Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg

The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly as Harin stepped out of the elevator, high heels tapping across the polished marble floor. Her crisp office skirt hugged her hips perfectly, and her blouse—buttoned properly for once—did nothing to hide the calm in her eyes or the slight glow still in her skin.

The receptionist blinked at her.

"Miss Kang… You're in early."

"Not staying long," Harin smiled.

She walked past cubicles filled with dead-eyed colleagues already caffeinating themselves into survival. The smell of stale air-conditioning, stress, and old toner filled the room. It made her skin crawl.

She approached the HR Department, resignation letter in hand.

The HR manager looked up from his monitor—and paled. "Miss Kang… Harin… this—what's this?"

"My resignation," she said softly. "Effective immediately."

His face twisted. "Why? Is this about the long hours? You're one of our best. I—I can talk to the team. Get you a raise. An extra vacation day."

Harin gave a slow, amused blink. "One extra day won't fix a drowning ship."

The door burst open.

Her direct manager, Mr. Baek, stormed in. Mid-40s, comb-over clinging to relevance, shirt always two sizes too tight.

"I heard. Is this true?" He looked at her resignation notice like it was a betrayal. "You can't just leave."

"I'm not just leaving," Harin said. "I'm escaping."

Baek closed the door. "You know the work culture is intense. It's the industry."

"It's a black company, Baek-seonbae."

He flinched. "Even so—fuck—look. I know things are… insane. But I can't afford to lose someone like you."

"Then resign too."

He gave a hollow laugh. "God, I've thought about it."

The glass walls of the HR office shook slightly from commotion near the elevators.

All heads turned.

Then came the entrance.

The CEO—late 30s, slicked-back hair, custom suit slightly askew—walked in flanked by two secretaries.

Both wore skin-tight dresses, barely zipped. Both had visible hickeys on their necks and collarbones, makeup slightly smudged, perfume thick and desperate. One had her blouse buttoned unevenly. The other's lipstick was very fresh.

The CEO was grinning, arms wrapped around both waists like trophies.

"Good morning, everyone! Let's get this fucking day rolling!"

The entire office froze in a mixture of horror and forced smiles.

He strolled in like a king returning from a victorious orgy.

The secretaries giggled behind their hands.

He stopped in front of the open workspace.

"Why the fuck is productivity down?" he asked, grinning. "Did I fuck all the motivation out of you already?"

Dead silence.

He turned toward the project board and snapped his fingers. "New strategy. Scrap the old platform. We're going full crypto."

Harin blinked. Her manager choked on his coffee.

"What?"

"You heard me," the CEO said. "We're launching a new online investment wing. Crypto-focused. But not that old-school buy-and-hold shit."

He pulled one of the secretaries into a side hug. Her tits squished visibly against his arm.

"We're going with paper crypto futures—users can play the market, trade imaginary tokens, no actual asset management. High engagement, no storage cost. It's all about gamification, baby."

"Sir, that's not legally regulated—"

"Shh." He tapped Baek's lips. "That's tomorrow's problem."

The secretaries giggled again.

"Update the software by end of week," he barked. "I want a mock trading platform live. Throw in some NFT bullshit, too. The kind Gen Z can masturbate to."

Baek looked like he was about to cry.

Harin stepped forward.

"Sir."

The CEO turned, blinking at her like she'd just materialized. His eyes dragged up her legs, paused on her chest, then moved to her eyes. "Oh, Miss Kang. Didn't know you were still with us."

"Not for long."

She handed him the resignation letter.

He opened it.

"Effective today? Damn."

He looked up. "Was it the hours? The pressure?"

"It was the smell," she said flatly. "Stale cologne and desperation."

She turned and walked out.

Behind her, the CEO's voice echoed: "Well, guess I need a new project lead. Maybe Mi-na can code?"

One of the secretaries giggled. "I only code body language, oppa~"

Baek leaned against the wall.

Harin didn't look back.

But as the elevator doors closed behind her, she saw the first crack in her manager's face.

He'd be next.

This company wasn't just a sinking ship.

It was already on fire.