Secretary Gwanggong's Survival Diary-Chapter 14

I stood there for a while, just blankly staring at Yoon Taeo.

"What, you think just because it’s after work hours, you don’t have to do it?"

"N-No, not at all!"

His voice had already sharpened into that familiar prickly tone, and I had to yank myself together and rush into the kitchen.

"It’s just... it’s just that you don’t usually eat things like ramen, sir, so it caught me off guard.

It wasn’t like I was trying to hint about overtime pay or anything...."

I frantically pulled out a pot, filled it with bottled water, and dug out the ramen I had carefully hidden where he couldn’t easily find it.

"...So you even boil ramen with bottled water."

"..."

"And you had it hidden there."

The kimchi fridge was my secret treasure trove — the one place I was sure Yoon Taeo would never look.

Instead of kimchi, it was stuffed with ramen, pickled radish, canned ham.

And yeah, technically, I was using some ridiculously expensive Hawaiian deep-sea water to cook instant noodles...

Let’s just not dwell on that.

"I didn’t exactly hide it.

Let’s say... I made efficient use of space?"

"Whatever.

The water’s boiling."

Was this... really a conversation?

It felt more like we were just throwing words past each other without listening.

"Charge for the overtime."

"Seriously?"

I almost dropped the seasoning packet as I turned around in shock.

"Give it a shot."

Yoon Taeo’s lips twisted into a crooked smirk.

"...No thanks.

Charging overtime just for eating a bowl of ramen with you?

I’ve been stuck at the office way longer than this plenty of times."

"Was that sarcasm?

Complaining about working late?"

Ooh... impressive.

The guy couldn’t even remember names properly, but when it came to catching sarcasm, he was sharp as a knife.

I guess I’d have to get more creative with my passive-aggressive jabs from now on.

"It’s done."

"Sit."

"...You want me to eat with you?"

"Or did you seriously think I was going to eat three packets of ramen by myself?"

Awkwardly, I slid into the seat across from him.

I hadn’t even considered he might want company.

Since it was for Yoon Taeo, I’d plated it properly — arranged in pristine, artisan ceramic bowls, decorated with chopped green onions and slivers of red chili pepper.

When he picked up his chopsticks, I tensed involuntarily — flashing back to the brutal food critique he’d given at Han Yejun’s house earlier.

"...How is it...?"

"It’s edible enough. Hurry up and eat before it gets cold."

Only then did I relax and start eating too.

After a late lunch and a long workday, even ramen tasted amazing.

Not that it needed help — I loved ramen to begin with.

"I’m actually pretty good at making ramen.

Getting the noodle texture just right is key. And the water-to-soup ratio too!"

"Yeah."

"And since you don’t like salty food, I reduced the seasoning a bit.

Tastes fine, right?"

"Seems like it."

"..."

As I kept eating, I noticed something strange.

All the side dishes I had pushed toward him — pickled radish, soy-glazed asparagus, beet pickles — had somehow migrated back to my side of the table.

Meanwhile, Yoon Taeo barely touched his food — he hadn’t even finished half his bowl.

"...You don’t like it?

I can make you something else if you want...."

"No, it’s fine."

He took another slow mouthful, chewing mechanically.

"Seriously, if you want anything else—"

"What about you, Secretary Kim?"

"Me?

I’m about to burst, sir...."

Honestly, when I served the ramen, I’d given Yoon Taeo exactly one portion...

And myself two.

Because I didn’t believe for a second that he’d actually eat.

Turned out I was right — he barely ate half.

"Thanks for the meal, Secretary Im."

"...Sir, are you... doing this on purpose?"

"What do you mean."

"...Never mind."

I was trying so hard to convince myself that his random ‘Secretary Kim’ was just a lazy, generic label like ‘Hey you.’

But now ‘Secretary Im’??

There wasn’t even an Im on the secretary roster!

Without another word, Yoon Taeo grabbed his bag and headed toward his study.

"Thanks."

"...For what— uh, good night, sir."

What...

What was that?

The word ‘thanks’ still echoed awkwardly in my ears.

Had Yoon Taeo ever... thanked anyone before?

I’d served him countless meals and never heard it once — and now, just for making him a bowl of ramen?

"Take an extra hour tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

He never broke his own schedule.

This was already the second time recently.

Something was definitely... off with Yoon Taeo.

❖ ❖ ❖

"Yes, 19th Street, that’s right.

Please make absolutely sure nothing gets lost."

– "You don’t need to worry, but... this is going to be quite expensive, you know?"

"I don’t care. Just deliver it before dinner."

Shameless but true — I had a bit of a genius brain.

After scraping through dinner on ramen, my real work hours began.

But there was no way I could handle everything myself, and I definitely wasn’t about to invite strangers into the house.

I would take care of the essential tasks personally — organizing Yoon Taeo’s bedding, cleaning his bathroom, managing his clothes —

but the rest?

Outsourced.

Laundry?

Everything — towels, socks, underwear — was going to a specialty dry cleaner.

Royal certified, no less.

It cost several times more than a normal service, but who cared?

It was all coming out of Yoon Taeo’s wallet anyway.

Cleaning?

I snuck in during lunch breaks to handle it.

Bedding?

I sprinted through it while he showered in the mornings.

It was... bittersweet.

Doing this alone felt easier than I expected, and that made me both weirdly proud and profoundly sad.

I was prolonging my own survival with these efforts — but it still felt pathetic to be so good at it.

Anyway, thanks to all that, I finally had some free time in the evenings.

Which was why, lying in bed, right before falling asleep, my mind kept drifting.

Lately...

No matter how I looked at it, Yoon Taeo was acting strange.

At the lunch with his Beta, at the Beta’s house, and even now — sharing ramen like it was nothing.

There were moments — flashes — where something I shouldn’t feel... almost surfaced.

"...It’s just my imagination."

It had to be.

Because Yoon Taeo was a cold-blooded bastard.

The kind of man who could kill someone who stayed loyally by his side, without a second thought.

The kind of man who, if he ever lost interest, might snap my neck without blinking.

It had to be my imagination.

My job...

was to help Yoon Taeo find his destined match and guide him toward this drama’s ending.

And once he did —

maybe, just maybe —

I could finally go home.

❖ ❖ ❖

"Maybe they call it the Non-Performing Loan Team because they do non-performing work too."

"This is Team Leader Kim."

"Team Leader Kim?"

"Th-That's not it... it’s just that, given how tough the economy is these days, delinquency rates are generally high across the industry—"

"The economy's been tough for more than just a day or two.

Should we all start living tough lives together, then?"

Yoon Taeo was practically a workaholic; he sat through endless meetings and micromanaged even the tiniest company issues with obsessive thoroughness, and he definitely had a brilliant mind for numbers, but the glaring flaw — he could not, for the life of him, remember people's names; just earlier, I had to scribble down the Non-Performing Loan Team Leader's name on a memo for him to glance at during the meeting.

"Recover at least five percent by next week.

If you fall short, just leave your resignation letter on my desk and get out."

"...Yes, sir."

He could throw tantrums like that, but since he paid salaries hefty enough to justify putting up with it, no one dared complain.

Money really was the best.

"And how’s the resort project TF team coming along?"

"TF Team Leader is Director Lee."

"Director Lee...?

Who the hell is that?"

"...The guy over there who looks like a turtle.

He’s the head of Construction Division."

He couldn't even recognize his own directors’ faces; speaking in a low whisper so he wouldn’t hear, I had to awkwardly lean closer and quietly describe the guy's appearance and position.

"Turtle...."

I kicked Yoon Taeo’s shoe lightly under the table — had he lost his damn mind?

You can't just call someone a turtle!

"Over there... report your progress."

God...

Why did even a normal meeting have to feel like it was sucking the life out of people?

The TF Team Leader gave a fairly solid construction progress report and laid out a structured plan to clean up the previous issues in a short timeframe.

"Make sure it gets done.

If there’s even a single day's delay, I don't give second chances."

"Yes, sir...."

A cold wave swept [N O V E L I G H T] over the conference room.

Even for executives at team leader level and above, no seat was ever truly secure.

In fact, the higher you were, the faster you could be replaced.

That was just how Yoon Taeo operated — he didn’t treasure people.

And it made sense, too — he was competent enough to cover any gaps himself without breaking stride.

"Let’s go, Secretary Kim."

...Maybe I should just legally change my name.

At this point, why not officially become Secretary Kim?

"Yes, sir."

As the meeting ended, Yoon Taeo rose from his seat and strode out first;

I gathered the documents and laptop he had used and quickly followed after him.

"Sir... still, calling someone a turtle... these days, one wrong word can end up in the news, and it could become a huge problem...."

Inside the office, I finally let out the frustration I had been swallowing during the meeting, of course speaking in the most polite, respectful tone possible.

"Secretary Kim."

Just as he was about to sit down, Yoon Taeo froze, then turned and started walking toward me,

and that's when I realized — I'd fucked up;

why hadn’t I kept my damn mouth shut?

"I didn’t mean it like that—"

"Seems to me that the one who called him a turtle wasn’t me, but you, Secretary Kim.

How could you say that about someone?"

"That’s... that’s because you have such a hard time remembering faces, sir...."

"Thanks to you, now every time I see him, all I’m gonna think about is a turtle.

Really, thanks."

"...I'm sorry...."

The distance between us kept closing as I stammered out hollow apologies,

until my back hit the hard surface of the office door and I had nowhere left to retreat,

and yet, Yoon Taeo didn’t stop — he kept walking forward, planting one hand on the door beside my head and leaning in close.

"And why do you keep kicking my shoes?"

"T-That’s because—"

"At the restaurant the other day, and now here too."

"I’m sorry...!

It was an emergency, and I panicked...."

Yeah.

I had lost my damn mind, kicking Yoon Taeo’s shoes like that.

When I thought back, I remembered — once, a secretary had been fired just because a tiny scratch appeared on his shoe,

so what the hell was I thinking?

Genuine regret bubbled up inside me, and this time, my apology came from the heart.

"I wonder...

if I kicked you back the same way,

would your leg break or not."

Tap, tap, tap.

Something brushed lightly, repeatedly, against my shin —

but I was so paralyzed by tension that I couldn’t even glance down to confirm what it was;

all I could do was stand there, frozen under Yoon Taeo’s gaze, absorbing his suffocating presence.

"Aren’t you curious?"

"No, no!

I promise, I’ll never do it again, sir...."

My voice cracked with desperate sincerity.

After all, Yoon Taeo had been in a pretty foul mood during the meeting,

and honestly, if he decided to break my leg tonight, I should probably thank him for being merciful enough to stop there.

I was even considering forcing myself to squeeze out a tear or two, hoping it would save me,

when suddenly, the corners of his eyes curved slowly upward,

and the corners of his lips followed, rising in an almost cinematic slow-motion smile.

"Just kidding."

And the hand that had been braced against the door slid into my hair, threading casually through it.

"What are you so scared of.

You run your mouth just fine, don’t you?"

His long fingers tousled my hair without mercy.

Still, I couldn’t move my eyes — I couldn’t move anything.

Because right now, standing this close,

seeing Yoon Taeo smiling like that —

he was so... beautiful.

It was such an absurd, impossible word to associate with him,

and yet, somehow, it fit.