This story starts with Kim Yugyeom.

Yugyeom is 25 years old, holding a technical diploma and six years’ experience with the filthy rich, nineteen years’ experience on the other end of the spectrum.

Yugyeom is also the personal assistant to 29-year-old Park Jinyoung, first ever to inherit Park Powers (this sounds marginally less ridiculous in Korean) and youngest to own it, but this doesn’t stop him from ruling over it with an iron fist.

Yugyeom has normal PA duties, like following Jinyoung during fancy meetings with investors, arranging all his appointments, and being available with a shoulder and a tub of gourmet caramel fudge ice cream every time Jinyoung has a “conversation” with his parents.

Though, well, just personal assistant might be stretching it a little.

He’s also a part-time secretary, bodyguard, butler, nanny, dictator, doctor, chauffeur, and occasionally a pillow. But that’s a little bit of a mouthful, so he prefers to go simply by personal assistant.

Anyway, as long as he’s paid the part, he doesn’t quite care what they call him, so there.

(And he is paid the part, and then some. He likes to convince himself that this is the only reason why he’s sticking by Jinyoung’s sorry .)

*

At 8.13am sharp every morning, Yugyeom will call Jinyoung five times.

The first four times, he holds his phone at his side and orders two takeaway cups of coffee with the other hand- one venti hot double-shot espresso mocha with two hunks of caramel, java chips and whipped cream with unsweetened organic cocoa powder, and one tall vanilla latte.

At 8.20am, on the fifth call, give or take 10 seconds, he’ll transfer the paper bag with both coffees into one hand, lift the phone to his ear, and Jinyoung will pick up, grumpy and vaguely disoriented.

“Am I late,” he’ll mumble into the receiver, as Yugyeom unlocks the car door, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Yes,” The younger man will reply every time, setting the cups into the warmer specially installed for this purpose, and Jinyoung will yawn.

“Alright then,” he’ll say, sounding rather bothered. “What am I late for?”

“Work, hyung,” Yugyeom starts the engine, and Jinyoung will frown- the younger man can’t see this, of course, but that doesn’t make the fact that it’s happening any less real. There’ll be a silence for about five seconds, as Yugyeom lets Jinyoung figure out what Work is. Then: “I’ll see you downstairs in twenty minutes, hyung.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung will say, still sounding a little confused, and their conversation ends there.

Thirty minutes later, Jinyoung will get in the passenger seat, sniffing miserably until Yugyeom hands him his coffee.

Then Jinyoung earnestly boots up with the aid of an unhealthy amount of sugar and caffeine, and in the meantime, Yugyeom will redo his tie where it’s been messily knotted, fasten his watch the correct way round, and correctly re-button his top three buttons, adjust his cufflinks, pull down his seatbelt and run a comb through his hair.

Jinyoung then lowers his cup, just as Yugyeom passes him a pair of black socks and a tissue.

“Will you look at that,” Jinyoung will say in vague fascination to his feet, as he dabs his mouth with the tissue. “I’m not wearing socks.”

“Yes, hyung,” Yugyeom will sigh, as he steps on the accelerator.

*

Park Jinyoung can power through 24 hours’ worth of work in 10 hours on a daily basis, six days a week, 55 weeks a year, and has been doing so for the past three years of his life as the CEO. He has his fair share of starry-eyed admirers and pitiful haters- being the youngest to inherit an energy company of this calibre in Seoul, and command it with such finesse and style, would probably rub some middle-aged old fogies the wrong way.

Unfortunately, he really doesn’t have enough space in his schedule to care about that. Maybe you can leave your name with the receptionist on the first floor, and his PA will get back to you within 3 working days with a default computer-generated response.

In conclusion, Jinyoung’s the business intellectual equivalent of Albert Einstein with the general survivability of a newborn kitten. This isn’t all that much of a surprise. Or maybe Yugyeom’s just used to it.

In some instances, Jinyoung can be a rather scary . Like today, for example.

The personal assistant hands Jinyoung a report that’s been faxed up from Advertising downstairs, and braces himself.

The older man clicks open a red ballpoint pen, pushes up his glasses and goes through the thirty pages in three minutes, circling various graphs and paragraphs, before handing the report back to Yugyeom.

“Who did this,” he asks, already moving on to the various windows open on his three PCs, and Yugyeom flips the page to glance at the name under the report.

“Executive-…”

“Fire them,” Jinyoung says, flipping through another file. “And put out word that we need new people in Advertising.”

Yugyeom sighs, rubbing a finger into his temple as he taps a couple of preset keys on his phone to send a default email to their HR department.

“Done.”

Not less than half an hour later, however, this also happens:

“Yugyeom.”

Yugyeom doesn’t look up from his computer screen, where he’s sorting emails. “It’s in your hand, hyung.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung looks in wonder at the stapler he’s currently holding. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Five minutes later: “Yugyeom.”

“It’s in your hand, hyung.”

“It’s not this time,” Jinyoung says, affronted. “I actually checked.”

“It’s under the report you just put down.”

There’s a rustle of paper, and the sound of Jinyoung finding the stapler.

“Oh, thanks.”

“No problem, hyung.”

In conclusion, Yugyeom doesn’t really think about the discrepancy of it much. He’s got enough on his hands making sure Jinyoung doesn’t get himself killed by their coffee machine, anyway.

*

“A new candidate? For what again? Already?” Jinyoung wrinkles his nose as they head down in the elevator- the senior manager from Finance on the 56^th floor gets in, sees Jinyoung, and immediately does a full 180 turn and speed-walks her way out like her life depends on it, under the pretence of needing to receive an important phone call. “What happened to the last one?”

“You fired him, hyung,” Yugyeom says, browsing through the email the HR manager had sent, noting the hint of slightly insane desperation to her ending words: Park Powers’ HR department dutifully commits itself to the company’s policy of the most stringent and thorough selection process, consuming many work hours, and we sincerely hope CEO Park is satisfied with the final candidate’s performance.

It’s understandable- Park Powers insists on a pretty rigorous step-by-step interview and test system for every candidate that enters, ending with a presentation overseen by the CEO himself. Jinyoung also has a penchant for running profit margins to the bone- meaning their HR head’s paid just enough for her not to grab her things and run for her life while she still can. “Maybe you should go a little easy on the firing, hyung.”

“He must’ve been bad,” Jinyoung squints, as Yugyeom passes him the report for the new one. He squints again. “This one doesn’t look much better.”

“You say that about every new candidate that comes in, hyung,” the personal assistant steps out of the elevator, on the phone with the HR admin in charge of receiving the new guy, holding the door for the CEO to come out, still looking vaguely troubled. “You said that about me, and now you can’t live without me.”

“No need to get egoistical about it,” Jinyoung grumbles, mostly because he can’t refute that statement. They’re almost at the door to the boardroom, specially booked for this presentation. “This Im Jaebum guy better blow the competition out of the water with this presentation, because his portfolio sure isn’t going to cut it.”

He’d better, Yugyeom thinks, as they cover the space, thinking about the rumours floating around about how the PR team’s planning to revolt if their workload doesn’t get spread over another head soon.

But then he opens the door, and winces.

No.

This guy is wearing piercings. His hair is ridiculously impractical- when’s the last time he got his fringe cut? He’s not even wearing a blazer. This is a joke. Yugyeom hopes they’re in the wrong room, or that this guy went to the wrong building and think they’re interviewing him for a position as a dance instructor.

Then he decides not to bring this up to Jinyoung, because then he might fire their HR head too, and then Yugyeom will really have to work overtime.

“Good morning,” the man seems nervous, and Yugyeom softens a little, then. Jaebum obviously didn’t think he’d be trying out for a position this high-profile.

Jinyoung isn’t talking, but this isn’t new- he’s devoting his focus to how this new guy might fit in their company, and leaves the mundane normal people stuff to his PA. Yugyeom offers a greeting for both of them, takes a seat on the opposite side of the boardroom, and opens his laptop.

“Go ahead,” he says, without looking up.

*

Ten minutes into the half an hour presentation, Yugyeom is wholly impressed.

Jaebum’d obviously done his research, the ideas he proposed were decent, and he seemed to have a good work attitude, confident and down-to-earth once he got over the initial nervousness.

Don’t judge a book by its cover, a bossy voice that sounds an awful lot like his friend Youngjae, PA to Jackson Wang of the Wang Corporation and fellow exploited overworked serf, says in his head. Jinyoung shouldn’t have a problem with this new guy.

No overtime, he thinks hopefully. No overtime, and I can go home and catch up with my already meagre social circle and call my mom and get dinner with my brother and-…

A tiny chat bubble pops up on his laptop.

Park Jinyoung (10.13 am): gyeom this guy is so hot

Yugyeom’s hopes and dreams are rudely shattered, smashed, lying on the cold hard ground, ahhh, ahhh, etcetera.

You (10:13 am): hyung no

Park Jinyoung (10:13 am): ttt every time he turns around like sideways

You (10:13 am): hyung

Park Jinyoung (10:14 am): NOW NOW

Park Jinyoung (10:14 am): LOOK AT HIS BICEPS

Yugyeom very gingerly pinches the bridge of his nose, suffering in silence. Jaebum must’ve taken it as a bad sign, because he falters in his presentation. The younger man quickly looks up again to assure him that he’s listening.

You (10:15 am): hyung we’re supposed to be assessing him

Park Jinyoung (10:15 am): yeah I am!!

Park Jinyoung (10:15 am): assessing dAT

You: (10:15 am): why do you do this to me

Park Jinyoung (10:15 am): he looks like a descendant of the greek gods????

Park Jinyoung (10:15 am): his chEEKBONES

Park Jinyoung (10:16 am): are you listening to me kim Yugyeom???

Yugyeom is trying very hard to listen to both the presentation that’s happening and the way his boss is waxing lyrical about their new candidate’s derriere.

You (10:17 am): I’m paid to listen to you hyung

Park Jinyoung (10:17 am): exactly

Park Jinyoung (10:17 am): kim yugyeom

You (10:18 am): hyung please no

Park Jinyoung (10:18 am): get me him. I want him. I have to have him

Yugyeom inhales and exhales in two long, slow breaths. Jaebum stutters a little, laser pointer shaking in his hands.

Park Jinyoung (10:19 am): omg he’s so cute

Park Jinyoung (10:19 am): please please pleaseeeee???

The younger man steels himself, and puts his foot down.

You (10:19 am): hyung, you’re not supposed to be romantically involved with anyone in this company

You (10:20 am): what would your father say if he found out about this?

The chat box remains coldly quiet for a good minute or so. But then again, Yugyeom had just crossed a line there.

Jaebum’s eyes are on Jinyoung, Yugyeom can tell, and the candidate falters after completing a point.

“Is something-…is something wrong?” he asks, fidgeting with the laser pointer, watching Jinyoung with a trepidation that would, in any other case, would be cute.

Yugyeom smiles bracingly. “No. We’ve seen enough. Thank you for coming down,” he stands, ignoring the noise that Jinyoung makes. “We’ll get in touch.”

*

Jinyoung stays angry with Yugyeom for the entirety of about one hour, back at the office. It stops when he caves in because he can’t find his stapler.

Neither of them talk about Jaebum.

*

Yugyeom waits two days before calling Jaebum up himself, outside the office, while Jinyoung’s eating his hand-packed and delivered lunch, specially coordinated and prepared by his nutritionist.

He rehearses several speeches in his head in the five seconds that the phone takes to ring. When Jaebum picks up, bleary and clearly having just woken up, Yugyeom wrinkles his nose just a little bit.

“Im Jaebum-ssi?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum croaks over the phone. “Wait, is this-…”

“This is Kim Yugyeom, calling from Park Powers. Sorry,” he says calmly into the receiver. “While we respect your work attitude and the research put into your final presentation, your assets just don’t match what we need in our Advertising department right now.”

“Oh,” Jaebum says, clearly crestfallen. “Oh. Uh, well, thank you, and, uhm, CEO Park Jinyoung, for taking the time to-…”

“Our associate, however, the Wang Corporation, is currently hiring,” Yugyeom carries on seamlessly. “With your permission, we will release your CV and cover letter to them, along with a recommendation letter specially penned by our CEO, in which case you should prepare to receive a call from their HR department within two working days to arrange for an interview.”

There’s a spectacularly stunned silence on the other end for a full minute or so.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Yeah, okay.”

“If there’s nothing else, please refer all further enquiries to our HR department. An administrator will be sending you an email with the relevant details enclosed. Thank you for your time, Jaebum-ssi.”

“Wait!” Jaebum says, before catching himself, sounding embarrassed. “Can I ask-…uh, why CEO Park didn’t choose-…uh, why I wasn’t chosen, if he’s writing a recommendation letter?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes into the ten thousand-dollar oil painting hanging in their waiting room outside Jinyoung’s office. He deals with children, he swears. He wants to say wait and see, you idiot, but that would be lowering himself to their level, so he restrains himself.

“We’ll get in touch, Jaebum-ssi,” he says politely. “Have a nice day.”

*

“You sent him to Jackson?” Jinyoung bursts, flopping back in his chair, glaring at Yugyeom to show him how absolutely offended he is by the thought. He and Jackson had literally almost grown up together, but that obviously isn’t stopping them from bickering like kids at every opportunity. “Why? And why Jackson, I bet he can’t wait to get his grubby little fingers all over-…if this is about what I said, I hope you haven’t forgotten we actually need an advertising executive.”

“You know and I know that you don’t care when we get our advertising executive, you just want an excuse to see his on a daily basis,” Yugyeom says matter-of-factly from behind his desk, still looking at his computer, and Jinyoung grumbles something incomprehensible, which usually means Yugyeom’s right. And Yugyeom’s always right.

“Besides,” Yugyeom says, shuddering a little at a certain unwanted memory involving Youngjae and a phone call before lunchtime that didn’t end when it was supposed to, leading to him being enlightened to some very unnecessary knowledge. “I don’t think Jackson will want to get his fingers on Jaebum anytime soon.”

There’s silence for a while longer as Jinyoung broods moodily at his chair, stabbing fruitlessly at an A4 colour-coded bar chart with his pen. Yugyeom clears his throat.

“You understand, don’t you, that you can’t be romantically involved with anyone in this company.”

“Yeah, well,” Jinyoung snaps, huffing like a little boy. “He’s not even in this company anymore, so-…so I can…”

Jinyoung trails off, frowning hard at a spot on his table, having suddenly realised something. Yugyeom, on the other hand, waits patiently for him to get it.

“Wait,” the older man says, still frowning, mouth open as if to ask a question.

“I’ve forwarded an email with his number enclosed to you, and moved your Friday night meeting to Monday afternoon,” Yugyeom says, glancing over an email from a start-up company and automatically moving it to trash. “I’ve also booked a table for two at that Italian restaurant uptown. Have fun, hyung.”

Jinyoung’s mouth is still open. It’s funny, and Yugyeom would laugh if he had the schedule space to do so.

“You planned this,” the CEO says, half in disbelief and half in fascination, and Yugyeom shrugs.

“It happened,” he says, distractedly typing an email to their distraught HR head, asking for runner-ups. He waits a few seconds. “Quarter-end bonus is coming up, if you’d like to thank me.”

“You planned,” Jinyoung frowns, blinking rapidly, still trying to get it. “Uh. So. So what-…happens?”

Yugyeom is the only one in this entire company who can call Jinyoung an idiot to his face and get away with it (Jinyoung’s father doesn’t count- he stepped down years ago anyway). However, Yugyeom is also the only one in this company who deals with Jinyoung’s up close and personal on a daily basis, and has developed a vast reservoir of patience. He taps from this reservoir regularly. Take now for example.

“So,” Yugyeom says slowly and exaggeratedly, as a teacher would to a rather slow pre-schooler. “You’re going to meet him for dinner on Friday night and the two of you are going to get to know each other and realise how compatible you are, then you’ll get together and start going for movies and dinners and gross me out.”

Revelation dawns upon Jinyoung’s pitifully one-sided brain, and he breaks into a big, sunny smile, one that wipes all despairing thoughts of overtime from Yugyeom’s head. “Wow,” he says, slightly awed. “Thanks, Gyeom.”

“No problem, hyung,” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, keeping his satisfaction stowed neatly in his desk drawer, along with his stash of unhealthy snacks and wads of carefully opened letters from home, never to see the light of day. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Jinyoung returns to his work, notably more cheerful than he’d been before, as Yugyeom’s phone buzzes with a message from Youngjae, whining because the younger man’s ditching him for the third dinner appointment in a row.

How bad can more overtime be?

*

Really bad.

Yugyeom answers the sixth email that’s come in from their HR department that Friday night, the second one from their corporate comms senior manager with a bunch of invasive reporters’ questions, and the snappy one that’d come in from the Tuan Foundation’s rep about why the meeting had been moved (though Yugyeom had informed them ages ago), as if they thought a company like them could afford to throw their weight around Park Powers.

This time, even thoughts about how Yugyeom could make Park Powers buy over the Tuan Foundation’s entire line of hotels (though who would- even Jinyoung would have a hard time salvaging that disaster) with a single text message does little to quash the annoyance bubbling at the back of his mind. One man can only withstand so much, and Yugyeom’s reserves of patience are running dry.

His laptop beeps, and he’s this close to actually stooping to the level of swearing at an inanimate object, when he sees Jinyoung’s signature peacock chat bubble colour.

Park Jinyoung (8:22pm): and then he said to let him pay for this one, because I’m paying for the next one???

Park Jinyoung (8:22pm): whAT DOES IT MEAN

Park Jinyoung (8:34pm): ok so when we were talking abt palate I asked what wine he likes and he said uhh red wine?? so I asked for a chryseia ’11 but he thought I was ordering dessert??

Park Jinyoung (8:34pm): is iT TOO LOW FOR HIM?? I MEAN, I would’ve gone all out and gotten a castello di ama ’10 but idk would that have been over the top???

Park Jinyoung (8:35pm): he keeps making weird faces every time he drinks the wine am I doing sth wrong

Park Jinyoung (8:49pm): omg we’re going for dessert now

Park Jinyoung (8:50pm): where do we go!!??

Park Jinyoung (8:50pm): will I seem pretentious if I take him to the usual

Park Jinyoung (8:50pm): IM A PRETENtiouS . I DON’T DESERVE TO LIVE T.T

Park Jinyoung (8:58pm): oh ok nvm he brought me to this waffle place

Park Jinyoung (8:59pm): …it’s vegan and organic

Park Jinyoung (8:59pm): u noe im starting to wonder if I’m the pretentious one here

You (9:00pm): stop texting and enjoy yourself, hyung

Yugyeom stows his phone in his pocket, exhaling loudly in the empty office as he stands up, grabbing the stack of candidate profiles the HR department had faxed up after their senior manager had her first nervous breakdown on the job and had to be sent home for a few days to rest (because Yugyeom honestly does not feel like finding another HR head now).

“This is a stupid name,” he says loudly, to the top paper of the stack he’s holding, before striding out of the room, trying to remember which floor HR is on.

He makes it all the way down to the thirty-second floor, checking his watch and ignoring the way his stomach’s rumbling, when someone runs into him, scattering the stack of papers he’s holding all over the floor inside and out of the lift.

“Ohmygoodness,” whoever it is quickly kneels down to help him pick some of it up- Yugyeom can’t see his face, he’s too distracted by his pants.

Yugyeom is one step away from hyperventilation. He is not looking at someone in an office building (Park Powers, to be specific), at their HR and possibly applying for a job, wearing leopard print jeggings.

“I never watch where I’m going, it’s really bad, I bump into people all the time,” the other man’s babbling in a cute (what the hell, Kim Yugyeom) weird accent. “It happened when I was getting out on this level too, I’m-…”

“It’s fine,” Yugyeom says in a clipped voice, getting progressively more stressed out by every element of this guy’s outfit. Weird pants, black leather jacket, bright white winged hightops, and is that a blonde streak in his hair-…

He can’t exactly confirm it, because the elevator door, ever the insensitive prick, closes on the other guy, and Yugyeom instinctively reaches out to steady him.

They freeze in that awkward position. A temporary admin from HR strolls past, sees them out of the corner of her eye, and quickens her pace, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

“So. Uh, thanks,” Yugyeom says in a tone one would typically use to say an awkward goodbye. He picks up the last piece of paper, and the other man (the baby face makes him think more of the word boy though) looks a little confused, stumbling a little as he gets to his feet. “Thanks,” he repeats for the lack of anything better to say, taking the papers from him stiffly, before edging around him. “Uh. Thanks. Watch out for the doors.”

He flees into the main office, obsessively straightening the creases in his shirt.

Yerin’s there, chewing on a cuttlefish strip and looking at him as one would when watching a particularly tragic romantic comedy. Yugyeom takes a deep breath and pins her with a look.

“Do you-…” he points at the lift with his stack of papers, squinting a little. Yerin raises both her immaculately drawn brows- it’s not a particularly nice look, considering the last time he saw it was when he tried to ask her out two years back and got rejected on the account of “so you’re not with the CEO? Damnnit, I owe Jimin ten bucks now”. She nods wordlessly at the papers in his hand.

“Last profile Jimin faxed up like, five minutes ago?” she says, blinking innocently. “Kind of cute, don’t you think? His portfolio’s pretty decent too, for a freshie like him.”

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Yugyeom’s trying not to go into hysterics. “But he was wearing leopard print-…”

“Oh shut up, it turned you on anyway,” Yerin says unconcernedly, cuttlefish off her fingers.

“It did not,” the personal assistant snaps, striding past her to get to the HR head’s computer. Yerin rolls her eyes, picking up her compact mirror to reapply her lipgloss. It’s extremely demeaning.

Yugyeom waits almost an entire minute before speaking again.

“Anyway,” he says stiffly. “We’ll be arranging interviews. I’ll send you the list of candidates by tonight, I just wanted to get some data from the HR head’s computer first.”

Yerin smacks her lips, admiring her reflection. “I’ll just put Bambam’s name down first, shall I?”

Yugyeom can feel his hair turning white. “…please don’t tell me that’s his name.”

The HR assistant sighs, manicured nails moving like lightning across the keyboard as she fills the Excel sheet. “Listen, you want a cute guy with a nice and a decent personality, you’ve gotta accept he’ll be in the losing department in some areas, right?”

“I never-…I don’t want a cute guy,” Yugyeom interjects. “I don’t want anyone.”

“Keep lying to yourself, it’s funny,” Yerin rolls another cuttlefish strip around her finger and pops it into . She chews, before muttering conspiratorially, “clause seven point three point five of employee rules and regulations says inter-department dating is allowed.”

“I’m not-…”

“Jiminnie~” Yerin calls out loudly, stilettoes muffled in the carpet as she stalks into the next room. “Remember that bet from like, two years back? I’d like to change our terms!”

Yugyeom makes a strangled noise into the monitor. Overtime’s about to get impossibly worse.

(Or better, of course. Depending on how you look at it.)

fin