Born to Be a Secretary

Rrrrr... The office extension phone rang loudly and persistently.

Someone needed to pick it up for the ringing to stop, but everyone was buried in their assigned tasks, so the incoming calls inevitably went unanswered.
It was 11:30 AM, and the office buzzed like the middle of a market. Though it was naturally a busy time, this was unusually hectic. Heewon stood with his arms crossed, quietly observing the chaotic scene unfolding around him.
Secretary Lee had left early to carry out Executive Director Kwon’s orders, and Secretary Ji was struggling with a double-booked schedule. Whoever was responsible for setting that schedule was nowhere to be found, no matter how loudly he asked. So, Secretary Ji was left alone, wracking his brain, making calls to reorganize the tangled agenda.

The youngest, Choi Jung-woo, was flustered, trying to attend to employees who came to get approvals, while Secretary Song already had a handset in each hand, repeatedly apologizing.
How did things get to this point?
Heewon realized that the secretary room, which he had assumed was running smoothly without him, was actually creaking and unorganized. Judging by the state of things, this was not a problem isolated to today.

As his duties piled on top of the usual workload, priorities had been thrown into disarray, and everyone was just improvising their tasks to get them done.
Without someone to anchor and lead, once a problem arose, everything collapsed. The current chaos was proof of that fact.
After finally ending a call, Secretary Song attempted to finish an important email due by noon, but the constant ringing slowed her down. Just as she was focusing, the extension phone on the desk rang again, and her expression fell.

Unconsciously sighing, she reached for the phone, but before her hand could, someone else snatched up the receiver. Secretary Song’s startled eyes caught the profile of Heewon beside her.
“This is Secretary Kim Heewon in the secretary room.”
He had said he would be an invisible observer, only watching the situation unfold, but eventually couldn’t help himself and lent a hand.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t verify that right now. If you summarize the details in an email and send it, I will check and respond.”
Heewon’s composed tone was unwavering, his usual style. As he calmly continued the call, another extension rang beside him, and he promptly hit the hold button without hesitation.
He finally hung up, looking sternly at Secretary Song, still bewildered.

“You don’t have to answer every call. If it starts interfering with your work, just hang up.”
“...Yes.”
“You were sending an email to Fujino Pharmaceuticals, right? It’s important, so focus on that.”

“Yes, Director.”
Heewon twisted his head to look at the still-chaotic office. Could it really fall apart this badly just because one person was gone? Before leaving, he felt the urgent need to properly tidy this mess.
He focused on his tasks, overhauling the manual processes to fit current realities and carefully observing the secretaries’ work, noting down needed corrections in detail.
Most urgently, he needed to fill his vacant position with a new executive secretary. During work breaks, he contacted specialized VIP headhunting agencies to find suitable candidates. A few were recommended, but honestly, none satisfied Heewon.

Executive secretary positions were inherently hard to fill with experienced people. The headcount was abundant, but personnel severely lacking.
Most capable individuals were active in the field, and those looking for jobs seemed to have questionable backgrounds — for example, dismissed for scandal at previous workplaces or with bosses who died or were imprisoned.
Even if someone had no disqualifying reasons, their age did not match Kwon Youngjae’s. Executive secretaries in their thirties were extremely rare.

Hiring inexperienced people was risky, and Kwon was known to be picky. Since Heewon knew the Executive Director’s preferences better than anyone, shortlisting candidates was difficult.
“…What to do.”
Heewon leaned back deeply in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. After hours of effort, results were slim. Could he narrow down candidates within three days? He was determined to succeed.

He had a stubborn streak. This was someone to replace him, so he didn’t want to just settle for anyone.
Lost in thought, the secretaries began tidying their desks one by one. It was 8 PM.
“Leaving?”

“Yes, we’re about to head out.”
But everyone was getting ready to leave. Heewon blinked. If everyone left, who would keep Executive Director Kwon company?
“Isn’t there anyone staying because the Executive Director is working overtime?”

“Well, that’s…”
Secretary Song added an explanation, scrunching her nose sheepishly.
“It’s the Executive Director’s order. He said after 8 PM we can leave on our own… no need to assist with overtime.”

“Why?”
“That, I don’t know well either…”
“So he’s been working alone? Leaving alone?”

“I heard the driver stays on duty only until 10 PM.”
Heewon had no clue why. He sighed wearily and ran his hand through his hair. There was no reason to hold the secretaries back, so he waved them off quickly. It was already late.
“Please go ahead. Have a good evening.”

Cheerful farewells echoed. Soon, the office was quiet with only Heewon remaining. It was a familiar sight—Heewon was always the last to leave.
He straightened up and placed his hands on the keyboard. Staying late was no problem; he planned to finish today’s tasks before leaving. Avoiding the glowing office light, he accelerated his overtime work.
About an hour later, the office door opened. Executive Director Kwon, lightly massaging his neck, stopped when he saw Heewon still inside.

Heewon was stretching, turning his stiff neck side to side. As if by habit, his legs straightened automatically at the sight of Kwon.
“Not left yet?”
“No, still have work.”

Kwon’s usual sharp gaze studied him. It seemed to say, What work could you possibly still have at this hour?
To ease the awkward atmosphere, Heewon cleared his throat lightly.
“Will you stay longer, Executive Director?”

“Uh, dinner?”
The sudden mention of food made Heewon dumbfounded.
“…Yes?”

“Did you eat?”
He busily tried to decipher the implied meaning. Was he saying he was hungry? It was after 9 PM, so it made sense.
“Shall I order something?”

“Something simple like a boxed meal. And one for Secretary Kim, too.”
“…I’m fine,”
“Don’t make people work without food.”

Kwon tossed the words carelessly and went to the pantry to grab a couple of bottles of water.
Normally, such small tasks would be handled by a secretary, but in Heewon’s absence, Kwon had gotten good ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ at doing them himself, moving efficiently.
His mouth felt dry. Heewon clenched and unclenched his fists several times, his secretary-conditioned body twitching to move, barely suppressed.

Deciding it was better to focus elsewhere, he quickly grabbed his phone.
Since Kwon had a sandwich for lunch, rice would be better for dinner. Heewon called a Korean restaurant Kwon frequented and smoothly ordered two boxed meals.
The lacquered dark-red lunch boxes contained neatly arranged dishes. Heewon set the lunch boxes, delivered earlier to the meeting room, on the table. He placed water and spoons on a napkin and opened the lids in advance to check the contents.

There was fluffy steamed rice, savory grilled abalone with sauce, tender steamed snapper, three-colored seasoned vegetables, white kimchi, seaweed rolls, and in the lower compartment, bite-sized fruit and desserts. All were Kwon’s favorite dishes.
As Heewon looked down at the table he’d set, the door creaked open and Kwon appeared. His natural, casual walk and seating in the head chair felt completely normal.
“Sit.”

With a brief command, Heewon sat on the opposite sofa. The meal began—without words, without chewing sounds, just quietly passing chopsticks.
Most people would feel awkward, unsure if food entered the mouth or nose, but for Heewon, it was normal.
While chewing carefully, his eyes diligently monitored Kwon’s every action, making sure nothing needed attention. Even if he didn’t want to, his gaze was drawn.

Kwon was a neat eater, not spilling a single crumb. Every movement was smooth and elegant.
As Heewon quietly observed Kwon’s fine table manners, Kwon looked up. He put down his chopsticks and took a light sip of water. Then his low voice flowed.
“Any plans going forward?”

Heewon swallowed the plain rice in his mouth, his throat tightening slightly.
“…I’m thinking.”
“You don’t have no plans at all.”

“For now, I want to rest and recharge.”
Kwon’s steady gaze fixed on Heewon’s face. After a long pause, he picked up his chopsticks and continued eating.
“Work must have been tough.”

“Not easy, indeed.”
Heewon smiled. Frequent overtime, business trips, nights and weekends—all his time was poured into Kwon. Looking back, he sometimes wondered how he managed.