My Boss is a CHICKEN?!

I had been waiting outside that VIP room for what felt like two soul-sucking hours.

For two. long. hours.

Like a forgotten delivery package.

The clock ticked.

The vending machine blinked.

The ceiling fan spun like it too was tired of this family's melodrama.

And me?

I was slowly turning into hospital furniture.

What are they even doing in there?

Hosting a Jeon family summit?

Restructuring the family business?

Planning the next K-drama adaptation of their life?

Is this the White House Situation Room or what?!

At one point, I was convinced I'd hear a news anchor outside announcing,

"BREAKING NEWS: Jeon Dynasty to pass historic ruling on heir's fainting episode."

I had counted every single tile on the floor.

Twice.

Named them. Made friends with two.

I was about to file for emotional compensation when suddenly—

RING RING.

My phone buzzed.

Mr. Junghyun?

I hesitated like I was being offered a cursed apple by an evil queen.

I slowly picked it up like it might explode.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mira? Are you still outside?"

Mr. Junghyun's calm voice floated through the line like he was asking if I was enjoying tea in a garden—not rotting in a hallway like a forgotten mop.

Before I could even respond—

"YOU HAVE HER NUMBER?!"

I heard two familiar voices yell in shocked unison in the background.

Probably Mr. Jeon and Grandpa Jeon, horrified that their household's royal circle had been breached.

"...Yes" he replied flatly.

With the kind of calm tone you use when you're dealing with toddlers who think taxes are made up.

Meanwhile, I was gripping my phone like:

Sir, where else would I BE?!

At a beach resort? Skydiving?

If your faint-happy son finds out I abandoned him in a hospital, I'll be fired, disowned, and possibly sued for emotional damage.

Then came the request:

"Can you come inside?"

Pause.

My soul left my body.

Why. WHY.

Why must I enter the royal courtroom of drama?

Do they want a live reenactment of The Fainting?

Am I being put on trial?

I stared at the door like it was the gateway to Narnia's evil twin.

"Yes" I replied like I was about to enter Area 51.

Call ended.

I sighed dramatically, fluffed my hair like I was going on stage, cracked my neck, whispered a prayer to every known deity, and marched forward like a soldier reporting to duty.

The Jeons had summoned me.

Let the chaos resume.

I took a deep breath, fixed my expression into something halfway respectful and halfway "please don't kill me" and knocked lightly on the VIP room door.

Knock knock.

"Yes."

That gentle, dignified voice?

Mr. Junghyun.

I opened the door like I was entering a courtroom and slid in with a small, awkward bow—because you never know which Jeon will explode first.

Inside, it felt like I had walked into a silent warzone wrapped in Gucci.

Mr. Jeon was on the hospital bed, glaring at me like I'd betrayed the Jeon family by breathing.

Grandpa Jeon looked ready to throw a chair at my head.

Mrs. Jeon sat like a porcelain statue carved from elegance and judgment. 

Stoic. Untouchable. Slightly terrifying.

And Mr. Junghyun?

He just stared at me. Calm, Composed. Probably internally questioning every decision that led to this moment.

He sighed.

"I'm sorry on behalf of my father."

…HUH?!

I blinked.

My jaw almost dropped to the floor.

Mr. Junghyun?? Why is he apologizing?!

"Why are YOU apologizing?" Grandpa Jeon barked like a drama director unhappy with a script change.

His forehead vein looked dangerously close to filing its own complaint.

Mr. Junghyun stayed calm. He glanced at me. Then back at his dad.

"What else am I supposed to say after you chased her through the company like a rat in a supermarket?"

I stared down at my shoes.

My dignity had packed its bags and was boarding a flight to Iceland.

"Because she IS a rat in that company," Grandpa Jeon huffed.

Oh?

I gritted my teeth so hard I heard my ancestors whisper, "Don't do it, Mira."

One drop of rat poison. Just one. In his soup. Problem solved.

"Dad. Please stop" Mr. Junghyun said wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose like this wasn't the first time his father had insulted someone into spiritual disintegration.

The room fell quiet for a beat.

Everyone looked everywhere but at each other.

Except Mr. Jeon.

He was still staring at me.

Hard.

Like he was mentally building a PowerPoint presentation titled: "Reasons to Fire Mira Kim Immediately. Again."

Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke.

"Grandpa…"

His voice was cold, tired, boss-mode activated.

"I think you should go home."

Grandpa Jeon turned to him with the scandalized expression of a royal being exiled from his own palace.

"Huh?"

"It's time for your medications" Mr. Jeon added firmly. "And I bet you forgot to bring them again."

Grandpa narrowed his eyes and huffed.

"I told Emily to remind me."

He muttered like a grumpy cartoon grandpa.

"She forgot. It's not my fault."

Of course.

Classic rich-old-man deflection logic.

Blaming others for your own fault.

"Emily is your poodle."

Mrs. Jeon deadpanned.

"Exactly. She was sitting next to my pillbox. She could've barked twice or something."

I stared at him like I was watching a ghost recite Shakespeare in Latin.

Is he… being serious?

Did this man just expect his poodle to moonlight as a nurse?

"Please stop it, Father. You're embarrassing all of us" Mrs. Jeon said it like she's been saying it every week for 30 years. Her voice elegan, yet exhausted.

Just then, someone peeked in and said,

"Mr. Jeon, the driver's waiting out front."

Grandpa Jeon threw me one last villainous glare that said "You haven't seen the last of me, rat" before dramatically adjusting his fur coat.

"Be home before seven" he instructed his children like a strict headmaster.

And with that, he exited. 

Dramatically, obviously.

Like a villain retreating after a failed monologue.

And then… silence.

Just us four now.

I stood there like the awkward side character who accidentally wandered into the protagonist's storyline.

Do I breathe? Blink? Tap dance?

Mr. Junghyun finally took mercy.

"You can go home if you want, Mira—" he began kindly.

"No."

That sharp, ice-cold tone?

Mr. Jeon. Of course.

He didn't even blink.

"She will not leave unless I say so." he said, locking eyes with me like I just broke office law #478.

"…It's alright, Mr. Jeon—" I began, trying to de-escalate, when suddenly—

"Mr. Jeon?"

Mr. Junghyun raised a brow.

His tone playful. Suspiciously playful.

"I thought we made a deal earlier?"

I froze.

Wait.

WHAT DEAL?!

Don't tell me he is telling me to be casual with him? HERE? In front of his son??

I mentally started digging my own grave with a hospital spoon.

Across the room, Mr. Jeon raised a perfect, judgmental brow.

"What deal?" he asked, his tone suspicious enough to cause earthquakes.

"None of your business" Mr Junghyun replied with a polite smile and the energy of a man who'd drop a truth bomb and sip tea while watching the fallout.

Mr. Jeon scoffed.

Like someone just served him instant noodles on fine china.

"Are you serious right now? She's MY employee!"

"We're friends." Mr Junghyun replied casually, sipping metaphorical tea.

I choked on air.

Sir. Don't get me fired on live television.

"Can you both stop being embarrassing?"

Mrs. Jeon cut in, glaring at both men.

Honestly, her tone said "I raised idiots" loud and clear.

She turned to me.

"And you, kid. Are you okay being here?"

The ground under me trembled.

Was… was I hallucinating??

Was Mrs. Jeon asking if I was okay?

Is this what kindness feels like from a woman who gave me a death-glare only two hours ago?!

Was everything a facade?!

I just nodded my head nervously.

"It'd be nice if you use your God-gifted source called tongue" she said, voice clipped.

Ah.

There she is.

"Y-yes…" I stammered.

And forced myself to add "Thank you for asking."

And then,

Silence.

The kind of silence that made you question your life choices, your social security number, and whether you were actually awake or dreaming in a hospital hallway.

I wanted to disappear into the floor tiles.

I slowly looked up.

First at the power couple—Mr. and Mrs. Jeon.

Then… at their work of a son.

Whose eyes were already drilling holes into my soul like I'd just declared bankruptcy on his behalf.

I looked down immediately.

Sighed. Regretted my entire career. Life choices. Existence.

Then… like the idiot main character in a horror film, I looked up again.

And opened my cursed mouth to say the dumbest sentence of my life.

"You both can go home if you want as well. I can… manage here."

What.

What gave me the guts to say that?!

Why would I ask the only sane people here to leave me alone with this marble-statue-faced villain?!

Do I secretly want to die?

If they actually left… I'd be alone.

With him.

The Monster CEO.

Mr. Junghyun, sweet innocent soul that he is, started kindly:

"It's alright, Mira, we'll st—"

And then, the devil spoke.

"I think she's right."

My head snapped towards him.

Excuse me?!

"You both should go home. It's getting late."

Mr. Jeon—the actual patient—continued in his usual cold tone, as if he wasn't the reason we were all here.

Mr. Junghyun frowned.

"What about you?"

"I'll come after settling the hospital bills and other formalities."

Translation: I'm emotionally allergic to your company.

"I'll wait—" Junghyun began.

"It's alright, Mr. Jeon" I blurted like a martyr.

"I'll escort him."

Mr. Jeon turned to me like I'd just cursed three generations of his ancestors.

"But—"

"No. I insist." I added like someone desperate to die in a locked-room murder mystery.

Silence.

Junghyun looked between us—me and his glowering son.

Two enemies locked in a death stare.

"Alright then…" he finally said, clearly sensing the suffocating tension thick enough to slice.

He gave me one last sympathetic smile.

'Good luck surviving.'

That's what it meant. I could feel it.

Turning to his wife, he murmured, "Let's go."

Mrs. Jeon stood.

Her heels clicked ominously as she headed to the door.

Then, over her shoulder, she delivered her final command of the night:

"Be home before seven."

And just like that, the Jeon Royal Couple exited.

Leaving me.

Alone.

With their son.

I've read horror stories scarier than this.

And I'm in one now.