"Then move to Mr. Kim Jang-woo's desk."
When Lee Hyuk jerked his chin toward the direction, Yoojin gathered her few belongings and walked over to Kim Jang-woo's workstation.
His desk was in a partition facing away from hers and Dongha's. When she stood in front of it, the first thing she saw was the wide, strong back of Dongha sitting on the opposite side with his back turned.
…We're really far apart now. Is this okay?
A faint uneasiness rippled through her as she lowered her gaze and looked over the desk. A large paper bag stuffed with swatches, fabric bundles, and leftover work sat on top—everything Kim Jang-woo had abandoned.
The weight of the tasks ahead pressed down on her.
"Uh? Yoojin?"
Sunyoung returned to her seat and blinked in confusion at Yoojin suddenly standing beside her. Her acorn-shaped bob swayed lightly side to side as she tilted her head.
"Yes… Senior Kim Jang-woo took some personal time off, so I'll be covering his tasks for now."
"Ah…"
Sunyoung's round eyes widened—then tightened instantly.
She remembered the extra order sheet she'd found this morning, the one heaved onto her desk with a sigh. She remembered how Kim Jang-woo let out a long, exhausted breath looking at the mess.
"So it's come to that."
Her tone was stiff, flat.
Kim Jang-woo had joined the company just one year before her. To Sunyoung, he had always seemed patient—stubbornly so. If he had stormed out requesting extended leave, it meant he was on the brink of quitting.
Of course, he wouldn't really resign. In this industry, nowhere paid as well as Samho Apparel.
Switching companies meant abandoning your years of experience and starting over—salary included.
Sunyoung's gaze shifted to Yoojin, who was staring at the mountain of work with a tense face. A long sigh escaped her lips. Yoojin's path from here on… she could already see how rough it would be.
And strangely, she felt jealous of Kim Jang-woo. She, too, wanted nothing more than a few days of deep rest. Maybe I should walk out like he did.
But then Dongha would take her seat. Sunyoung quickly shook her head.
Had Dongha known her thoughts, he would have dragged her outside himself and demanded she take at least a few days off.
"Yoojin, let's go get lunch."
Sunyoung spoke gently.
"Senior… can I eat separately with Yoojin today?"
Dongha appeared next to them at some point. Even for someone whose face was usually expressionless, his features now looked rigid—colder than usual.
"…Sure."
Sunyoung nodded and left the office, giving them space.
*
"Why did you say yes?"
They sat across from each other in a franchise bakery. Yoojin had just lifted her bagel sandwich to take a bite when Dongha asked, his voice quiet but firm.
His tone was soft. His eyes were not—clear, cold, like glass.
"…Sorry. I felt like I couldn't refuse."
Yoojin hesitated, then continued carefully.
"I'd already rubbed Manager Lee the wrong way in the morning. If I argued the purpose of the onboarding program in front of him, or insisted I shouldn't do real work yet, I thought it'd only make things worse."
"Why would it?"
"…What?"
"Head office is running the onboarding program. If he breaks it, that's wrong. And you're an intern. Why should you do full-scale operations? You could've just said that."
"…You make it sound so simple. Do you think someone on day two can actually say something like that?"
Dongha's jaw tightened.
He couldn't understand. If something was wrong, just say it was wrong.
"There are plenty of people who can do that work besides you."
His words made Yoojin blink.
"…Yeah, I know. But it's probably just for a short time. Once Senior Kim comes back, I'll return to my seat. And even if I'm new, I want to help if I can."
"…"
"Dongha, until then… keep my seat warm for me, okay?"
She smiled brightly, her eyes curving into crescents as if she'd cracked a small joke.
Dongha's gaze softened—deepened—and he nodded slowly. A faint warmth tinted his cheeks.
"…Yeah. Come back soon. I'll be waiting."
Only then did Yoojin finally take a big bite of her sandwich.
*
That afternoon, Section Chief Kim Se-hee held a crash-course training session with Yoojin in a meeting room. Dongha almost joined them, but Lee Hyuk cut the idea off with: "He doesn't need it."
The buyer Kim Jang-woo had been managing was Ocean Bay, a popular East Coast brand in the U.S. For the FW season, they were producing hoodie styles—a relatively simple fabric.
Kim Se-hee explained this and then wrote a formula on the whiteboard.
FabricRequirement=Consumption(yard)×ProductionQty×FabricLoss(3Fabric Requirement = Consumption (yard) × Production Qty × Fabric Loss (3%)FabricRequirement=Consumption(yard)×ProductionQty×FabricLoss(3
…What is this?
Yoojin stared at the formula as if it were a riddle.
"When development finishes the pattern, they calculate the consumption for one garment. Multiply that by quantity, add 3% loss, and you get the total yardage to order."
"Ah…"
She nodded.
"But ordering isn't that simple. Every fabric has different widths depending on the mill. And some suppliers take orders in pounds instead of yards."
Widths… weight?
Yoojin's head spun. Far more variables than she expected.
Kim Se-hee quickly walked her through price, pounds, order sheets, specs, finishing processes, fabric characteristics…
"When specs change, you must check consumption with sales again. One mistake leads to an order accident. Ordering too little means we can't fulfill buyer orders. Ordering too much means…?"
Yoojin swallowed instead of answering.
"It becomes excess cost and ends up as dead stock in the warehouse. And the person who caused the accident is fully responsible."
Order accident.
A chill ran down her spine—this was money. Real money.
"Do we… have a manual by any chance?"
At the word manual, Kim Se-hee's face instantly wrinkled. She, too, had wished for one when she was new.
"There is no manual. You learn everything by doing. Maybe some seniors have personal notes."
"Then can I just rely on system data?"
Yoojin recalled yesterday's clean figures in the system.
But Kim Se-hee shook her head sharply.
"Never trust the system numbers."
"…Sorry?"
"They're always wrong. If you order according to the system, every order ends in negative margin."
"…What? Then how—?"
"You place orders lower than the listed cost, or reference previous shipments and reduce quantities. Mills often ship more than required, so you manage volume flexibly."
"…"
The system wasn't accurate? Then why did they maintain it?
"What system data can I trust?"
After thinking, Kim Se-hee answered:
"Consumption, shipment quantity, and logistics schedules. Anything involving money must be checked through emails or finalized order sheets."
Yoojin was speechless.
No manual.System inaccurate.Everything hidden inside inboxes and paper files.
Her lower lip began to sting—she'd chewed it too long without noticing.
Kim Se-hee recognized the pressure settling on her.
"Look up final costs in Senior Kim's inbox and check the printed order sheets in his folder. Here—these fifty order sheets are the FW orders he was managing."
She laid the thick file on the table.
"So I only need to issue orders for the nine styles Sales forgot?"
Kim Se-hee's eyebrows tightened.
If only life were that simple.
Every season, orders never ended cleanly: missed orders, emergency buyer additions, mistakes from mills, changes from sales…
There would be more. Always more.
She rubbed her belly with a quiet sigh.
"It's better if you review all of Senior Kim's orders. There will definitely be additional ones."
More than nine. No manual. An avalanche of tasks to learn.
But Yoojin—who once clawed her way to the top as a prima donna, and in this life pushed herself into a top university and then a major corporation—straightened her back.
She looked Kim Se-hee squarely in the eyes, determination sharpening her voice.
"Yes, Section Chief. Could you walk me through one actual order sheet?"
Relieved, Kim Se-hee pulled out a sample order sheet and began writing formulas across the whiteboard—preparing to teach Yoojin how to issue her first real purchase order.