Beneath the Surface

It was quite rare.

For the chief to arrange a dinner without alcohol—and for it to be just the two of us.

I wondered if Nara or Secretary Kang might join, but from the looks of it, it seemed he intended to meet only me.

Did he have something to say?

Out of all his reunions and gatherings, he chose to make plans with me.

The afternoon schedule was light—mostly adjusting appointments and answering calls.

At exactly four, the legal team arrived on the dot.

Since the executive director hadn’t returned yet, I guided them to the reception room attached to his office and served tea.

Dressed sharply in black suits, they were high-level professionals earning enormous salaries.

Before I could even ask the driver about the director’s location, he walked in briskly, acknowledging our greetings and heading straight to his office.

After that, there were no further summons until the end of the workday.

Would we be able to leave on time?

Since our working hours depended entirely on the director, I didn’t expect much.

Unexpectedly, the legal team finished and left just before six.

When I entered to tidy up, the director was staring blankly at documents on his lap.

Beside him, a gray-haired member of the legal team listened attentively.

The conversation was nearing its end.

The director pointed at a section of the document and asked,

“What area is this?”

“A forest conservation zone.”

“And this?”

“A cultural heritage protection zone.”

“So no matter what, we’ll run into at least one restriction.”

“These days, most remaining lands look like this when you check the cadastral map.”

“Then we’ll have to make it not so.”

To ordinary people, if the state prohibited something, it was simply impossible.

But to some, even the state seemed like just another obstacle—something to overcome or remove.

The response came smoothly, without hesitation.

“I’ll check whether approval can be obtained.”

After a few more exchanges, the last member of the legal team gathered the documents and left.

As I cleared the empty teacups from the reception area, he suddenly spoke to me without a sound.

“Secretary Yoon.”

“Yes.”

“Are you leaving work?”

“I plan to see the chief briefly before heading out.”

“For work?”

“No, he said he had something to discuss.”

“I see.”

He fell silent again.

The slight crease on his brow smoothed out, but he still seemed deep in thought.

Would I not be able to leave?

Just as that thought crossed my mind, he stood up and straightened the slightly wrinkled vest of his suit.

As he passed by, his hand briefly touched my shoulder, startling me.

He didn’t seem to notice.

“Contact me after you’re done talking with the chief.”

“Ah… yes.”

So he wasn’t leaving work either?

Then naturally, neither could I.

He picked up his documents and jacket and walked out of the office at an unhurried pace.

Before the heavy door closed completely, I heard his voice fading away.

“I’ll head out and go home from there, so you can leave.”

It seemed he was heading out.

After finishing up in the now-empty office, I stepped out to find most people already packing up.

Some were still tidying, but Secretary Kang’s desk was completely empty—not even a jacket left behind.

The chief gestured toward the exit.

“Secretary Yoon, let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Secretary Kang’s recent behavior bothered me, but there was something more urgent.

The director had told me to contact him after my talk with the chief—that felt more immediate and directly related to me.

I needed to finish quickly.

As we rode the elevator down, I cautiously asked,

“Did you have something to discuss?”

“What discussion? Let’s just have dinner.”

That made it even more unsettling.

Memories surfaced—like that company dinner where the director had suddenly intervened and said something shocking.

Could this turn out the same?

At the main gate, Nara waved goodbye with a bright smile and disappeared into the crowd crossing the street.

As soon as the light turned green, people flooded across from both sides, splitting the endless line of cars.

The chief tapped my arm and pointed across the street.

“Seogyeong, you know frozen pork belly is trending again these days?”

“Frozen? Not thin-sliced?”

“Yeah. Wrap foil over the grill and cook thin frozen slices. People say it tastes like the old days. You okay with that?”

“Yes, I like it. Wasn’t that what we were going to have at that company dinner?”

“Right. The one we missed because the director showed up.”

Even now, recalling that day sent a chill down my spine.

The way he looked straight at me, as if reading my thoughts, was still vivid.

Back then, could I have ever imagined things turning out like this?

Pushing away the distracting thoughts, I focused on the chief.

“Have you had frozen pork belly before?”

“I had it at home as a kid. We’d lay out newspapers and grill it.”

“Exactly. That’s the one. Let’s go.”

Following behind him as he navigated through the crowd, I could barely keep up with his brisk pace.

There was no chance to speak.

The restaurant was tucked at the end of an alley I vaguely remembered from my early days at the company.

Back then, I had wandered around looking for lunch.

There were just a few seats left.

We managed to sit on plastic chairs at a round table.

Conversation paused briefly as the server swiftly set out the side dishes.

The place smelled richly of grilled meat and oil.

The menu was simple—ordering was done with just two fingers from the chief.

He also ordered soju, glancing at me one last time.

“You really won’t drink?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Alright. They say you shouldn’t force these things nowadays. Just pour for me then.”

If he wasn’t going to insist, he probably shouldn’t have asked again—but he ignored that point entirely.

The glasses were filled, and the frozen pork belly was placed on foil over the grill.

By the second round, he had taken over the tongs.

“Don’t flip it too often—cook one side properly first,” he said, as conversation flowed rapidly.

The conversation felt like it was circling around something.

I grew increasingly uneasy.

The director told me to call him after this.

Did he have something for me to do?

Even with my thoughts scattered, the chief’s voice remained steady and clear amid the noise.

“You’ve been here for quite a while now, right?”

“Yes. Thank you for always looking out for me.”

“I haven’t done much. I just focus on the director’s matters.”

“Still, I appreciate how you’ve guided me.”

“As you know, I handle updates about everyone who meets the director. Secretary Kang used to handle things, and lately you’ve been helping. I know you’ve been working hard.”

“It’s nothing.”

At that moment, his narrow eyes sharpened ever so slightly—almost indistinguishable from before.

Flipping the meat casually, he asked,

“Have you studied organizational behavior? Or organizational design?”

“I took it as a second major in college, but I don’t remember much.”

Caught off guard, I tried to recall.

I had taken business courses alongside my main major, and organizational behavior had been required.

But it wasn’t out of interest—just necessity.

Seeing my struggle to remember, he checked the sizzling meat.

“I can’t explain it well either. You know… how different levels require different skills?

At lower levels, ability matters more, but as you move up, communication and insight become more important.”

“Ah, I remember that. It was like a pyramid structure.”

“Right. That’s it. Eat.”

He placed a pile of grilled pork onto my plate with effortless ease.

The motion was so natural that I couldn’t interrupt.

When I tried to pour his drink, he took the bottle himself and continued eating.

I picked up a piece and chewed.

At first, I didn’t understand the hype—but it did remind me of the taste from childhood.

Memories surfaced more vividly, aided by taste and smell.

An old apartment, my mother and sister…

I wanted to linger in that nostalgia, but this wasn’t the moment.

“As you know, our group operates as a holding company structure.”

“Yes.”

“You know this, right?”

“I do.”

“The director worked his way up from practical roles—planning, divisions, even observing startups.

Now he leads from the front as an executive, with us as his support.”

“Yes.”

“He’ll probably go higher. To the main holding company.

Even if he comes back down later, he’ll go up first.”

“Ah…”

“When he moves, this secretary office will likely be dissolved.

Secretary Kang’s goal is to follow him.

But lately, he’s been calling only for you… maybe that’s making him anxious.”

Had I really been the only one unaware of this?

I scratched my cheek awkwardly and kept chewing.

The rich taste now felt slightly heavy.

I wrapped a piece in lettuce and ate it before finally speaking.

“Then… what happens to the secretary office?”

“If he takes us, we move with him. If not, we’re reassigned.”

“You already knew?”

“Well… I did.”

At that, the chief poured himself another drink.