"Team leader! No—division head! Congratulations on the promotion!"
"Thank you. I’ll be counting on you going forward, Team Leader Seon."
The two leads shook hands. Everyone around them broke into congratulatory applause.
A crisp cut rang out. It was the end of "In My Office," whose love line had been drawing a noisy, stock-chart curve.
A happy ending for everyone. This one and that one both get promoted, they even get married, and MyAsset Management rises to number one in the industry.
Not a bad finish. How well the edit will carry it is another matter.
With today’s final scene wrapped, the entire "In My Office" crew moved to a barbecue place.
Getting seats for this many people at once was a job in itself.
Once the hall finally settled down, the chief director raised a glass.
"All right, anyone without a glass? Get yours, quick!"
The tables grew busy. As usual for the youngest, I was filling soju glasses like a pro when a familiar hand slid into my field of view.
Gu Jahan was sitting next to me.
I was about to get up, saying I’d go top people off, when the director’s toast came from across the room.
"I’ll lead the toast. Our stock!"
"Let’s hit limit up!"
The brief toast wishing for the stock to close at the upper limit was followed by clinking from every direction.
This is kind of like Hanpyeong Industry’s toast. "May our company go bankrupt!" Right. I wrote that one, for the record.
Looked like changing seats was a no-go, so I gave up on everything and toasted with the folks at our table.
"Iwol, you worked hard on your first project."
"Not at all. Everyone took such good care of me that I could adjust fast!"
The senior teammates under Team Leader Ji filled my glass to the brim. I guess they really love me. It’s overflowing, truly.
"Still, the male lead is Gu Jahan. Isn’t it a bad look to fuss over me first?"
It was a situation where I couldn’t not read the room, so I said to hell with it and downed the soju. The alcohol stung my nose.
"Exactly."
I was setting my glass down carefully when Gu Jahan spoke.
Then he tipped the bottle toward me.
"Iwol, you worked hard."
Encouragement?
From Gu Jahan? For me?
This guy isn’t the type to mind other people watching.
Up until recently he was acting like he’d pick a fight and kill me, and now he hasn’t made trouble in a while. Guess he realized he crossed a line.
"Do you not want to take a drink from me?"
"Of course not. Thank you—I’ll take it!"
Gu Jahan filled my glass. Three-quarters full. No malice—just the neat, reciprocal amount.
"May I pour you one too?"
"Sure."
He emptied the last of his soju and held out his glass. I filled the same measured amount in return.
As the alcohol kicked in, the room turned lively. I grilled meat with part-timer-level skill while caught in a weird little pocket of awkwardness.
The one who broke the silence was Ha Seomyeong, who came over from another table to say hello.
"So our whole team was here! You all worked so, so hard!"
"Where were you, Mr. Ha? We were about to be offended—our whole team was here except you."
"I sat with my family. I mean, what comes first if not, huh? Family!"
"Oh, and why didn’t that table bring Director Ji’s son-in-law!"
"Don’t even start. That guy’s having an affair with his work and they’re almost divorced."
The off-the-record jokes flew nonstop. Only the (former) son-in-law of Director Ji and the soon-to-be cheating guy, Gu Jahan, quietly picked up meat with his chopsticks.
"Our youngest, Iwol, you worked hard too! What are we going to do if we can’t see you as much now? Do we have to wait for Spark’s comeback?"
"Then we’ll have to come back fast."
"Run music shows for, what, eight weeks. You have to catch the drama buff."
Mr. Ha said it with a straight face. A true industry senior. He knows how not to miss an opening.
"Mr. Gu, would you like a drink too?"
He asked the partner who’d had plenty of trouble but at least landed the ending clean.
"Sure."
Everyone applauded the main couple’s reconciliation shot—not friendship, but something like it.
Look at that—he’s matured. Feeling pointlessly pleased, I tossed back my soju too.
The wrap party was long. Really, really long. Maybe I’ve gotten used to sending Spark—the group with minors—home early ever since becoming an idol, because it took me a while to adjust to a party sprinting toward dawn.
"Iwol, you hold out well."
"I’m pacing myself. Are you okay, assistant director?"
"Yeah, yeah, I’m fine."
The assistant director struggled to lift noodles with a single chopstick. Looked like I’d be sending someone else home.
In my head, I wanted to go home too.
No one was forcing me to drink. But ever since the time I left a wrap party early and Manager Nam told me to U-turn and come back, the moment I try to head out mid-party my feet won’t move, like they’re caught.
The food was good, but I’m putting on muscle, so I couldn’t just pig out. That left only one thing to do: accept the drinks at a reasonable pace while making sure people remember my face.
Thanks to a connection with Neuri, Jeong Seongbin could go on "I.Am.The.Best," Pollo took a liking to me and put me on radio, and Mr. Ha looked after me more often at Mr. Eun’s request.
Thinking about all that, you never know what chance will come next, so my conclusion was to get my face remembered.
So far so good. I’m not the type to get wiped out by my tolerance, and the crowd had thinned a lot.
The problem was...
"Iwol, you can drink."
"Really? I haven’t been to that many drinking parties, so I’m not sure, haha."
"Are you going to a third round?"
"If the seniors go, I have to go too!"
...that this punk, Gu Jahan, kept tagging along for no reason.
I had no idea why. Making me uncomfortable.
Looks like he’s had a lot to drink.
His face was beet-red and he kept trying to chat me up in this quiet way, and since I couldn’t tell what he was aiming for, it only got on my nerves.
If I ask whether you’re going to the third round, you’ll blow up like, Why am I your senior? And if I don’t ask, you’ll say, A senior asked and you ignore him?
Checkmate either way. I was thinking I just wanted to pretend to be drunk and pass out when he went quiet.
After a long pause, Gu Jahan opened his mouth.
"Follow me."
With that, he left the restaurant.
So he hasn’t reformed—he called me out to chew me out again? Or to threaten me never to set foot in the industry?
Either way, whatever. After going through Manager Nam and Yu Hansu, I’ve got nothing left to fear.
I told Mr. Ha, "Mr. Gu called me, I’ll be right back," and stepped outside.
Smoking, Gu Jahan looked at me and asked,
"Do you smoke?"
"No."
"You look like a chain-smoker."
I hear that a lot. More people say I look like I’d smoke cigars, but I don’t know the difference, so whatever.
Hearing I didn’t smoke, he crushed the long butt on the ground with his shoe.
Just then a van pulled into the alley.
The passenger window dropped and someone showed their face.
"Mr. Gu, did you wait long?"
"Not really. Open the door."
His manager, I guessed.
So they’re going to throw me in the car and dump me somewhere.
I should’ve signed up for jiu-jitsu as early as possible. Or followed Choi Jeho to action school...
"Iwol."
While I hesitated and squared up, Gu Jahan leaned into the car first.
He rummaged inside, then pulled something out and handed it to me.
"Take it."
A crisply folded shopping bag.
"If you don’t want to be forced onto a deep-sea fishing boat, come back with this full of cash"... is that it?
Except there was something inside.
On guard, I opened it. A set of clothes, top and bottom, sealed in plastic.
"Why... this?"
"You ruined your pants."
A day flashed in my head. The day he sent me on some ridiculous errand and I soaked my pant legs in leftover drinks.
Staring into the weighty bag, I asked,
"There’s a top too."
"The clerk said it matched. Just wear it."
So, this is an apology? Sorry for making you run dumb errands that day?
"I was going to give it to you when you went home, but the kid only drinks well."
So that’s why he grilled me like an interrogation about whether I was going to the third round.
I’d figured he wasn’t the type to hang around at a wrap party, and it did seem odd he was staying late.
The fabric looked expensive, but I didn’t say that out loud. I’m the one receiving the apology; no need to act humble on top of it.
"Thank you. I’ll wear it well."
"Yeah."
He answered while staring off into the distance. He looked embarrassed.
He said he’d go back in to say goodbye and exchanged a short word with his manager.
Meanwhile, I picked up the crushed cigarette butt he’d ground out, purely out of habit.
"What are you doing? That’s filthy."
"It’s fine. Habit."
Ideally, the guy who tossed it would be the one to pick it up. But I don’t want to be the person who just walks past something that might start a fire.
Gu Jahan, who had been about to ditch the butt and run, flushed like he’d been burned.
"Give it."
"Sorry?"
"Give it to me. I’ll take it and throw it away!"
He snatched the butt from my hand. Then, fuming, he ducked back into the restaurant, and however he handled his goodbyes, in thirty seconds he came back out with his coat.
Without a word of farewell, he got in the car and left.
I stared down at the shopping bag in my hand.
I’d gotten an apology from someone who didn’t have a promotion on the line, wasn’t under public shaming, and wasn’t afraid of blowback. Someone who’d rethought things and, of his own accord.
"So there are people who know how to reflect."
I was surprised. It felt strange.
But I didn’t hate it.
It would’ve been beautiful if the story ended here, but unfortunately, my ill-fated tie with Mr. Gu didn’t end in front of the barbecue place.
Because when brand-savvy Jeong Seongbin saw what I’d been given and realized what the clothes cost, he went pale like someone with sudden indigestion.
"Is this brand expensive? I’ve never heard of it."
"Very. It came into Korea around two years ago, and a single pair of socks here costs..."
Hearing his mutter, I called Mr. Gu directly.
Then, without taking a breath, I said, "Hello, is this Mr. Gu? The pants I was wearing that day were ordinary pants, but it feels like you’ve sent me something gold-plated. I’m not someone who takes something big off a small pretext; please take it back."
I’d assumed he’d bought something that wouldn’t sting much for a celebrity. And since I’m the one receiving the apology, I didn’t think I needed to bow my head like, "Wow, such nice clothes..."
But this wasn’t it. The price blew past my sense of normal. If you don’t set this straight now, it will come back to bite you later.
"I figured you’d say that, so I ripped off all the tags. Just wear it."
"If you give me your account, I’ll—"
"If you paid for those pants yourself, would you wear them?"
Nope. Maybe I’d put them {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} on Choi Jeho for the occasional commute look.
"Go to sleep."
The call ended.
Leaving a heavy smell of liquor and a pricey set of brand-new clothes behind, "In My Office" came to a close.
