My Boss is a CHICKEN?!

They both sat in front of me like military generals interviewing a rogue spy for top-secret infiltration into the enemy territory.

I sat stiffly on a giant sofa that looked like it was upholstered in crushed dreams and cost more than my sister's kidney on the black market.

Is this a guesthouse or a royal annex of Buckingham Palace?

Mini compared to the actual Jeon mansion—yes.

Still large enough to host a G20 summit—also yes.

"You fired her for taking a day off?" Daddy Jeon a.k.a. Junghyun sir looked straight at his son and opened the meeting with a bang.

I raised my finger. "Half-day."

Let's be accurate with the crime reports, shall we?

Mr. Jeon rolled his eyes so hard I swear they almost went to the backrooms.

"How is that any of your business?"

Excuse me?

Mr. Junghyun gave him a look so dry it could've caused a drought.

"The position you're sitting in? That was mine. The empire you're running? Still technically mine. But that's not the point. I never treated employees like disposable tissue, and I'm not going to let you do it either."

Hold up—

MR. JEON'S DAD WAS THE EX-CEO?!

Royal blood confirmed.

Also—Daddy Jeon: 1, Cold Robot Son: 0.

Mr Jaehyuk, however, was not done.

"I brought the company from 8th place to 1st. So please—don't lecture me. Emotional employees are not a valid investment."

I nearly choked on my own saliva.

This man really just called human beings "not valid investments" like we were expired stocks.

Mr. Junghyun's nostrils flared. You know it's bad when the nose gets involved.

"When I ran the company, our employees didn't even know what depression was! Look at her—her anxiety level is above 90%!!"

He held up a medical file.

MY medical file.

Yup. I gave it to him earlier like a desperate girl trying to get back together with her toxic boss.

"I can fire her and replace her with someone medically stable" Mr. Jeon replied, crossing his arms like he was auditioning for Villain: The Musical.

"She's not my employee anymore anyway."

My eyes bulged.

"That's not right, Mr. Jeon!!" I burst out.

"It's like… it's like making your one-night stand pregnant and then denying you're the father!"

Why. Did. I. Say. That.

Mr. Junghyun blinked.

"She's right. You need to take responsibility."

I nodded solemnly.

"You have to marry her."

I nodded again.

Wait.

WHAT.

My head snapped to Mr. Junghyun like I was possessed.

"I—I meant in the pregnancy situation!" he clarified.

I ready to bury myself under the expensive guesthouse tiles.

"Exactly" I nodded.

"If you get someone pregnant, you marry them. If you fire someone unfairly, you hire them back." he shot.

LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK, DADDY JEON.

Mr. Jeon still looked as unbothered as ever.

The audacity in this man has no ceiling.

"She lied to me" he said flatly.

"She said her grandma was in the ICU. I granted her leave out of kindness. Turns out she was at a reunion party with friends."

Kindness??

KINDNESS?!?!

Sir, you once made a nine-months-pregnant woman WORK UNTIL HER WATER BROKE IN THE HALLWAY.

"He fired someone because they took a leave as their father DIED" I added dramatically.

"He said, 'He's dead anyway. Why waste time on him.'"

Even Mr. Jeon's dad looked like he just got hit with a personal betrayal.

"So.." he asked slowly, eyes narrowing,

"If I were on my deathbed during one of your meetings, you wouldn't visit me?"

Mr. Jeon stared off into the void like he was mentally calculating stock prices.

Didn't blink. Didn't breathe.

Then after a full minute of dramatic silence, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Depends."

DEPE—

I almost screamed.

DEPENDS ON WHAT?!

THE STOCK MARKET?!

Mr. Jeon's dad stood up from the couch with the energy of a tired dad about to disown his adult son for the fourth time this month.

He ran his fingers through his hair like he was trying to manually massage the disappointment out of his scalp.

"Are you being serious right now?" he snapped.

Meanwhile, Mr. Jeon?

He calmly adjusted his already perfect hair like he was in a Pantene ad.

Zero remorse.

Maximum villain energy.

I could tell Mr. Jeon's dad deeply regretted giving birth to him.

But alas—he's stuck. You can't disown your own child after they've inherited your 27-floor legacy.

Suddenly, Junghyun grabbed Mr. Jeon by the arm and dragged him away like a manager pulling his idol off a scandal.

"We need to talk."

I just nodded like, "Yeah, go ahead kings. Solve my fate over some $5,000 chairs."

They marched off to the dining room.

(Which, by the way, is located somewhere five kilometers away from the living room. You could literally run a marathon inside this estate.)

For five minutes, I watched them from a distance like I was lip-reading a historical drama.

Mr. Jeon's dad flailed his arms like a furious penguin.

Mr. Jeon? Calm. Cold. Denial mode: ON.

Suddenly—

"WHAT?! NO WAY!!"

Mr. Jeon's voice echoed like thunder across the mansion halls.

Oh?

What's wrong, your evil soul cracked?

Is he screaming over the idea of rehiring me?

Or did someone finally cancel his skincare subscription?

I squinted. Lip-sync expert mode: ON.

Junghyun mouthed: "You have to do it."

A few seconds later, both of them came walking back.

Their faces looked like they just finished negotiating a peace treaty with emotional landmines.

"You're rehired" Junghyun announced.

"WHAT?!" I jumped up like I'd been hit by lightning made of caffeine.

"Oh my God, THANK YOU SO—"

"You seem too happy" Mr. Jeon cut in, his voice colder than my mom's glare when I touch her Tupperware lid drawer.

I blinked.

Was I supposed to sob.

"There are conditions." he added, twisting the knife.

Of course.

"What conditions?"I asked cautiously.

"Are you sure you can handle it every day?"

"OF COURSE!! I CAN DO ANYTHING TO GET MY JOB BACK!!"

I shouldn't have said that.

Bad move.

I jinxed my own damn life.

"You'll report at 6 a.m.

And work until 6 p.m."

I blinked.

Okay Mira.

Two hours earlier.

One hour later. You can do it.

You've binged entire K-dramas overnight before. This is fine.

"Will I be paid more?"

Because let's talk reality. Inflation is real, and so is my skincare bill.

"Do you want to eat dinner at home or in jail?"

Oh.

Okay.

Got it.

Free labor it is.

"Second" he continued, "You'll be transferred to Team 1."

DE-MO-TION ALERT.

From the CEO's right hand woman to the corporate equivalent of a stapler.

"Wait—does that mean my salary—"

"Yes." he added with the subtlety of a slap,

"your salary will be cut in half."

I almost fainted.

Why don't I just work for exposure, Mr. Jeon?

Why not pay me in vibes and trauma while we're at it?!

"AND" he added with villainous flourish, "you will take over the Hotel Daejeon project."

WHAT. THE. HELL.

That project is cursed.

That land is cursed.

That project hasn't been touched in years.

The soil literally rejected architecture like it was lactose intolerant.

And moreover, I'm not even in the design department!

I don't know what a foundational grid is! I barely passed geometry!

"But—"

"Yes or leave."

The words dropped like a gavel.

Court dismissed.

I bit my nails while mentally calculating:

Okay, half of $10,000 is $5,000.

Still more than Yuna's sad 3k package and she's out here clinging to her position like it's BTS's last concert ticket.

And let's be real:

I have rent.

I have makeup.

I have cravings.

I HAVE NEEDS.

Just think about it Mira!

It all needs funding.

$5,000 > $0.

I can make it work.

I sighed in silent acceptance.

"Ye—"

"YES" Mr Junghyun said for me, grabbing my hand and forcing a shake with the devil himself.

EXCUSE ME?!

Did I just get coerced into employment?

So yeah.

I'm rehired.

Yay me.

I get 5 hours of sleep and breathe recycled office air for eternity again.

Send help.