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Miso had never been more certain of two things in her life:
1. She would not survive the workweek without coffee.
2. She was never drinking again.
Her head still throbbed faintly as she stepped into Sungjin Marketing's gleaming lobby. Everything looked… expensive. The kind of expensive where even the potted plants probably had a personal assistant.
The receptionist gave her a polite smile. "You're the new intern for the Strategic Department?"
"Yes!" Miso replied, trying to sound bright and capable despite wanting to curl into a ball on the marble floor.
"Please go to the 12th floor. You'll be meeting the department head first."
Ah. The department head. The all-powerful figure who would decide her workload, sign her evaluations, and possibly hold her future career in the palm of their hand.
Miso straightened her posture. She could do this. She'd survived worse—like that time she wore two different shoes to a group presentation.
She stepped into the elevator and hit "12."
Okay, Miso, you're starting fresh. Whatever happened at the bar stays at the bar. It was just a random stranger you'll never—
The elevator dinged.
The glass doors to the department head's office were open, revealing a woman sitting behind a massive desk. She was reading a file, brows furrowed in concentration, pen tapping against her lips.
A woman in a black suit.
A woman with a loose bun, elegant posture, and an air of authority that made Miso's stomach drop.
No. No way. No freaking way.
Yumi Kang looked up.
Her pen froze. Her eyes locked on Miso. The corner of her mouth twitched—whether in surprise, amusement, or sheer horror, Miso couldn't tell.
For three eternal seconds, neither of them said anything. The sound of the office printers outside seemed deafening.
Finally, Yumi set the pen down. "Miss Han… Miso, was it?"
Miso nodded, legs made of jelly. "Y-Yes. That's me."
Yumi's gaze was unreadable. "Welcome to Sungjin Marketing."
Miso forced a smile that felt like it might crack her face. "T-Thank you, Ms. Kang."
"Have a seat."
Miso obeyed, gripping her notebook like it might shield her from the memory of Yumi's lips on hers.
Yumi leaned back in her chair, looking maddeningly composed. "So. I hear you'll be with us for the next three months."
"Yes, ma'am."
Her voice was steady, but inside her brain was screaming: Three months? THREE MONTHS?! I can't even make eye contact for three seconds!
"I expect professionalism from my interns," Yumi continued. "No tardiness, no missed deadlines… and no distractions."
The word distractions hung in the air like a loaded gun.
Miso swallowed. "Of course, ma'am."
Yumi's lips quirked slightly. "Good."
She handed Miso a stack of orientation papers, their fingers brushing. Miso jerked her hand back like she'd touched a live wire.
The meeting ended without incident—if you didn't count the awkward way Miso half-bowed, half-fled the room.
---
Two Hours Later
Her assigned desk was close enough to Yumi's office that she could see the glass door whenever it opened. Unfortunately, that also meant Yumi could see her.
Every time Miso glanced up, Yumi was either on a call, reviewing documents… or sipping coffee with infuriating elegance.
And every time Miso's gaze lingered a second too long, she felt her ears heating up.
"Hey," whispered a fellow intern named Jisoo, sliding into the seat beside her. "You okay? You look… red."
"I'm fine," Miso lied, shuffling papers. "Just… overwhelmed by all the corporate… uh… fonts."
Jisoo raised an eyebrow but didn't pry.
---
Lunch Break Disaster
By noon, Miso decided she would eat in the break room, far away from Yumi's gravitational pull. She sat with Jisoo and another coworker, pretending to care about their heated debate over which convenience store had the best kimbap.
And then Yumi walked in.
Miso froze mid-bite, nearly choking on rice. Yumi scanned the room, her eyes inevitably landing on her.
"Miss Han," Yumi said smoothly, "could you come to my office after lunch? We need to discuss the orientation schedule."
Miso nodded quickly, trying to ignore the knowing look Jisoo shot her.
---
The Office Talk
Miso knocked timidly. "You wanted to see me?"
Yumi gestured for her to close the door. "Yes. Sit."
She slid a printed schedule across the desk. "These are your assigned projects. But I wanted to make one thing clear, Miss Han."
Miso's heart stuttered. "Yes?"
Yumi folded her hands. "What happened the other night… stays between us. This is a professional environment. Agreed?"
Miso nodded so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "Agreed. Absolutely. 100%."
Yumi's lips curved into that faint, unreadable smile again. "Good. Now get to work, intern."
---
End of the Day
Miso packed her things, relieved to escape without further embarrassment. But as she passed Yumi's office, Yumi called out casually:
"Oh, Miss Han?"
Miso turned.
"Try not to look so guilty all the time," Yumi said, amusement flickering in her eyes. "People might start to think you've done something scandalous."
Miso opened her mouth to protest, but Yumi was already back to her paperwork.
---
On the subway home, Miso groaned into her hands. Three months. Three months of this torture.
And the worst part?
She wasn't entirely sure she wanted it to end.
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