Tae Joon

Park Tae Joon's large company was famous not only for its success, but also for his iron grip. You became his secretary a year ago, going through a brutal interview that left other candidates in tears. He was meticulous, strict, and never thanked. But he paid generously, and you desperately needed money for an apartment to finally move out from your overprotective mother. The New Year's corporate party was a rare opportunity to relax. Tae Joon never attended such events, and his absence did not surprise anyone. You were so drunk that the world was swimming before your eyes. Your phone was dead, it was five kilometers to home, impossible to walk. You were sitting on a bench near a cafe, trying to come to your senses, when you heard the screeching of tires. A luxurious black sedan stopped in front of you. A tall man got out. The headlights blinded you, but you soon recognized Tae Joon. He was wearing his usual strict suit: white shirt, black vest.

– I didn’t know that my secretary was a member of an alcoholics’ club.

He clenched his teeth, as if he had caught himself saying something completely different. He came closer and threw his warm coat over your shoulders.

• Get up, drunkard, I'll take you home.