“I’ll do whatever you want, boss.”
Silence followed.
We spent some time with the fishing hooks of our gazes caught in each other’s eyes.
After three years as a boss, one might recite poems about it, and I’d been at it for five.
Even if the boss kept their mouth shut, reading their intentions wasn’t that hard.
When they broached the subject of helping with the broadcast, there was tension.
When I joked about it later, there was genuine discomfort.
And after I said I’d do whatever they wanted, there was a sense of relief.
“Then I’ll take that as a yes and start preparing. Can you send me any materials you have?”
“…I haven’t said anything yet, you know?”
“But judging by how your expression is changing, it’s clear you’re on board.”
“Hey, stop reading into my face and jumping to conclusions.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? I’m in the middle of work, and if I just leave you to it, what happens if there’s a problem with the broadcast?”
“That’s not going to happen out of nowhere…”
“You never know. Just in case, could you send me the PPT you’ll use for the pre-event? I’ll check it out after work today or tomorrow afternoon.”
The boss chuckled and gently messed up my hair.
“Let’s just review it together tomorrow. Come to my office first thing in the morning.”
* * *
Despite having a lot to deal with on their first day, Seungyeon quickly adapted to the job.
Even the 3 PM to midnight shift didn’t seem to bother them much.
Well, it’s not like someone who never misses the first-generation broadcasts would go to bed before 10 AM anyway.
I mean, I’ve been a night owl since I started as a manager for the boss.
People like that usually become the most active around midnight, and sure enough, after the broadcast ended at 12, while I was writing the report, Seungyeon sat next to me, asking an endless stream of questions with great enthusiasm.
“But these sentences feel really straightforward… Is it okay to write like this?”
“This is the style the boss wants. The planning team and the boss already cover the agency’s perspective, so this approach works fine.”
“Ah, I see. I’ll make a note of that…”
I didn’t forget to share a taxi with them afterward, dropping them off at their doorstep, knowing their parents might worry if they went home alone late at night.
The next morning, I ran into Seungyeon again in front of the office.
Coincidentally, I had another bag of fish-shaped pastries in hand. Out of habit, I reflexively offered one to Seungyeon.
They accepted it with both hands as if handling some sacred relic. Watching them struggle not to drop it despite how hot it was made me feel a little sorry for them.
Still, they seemed noticeably more relaxed than yesterday, so I decided to tease them a bit.
“Anyone would think that’s a gold-plated pastry the way you’re holding it.”
“Well, I can’t drop it again, can I? But… didn’t you have lunch?”
I held up the pastry to answer.
This is my lunch.
Honestly, I don’t eat much, so three of these are enough to fill me up.
Hearing that, Seungyeon spoke with a voice full of concern.
“Wh-what if you collapse like that? You need to eat properly.”
“If I were going to collapse, I would’ve done it ages ago. I’m fine, as you can see.”
I chuckled and pushed open the glass door to the office.
Since one hand was holding the pastry bag, I used my shoulder to nudge it open, but Seungyeon stepped forward and helped push the door, making it swing open smoothly.
“But team leader, you seem so fragile… And based on what you mentioned during the handover yesterday, it seems like you stay late at the office often. I’m worried about you. You’re getting regular health check-ups, right?”
“I feel like I’m still a bit young to be getting health check-ups.”
“What are you saying? In this day and age, when the youth cancer rates are high, regular check-ups are the key to living a long, healthy life!”
“I’ll get one if I really feel sick. I haven’t had any issues so far.”
“Ugh~ You really shouldn’t think like that.”
We got into the elevator, bickering at a volume loud enough for someone to think we were arguing, though it was all in good spirits.
Just as the doors were about to close, a voice came from outside.
“Hold the door, please!”
Oh no, the boss.
I quickly pressed the “open” button, and sure enough, there she was, gliding in with her long black hair swishing behind her. Judging by her casual outfit, she must’ve just stepped out to the convenience store nearby.
Her eyes flicked to me, then to Seungyeon, and finally landed on the bag of fish-shaped pastries in my hand.
“…It’s Jiya again.”
“Please don’t look at me like a kid disappointed by getting a duplicate toy for Christmas.”
“What kind of oddly specific description is that?”
“If you’re not getting on, the door’s going to close.”
“Hey, hey!”
The boss jumped in just in time, and the elevator smoothly began its ascent.
Seungyeon used the moment to introduce herself.
“Hello, boss! I didn’t get to properly greet you yesterday. I’m Gong Seungyeon, the new recruit in the operations team!”
The boss gave a small nod.
“From what I saw yesterday, you and Team Leader Jiya seem to get along well. Sharing pastries on your way to work today, too? Looks like you’re already working well together.”
“Oh, yes! The team leader has been incredibly helpful. I feel like I’ll be able to adjust quickly thanks to her!”
The boss glanced at me, her lips quirking slightly as if to say, “Well, well, good job managing your junior.”
…Have I been doing a good job?
Honestly, if Seungyeon doesn’t file a workplace harassment complaint over fish-shaped pastries and pineapple pizza, I’d count that as a win.
“Anyway, keep supporting her. If Seungyeon adjusts quickly, she can take on overnight shifts in rotation later.”
“Oh, yes! I’ll work hard and learn quickly to lighten the team leader’s burden!”
I chimed in with a realistic caveat.
“In my opinion, it’ll take at least six months of working together. That way, she can experience handling all kinds of issues and help with setting up the second-gen trainees once the selections are complete. Until I’ve taught her everything properly, having her take night shifts alone is a bit much.”
“That’s too long. Make it three months.”
The boss’s demands were oddly exacting, but I wasn’t about to rush things.
Our work ties directly into public sentiment and the company’s reputation, so training needs to be thorough.
“No way.”
“You usually listen to me so well, but now you’re pushing back?”
I leaned closer and whispered into her ear.
“If something goes wrong during a broadcast while I’m not there, and Seungyeon can’t recover it, what do we do?”
“…She’ll figure it out.”
“Where’s ‘doing as I please’? You picked me because I’m the closest, but you know I’m not actually you, right?”
The boss glared and begrudgingly replied.
“Fine. Do whatever you want.”
“See? You’re always so understanding, boss.”
“Don’t bother with flattery now. It won’t work.”
At that moment, I thought today might be that day.
… But when I went to the boss’s office, I found the real culprit.
I went in holding my usual notebook and pen for jotting things down, and the boss asked,
“Was the fish-shaped pastry good?”
“Yes, it was delicious since the weather was so cold.”
“I see~.”
That single phrase, dripping with a nuance of ‘Oh, enjoying tasty treats all by yourself?’, made me realize something.
Could it be… the boss was upset because I didn’t share the pastries?
I hadn’t offered any because the boss isn’t a fan of overly sweet things.
“Should we grab some later when we go out for dinner?”
“You just ate some, and now you want to eat them again after dinner?”
“They’re good, though. If not, I’ll just eat less dinner.”
“Wow. How can you eat sweet stuff back-to-back like that?”
See? The boss clearly doesn’t like sweet things. Then why all this?
Or maybe… Was I supposed to have offered at least one earlier, out of politeness?
I thought since we’re more like friends, formalities like that weren’t necessary.
‘…Ah.’
Then it hit me.
The pastries weren’t the issue at all. The problem was that I hadn’t maintained the boss’s dignity in front of Seungyeon.
With the newest recruit present, I, as the deputy, had treated the boss too casually. That must’ve been frustrating from the boss’s perspective.
I should be more mindful in the office from now on.
It seems I’ve gotten too relaxed lately, what with going to PC cafes with the boss.
For now, I need to fix the mood.
The boss’s sharp words felt like needles filling the air, prickling at my skin.
“Anyway, let’s go over the PPT. Isn’t it pretty long? I heard from Team Leader Ra that it’s about four hours’ worth.”
“…Yeah. Go grab a chair and sit here.”
“Okay.”
I rolled the rotating stool over to the boss’s desk and perched on it.
It was as if they’d been expecting me—the screen already displayed the Parallels logo alongside a new group illustration of the first batch.
“Wow, it’s Prezi.”
“Team Leader Ra really pulled out all the stops for the first anniversary.”
Unlike a standard PPT, Prezi felt like exploring a massive game board. The perspective shifted fluidly, zooming in and out, giving the impression of diving into deeper layers before pulling back to a world map.
No wonder they were a marketing team star for ten straight years at a major corporation.
The presentation was as sharp and well-crafted as their personality.
Given that the pre-event was all about reflecting on the first group’s journey, this format was absolutely perfect.
With each transition, there were separate animations of the group walking, making it truly feel like traveling alongside the first batch.
Screen after screen, the presentation continued, pulling me in deeper.
The background shifted seamlessly—scenes changing like a flipbook—while the first-generation members walked, ran, or even flew through the sky atop Dora, transformed into a dragon.
“Honestly, I was a bit worried about how to fill the four-hour runtime, even with you helping out. But with material like this, I could talk for eight hours, no problem.”
“…Really?”
“Yes, think of it this way: it’s like a fan-made documentary titled ‘Parallel: The Footsteps of One Year’. All we’d be doing is watching it from start to finish and adding commentary.
Take this scene, for example. I could talk about how I was eating cup noodles from the break room while watching this broadcast, but Maru screamed so loudly it startled me, and I spilled the soup everywhere. I ended up staying until 4 a.m. cleaning it up.
Back then, viewers were just like me—they kept sharing how they bumped their heads waking up suddenly or smacked their knees on their desks out of surprise.”
After listening to my story, the boss smiled and spoke in a slightly exaggerated, host-like tone.
“No wonder the office reeked of cup noodles when I came in that morning!”
The way they added to what I said felt like a rehearsal. Naturally, I matched their energy and continued.
“What? You could smell it?”
“Smell it? The noodle scent would’ve been fine, but it mixed with the air freshener you sprayed, and the result was so awful we had to ventilate the place.”
“Huh? I didn’t even spray the freshener!”
“…Wait, what? So there were two culprits?”
Even though we were just imagining the scenario and bouncing ideas off each other, the conversation flowed effortlessly without any script.
The boss looked satisfied, their expression lighter than usual.
“This isn’t bad. If we keep up this kind of back-and-forth for other scenes, it’ll work well.”
“One thing I’m good at is bantering with you, boss.”
“Wow, what an accomplishment.”
“But if we keep this up, won’t our conversations go on forever? We’d probably spend 10 minutes talking about just one scene.”
“I’ll take care of cutting it off when needed. You just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Okay!”
We didn’t say it out loud, but our expressions conveyed the same thought:
If we keep this momentum, the pre-event broadcast will go perfectly.
And so, our impromptu rehearsal, using the boss’s office as our studio, stretched on without us noticing the time.
“I’ll throw in a remark here. Like, ‘You know, talking to the members like that is too toxic. You’re going to hurt their feelings.’”
“In that case, I’d respond with, ‘If that’s toxic, then your feedback is like pouring acid on them.’”
“That’s too harsh. In that case, maybe tone it down to…”