Til Death Do Us Part

8

"Here, Vice President Park. These are all the current files needing a signature." I sit back and let my new assistant Veronica lay them out for me. In a fit of rage two days ago for a missed document and a lax attitude to timekeeping, I finally cut loose the girl of five years. I have no patience for people who waste my precious time and make mistakes, and this one has all the new and shiny enthusiasm to do a good job. I know it won't last.

"Did you archive all last month's?" I lift a brow and pull the first black folder on top over, flicking it open.

"Yes, Ma'am. I sorted through, copied, and saved digital files to the central server and then organized the paper copies in the building file room.

"Why is this missing President Park's signature?" I pause my pen over the budget request for one of our sub-companies. Irritated for the oversight. The very first one I open, and it's not even completed.

"He must have missed it, Ma'am. It came from his secretary only moments ago. I'll take it back." Her face pales, and her voice fades, showing the same fear most of the employees in the building have for me. I throw down my pen on top of it with a harsh thrush and slam it shut, locking the pen inside. Already in a foul mood this morning, like most days, I wake up, and I blow out my air violently.

Inwardly I'm coiled tight, and although this isn't a significant oversight, I can't hold in the anger. This last week or so, I feel like he's let so many tiny things like this slide, and I have no idea what's wrong with him. His focus is elsewhere, and he's been distracted in meetings to the point he's had to have things repeated. Yesterday he missed a digit on a payment account and almost lost a substantial amount in an overpay if I hadn't caught it. These are not Jyeon mistakes, ever.

"I'll do it. He'll be quicker if I take it to him myself. Don't let this happen again. Check paperwork before letting it be handed over." I snap at her. Pushing my chair back and stand briskly, catch the pen as it slides out from the file and shove it in my jacket pocket.

I waste no time in marching out and along the corridor, scowling his secretary's way to tell her not even to try stopping me today, and she recoils back in her seat. Instantly meek and says nothing as I swing into his doorway. I'm in hurricane mode today, built up from a lack of sleep and too much stress these past weeks, and she shouldn't intervene if she values her life.

His seat is empty, his desk is notably tidy, and there are no signs of him. I look around for him, knowing he hasn't left. She would have told me that, at least, even with my death glare. Something like sixth sense tells me he's here.

"Jyeon?" I yell out and spot his dressing room door is ajar in the far corner, past his lounge recess. He doesn't reply, so I walk over and open it fully, seeing him standing in front of his full-length mirror as he changes his shirt. Already a fresh one on and yet unbuttoned as he fixes it around his neck and adjusts the cuffs. He knows I'm here but ignores me and isn't phased about seeing him half-naked. It's not like I haven't before.

"I need this signed. I have to process it, and you missed it." I hold out the file his way, snappish and sounding annoyed at the oversight, trying not to admire that well-maintained physique. He's always been tall and athletic with a nicely cut body. Dressed like this, in pants and an open white shirt, it pains me in my stomach to still be this attracted to him. I could never fault him for how he looks or his sense of style. Jyeon would be the poster boy for dream man if we graded them on looks.

He turns to me and reaches for it, his shirt falling further open, and I spot the fading bruises across his left rib cage and forget all else for a moment as instant pain hits me in the chest. Suddenly knocked off my pedestal of anger and crumbled to wimp at seeing him hurt.