“Yeonjun-ssi. What have you been doing lately that’s made you so careless? You know I let you work comfortably because I trust that one thing about you, Assistant Manager Seong, that you’re diligent, right? Even when people above me nag, I let it go in one ear at my level and stop it from coming down to you. I looked after you because you’re someone who handles things well on your own, so what am I supposed to do if you disappoint me like this?”
Ah… He had been caught badly. Very badly.
Studio Snow was, after all, the publicly acknowledged untouchable-caste exile site everyone knew about, so in practice, whether it was the weekly meeting or the monthly meeting, there was no real chance of being heavily pressured over performance.
The problem was when another major department produced somewhat poor or disappointing results compared to the same period last year or the previous quarter.
The executives did not even bring up Studio Snow because it was never a department where sales and profitability were discussed in the first place, but the team-leader meeting after the executives left was the real main event.
Everyone knew there was no decision-maker in the meeting room who could discuss closing Studio Snow. It was simply an outlet for them to tear into someone.
Even the resources basically allocated to each studio had been stripped away with sneers about why Snow needed them at all. If anyone had to serve as a punching bag for nearly an hour while being mocked, their mental strength would naturally hit its limit.
And, of all days, that day was today.
“I’m sorry. I’ll fix it right away.”
As Yeonjun looked down at the desk surface and moved the mouse, Team Leader Ahn scolded him in a voice much higher and sharper than usual.
“The event has already been applied for over four hours. What are you going to cancel now? Hurry up and just change the date on the banner. If the CEO sees it, you’ll get an earful.”
Yeonjun swallowed a sigh, wondering why today could not have been Thursday, and answered.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
When Yeonjun’s short voice dropped toward the floor, Team Leader Ahn let out a long sigh.
“Get confirmation from me before uploading it.”
It’s not like I’m some new employee…
Yeonjun was somewhat flustered, but since he had made a mistake he normally never made, he had nothing to say even if he had ten mouths.
It was criticism he would never have had to hear if he had kept his head on straight and not done something strange.
Team Leader Ahn also seemed uncomfortable after pouring out nagging that was almost like venting, and kept tapping the desk with his fingertips while chewing the end of his pen.
“Ha….”
Team Leader Ahn’s sigh echoed through the office where there were only the two of them. Yeonjun wanted to crawl into any hole he could find.
“……”
He was aware, at least, that he might have been too excited lately.
After meeting people every day who tore him down as if someone like Yeonjun had no merits aside from his appearance, people who finally recognized his true value had appeared, and he had started acting as if he were someone important.
No matter how he dressed it up, his essence remained Assistant Manager Seong Yeonjun of OpenGames’ parasite department.
Yet the moment he logged into the game, it felt as though everyone he met had made him into someone remarkable.
But what did that matter?
The moment he logged out of the game and shut down his computer, Yeonjun was simply Assistant Manager Seong Yeonjun.
Someone who could not even tell a shitty executive to get lost when that executive scanned him from head to toe with a chilling gaze.
Getting drunk on that gap and gradually increasing his login time had been the root of the problem.
His sleep schedule, which had stayed consistent for nearly five years, had been cut by two hours. There was no way it would have no effect. The moment he let his guard slip, an accident happened.
The fact that he had made a mistake in reality because of a game felt so pathetic to Yeonjun that he could hardly stand it.
It was not even difficult work. If he was going to glance away at another path for a moment, he should at least do his original work properly.
After barely getting Team Leader Ahn’s approval and replacing the banner, cold sweat ran down his back.
The fact that he had briefly looked forward to wondering who would challenge him that evening felt unbelievably stupid. Yeonjun briefly held his breath with a soft exhale, rested his forehead on the desk for a moment, then closed and opened his eyes.
Fortunately, Yeonjun did not cause any new accidents before clocking out, but there was no way to stop his mood from sinking gloomily.
It was not as though he usually cared much about eating with other people at work.
Normally, around 11:50, Team Leader Ahn would have suggested they slowly get up to eat, but today, even as noon approached, Yeonjun did not hear the sound of a chair being pulled back.
“Yeonjun-ssi, enjoy your meal. I have plans, so I’ll go out and eat.”
Usually, when Team Leader Ahn had lunch plans and was going to eat separately, he mentioned it before eleven.
Today, he had said nothing, so Yeonjun could not tell whether the atmosphere was too awkward for him to say it earlier, or whether he had suddenly made nonexistent plans because he did not want to eat with Yeonjun. And that made Yeonjun even more jumpy.
Of course, it was not as if Yeonjun enjoyed eating alone with Team Leader Ahn Gihoon, who was more than ten years older than him.
But they were not children who had fought, and exhausting himself by suspecting that Team Leader Ahn might be acting this way because his feelings had been hurt over a meal was itself far too tiring.
“Understood.”
Before Yeonjun could even add, “Enjoy your meal,”
Team Leader Ahn quickly left the office, and Yeonjun was left alone in an office that felt awkwardly large for two people to use.
I have no appetite. Maybe I should just sleep. He sat heavily on the beanbag in the corner of the office and leaned back, only for his stomach to rumble shamelessly, crying for food.
“……”
Right, this is all something I’m doing to eat and live.
Yeonjun sighed, went down to the cafeteria, and grabbed a sandwich.
A sandwich not soaked in tears was disgustingly tasteless. Because he had gone down too late, all the popular BLTs and egg mayo sandwiches were gone, and only the veggie sandwich remained.
By the time he forced himself to fill his stomach and finished his work, it was later than usual.
I don’t even have the energy to make a fuss. I should just go home like this.
Fortunately, without running into Chief Joo, Yeonjun came down to the first floor and blankly looked at the large mixed-use shopping complex across from the company grounds.
It was not that late yet, so over the sky that had begun turning deep blue at the edges, the flashy office nightlife district was already glowing.
[Bar, Next]
It was a classic bar often recommended on the company community. He remembered seeing various favorable comments, like that it was good to go alone, drink quietly, and leave, or that when company work was hard, the owner, who used to be a developer, would sometimes give advice.
If that counted as viral marketing, then maybe it was viral marketing, so he could not know whether the reviews were truly trustworthy.
But one thing was certain: today, Yeonjun felt like getting drunk. He did not want to go straight home. Even if he did, there was nothing in particular to do except play games.
While Yeonjun paused and sighed in thought, the people coming out of the entrance slowly pushed him forward. While he was going, “Uh, wait,” he was swept along across the crosswalk, and before he knew it, he was close to the front of the shop’s building.
I’ve never been to a place like this. Will it be okay?
Trying his best not to look like a country bumpkin in the city, Yeonjun stepped inside with a composed expression.
The dim, antique-style interior of the shop came into view at once. Low-lit chandeliers shone from the ceiling, and candle lamps that seemed to have real candles lit inside were visible throughout the place.
Behind a middle-aged bartender dressed sharply in a stylish suit and several younger employees, shelves were packed tightly with kinds of alcohol Yeonjun had never heard of in his life.
“Is this your first time here? Please sit wherever you’re comfortable, at a table or the counter.”
When Yeonjun carefully sat at the very end of the counter, a male employee who looked especially young among the staff, as if he had only just turned twenty, brought him a menu.
“Please feel free to ask for anything that isn’t on the menu too, and if you need a recommendation, tell me your preferences. I’ll choose something for you.”
His smooth, shiny face looked like it had “I’m young!” written across it in huge letters.
Was he a college student working as a trainee? His impression was very neat, so he did not give off an atmosphere that would drive customers away, but he did not seem like a good match for a customer expecting a professional bartender.
So they must have assigned him to Yeonjun because, at a glance, Yeonjun did not seem used to this kind of atmosphere either.
Digging himself into yet another utterly useless hole, Yeonjun chose a cocktail from the menu that looked like it had a high alcohol content.
“One Faust, please.”
“Ah…”
The employee seemed to have something he wanted to say and glanced around hesitantly, then finally nodded with energy.
“Yes, I’ll prepare it right away!”
Why is he acting like that?
Yeonjun watched the employee’s spirited steps with a puzzled expression.
He really is young. As Yeonjun stared blankly into the air, someone suddenly came to mind.
The Ignis that guy made such a fuss about admiring was actually a pathetic adult who made ridiculous little mistakes at work and got scolded for things he would not have had to hear otherwise.
If Haesal knew, it would be more than enough to disappoint him.
Well, no matter what, there was absolutely no chance he would ever show Haesal his reality.
Yeonjun let out a small laugh and lifted the glass the employee soon placed before him, filled with a drink that shone a red wine color.
The large ice inside the crystal glass clinked against the sides. The drink burned from the tip of his tongue as if it had been set on fire.
Its first taste was terribly sweet, and in the end, it finished with the bitter taste of disinfectant.
“This might be more bitter than my life.”
Thinking something about this was not quite right, Yeonjun swallowed another mouthful, and a sharp sensation, enough to let him know exactly where his esophagus was, swept down into his stomach.
“What taste are people drinking this for…?”
Just as Yeonjun tilted his head, as expected, his vision blurred. With a thud, his head fell forward, forehead first, toward the counter table.
Leave a Reply