of carrying it is—”
“It’s not fake. It’s real.”
“That’s the problem. You know our salaries. So you must have bought it on installment. I can’t handle that.”
“Oh, this was a gift…”
“Even gifts are an issue. Who gives something that expensive without ulterior motives? You shouldn’t accept it.”
Brrrring—!
My phone rang.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can handle someone like you.”
“No, Assistant Manager, it’s not that. I—”
[Caller: Department Head Ma Won-ho]
“Excuse me, I need to take this. It’s Ma-bu. Something came up at the office.”
“…”
Assuming work, I left Sia behind and stood.
She stared at the empty seat.
‘What was she thinking…?’
‘She must be so thoroughly misunderstanding….’
I’d kept family matters secret, but how much should I reveal?
Brrrring—!
She got a text just then.
[From: Grandpa♥]
—Have you eaten dinner, Sia? I was so surprised during the holiday I forgot your allowance. Just deposited it. I’ll get your birthday gift later—tell me what you want. Don’t worry about shares or anything; pick whatever you like. The allowance I sent is already tax-processed, so enjoy shopping ^^
[Hanri Bank]
—Deposit: ₩1,000,000,000 (Yoo Jin-gap)
Sia gazed again at Assistant Manager Song’s empty chair.
“…I’m vain?”