An Unfamiliar Kindness

“I worked in HR, so all I really learned was how to remember people.

I was doing fine in the HR Innovation Office when the chairman called me in one day.

‘Chief Jeon, stay by the new executive director and help him learn about people.’

That’s all he said, and I came here.

He told me to stick by his side and introduce him to everyone.

When it’s done, I’ll go back. Or maybe not—I don’t have a choice in that.

By now, he’s already gone through most of the key figures, and since he understands most of the work, once he learns how to oversee affiliates broadly, he’ll move up.

He could even go and observe himself.

Some others jump into hands-on work, but the director seems to prefer just looking around.

Anyway, each affiliate is already filled with relatives as executives, and the governance structure is clean.”

“I didn’t really know.

I just thought the secretary office moved according to whatever the director did…”

I hadn’t realized it was such a transitional role.

Even as I trailed off, the chief smiled.

“We know, but you were suddenly brought in, so it makes sense you didn’t.

One day, the director said he’d brought in a staff member to help outside his office, and there you were, sitting there with that expression—like a company announcer.”

“I was just… yes.”

“Even with Nara and Kang Seok-hoon, both well-educated, the director seems to favor you.

Maybe because you’re from the same university.”

“Well…”

It wasn’t quite that simple.

We only shared the same university name, not even the same department.

And explaining that his favor wasn’t about that at all was difficult.

I fidgeted with my ear awkwardly, and perhaps misunderstanding, the chief continued.

“Even if that’s not the case, the person closest to him always has the most influence.

The chairman lived stubbornly his whole life, but in the end, he listens most to his wife, who stayed by his side.

The one who speaks more often and shows their face more—that’s the strongest position.

Do you know Kangil?

There’s a line tied to the chairman’s mistress there.

She doesn’t even hold a position, but since he listens to her so much, a whole internal line formed.

People whisper about it.”

At that moment, it felt as if alcohol spread through my body all at once, flushing me.

Seeing my stunned expression, the chief waved his hand quickly.

“No, no—that’s not what I meant.

It’s just an example.

You’re often by the director’s side.

Naturally, he’ll end up listening to you more.”

“Ah…”

“Why so surprised?”

At my reaction, he gestured with his glass.

We clinked naturally.

I gripped the glass tightly to steady my trembling fingers and matched his timing.

That was all.

I set the glass down and sat still, unsure where to place my hands.

The chief’s narrow eyes lingered on my fingers for a moment before drifting away.

Another round of meat finished cooking.

Thankfully, the conversation shifted back to work.

This time, it was about his views on what makes a good secretary.

Normally, I might have found it dull, but compared to before, it was a relief.

“And as far as secretarial work goes, you’re doing well.”

“I still have a lot to improve.”

“No. Do you know the most common mistake secretaries make?”

“I’m not sure.”

“They start thinking they hold their boss’s authority.

It really happens.

At first, they’re careful, but later, a CEO’s secretary might start throwing their weight around toward a director’s secretary.

But it’s understandable.

For example, if someone wants to meet the director, they’ll go through you, right?

Say there are four appointment requests—you prioritize them and sometimes reject some altogether.

Since others know that, they treat you with respect.”

“But… that’s not about them trying to impress me.”

“Exactly. And you understand that.

Seok-hoon seems a bit confused about it lately.

That’s something he needs to be careful about.”

The conversation became more casual after that, blending into everyday workplace talk.

It helped ease my tension.

While checking my phone, I received a message from an unsaved number.

The reason I hadn’t saved it was simple—I didn’t know what to name it.

But I had memorized the number, so it wasn’t an issue.

While the chief stepped away to take a call, I typed a reply.

「It should be ending soon.」

「What are you talking about for so long?」

It was strange.

The chief had made plans first, yet it felt like the director was waiting for me.

It wasn’t exactly comfortable.

Thinking back, the conversation had been entirely about the director anyway.

Advice about serving him well, and hints about why Secretary Kang was acting the way he was.

Since there was nothing particularly negative, I replied honestly.

「It’s about you.」

「If you’re curious about something, ask me directly.」

What was I curious about?

Why he told me to call him afterward.

Why he acted the way he did.

And… what he thought of me.

Just as I was about to ask if he had left work, the chief returned, jacket slung over his shoulder.

“It’s gotten cold.”

“It really feels like winter’s coming.”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“No, it’s fine. You’ll be driving, right?”

“I’ll call a driver.”

“Please go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Get home safely.”

I wanted to drive him home myself, but I simply bowed politely instead.

I watched him walk back toward the company parking area until he disappeared around the corner.

Only then did I press the call button.

I hadn’t spoken to the director on the phone often, so even that small action made my heart race.

Before the ringing could finish, his voice came through.

—Are you done.

“Yes. Did you need something?”

—Where are you.

“I’m behind the company.”

—Send me your location.

The call ended there.

I couldn’t just send the middle of an alley, so I walked to a nearby building and sent its address.

What was this?

Was I about to be dragged into overtime?

Probably not.

Even though we met once a week, there was an unspoken understanding between us—that it would at least be Friday.

Leaning against the wall, it happened suddenly.

A wave of nausea rose abruptly.

It stopped just before reaching my throat.

Pressing my stomach, I took a deep breath.

Cold sweat surfaced and cooled quickly in the night air.

Was the meat undercooked?

I hadn’t even drunk much.

My nose tingled slightly.

There was an unpleasant smell—no, not exactly unpleasant, but unfamiliar and unsettling.

Looking around, I spotted a pile of food waste nearby.

Frowning, I moved toward the main road, and the feeling eased a little.

Traffic had loosened, but the road behind the company was still only four lanes wide.

Illegal parking lined the sidewalks.

Among the slow-moving cars, one stood out.

Even in black, its sheen was different—deep and polished.

As it approached, I finally recognized the license plate.

The rear window lowered.

The director gestured.

“Get in.”

“Yes.”

Since he told me to, I got in.

Traffic was building up behind us anyway.

It was one of those long sedans with a partition between front and back.

The spacious interior felt like a lounge.

There was a table beneath the partition and even a built-in refrigerator below.

I had ridden in it once before.

The table held only his phone and some documents.

Closing his tablet, he leaned slightly toward me.

A faint scent of cologne brushed past.

“You must’ve had grilled meat.”

It seemed the smell clinging to me was from the pork belly place.

“The chief recommended it.”

“What did you eat?”

“Director, have you ever…”

“Hmm?”

“Had frozen pork belly?”

“I didn’t grow up that sheltered.”

Honestly, I had assumed he hadn’t.

I’d heard that even vegetables for the chairman were once flown in daily.

Would someone raised like that have eaten something like frozen pork belly?

That felt like an entirely different world.

The car moved smoothly, almost imperceptibly.

He placed his tablet on the table and asked,

“Isn’t it all the same?”

“The taste is a bit different.

Thin slices of frozen pork grilled on foil.”

“I’d have to try it to know.”

His tone suggested he truly didn’t know.

That only confirmed my suspicion.

Then, naturally, I asked,

“Have you eaten?”

“I had somewhere to show my face briefly.

Seems like you had the better meal.”

“It’s more of a trend.

Ever since fresh pork became easier to get, people avoided it.”

“Still. Meals are about the atmosphere.”

So it had been work again.

Then maybe wherever we were heading now was also work-related.

What time would I get off?

The car turned down a familiar road.

Not toward his home or any affiliate—but toward mine.

As it followed a bus heading toward my apartment, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Director.”

“Yes?”

“May I ask where we’re going?”

He tapped the window lightly, as if surprised I hadn’t realized.

“Isn’t this where you live?”

“Yes.”

“Why else would we be here?”

“Is it… because of me?”

“I came to drop you off. Of course it’s because of you.”

“Ah…”

I understood—and yet didn’t.

Carefully choosing my words, I said,

“I thought we might be going to another affiliate, like last time.”

“You’ve finished work, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but… since you came personally, I assumed it was work.”

“You said you weren’t feeling well.”

“Pardon?”

“You said you were going for a check-up.”

“It’s nothing serious.

And it’s definitely not because of you.

My sister just insisted.”

“I see.”

With that, his attention to my health faded.