"I like you, that's why."
Once the two interns were left alone, Yoon Sun-young's already sharp tone became even edgier. She wasted no time and dove into a rapid-fire explanation of Samho Apparel's business model, production structure, and ordering system.
Samho Apparel might be one of Korea's top 50 corporations, but in reality, it functioned mostly as an OEM manufacturer for famous overseas brands. Only three years ago had they successfully launched their own SPA brand, finally generating real profit.
"Honestly, that was Chairman Yoon Tae-young's first major project after taking office. You can't make money with OEM. Buyers haggle over unit prices like their lives depend on it. And if a single claim comes in? The loss is catastrophic. So the Chairman diagnosed the company's state and launched our own brand."
Her voice contained a hint of pride. She then turned to Yoojin and Dong-ha and suddenly threw a question.
"So how do you think Samho Apparel managed to launch its own SPA brand?"
Dong-ha's gaze sharpened. But his answer was instant and blunt.
"By copying the designs of the brands they used to manufacture for?"
Sun-young lifted her thumb in approval.
"Exactly. But it wasn't just the design. Decades of handling every annoying chore for foreign brands gave us massive data. Plus, an enormous supplier network. Honestly, it's a miracle we didn't launch our own brand sooner."
Dong-ha suddenly remembered a dinner he'd had four years ago during his first military leave—sitting stiffly in his buzz cut and uniform across from his older brother and sister-in-law in an upscale Seoul restaurant.
"I don't get it. They just sit there collecting salaries. Everything is 'No,' 'Impossible,' or 'I don't want to.' How can people with decades of experience not know how to make money? There's all this unused data sitting inside the company—why won't they use it?"
Back then, he didn't understand what his brother had been complaining about. Now, everything clicked into place. And when it did, something in Dong-ha's chest twisted. The cause?
Department Manager Lee Hyuk.
Dong-ha raised his hand again. Sun-young paused and nodded at him.
"Why is the department head a Manager, not a Director?"
He did not conceal his displeasure. Lee Hyuk ruled over the department like a petty tyrant. If the department head had at least been a seasoned Director, Dong-ha would've felt less irritated.
He'd seen many teams—especially dance crews—where strong, assertive members produced the best results together. But in the overseas trade department, the opposite was happening. A domineering superior sitting at the top, surrounded by employees who obediently played along.
Sun-young grimaced at the mention of Lee Hyuk. It was impressive that a first-day intern had already sensed the warped structure.
"When Chairman Yoon Tae-young took office, all the old deadweight—the ones who resisted change—were cleared out by last year. Since they didn't hire from outside to replace them, a lot of our actual workers got promoted to department heads and team leaders. That's why so many executives here are Manager- or Deputy-Manager-level. The only true executive in Samho Apparel is Director Park Jin-hee, who survived the Chairman's purge. She's close to the Chairman. Overseas factories still have lots of Directors, though—they're technicians, so they weren't targeted."
Dong-ha frowned. This wasn't the answer he wanted.Lee Hyuk still felt like deadweight to him. How could someone like that "replace" anything?
"So the deadweight was cleared out? All of them?"
Sun-young's words caught in her throat. The moment he asked, several names—including Lee Hyuk—flashed in her mind.But saying that aloud to a new intern would be suicidal.
"Well… maybe yes, maybe no."
Her vague answer made Dong-ha chuckle quietly, which only made Sun-young look even more worried.
"I'll tell you which employees you need to watch out for. The ones you must be careful around."
It was essentially the headquarters blacklist.
Employees who never remembered what they'd said.Employees who pinned their mistakes on others.Employees who were endlessly kind but utterly useless.Employees who hurled tasks without manners.All kinds.
Yoojin scribbled every name into her notebook.She had never imagined that the term "coworker" could feel so unevenly distributed.It reminded her sharply of the world she used to belong to.
In the ballet company, dozens of dancers worked together, but roles were assigned by one thing only—skill.No matter how jealous someone felt of the lead, the hierarchy was indisputable.In the end, everyone had to accept the artistic director's casting.
But a company… was a web of clashing incentives, politics, and tangled responsibilities. Far messier than the ballet world.
Sun-young rattled off more names—over ten in total. Yoojin listened, stunned.
According to Sun-young, they would be dealing with these people within a week.
Yoojin wasn't sure she believed that.
Time slipped by, and it was nearly 11 a.m. When Sun-young checked her phone, her expression tightened.
Two and a half hours had passed since work started—an eternity in morning office time.
Missed calls piled up. Messenger notifications flooded her screen.
Her pupils trembled. She expected this, but seeing it in real time made the impending aftermath terrifying.
She couldn't go straight back to her desk. She needed to visit the sales team, face the managers directly, and get updates.
She stood up with slumped shoulders. Dark shadows had deepened under her eyes.
"I'll go for now. We'll continue the training later."
As she left, Yoojin sprang to her feet and bowed deeply.
"Thank you!"
Startled, Sun-young flinched before giving an awkward nod.Dong-ha, on the contrary, simply dipped his head from his seat in a casual greeting.
Yoojin gathered her notebook and phone to return to the office when suddenly Dong-ha reached out and gently grabbed her hand.
She froze—memories of the salsa club from the night before flashed through her mind.The laughter, the rhythm, the spins.Heat rose in her chest without warning.
She tried to brush it off and forced her voice to stay calm.
"Why?"
"Give it."
"…What?"
"Your number."
"Oh."
She nodded. He released her wrist and lifted his phone.
"Tell me."
"010-121-731."
When he pressed call, Yoojin's phone lit up.That seemed to reassure him—he let out a long breath and muttered, lips curling faintly:
"Do you know how damn hard it is to get your number? Was it just me?"
His tone made Yoojin feel guilty.
"Sorry… It wasn't like that. I had to change my number back in school."
"You still could've texted me. Was I not important enough for that?"
She fell silent.When she ran from Choi Hyun-oh, the only person she'd shared her new number with was Se-ryun.She had no good excuse.
"…Sorry."
"It's fine. If it's that hard to get, that just means it's worth more."
His voice dropped low.
"And I'm sorry I bailed early yesterday. But I have something to say too. Why did you go to the studio on Orientation Day? Of all days?"
"…Because I liked being with you?"
Dong-ha lifted his head. His gaze darkened—not cold, but deep.
The moment he looked at her, Yoojin's heart trembled.
How could he say things like this so easily?Was this normal for his generation?Did he throw these lines around everywhere he went?Was he already charming girls left and right?
To Yoojin, Dong-ha was still the 3rd-year middle school boy who danced ballet beside her.And the memory of Jae-hee at the studio flickered in her mind.
"Dong-ha, you shouldn't say things like that. People will misunderstand."
"Mistake… what?"
He genuinely didn't see the issue.
Yoojin bit her lip, unable to voice the truth. Saying it aloud would reveal too much of her own thoughts.
"…That you like me."
"That's not a misunderstanding."
"…What?"
She blinked at him.
"I like you. Why else would I want to be your partner?"
For a moment, Yoojin's lashes fluttered. And her thoughts aligned into something painfully simple.
That's right.No one teams up with someone they hate.
She gave a small smile, finally understanding.
Knock, knock, knock—
A frantic knock broke the moment.Before Yoojin could respond, the door burst open.
Yoon Sun-young stood there—like a squirrel cornered by a predator.
"Please—help me. Right now."