They say that the minimum time to spend on a job you don’t like is two years – something about avoiding being labelled as a job hopper and questioned on your ability to produce good work. In essence, that would mean that Jung Jinhee had eighteen more months to go.

Eighteen more months. Eighteen more months to be with Byun Baekhyun.

But the woman sitting across her had much less time, and, more concerningly, much less of a desire to call it quits.

Kim Taeyeon was a beautiful woman, a classic Korean beauty with porcelain skin, a petite, womanly form, and wide, sparkly eyes one could sink right into. Even if Jinhee had her doubts about Baekhyun’s character, she had to admit, he did have impeccable taste in women and an even more impeccable aim, considering he’d managed to hit the mark on all his targets.

Her perfect set of full lips parted, quivering in residual shock. “B-b-but,” she spluttered, “why?”

The first stage: disbelief.

When Jinhee held her silence, at least having the tact to look just slightly rueful, Taeyeon choked a sob. She repeated the same syllable over and over again, like it would somehow conjure Baekhyun into the room. But it didn’t, and slowly her stifled sobs became full-blown waterworks, with the young woman crying and wailing like the earth had fallen apart. Times like that, Jinhee wished it did so she could sink into the ground and ing disappear.

That was the second stage: grief.

Jinhee used to have the empathy –the patience– to at least try to be a source of comfort. She relied on arsenal of tried and tested words of consolation – “you’re going to be okay”, “you deserve more than this”, and her personal favorite of “it’s not you, it’s him,” which she usually said while silently cursing Byun Baekhyun to the deepest pits of hell. If she had a Voodoo doll, she’d push the pin in so he’d feel it from his cushy Herman Miller chair in his swanky office downtown.

These days, however, Jinhee settled for tissues. Six months working for the asshat taught her that she’d be wasting her breath with way too many women. And she hated that part of her had completely been numbed to his bull.

After Taeyeon had blew most of her nose into Jinhee’s proffered tissue, Jinhee braced herself for the last and most problematic stage: denial.

“I don’t believe it,” she said. “If he wants to break up with me, he can’t send you as a proxy – he has to tell me himself.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Jinhee nodded with a sense of trained sympathy. It didn’t really come from the heart anymore, sadly. “Unfortunately, I’m not able to make that happen today. I’m so sorry.”

“But you’re his lawyer, you can reach out to him and–“

“It’s because I’m his lawyer that I’m here in his place.”

Jinhee saw her reach for her glass. She drew her breath and muttered a prayer. Whether the water was going on her face or not, she was going to make Baekhyun pay out his . Your wallet better be ready, you lil’ .

“Look,” she said, watching Taeyeon hold her glass in a vice-like grip, “Ms. Kim, my makeup is waterproof. I didn’t curl my hair today. I’m wearing a dry-fit shirt.” She held up her shirt as a form of proof, albeit barely necessary.

She then proceeded to extract a stack of documents from her briefcase, laying it out on the table for her. “In addition to the payout he’s agreed to provide you with, he’s also made me file a restraining order. I could choose to not file this, in good faith that you’d do what’s best for him and yourself, but if you throw that glass at me, I’ll have to file this and a police report for assault.”

Taeyeon began to tremble. Jinhee had gotten her. Time for the kill.

Jinhee stretched out a hand, placing it over Taeyeon’s. “Ms. Kim, you seem to me like a smart, rational, reasonable woman,” she said, voice firm and grounded. “Don’t do something you’ll regret over a man who won’t even think twice.”

Taeyeon burst into tears. She buried her hands, shoulders shaking as she descended back into loud, tormented wails. Jinhee patted her shoulders – the part of herself that hadn’t grown cold was starting to resurface, and also half the café was looking at them like Jinhee was the villain in a washed out Korean soap opera.

“Jerk,” Taeyeon blubbered, raising her head.

“I agree,” Jinhee said, mostly because she actually did, “and all the more, don’t waste your emotions on him. In my opinion, he’s giving you a really good deal. Take the benefits, get yourself a drink and a new pair of shoes, and use that to impress the next, more worthy guy.”

Taeyeon went back to swimming in the fountain of her tears. But, her grip on her glass had loosened. Jinhee hated herself for it, but again, she’d done the trick. She’d broken another girl’s heart for the likes of Byun Baekhyun.

Jinhee strode through the glass doors, armed with her signed documents –her spoils of war– and her office pass. Baekhyun had gotten one for her within her first week of employment, though she was technically contracted to him and not the bank he worked for. It made her feel like even more of a conspirator, and it probably amused him how much she abhorred it.

“Hey, Jinhee!” Giselle, the young, all-too-beautiful receptionist, stood up to greet her. “Baekhyun just came out of a meeting. He’s in his office.”

“Great, thanks!” Jinhee smiled.

It was probably second skin for Giselle at that point, especially working in an office full of hungry, dogs whose tastes had gone beyond bones and kibble. Steak-eating dogs, Jinhee shuddered. She literally hated it there.

Naturally, as Jinhee made her way down the stretch of cubicles, the young analysts whistled and hooted, craning their necks to get a piece of her. Times like that, she thanked her stars that her industry, as problematic as it was, wasn’t just a testosterone-filled playground. She wouldn’t be able to survive a day as an investment banker – she’d probably be tried for mass murder on her first day.

One particular dog, however, was a little bit more eager and shameless than the rest. “Hey, beautiful,” Kim Jongin said, swinging in and taking her by the waist, “you’re looking like a snack.”

“And you’re looking like you haven’t showered in days,” Jinhee shot back, reeling as she got a whiff of him. “Is it deal season?”

“Every season is deal season,” Jongin said. “Tell me, Jinhee, will you ever let me buy you dinner?”

“Sure, only if you’re not eating with me,” Jinhee chuckled.

Jongin sighed, half-laughing as he released his grip on her. “Well, I tried.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have any finesse. Better luck next time,” Jinhee called, continuing her journey down to Baekhyun’s office.

She found Baekhyun sitting by his desk, eyes darting between his laptop and his large, extended monitor, probably concocting some convoluted financial model at the speed of light. His hair was coiffed, slicked back suavely, leaving a few strands to fall over his eyes. His sleeves were rolled up, stopping nicely above his forearms, letting his muscles ripple with his minute movements. Jinhee understood the appeal, she did. Staring at Byun Baekhyun for too long was how every one of his targets ended up in their rather tormented predicaments, so Jinhee didn’t.

She knocked at his door, and then popped her head in. “Hey,” she called, “do you have a minute?”

He looked up, breaking into a wide, irresistible smile. Jesus. “Of course,” he said, grinning sultrily, “you can have all my minutes, my love.”

Jinhee rolled her eyes. She didn’t even bother holding back anymore. It wasn’t necessary. She stepped into the office, shutting the door behind her.

She then plopped her documents on his table. “Kim Taeyeon signed everything,” she announced – a matter of protocol. “Just to remind you, relationship contracts are still deemed to be unenforceable in the court of law. However, they do hold some weight should the case really be taken to court.”

She’d already warned him about the limited enforceability of relationship contracts the first time they met six months before, but he’d still insisted that she drafted them out and have them signed. He wanted to make sure that somewhere, in writing, he’d be able to hold a woman to her promise to never be involved with him again, though he’d often break his contracts himself.

“Good enough,” Baekhyun nodded, scanning through the papers. “Did you file the restraining order?”

“No.”

“Jinhee–“ Baekhyun started.

“Look, I already had a hard time convincing her to sign all of these ridiculous contracts,” she defended. “It’s bad enough that you’re paying a woman to leave you. The least you could do is to not make her feel like an animal that needs to be restrained.”

Of course, her solemness had the opposite effect on Baekhyun. His lips curled at the edges, with him shooting her a sultry, suggestive look.

“And no,” Jinhee said, heaving a sigh because she’d already gotten the stage where she could read such looks. “I’m not into those kinks.”

“Just checking,” Baekhyun chuckled. “But I get your point. Still, I think you’re being too soft. How many times have these girls proven you wrong?”

Jinhee frowned. In a way, he was right, but he was also the damn perpetrator. “That’s because you always have rebounds when I’d already put a bow on your cases. If you’re going to undo everything I help you with, then I might as well just crawl into a coffin. This is all a waste of my damn time.”

“I’ll get you one of the best,” he winked.

“Oh, I’m so grateful,” Jinhee replied