Everyone's mouths dropped open in perfect synchronized horror—like a row of shocked emojis come to life.
Even the office printer paused mid-paper to process what just happened.
MR JEON FAINTED.
Like a tragic nobleman in a period drama.
He flung himself backward with the grace of a Shakespearean actor who just discovered his kingdom has fallen.
Right on his back. Arms splayed. Tie flopping. Dignity evaporated.
The entire room gasped in 4D surround sound.
People dropped their coffee.
Someone screamed.
The intern clutched their pearls.
Even the vending machine stopped humming for dramatic effect.
"MR. JEON!!!" I shrieked, lunging forward like a discount K-drama heroine.
I stretched my arms, tried to dive, slow-motion style, ready to catch him like a princess catching her prince.
Thud.
Too fast.
He fell faster than my GPA in sophomore year.
Catch him tomorrow, Mira.
Right now? He's already kissing the carpet like it owes him money.
I stared at his unconscious form.
