Chapter 3: It’s uncomfortable

“The event story is getting a good response. Even better than last time.”

“We put so much effort into it; it would be sad if the response was bad. We also did a much more thorough job of checking the translation than usual.”

Chemical Studio.

Usually, when you think of game companies in Korea, Komet is the first one that comes to mind. Chemical Studio is a subsidiary development company that mainly handles mobile games, and it’s also the company I work for.

“Good work, Han-byeol. Checking each and every typo isn’t easy, is it?”

“I almost went blind. I might have to buy some eye drops.”

Regardless of the game’s popularity or sales, Chemical Studio isn’t that big. The only game we service just passed its 3rd anniversary, and the period since we separated from the main company is even shorter than that.

The development company in charge of the company’s flagship MMORPG game, which earns so much money it’s no exaggeration to say they practically built an entire office building with it, is correspondingly large. But while our game makes a decent amount of money, it’s not to that extent.

Instead, maybe it’s because we’re a group of people who are passionate about games and knowledgeable about subculture, but we have a lot in common, so the relationship between employees is good.

“Come to think of it, you don’t get chewed out by the Team Leader as much these days, do you?”

“Ahahaha…”

…Of course, there are exceptions.

“You’ve been getting especially grilled since your intern days, Han-byeol.”

“I was too clueless back then. It wouldn’t be strange to get yelled at.”

“Hey, who expects an intern to be as good as someone with experience? This isn’t some small, shitty company.”

Someone who always wants perfection. That’s what I think of Cha Hye-won Team Leader.

That’s why I, who am not perfect, have been constantly scolded by her since a long time ago.

“But it’s always just professional criticism. I took it as a message to not make mistakes next time.”

“Wow…you’re a saint. If I got chewed out like that, I would have quit a long time ago.”

But I still don’t have any particular resentment about it. The Team Leader wasn’t the type of boss to dig up every fault, real or imagined, and berate you, even if she was stingy with praise.

The Team Leader’s reprimands were very systematic and her intentions were clear, making the person being scolded understand their mistakes to the core. She’s the kind of person who tells you mechanically why you’re being scolded, which parts to fix, and which parts to improve. That’s Cha Hye-won as a superior.

“You’ve already been chewed out several times. And you’ll be chewed out in the future too. Just yesterday…”

“….Ugh, do you have to keep bringing up painful memories?”

It’s not just me who gets scolded. Is there anyone in our department who hasn’t been chewed out by the Team Leader? Rather, the people who have worked here longer have probably been chewed out even more.

So I can accept it as much as possible. If it’s fair and impartial, and if it’s a scolding done with the sole intention of improving, with private emotions thoroughly excluded.

“Anyway, it’s okay to be scolded professionally. She’s not the type of person to torment others with her emotions.”

“Emotions…does she even feel emotions? That robot-like human. How can someone not laugh or get angry? Has she forgotten how to smile?”

That reminds me…

“Am I that much like a robot?”

“I’m telling you? I’ll never see that human smile, I swear– EEEEEEK!!??”

I missed my chance to speak.

“T, Team Leader!? H, how long have you been…”

“‘Come to think of it, you don’t get chewed out by the Team Leader as much these days, do you?’ I’ve been here since that part.”

I thought, looking at my senior’s face, which had turned as white as if it had been bleached. Poor thing.

“…Hahaha…that’s, that’s, well.”

“Criticism of superiors is acceptable as long as the reason is valid, but I wonder why people who should be finishing work and going home are wasting time in the lounge.”

The Team Leader’s eyes, as cold and mechanical as ever, pierced through the senior, who was trembling like an aspen leaf.

“If you’re so attached to the company that you can’t bear to leave, there’s a good method called overtime–!!”

“I, I’m sorry! I’ll be going now!!”

As those two words, like kryptonite to an office worker, rang in his ears, the senior ran out of the lounge in a panic…

“….Huh?”

Leaving me behind.

“Seo Han-byeol.”

“…Y-yes..?”

You crazy bastard, how could you run away alone when your direct superior is right in front of you?

“Aren’t you going home? If you have extra time…”

“No, I was just about to leave when Chief Park grabbed me…”

So I sold out my senior. I had to get home safely first.

“…Is that so.”

Fortunately, our Team Leader isn’t the kind of superior optimized for small businesses who interferes with your time outside of work, especially after work.

Lunchtime is something we inevitably have to share as superior and subordinate, but not dinner, unless we’re working overtime.

“Then, I’ll head out first, Team Leader.”

“Yes, see you tomorrow.”

In the past, we often had dinner together. That is, back when my relationship with the Team Leader was, at least on the surface, in a somewhat romantic form.

Back then, I was the one who suggested having dinner together first. As human Cha Hye-won and human Seo Han-byeol, not as superior and subordinate.

But that relationship is broken, and there’s no reason for us to have dinner together anymore. We’re not lovers anymore.

If she tries to take away my dinner time by using her position… well, what can I do? I’ll have to follow.

But public and private matters must be strictly separated. That’s the principle she lives by. Cha Hye-won Team Leader.

Therefore, even if she felt like having dinner together, the Team Leader wouldn’t try to force it by wielding her authority as a superior.

“See you tomorrow!”

Well, she’s not the kind of person to even have that kind of thought in the first place.

――

Frost forms.

On the window reflecting the pitch-black night sky, a faint mist spreads like mold.

It’s not yet the weather for frost to form, and no matter how chilly it’s gotten, winter hasn’t arrived yet.

The small, hazy frost obscures the face reflected in the window.

It’s not winter that left that frost behind.

If not winter, who left such a hazy trace on the window?

It must be someone’s breath.

Someone’s exhaled breath clung to the window, leaving a suspicious trace that doesn’t fit the season.

What was contained in that breath?

A child’s prank, or an adult’s sigh?

A detached gaze turns towards the gradually disappearing frost.

The owner of the gaze, the one who exhaled the breath, knows the meaning of that frost.

It is hesitation.

A wishy-washy emotion that they thought they would never harbor in their life.

Unfamiliar.

To the one who exhaled the breath, the unfamiliar emotion of hesitation is irritating and stinging, like a thorn stuck under a fingernail.

A feeling like their throat is slowly being constricted.

That uncomfortable and painful thorn pricks at their heart.

An arm reaches out.

A finger touches the window, the frost that hasn’t completely disappeared yet.

The finger that dotted the hazy frost soon begins to draw something like a brush.

But the finger wanders, unable to find its way.

Without a clear conviction to draw something specific, it simply stirs the shrinking canvas like a child’s scribble.

“….”

Eventually, the frost disappeared.

The finger that tried to draw something stopped moving for a while.

Before hesitation could once again become frost and settle on the window.

The face that exhaled the breath was no longer reflected in the window.

――

…Yes, a text message came in on number 39..34.

I’ve been told I’m an old soul since I was young.

Not only by my friends and parents, but even by the adults around me, like teachers.

Hello, I’m a 20-something office worker who’s just about to shed my newbie status…

My tastes are old-fashioned. I talk like a grandfather.

You should have been born 30 years earlier. I bet you have a radio and cassette tapes at home.

I agonized over sending this story, agonizing and agonizing again. It seems too personal and embarrassing to tell others.

Actually, it’s a little difficult to deny. I know best that my taste is antique-like if you put it nicely, and outdated if you put it badly.

But when I think about it again, aren’t love stories all like that? Personal and embarrassing stories.

These days, who is a 20-something who listens to the radio, and even sends in a story?

So I’m taking the courage to leave this story. To Ji Seon-woo’s Music Box, the only reason I still can’t delete the radio app from my phone…

Where is there one, you ask? Here I am.

How did I become such a grandfather who suits red ginseng candy so well?

…No, am I a grandmother now?

…When the lover I’d been dating for over 2 years suddenly told me to break up.

Still, if there’s an advantage to this outdated taste.

When that lover happens to be a coworker, so I can’t avoid them even if I want to.

Being able to confide in someone who doesn’t know my name or face.

And when that person who dumped me when I was a man starts approaching me, who has become a woman.

I don’t expect a clear answer. No matter how much of a person you are who reads all kinds of stories, in the end, you’re still a person, not Doraemon.

What should I do?

But it’s okay.

Just the fact that someone can listen to my worries is enough for me.

Hmm….from a man to a woman…there’s such a disease…

I think that…

First of all, I think it would be better to go to the hospital and get a more detailed examination. Even to go back to the way you were.

…f*ck.