The scene begins with Jeonginna sitting behind her desk, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed tightly together in frustration. The papers scattered before her are a chaotic reflection of the mess that had unfolded during the day.

Jeonginna’s patience had already been tested, and now it was completely worn thin. Her usually composed demeanor was slipping. She had spent hours reviewing reports that were, frankly, unacceptable. It was a simple task, something that even a child could do, but somehow, her subordinate had managed to mess it up.

"How can you be this incompetent?!" Jeonginna’s voice was sharp, each word cutting through the air like a whip. "This is basic! Basic! How many times do I have to go over this with you?!" Her fists were clenched, the sharp sound of the papers being crumpled in her grip echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

She leaned forward, her sharp gaze never leaving the mess of reports. Her tone dropped dangerously low as she spoke again, almost a hiss.

"You're useless. Do you even understand how much of a failure you’ve become? You can't even write a report properly, and now I'm supposed to clean up your mess?! Get it together. Get it together NOW."

Her voice trembled with barely contained fury, and the room felt colder, as if the very temperature had dropped under the weight of her anger.

Just as she was about to continue, the door creaked open softly.

Jeonginna’s eyes flicked toward the entrance, and the moment she saw the person entering, her expression didn’t soften. It hardened, if anything. She didn’t care who it was—today, nothing was going to calm her down.

Her gaze was icy as she turned to face the person who had dared to enter. It was her secretary—the person she had entrusted with almost everything. Yet, now, with the events of the day, Jeonginna found herself seething. She wanted to scream, wanted to rip apart the unspoken trust they shared. But no. Not yet.

Her secretary looked around, seeing the tension in the air.

"Jeonginna..." they started carefully, unsure of how to approach the situation.

Jeonginna’s face remained impassive, but her voice was venomous, still thick with the remnants of her fury. "Do you see this? Do you see the disaster that’s been laid out in front of me? The incompetence? The failure? I told you this wouldn’t work, yet here we are." Her eyes burned with a fire that, if one wasn’t careful, could easily be mistaken for an inferno. "I thought I could trust you... but now? Now I’m wondering if I was wrong."

Her words, sharp and calculated, stung like a slap to the face. She barely spared her secretary a glance, her body stiff and unyielding as she folded her arms.

"You’ve been useless today, do you know that? Pathetic." Her voice lowered to a dangerous, almost teasing tone. "Maybe you’re better off back at school. Maybe that’s where your limits are. You couldn’t even handle the simplest tasks. What happened to you?"

The words were not only harsh but cold. They were laced with something darker than just frustration—disappointment. Jeonginna had always expected perfection, and she had always demanded the best from those around her. She never tolerated mistakes, not even the smallest ones.

Jeonginna’s body language was stiff as she glared at her secretary. But something about the way they stood there, so quietly... it made her feel... uncomfortable, almost.

She had no patience for softness or vulnerability, yet, for the briefest moment, she wondered if her anger was truly justified. But no. It wasn’t time for that yet. She needed to stay in control.

Her eyes flickered toward the papers again, the ones that now lay scattered across her desk like a wreckage from a storm. Her lips parted slightly, preparing to lash out once more, when something unexpected happened.

Her secretary stepped closer.

A move that took Jeonginna by surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone to approach her when she was like this. It was foolish. Dangerous, even.

"What do you want?" Jeonginna snapped, her voice low, the warning clear in her tone.

But her secretary didn’t flinch. They only stood there, calm and unwavering, their eyes locking with hers.

For a moment, Jeonginna felt a flicker of something she couldn’t quite name. It was rare that anyone had the nerve to challenge her, especially when she was at her most furious. Yet, here her secretary stood, their gaze steady, seemingly unbothered by the fury pouring off of her.

Jeonginna could feel the familiar walls around her starting to crack, but she would not—could not—let it show.

"Don’t come closer," Jeonginna muttered, a sudden wave of uncertainty flooding her, but she refused to acknowledge it, pushing it down.

But then, there it was—the slight quiver in her voice that she couldn't quite hide, the rare moment of weakness she tried so hard to suppress. She couldn't control it this time.

"I don't need your pity, do you hear me?" Jeonginna’s voice wavered slightly, but she quickly regained her composure, glaring at her secretary. "And I certainly don't need your sympathy."

Yet, as the silence stretched between them, something shifted. Her anger, though still present, began to ebb away. There was something about the calmness of her secretary that, despite everything, was breaking through the cracks in her tightly controlled demeanor.

For the first time in a long while, Jeonginna didn't feel so sure of herself. She was no longer certain if her anger was as justified as it seemed.

But she couldn't admit that—not yet.

She couldn’t let go of the control she had over them, over the situation.

"Just—" Jeonginna's words trailed off. She turned away sharply, unwilling to look at them any longer. "Just go. I'll handle this myself."

But even as she spoke, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something in her was starting to change.