NLFSD Chapter 74

Chapter 74

Jiwoon managed to keep a poker face until the very end as he returned to his desk. His messenger window was flooded with messages from Assistant Manager Min.

Min Hye‑kyung:

Assistant Lee, what’s with the Team Leader? Is he insane?

Jiwoon:

Yes. Looks like he’s completely lost it.

Min:

So disgusting. What should we do with him.

“Huuuh…”

Jiwoon, who had barely ever cursed another in his life, found even himself gripped with the urge to spit crude words. I hope bad luck sticks to you, bastard. Trip backward and break your nose.

Moments later, a crash echoed from the break room. A shriek followed: “Aaagh!”

“What was that?”

“That sounded like Team Leader Song.”

Staff scrambled towards the source. Jiwoon slipped among them. Inside, Lee Song lay sprawled flat on the tiles, face flushed red, the tip of his sharp nose swollen as though struck.

“Who threw a banana peel on the floor?! Who?! If I catch you—!”

Then Jiwoon recalled: the cafeteria snacks that morning had included bananas. Watching Team Leader scream, two skins in his hand, Jiwoon laughed quietly. Serves you right, pathetic bastard.

Still, the days grew heavy. His chest knotted, unease compounding. Outwardly, he smiled, showing nothing to Taecheon. Inside, he was suffocating.

Song was far pettier and more relentless than he’d imagined. He badgered and needled at every turn: nitpicking reports, twisting words, snapping whenever Jiwoon touched his phone, accusing him of slacking; dumping tasks on him while ignoring assignments elsewhere.

It went beyond abuse — into obsession tinged with harassment.

Should I lodge a grievance with the company committee? Maybe even report him to the disciplinary board? Hell, I could slap on “sexual harassment” and it would stick.

His ploys after all grew from his sleazy “flirting” and unwanted fixation. By rights, Song could be hauled before a gender‑misconduct hearing. But then Taecheon would learn everything, and the thought pained Jiwoon — imagining his worry and anguish.

Better to bide my time, quietly gather evidence, and hope he burns out. I can’t let Taecheon suffer for this.

Thus, another Friday night, he faced piles of last‑minute work dumped one minute before quitting time. The lid blew.

“Team Leader. Every day this week I’ve worked until 10 PM.”

“So?”

“…Then giving tasks this late is unfair—”

“What? Anyone would think you’re the boss here.”

Song scoffed, chin raised. Jiwoon clenched his fists tight. He wanted nothing more than to smash that smug face. Few knew that his punches scored high even on arcade punch machines.

I wish this bastard’s face was that machine right now.

Tonight, more than ever, he loathed overtime. His body was frayed, and worse, he longed for time with Taecheon. Lately even he’d been busy, their lives reduced to sleeping in the same bed and parting mornings apart.

If things went on, Taecheon might notice, investigate their team. Song’s tail would be caught instantly, sure… but rumors could tie Taecheon and Jiwoon together in ways dangerous. That worried him more than the harassment itself.

I must solve this alone. I’m tough enough.

“Team Leader. As I said, I’ve done overtime all week. According to company policy, I’ve already exceeded the maximum. Any order beyond this is practically asking me to work unpaid.”

His flat tone cut sharp across the office. Song slammed the desk with a bang.

“Unpaid?! Why drag money into this!”

The raised voice silenced the entire room. Assistant Manager Min shot to her feet.

“Team Leader, Assistant Lee’s been unwell all day. He looks exhausted.”

Startled at being openly checked, Song faltered. To others, he might look extreme.

“Hm. Be that as it may, young people need grit.”

“That’s too much. He skipped even lunch today,” added Senior Manager Kim.

The oldest in the unit weighed in, and Song flinched again. Alienating all subordinates for one Omega wasn’t wise.

“What if he collapses? He hardly looks sturdy,” Min pressed, voice firm.

Realizing if Jiwoon fainted, medical claims could trace to him, Song begrudged a retreat.

“Fine. Call it a night today.”

Feigning mercy, he added, “But I won’t be so lenient next week.”

Then he stalked out. Jiwoon barely restrained the urge to hurl a potted plant at his retreating head.

“Assistant Min, Manager Kim… thank you. I hope you don’t catch flak because of me.”

“Don’t worry. Seeing you treated like that, of course we’d speak up.”

Kim patted his shoulder warmly.

But Min looked closer, frowning.

“You should honestly see a doctor. You look pale. Breaking out in cold sweats.”

“Ah, it’s just chilly—”

“Heating’s perfect here. Something’s wrong. Have it checked this weekend.”

“…Yes, thank you.”

Jiwoon bowed gratefully, slipping out. 6:10 PM — practically early for once.

Taecheon said he was free tonight. Thank God. We’ll relax over dinner, then tomorrow we head out for the next program.

They had registered for Saturday’s “forest trekking” in Mt. Chukryeong with a nature guide — a 6‑hour course, leaving 6 more hours after that to fulfill the 20 required for the reconciliation program.

Jiwoon had hoped for paragliding, something thrilling with Taecheon, but missed the deadline. Hiking in the woods, breathing phytoncides for healing, might suit him better anyway.

Already he felt excited. What began as a sham “marriage” to annul now carried them toward actual unity — the finish line visible.

Humming, he headed down to the garage when his phone buzzed.

ㅌㅊC:

Sorry, have to leave late. Meeting running long.

Oh… so no commute together.

Slightly disappointed, Jiwoon turned it positive. If he reached home first, he could have dinner waiting.

Alright. I’ll go on ahead — don’t eat on the way.

ㅌㅊC:

Understood.

Ha. Taecheon gets anxious if I enter the kitchen at all, but I can handle it! Just reheating side‑dishes and setting rice is still a dinner I made.

Cheered, Jiwoon rushed for his bus. Friday rush hour made him late, but there was still time before Taecheon. Humming, he raided the fridge for dinner prep.

Footnotes:

 

1. Phytoncides (피톤치드) – Natural antimicrobial compounds released by trees, believed in Korea (and Japan) to offer stress relief and “forest healing.”