NLFSD Chapter 92

Chapter 92

The committee had arranged the session without Team Leader Song present. They showed Jiwoon the audio recordings, files, and circumstantial evidence that anonymous tipsters had provided. What they contained was undeniable proof of harassment.

“Assistant Lee Jiwoon. Can you confirm that all of this was committed by Team Leader Song Ho‑jong?”

“Yes. He gave me unfair work orders and sexually harassed me.”

“So, all of this is true.”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

On the decision of the Ethics Committee, Song was expelled from the company. Right to the end, he had puffed out his chest, claiming he left “of his own will.” But the story had already spread far and wide across the industry. His chances of re‑employment in similar firms were slim at best.

Whether he managed to find another job or not, Jiwoon hardly cared. In truth, he wished nothing more than for Song to keep tripping, breaking his nose every time he tried to rise again, never free of hospital beds.

The department head explained that assigning a permanent replacement would take time. Until then, all authorizations would go through him, and the rest of the team split Song’s abandoned workload. Together, they pressed on, and the days passed quickly.

“Funny, isn’t it? With one man gone, the whole atmosphere is lighter,” Deputy Min remarked brightly. She had been smiling far more these days.

“I know. Honestly… work feels easier.” Jiwoon agreed wholeheartedly. It was like taking a digestive after a heavy meal — suddenly, the work flowed smooth. It wasn’t the job itself he’d hated before. It had been the person.

“Jiwoon, want to grab a coffee with me up at the café?”

“Oh, sure.”

They went up together to the rooftop cafeteria. It was late December, a chill in the air. The café was decorated in a full Christmas motif, carols piping warmly over the speakers.

“I’m going with Americano. You?”

“I’ll take herbal tea.”

“That’s a change! You practically lived on coffee.”

“Health reasons. I’m cutting back.”

“Alright then — herbal tea it is. My treat.”

Soon their drinks arrived. They sat together at the window seats, where the view was best. As Jiwoon pushed the free cookies toward Min, he caught odd whispers on the wind. Murmurs, hushed but glancing. He turned.

At another table, a group of coworkers peeked at him, whispering amongst themselves.

“Isn’t he an Omega?”

“Yeah. Remember? He was on that Jeju ‘mate‑matching’ reality show. You forgot?”

“And didn’t he throw himself at the Director back then?”

“Hah, talk about a life‑flip jackpot.”

What is this? They’re talking about me.

Though far, the tone was unmistakably unkind. Meeting his eyes, they quickly turned away, feigning oblivion — then whispered again as they exited, even giving him head‑to‑toe onceovers.

What are these stares? Am I some public spectacle now?

No time to resolve his thoughts; another group entered and also glanced at him. A few blinked in surprise, others smirked as though watching gossip in the flesh. That’s him? The guy from the rumor?

So there’s a bad rumor about me making rounds.

Jiwoon kept quiet, though his expression darkened. Beside him, Deputy Min gently leaned in.

“Hey, Jiwoon.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“…Strange rumors started yesterday.”

“Rumors? About me?”

“Yes. About you.”

She checked that adjacent tables were empty, then lowered her voice.

“Tell me honestly. What’s your relationship with the Director?”

“…Excuse me?”

The word Director made Jiwoon flinch. He hadn’t expected her to strike so directly.

“What d‑do you mean? Just employee to boss.”

“No, not that. Let me be clear. I’ve figured it out.”

Her tone was serious. Jiwoon’s eyes went wide.

“You… knew?”

“Yes. I’m sharp about these things.”

“So then…”

“I suspected. But when you stormed out threatening to quit, the way the Director panicked… then I knew. I swore I only ever told one close colleague. I never spread it further.”

“…I see.”

It made sense. She sat close enough, observant enough, to notice what others could not.

“But it isn’t just me. More and more staff are catching on.”

“…Really?”

“Yes. That’s what everyone’s whispering now: that you and the Director are getting married.”

Choke. Jiwoon coughed on his tea. He wiped his mouth with the napkin Min handed him.

“For real?”

“Yes. My guess — the reservations team. Someone saw you two scouting wedding venues. Rumor’s all over now.”

“Ahh…”

It made sense. In autumn, he and Taecheon had toured hotels, taste‑tested menus, scouted outdoor wedding gardens. Word must’ve slipped then.

“The real issue is… the gossip has an ugly spin. About you.”

Deputy Min didn’t spell it out, but Jiwoon understood. Ordinary Assistant marrying the Director? Of course the rumor‑mill would paint him as the seducer, conniver, gold‑digger.

For a heartbeat it was infuriating. But Jiwoon steadied himself. To Min — who had looked after him since entry — he could speak honestly.

“…Actually. We already did.”

“…What?”

“We’re not engaged, we’re already married.”

“…You’re serious?”

Now it was Min’s turn to choke.

“But — rumors just say you will marry. Now you’re saying you already did?”

“Yes. To tell the truth: we did earlier this year. Originally, we even planned to divorce. But both of us changed our minds. We decided to stay married.”

“…Good heavens.”

“Yes. And the ‘spring wedding’ being rumored is true too. He’s been arranging it.”

Min sat gaping, caught between disbelief and awe. A rank‑and‑file employee, secretly wedded to the Director. With a near‑divorce along the way. Drama fit for primetime.

“…And one more thing. Remember how I declined coffee? It was deliberate. I’m pregnant.”

“…What?!”

Min almost tipped back in her chair. This couple was leagues ahead of her assumptions.

“You should’ve told me! I had you drafting reports like nothing! Even this morning—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable yet.”

“…I’m actually shaking. My heart.”

Jiwoon laughed fully this time.

“Yes. Even for me, explaining it sounds like a novel.”

Looking to his warm smile, Min added quietly:

“Since you admitted that… confession on my part too. I was the one who reported Song.”

“…What?”

Jiwoon gaped. The Ethics Committee had never revealed who the whistleblower was. Now the truth was before him: the person silently gathering evidence, standing by him… was Min.

“I couldn’t openly confront him, but I could see your suffering. I collected what I could, and sent it to Secretary Kim Min‑ji in the office.”

“…So that’s how…”

Jiwoon’s nose stung. His chest filled — not with isolation, but warmth. I wasn’t alone after all.