My Boss is a CHICKEN?!

We were standing outside the emergency room, pacing like anxious relatives in a Grey's Anatomy episode.

Emergency room.

A high-end, wildly expensive private hospital emergency room…

Let that sink in.

All because Mr. Jeon decided to faint like a wilted rose at a costume ball.

Like… are we sure this is necessary?

Isn't this a bit dramatic for someone who passed out for 47 seconds and woke up perfectly fine after a sprinkle of tap water?

Apparently not.

Not for Mr. Jeon "Extra Is My Middle Name" Jaehyuk.

The man had woken up the second we sprinkled water on him again, but instead of just getting up like a normal person, he clutched his head with both hands like a Victorian heiress having a scandal-induced meltdown and dramatically declared,

"Take me to the hospital. RIGHT. NOW!!"

I made the fatal mistake of asking,

"Uh… why?"

I mean, WHY would we take him to the hospital when he was already AWAKE?!?

He was sitting, talking, he even fixed his hair in the mirror before leaving. 

Then why should we take him to the hospital?

He turned his head toward me with the speed of a possessed doll in a horror movie and glared at me like I just slapped his grandma and spit on his Louboutins.

I swear to God, laser beams came out of his eyes.

If looks could kill, I'd be buried six feet under with a plaque that said "Here lies Miss Kim—murdered by curiosity."

"It's not clocking to you that I'm fine, is it?!" he barked. "What if my brain is damaged?!"

…What brain?

I didn't say it.

But I definitely thought it.

Sir, the "impact" was literally your ego collapsing.

Not your skull.

"Sir—" I started, trying to explain science or common sense or maybe both.

"Shut up before I fire you!!"

And just like that, my lips zipped shut faster than office gossip in front of HR.

I nodded. Silently. Respectfully. Regretfully.

So here we were.

Outside the emergency room of the most expensive hospital in the city, all because Mr. Jeon had a light trip and a flair for the dramatic.

At this point, I was just waiting for him to demand an MRI, a full-body scan, and maybe a priest.

"It's all because of you, peasant!!" Grandpa Jeon bellowed at me, finger pointing like I was a wanted criminal in a historical drama.

"Excuse me?! Stop calling me that!!" I snapped, offended on behalf of peasants everywhere.

"Right, right" he muttered, stroking his imaginary beard.

"You're an insult to peasants themselves."

EXCUSE YOU.

"I MAKE A HIGHER PAY!" I shouted back.

"Why were you even in our company?!" he growled, like he just uncovered corporate espionage.

"Because that's my company too—!"

Oops.

My mouth decided to freestyle.

His eyes widened so far I thought they were about to roll down the hallway.

"I mean—I work there!!" I corrected in a panic, waving my hands around like a malfunctioning wacky tube man.

"WHAT?! Who HIRED you?!"

"Mr. Jeon."

"Junghyun? That nutcase?"

Wow.

He just casually roasted his own son in 4K.

"Uh… No. Jaehyuk."

I realized, too late, that I dared to utter the sacred name of my boss without his royal title.

"I mean—Mr. Jaehyuk!" I corrected, trying to save myself from being struck down by lightning or Louis Vuitton.

Just then, the crowd split like the Red Sea.

In walked Mr. Junghyun—a.k.a. the OG Jeon—and his wife, Mrs. Jeon, floating in like royalty.

They looked around calmly, like they'd just arrived at a brunch, not an emergency room.

"What happened to Jae?" Mr. Junghyun asked, voice calm but firm, like a dad who already knew his son did something dumb.

I bowed slightly, channeling every ounce of corporate politeness I had left.

"H-he fainted…" I said weakly.

Mrs. Jeon tilted her head, examining me like I was a crime scene.

"Where?" she asked, her voice smooth and elegant—like she'd just stepped out of a Vogue interview.

Also, why was she wearing a full Vivienne Westwood ensemble in a hospital?!

Lady, are we going to the ER or a fashion show?

"In the office" I answered cautiously, suddenly aware of my department-store blazer.

"In front of all the people?" she whispered, her voice cracking slightly like she'd just been emotionally slapped by the ghost of etiquette past.

"Not now, Jihye" Mr. Junghyun said, placing a hand gently on her arm.

The calm in his voice was Olympic level.

"Is he alright?" he added.

I nodded.

I mean…

Defining "alright"?

He fainted, demanded mineral water, screamed about brain damage, and threatened to fire me mid-swoon.

But sure. Let's call it "alright."

"How did he even faint?" Mrs. Jeon pressed again, her diamond earrings shimmering like they were judging me too.

I pointed dramatically at Grandpa Jeon like a courtroom lawyer mid-trial.

"He knocked him off."

Gasps.

Silence.

Shooketh-ness.

They both turned to Grandpa Jeon like he just admitted to being the villain in a family K-drama plot twist.

"FATHER?!!" Mrs. Jeon shrieked, flailing like a musical lead whose big solo was just ruined.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO SUCH AN EMBARRASSING THING IN FRONT OF EVERYONE?!"

"I-I—" Grandpa Jeon stuttered, looking around like he was searching for the eject button from reality.

Before more chaos could erupt, the doctor FINALLY stepped out, peeling off his mask with the sheer exhaustion of a man who'd seen too much in one day.

"Was it really necessary to bring him here for such a tiny nuisance?" he asked, dryly.

Silence.

We all froze like awkward mannequins in a hospital-themed escape room.

Even Mrs. Jeon didn't have a comeback. 

And she wore Westwood.

The doctor sighed and shook his head, flipping through his clipboard like it personally disappointed him.

"We're transferring him to the VIP ward, just as he demanded."

Another sigh.

This man has clearly dealt with the Jeons before.

"He'll be discharged by evening."

I nodded solemnly.

Of course.

Dramatic entrance. VIP exit.

That's how the Jeons roll.

"You all can meet him if you want" the doctor said with the enthusiasm of a man who was five seconds away from quitting and starting a tofu farm in the countryside.

Then he turned and walked away like a man who just survived a reality show elimination.

Wait… we can all go in?

Are this many visitors even allowed inside to meet the patient?

Is he even a patient in the first place?

Because last I checked, fainting dramatically in Gucci doesn't qualify you for full VIP ward privileges and an audience like the Pope.

Also—can we talk about how he's being treated like a coma patient when the man literally fainted for four seconds and demanded Evian water before collapsing again?

I swear, I've had worse headaches from trying to fix the office printer.

I turned to Mr. Junghyun—the only Jeon who seemed to have his sanity still installed.

"You can go ahead and meet him. I'll wait outside" I said politely, like I wasn't still recovering from emotional whiplash.

Without a single word, they started walking in.

Like royalty entering the throne room.

Grandpa Jeon turned around at the door, gave me a glare so intense it could've curdled milk, then disappeared into the room like a villain entering the final boss fight.

Mrs. Jeon didn't even speak. She just gave me a side-eye sharp enough to cut diamonds.

As if I caused the fainting.

As if I punched her precious son right out of consciousness.

Finally—

Mr. Junghyun.

The only one with working brain cells and blood pressure under control.

He paused beside me, let out a deep, exhausted sigh like he'd just aged five years in five minutes, and gently patted my back.

A pat that said:

"You didn't sign up for this."

"I'm sorry for my family."

"You deserve a raise and possibly therapy."

And then he walked in, leaving me alone in the hallway like the emotionally scarred extra in a hospital drama.

Should I fake faint too?

Maybe I'll get a break from all this too.

I can't bare this nonsense anymore..