Chapter Text
The VIP lounge hummed with restrained celebration, crystal glasses catching the low light as industry elites exchanged carefully curated pleasantries. In the center of it all, Hwang In-ho sat with perfect posture in his usual corner booth, his expression as unreadable as ever. Only the slight glassiness in his normally sharp eyes and the deliberate way he moved his whiskey glass betrayed his condition.
On a couch nearby, Kang No-eul watched him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. She nudged the actor beside her, Lee Ji-hoon, and nodded toward In-ho.
“What do you think his deal is tonight?”
Ji-hoon smirked. “Who knows? Maybe he finally realized he’s not actually a robot.”
No-eul snorted into her drink. “Doubtful. But something’s definitely wrong. He’s been staring into space for an hour.”
Before Ji-hoon could reply, the lounge doors burst open, and a finely dressed man came storming in, his hair slightly disheveled and his suit rumpled from what must have been a frantic search. His eyes locked onto In-ho with an almost feral intensity.
“Hwang In-ho!”
He stormed over to In-ho’s corner, eyes wild like a madman.
In-ho didn’t look up. “Han-kyul.”
Han-kyul slammed his phone onto the table with enough force to make the ice in In-ho’s glass tremble. "Do you have any idea how many times I’ve called you today?”
In-ho’s gaze remained fixed on some invisible point beyond Han-kyul’s shoulder. “No.”
“Right. That’s because your little secretary blocked my number!” Han-kyul hissed, like this was the greatest betrayal imaginable.
At the mention of Gi-hun, In-ho’s grip tightened on his glass imperceptibly. His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes darkened.
“Secretary Seong…” he murmured to himself, as if in a trance. “Why is he doing this…?”
Han-kyul blinked, startled. “Um… what?”
No-eul, having made her way over during the commotion, slid into the seat beside In-ho with effortless grace.
“Oh, don’t bother,” she drawled, swirling her champagne. “He’s been like this all night. No one has been able to figure out what’s got him so flustered.”
Han-kyul stared incredulously.
“Flustered.” His voice was flat, skeptical. “The vice president, Hwang In-ho, is flustered?”
“I couldn’t believe it either,” she shrugged. “First time I’ve seen the VP this… uncomposed. Whatever happened, it must’ve really shaken him up.”
Han-kyul turned back to In-ho, studying him like a scientist observing a rare phenomenon. “Boss,” he said slowly, “what the hell happened?”
In-ho exhaled through his nose, setting down his glass just a touch too hard. “Nothing happened.”
“Bullshit,” Han-kyul said bluntly. “I’ve never seen you like this before. You don’t zone out for over an hour over nothing.”
No-eul leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “Come on, boss. Spill. Did your precious secretary finally snap? I’ve always wondered how long it would take before he cracked under your-”
“He quit.”
Silence fell over their corner for a moment as the two stared at him blankly.
Han-kyul recovered first. “He- what? Seong Gi-hun? The guy who’s basically your shadow?”
In-ho’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
No-eul let out a low whistle. “Wow. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
Han-kyul burst out laughing. “Oh my god. This is perfect.”
In-ho’s glare could have melted a glacier. “What.”
Han-kyul wiped imaginary tears from his face. “Because I’ve been trying to reach you all day to talk about replacing him!” He pulled out his tablet with a flourish. “Look, I’ve already started compiling a list of potential new recruits. All better qualified, more professional, and way less mouthy than Gi-hun ever was.”
No-eul’s brow furrowed. “Wait- you were seriously trying to replace Gi-hun before he even quit?”
Han-kyul ignored her, swiping through profiles eagerly. “This one’s fluent in four languages. This one used to work for the Minister of Finance. And this one-”
“I don’t need a new secretary.”
Han-kyul froze mid-swipe. “Uh. Yes, you do? Your secretary just quit?”
In-ho’s voice was dangerously calm. “No. No recruitment. No transition. No replacement.”
“Boss…” Han-kyul’s expression grew exasperated. “Be reasonable. Are you really so worked up over losing that secretary?”
In-ho seemed to snap out of it then. He glared, his ire rising at the way they were both gaping at him.
“Of course not,” he snapped. “I wouldn’t care so much about a mere secretary. And I’m not ‘worked up.’ What gives you that impression?”
Han-kyul exchanged another glance with the actress.
“Oh, I don’t know…”
In-ho scowled at them both. “Look, I’m not bothered by it because there’s no real issue here. I'm an exceptional employer - anyone would be fortunate to work so closely with me. Secretary Seong is just… confused. I mean, neither of you have had any problems working for me, right?”
“Of course not, boss!” Han-kyul scoffed, genuinely appalled at the idea. “Anyone who doesn’t want to work for you must be out of their mind.” He added under his breath: “Of course, no one could be as loyal as me…”
“Right,” No-eul agreed, though with much less sincerity. Her tone was playfully mocking as she added, “I can’t imagine not wanting to work so closely with someone as… pleasant as you.”
In-ho glanced between them with a deadpan look. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked the two of you.”
“Oh, come on,” the actress rolled her eyes. “Is that really what you’ve been thinking about all night? Seong Gi-hun, your cute little secretary? What, did he finally get sick of following you around everywhere like a baby chick?”
In-ho frowned at the comparison.
“It doesn’t matter. Gi-hun doesn’t really want to leave. He’ll come back. We’re not hiring anyone new.”
Han-kyul’s professional mask slipped. “With all due respect, sir, this isn’t optional. When an executive secretary position opens-”
In-ho’s chair scraped against the ground as he stood abruptly, glaring at Han-kyul.
“The position,” In-ho enunciated slowly, “is not open.”
No-eul broke the tension with a laugh. “Well, this is fascinating. The great Hwang In-ho, drunk off his ass and in deep, deep denial.”
In-ho turned his fiery glare on her. “I am perfectly sober.”
As if to contradict him, the room chose that moment to lurch sideways. In-ho’s hand shot out instinctively, catching the edge of the table. The movement was smooth, controlled - unless you knew to watch for the small delays in his reactions.
Han-kyul pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ. Okay, I’m not having this conversion while you’re like this. Look, I’ll just send over the info once you’re-”
"I didn’t approve any replacement search,” In-ho cut in sharply. “Cancel it.”
“Boss,” Han-kyul’s tone began to rise in desperation, “you can’t just-”
“I said cancel it.” The fire in In-ho’s eyes made even No-eul shuffle back warily. “You’re not recruiting anyone.”
The silence was deafening.
No-eul broke it with a delighted whisper: "He's possessive."
In-ho ignored her, focusing all his alcohol-blunted intensity on Han-kyul. "Am I understood?"
Han-kyul swallowed hard. The rational part of his brain noted that his boss was clearly three sheets to the wind. The smarter part noted that drunk In-ho was somehow even more terrifying than sober In-ho.
"Crystal," he muttered.
In-ho gave a single sharp nod. "Good."
He pushed his chair back further, making his way to leave. Han-kyul blanched, realization dawning.
“Wait. You’re… you’re actually going to talk him out of it?”
In-ho didn’t glance over, straightening out his suit as he made his way to the exit. “I’m not discussing this with the recruitment department.”
The two of them watched as he strode away smoothly - only to suddenly catch his toe on the carpet. The stumble was barely perceptible, instantly corrected, but it was there.
No-eul pressed a hand to her mouth. Han-kyul looked pained.
Without another word, In-ho strode toward the exit, his movements a masterclass in controlled inebriation. The lounge doors swung shut behind him with finality.
A beat. Then two.
"...Should someone go after him?" Han-kyul asked weakly.
No-eul grinned, reaching for the abandoned whiskey bottle. "And miss whatever happens next? Not a chance."
______
"Happy birthday to youuuuu!"
Ga-yeong's laughter bubbled up as her father and Uncle Jung-bae finished their terrible rendition. Gi-hun's chest tightened watching her blow out the candle - that same crinkle around her eyes that her mother used to have.
Nine years. Nine years of working brutal hours, of dealing with loan sharks and hospital debts from the complications that took Eun-ji, all to give their daughter a decent life.
"Appa, can I open presents now?" Ga-yeong asked, bouncing on her toes.
"Of course!" Gi-hun said brightly. Ga-yeong jumped up in delight and rushed over to the stack of colorful packages in the corner of the room with a squeal.
“That really big one is from me, by the way!” Jung-bae called after her. “Nothing but the best from your favorite Uncle Jung-bae!”
Gi-hun grinned slyly. “Favorite? I’m pretty sure that title goes to Uncle Ali.”
Jung-bae spluttered in indignation. “Nonsense! I’m way more lovable than he is!”
Gi-hun chuckled, rolling his eyes.
As Ga-yeong tore through the gifts - some dolls from Ali, a little dress and hair bow from Sang-woo, a giant teddy bear from Jung-bae (“What?? She has plenty of room for it!”) - Gi-hun turned to his friend with a grateful expression.
"Thanks again for watching her today. I know I've been leaning on you too much lately."
Jung-bae shrugged, waving him off nonchalantly. "Eh, my wife loves having her over. Says Ga-yeong's the only one who can get our little monster to behave." He smirked. "Though maybe now that you've quit, you'll actually be around for dinner sometimes, huh?"
Gi-hun nodded, running a hand through his hair. Two more weeks. Just two more weeks of In-ho's demands, and then he'd finally be free to be the father Ga-yeong deserved. No more missed birthdays, no more coming home after she'd already fallen asleep.
His thoughts were interrupted by Ga-yeong's gasp. "Whoa! Is this really for me?" She held up a concerningly realistic-looking gun with wide eyes. Ga-yeong pulled the trigger, and a small flame clicked to life at the end of the barrel.
Gi-hun's stomach dropped. "No! That's-" He snatched it back, shoving it in his pocket. "Sorry. Wrong gift. That's...for work."
Jung-bae raised an eyebrow. "What kind of office gives out gun-shaped lighters?"
"Last minute grab from a gacha machine," Gi-hun muttered, cheeks burning. "Didn't have time to shop properly with all the-"
Gi-hun's phone chose that moment to ring. The familiar caller ID - "Boss (Pain in My Ass)" - made his stomach drop. He hesitated, watching Ga-yeong's smile fade as she recognized the tension in his shoulders.
Jung-bae caught a glimpse of his phone and scowled.
"Answer it," he scoffed. "Or don't. You're free now, remember?"
"I'm off the clock," Gi-hun said into the phone, but they all knew how this would go. In-ho's drunken voice slurred through the receiver, demanding a ride home immediately.
When he hung up, Ga-yeong was already pushing his untouched plate of teokkbokki toward him. "You should eat something before you go," she said softly.
Jung-bae rolled his eyes, but grabbed a container. "At least take it with you. Knowing your crazy-ass boss, this'll take hours."
Gi-hun hugged Ga-yeong tight. "Two more weeks," he whispered into her hair. "Just two more weeks." He kissed her forehead before rushing out, the door clicking shut behind him.
They both watched him go before Jung-bae cut the silence with a sigh. "Come on kid, let's see what other weird gifts your dad got you." But as Ga-yeong picked up the next present, they both glanced at the door, the apartment suddenly feeling too quiet.
______
Gi-hun barely managed to keep In-ho upright as they stumbled into the penthouse. His boss was a heavy, drunken weight against him, the sharp scent of whiskey clinging to his rumpled suit.
"You couldn't have called a driver?" Gi-hun grunted, dumping In-ho onto the couch.
In-ho mumbled something incoherent, his head lolling back against the cushions.
Gi-hun exhaled, rolling his stiff shoulders. He needed to get back to Ga-yeong's birthday party. He turned toward the door-
"You're quitting."
The words were slurred but deliberate.
Gi-hun froze, then slowly turned back. In-ho was watching him through half-lidded eyes, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah," Gi-hun said flatly. "I told you this morning. And I told you I needed to leave early today. But you weren't listening. Like always."
In-ho frowned, as if trying to recall. Then he exhaled heavily. "I just... don't get it."
Gi-hun's brow furrowed as he crossed his arms. "Don't get what?"
A beat. In-ho’s throat worked, his next words too quiet, too unsteady. "Why? Haven't-” he hiccuped, “haven't I been good enough?”
Gi-hun’s nose wrinkled.
“How much have you had to drink today?”
In-ho groaned softly instead of responding, which was answer enough.
Gi-hun sighed. He’d seen In-ho reckless, seen him ruthless, but never this. Never unraveled.
Then, barely audible: "You can’t quit."
Gi-hun blinked. "Uh. Yes, I can."
"No." In-ho’s glare sharpened, sudden and startling. "Not without a good reason."
The silence stretched. Gi-hun stared.
"You can’t be serious."
In-ho didn’t flinch. "Dead serious."
Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. Fine. If he wanted a reason-
"I’m quitting," he bit out, each word deliberate, "because I want a life that’s mine. Not yours. Not this company’s. Mine."
In-ho’s expression fractured - confusion, defiance, something almost like hurt - but the alcohol dragged him under before he could retaliate. His eyelids fluttered shut.
Gi-hun scoffed. "Right. Well. Enjoy the couch, boss." He turned on his heel, the door slamming behind him with finality.
Somewhere across the city, his daughter’s cake sat uneaten, waiting for him to come home.
And now he had this nonsense to deal with tomorrow.