We found an office.
Up until now, I'd been too stuck on the idea of what an "office" was supposed to be, which was why nothing suitable had shown up.
But the moment I broke free from that mindset, I found the perfect place almost immediately.
Fourth floor of a business-use building in Gangnam.
There was a small studio there that had previously been used as an idol practice room.
A dance practice room, a vocal practice room, a lounge, and even a shower room. Perfect soundproofing and security came as a bonus. It satisfied almost every condition Yoo Eunha and Hwang Juyeon had demanded.
A place like this for a ₩40 million deposit and ₩3 million monthly rent. That was cheap.
After days of pounding the pavement, I was so happy to finally find something suitable that I stamped the contract without hesitation.
"So? What do you think, Deputy Director Yoo?"
I invited Yoo Eunha over to show off the new office—and also because I knew her meticulous personality would catch problems I might miss.
True to form, she showed up loyally after hearing I'd found a building to use as our office, and began inspecting every corner of the studio with her usual sharp gaze.
"So you're planning to use the dance practice room as the main workspace?"
"Yeah. We'll need to replace the flooring and wall materials. And remove the full-length mirrors."
"Can't we use it as-is?"
"The flooring's elastic. If desks press down on it for too long, it'll deform."
"I see."
She crouched down and tapped the floor lightly. A clear sound echoed.
This dance room was the largest space in the studio. We planned to place desks here and use it as our main work area.
"Then the vocal practice room will be the nap room?"
"Right. It was originally designed for vocal training, so the soundproofing is solid. And if we add blackout curtains, it'll be pitch-dark even during the day."
"The soundproofing really is perfect. You could do anything in there and no one would know."
"…Huh?"
Anything?
What exactly was she planning to do in the nap room besides sleeping?
Wait. Don't tell me—
"…Huh."
"You'll keep the rest as is?"
"Should be fine. The lounge and meeting room are clean enough. The shower room and restroom are a bit questionable, though—we should probably replace them."
"The restroom's a bit small, but the fact that men's and women's restrooms are separate already feels like a blessing. Still, we should change the toilets."
I could live comfortably in most environments, which made it hard for me to decide what needed replacing and what didn't. If I decided based on my standards, complaints were bound to pop up later.
That's why asking Yoo Eunha's opinion was the right call. She was someone I trusted completely when it came to these details.
"What about everything else? I want your honest opinion. I'll reflect it as much as possible."
"The sofa should be replaced. Everything else should be fine with a thorough cleaning."
"Mmhmm. And?"
"I don't think we need to remove the wall mirrors. Wouldn't it be cheaper to cover them with plywood and paint over it?"
"Ohhh. As expected of you, Deputy Director Yoo. You really check things thoroughly."
She went on to carefully point out what we needed, what to remove, and what to keep.
Listening quietly, I thought: at this point, wouldn't it be better to just leave everything to her?
"On that note, Deputy Director Yoo… can I ask you for a favor?"
"What kind of favor?"
"The remodeling and interior work—could you handle placing the orders? I'm terrible at this stuff. Of course, I'll cover all the construction and material costs."
"That's a bit much. Asking someone who still has a job to do all that."
"Sorry. But if you just place the orders, I'll handle directing things here."
"For free?"
"Huh? Ah—no, of course not. This counts as work, so I'll pay you."
"That's not what I meant."
She stepped closer.
I unconsciously stepped back.
"D-Deputy Director Yoo?"
"Shouldn't we test how good the nap room's soundproofing really is?"
She narrowed her eyes and looked up at me.
Her lips—painted red today—looked especially seductive.
"…I didn't know you were this kind of person. Planning something like that in a sacred office."
"Hehe. Then why don't you discipline me?"
She grabbed my tie and moved even closer, deliberately provocative.
"I might not forgive you even if you cry like last time."
"Hah…"
At my warning, she let out a heated sigh.
Just what kind of thoughts were running through that sharp mind of hers right now?
"Kang Suhyeok, Director…"
Our gazes intertwined.
Our arms were about to wrap around each other when—
Knock knock knock.
We jumped apart at the sudden knock.
Careless.
We'd just signed the contract—anyone could show up. This wasn't the situation for something like this.
I almost got swept away by the mood. Let's reflect.
"Haa… that was nice though…"
Yoo Eunha licked her lips regretfully.
I straightened my clothes and looked toward the studio door.
"Yes—who is it?"
A female student stood outside.
"Um, I used to practice here. I left some of my things inside… could I pick them up?"
She had her hair neatly tied in a ponytail. Tall, pretty, with long limbs—she looked almost like a celebrity.
…Wait. She used this practice room? Then was she actually an entertainer?
"Oh, yes. Go ahead."
"Thank you."
She bowed politely and stepped inside.
Yoo Eunha shot me an annoyed look—clearly displeased that our moment had been interrupted.
"Deputy Director Yoo. Relax your eyes."
"These are my normal eyes."
Her cold reply made me shrink a little.
"They said the agency that used this studio went bankrupt. Then is she an idol?"
"Probably a trainee."
"A trainee?"
"An idol trainee. If the agency went under, she probably never debuted."
"That happens?"
"All the time. K-pop looks glamorous, but beneath it are hundreds—thousands—of trainees who never debut and end up quitting."
"…Hmm."
I had no interest in the entertainment industry. I barely knew a few female idols from my time in the army. I'd always assumed entertainers all made good money and lived well.
"They train for years before debuting, right? If the agency collapsed, all that effort went to waste."
"That's how it goes."
Even being that pretty didn't guarantee debut.
If anyone could do it, the title "idol" wouldn't mean anything.
After a moment, the girl came back out with a small paper bag in her hand. She bowed again.
"…Thank you. I'll be going now."
"Wait a moment."
I stopped her.
"I'm this kind of person."
"…Pardon?"
I took out a business card and handed it to her.
It was my new card—Director of Strategic Planning, IntelliOn.
"I invest in talented people and companies. Right now, I'm investing in a company called IntelliOn. If you ever need anything, feel free to contact me."
"Ah… okay."
She nodded indifferently and left.
At least she didn't crumple the card in front of me.
"…Director? What was that just now?"
Yoo Eunha stared at me intensely.
"Hmm? Ah—felt like fate, you know."
"Not because she was pretty?"
"Well… yeah, that too. I was honestly surprised. She's really pretty."
"What did you just say?!"
She snapped.
That was my mistake. She usually wasn't this loud.
"Hey, don't get so mad. Personally, I like your type more."
"Don't try to gloss over it like that."
She was unusually aggressive today.
Alright. Time to survive.
I decided to be honest.
"From the start, something felt strange. The odd conditions you and Manager Hwang set. The fact that no suitable office showed up. And then, of all things, we ended up with an idol practice room."
"…And?"
"I don't believe in coincidence. Choosing a failed idol practice room as our office wasn't random. Meeting that trainee today wasn't either."
"…So that's why you gave her your card?"
"It felt like everything led to that moment. Just like when I discovered IntelliOn."
My first meeting with IntelliOn had been like that too—too many coincidences stacked together to dismiss as chance.
Right after that, the 'AI-based marketing utilization' task dropped onto my desk. It all felt orchestrated.
This felt the same.
"So I showed at least a minimum of sincerity. If there's a connection, she'll contact me. If not, that's fine too."
By the time I finished explaining, Yoo Eunha's sharp edge had softened considerably.
"Haa…"
She let out a long sigh.
"Well… that is you, Director. I misunderstood. You're not Park, after all."
"…What? Park?"
Now it was my turn to get angry.
"You're comparing me to that guy?"
She shook her head tiredly.
"I've been stressed being tied to him for so long. That's probably why you overlapped in my head for a moment."
That was serious.
If I reminded her of him, her stress level had to be critical.
"By the way—how's it going on your end? Are they letting you go quietly?"
"Almost done. HR's in a tough spot. Honestly, this all started when they fired you. They tried to bury it, and that's why it's spiraled this far."
"Hm."
"There's no way they'll admit to sexual harassment now. That would make everything their responsibility."
Park must've pulled strings again. Incompetent, yet a master of office politics.
There were probably several people higher up connected to him.
Cover him, cut me loose—a terrible move.
"Director."
"Yeah?"
She looked at me with curious eyes.
"How do you feel? Don't you feel satisfied watching this happen?"
The HR team tried to bury the problem by firing me—but it kept leaking out, stinking worse each time.
Even if they buried it again now, it would explode even bigger later.
They should've cut out the rot early—but people obsessed with self-preservation never make that call.
"I don't know. HR's just full of salaried workers like us. Thinking about how hard they're scrambling… I just feel a bit sorry."
"Really? Thinking about how they abused performance reviews, I feel refreshed."
"Haha."
HR is the natural enemy of diligent employees—especially someone like Yoo Eunha.
"That's why, Director, you need to help me relieve my stress!"
She grabbed my hand boldly.
Her face was red with embarrassment despite her aggressive action.
I smiled.
"If that's the case, I have no choice. Employee welfare is important."
She pulled me into the nap room.
For the record—
The nap room's soundproofing was exactly as perfect as expected.