NLFSD Chapter 91

Chapter 91

Perhaps overwhelmed by guilt, Team Leader Song’s hands and feet shook as he walked — his stride lacking all his usual arrogance. The staff, long familiar with his misdeeds, clicked their tongues, expecting that he would finally be crushed.

While all eyes were fixed on the Director’s office, Jiwoon slipped quickly back to his desk. The moment he sat down, Deputy Min and Manager Kim rushed over with other teammates, surrounding him.

“What’s going on, Assistant Lee?”

“We were worried when you suddenly ran off! Are you… back now?”

“Is this reinstatement? You’re reinstated, right?”

Questions bombarded him. Jiwoon gave a sheepish smile.

“Yes. I’m back. Honestly, I just lost my temper back then… It wasn’t very adult of me. I apologize.”

Bowing his head, he felt Deputy Min pat his shoulder.

“Good. You made the right choice. If someone had to leave, it should’ve been Team Leader Song — not you.”

It was true Song wasn’t the only reason Jiwoon had resigned, but he was certainly the prime source of his stress. The man had been creepy and obsessed, trailing after him endlessly.

Now that the “terminal diagnosis” had proven mere misdiagnosis, and since Jiwoon was too ambitious to abandon his work, Song was a problem he’d have to overcome sooner or later.

If needed, I’ll take him straight to the ethics committee myself. If it comes to a disciplinary vote, so be it. I’ll face him openly, no hiding — not even from Taecheon.

Clenching his fist under the desk, Jiwoon vowed for a fair fight.

Meanwhile, inside the Director’s office, Song was sweating bullets.

“Explain this report. I don’t care if you refute, confess, or justify — but react.”

With practiced coldness, Seo Taecheon tossed a file across the table.

Song’s trembling hands picked it up. The title read: Internal Investigation into Anonymous Reports of Harassment and Sexual Misconduct.

Inside was a damning record: every time he’d made unwelcome advances on Jiwoon, invited him for “tea” with ulterior motives, or muttered inappropriate compliments about his appearance. On the professional front, even more detail: unfair work assignments, punitive orders, misuse of authority. Evidence overflowed; the narrative was clear — Song harassed Jiwoon out of personal obsession.

Halfway through, Song shut the file, dropping his head. The room’s atmosphere was too heavy. And the Director’s gaze bored into him — sculpted face frozen cold, now radiating menace so sharp it hurt to breathe.

“Sir, wait, if I could just explain—”

“Not a confession. Not a denial. Excuses?”

“N‑no, I just… there were circumstances—”

“Circumstances? You don’t harass subordinates and issue illegal orders, no matter your ‘circumstances.’ I refuse to employ someone so ill‑trained.”

“…S‑sir?”

The implication of firing made Song shiver violently.

“Until further notice, you are suspended.”

“D‑Director!”

“Why are you still here? Get out.”

“Y‑yes! At once.”

Panicked, he scurried away, careful not to let the door bang shut behind him.

“…What do I do…” he groaned, clutching his head as he slunk back into the office floor.

Immediately, he spotted Jiwoon chatting with Deputy Min. Rage rose — was it his doing? He glared, but Jiwoon struck first.

“Hello, Team Leader.”

The firm, ringing greeting made their eyes lock.

“A‑ah… y‑yes.”

Something about Jiwoon’s dignity — his upright stare — made Song shrink, feeling battered twice over: once by Seo Taecheon, again by Jiwoon.

Jiwoon glanced at the Director’s office door. Did Taecheon find out about all this on his own?

It seemed plausible. The man had the power, and though Jiwoon hadn’t wanted to burden him, he may have secretly investigated.

I’ll poke gently later. Maybe he didn’t, but… I have to know.

Oblivious that he already had the strongest protector in the entire company, Jiwoon headed to the break room.

Pouring himself hot water, he caught a packet of instant coffee in hand, then frowned. I can’t. No caffeine, not while pregnant.

“…I’ll take citron tea instead.”

Sipping the tart‑sweet drink, he returned to his seat. Song was still absent, now stuck in further talks with the department head. Everyone was aware, silently alert; whispers of “discipline” and “complaints” floated around.

Could this be about me…?

Jiwoon’s eyes slid toward the Director’s office just as the door opened. Out walked Secretary Kim Minji alongside Seo Taecheon himself. Immediately, the department head and Team Leader Song sprang up to bow. Jiwoon, caught mid‑movement, awkwardly dipped his head.

But then — his eyes met Taecheon’s for a heartbeat. The Director’s lips curved, subtle but undeniable.

Jiwoon’s chest soared. My husband — handsome, capable, endlessly tender. The honor of being in an office romance with you!

Unable to control his grin, his lips twitched upward. Just then, Deputy Min messaged him.

Min: I think something’s happening with Team Leader Song.

Yes. Seems that way. I don’t know details…

Min: My gut tells me. He’s on the Director’s blacklist now.

If it relates to me, all the better, Jiwoon thought seriously. I refuse to work another day under him.

But more than Song weighed on his mind.

With the new welfare policies, anyone whose pregnancy was confirmed could immediately apply maternity leave. Jiwoon, too, planned prenatal leave eventually. His belly wasn’t yet showing, and work was still comfortable, but prudence suggested taking leave before delivery.

The issue? Officially, Jiwoon was listed as single. To put in a maternity leave request would raise scandalous gossip: an unmarried Omega, pregnant? The rumor mills would salivate. Jiwoon wasn’t easily cowed, but his partner was the Director. It could complicate his position.

Publicly declaring their marriage would solve it, but Jiwoon feared causing waves for Taecheon. Next spring’s wedding would reveal everything anyway. Until then, it was safest to keep work and private life separate.

For now, I’ll keep working as long as I reasonably can.

With two days’ absence to make up, Jiwoon blazed through tasks. For the time being, peace followed.

Song never did approach him again privately, often disappearing to face questioning elsewhere. Word spread openly: he had been referred to the Ethics Committee.

Without interference, Jiwoon’s days grew simpler, steadier. Morning wake‑up kisses with Taecheon, hearty breakfasts cooked by him, then off to a quiet office where Song’s presence dwindled.

Jiwoon: Honey, cheer up at work today.

Taecheon: You too, darling.

On company messenger, they traded “cringe‑worthy” messages. Jiwoon kept the chat window tiny, grinning each time a reply popped in.

Then one afternoon, the Ethics Committee convened — and summoned Jiwoon himself. As the victim, they requested his verification of events. Jiwoon decided to attend proudly, head held high.

Footnotes:

 

1. Uja‑cha (유자차 / yuzu tea): Citrus tea concentrate; widely considered caffeine‑free and given as a substitute for coffee, especially for pregnant women.