Eunyoung had been doing a lot of thinking lately.
*Did I really grind myself into the ground overseas and earn a master's degree just to end up doing this?*
She had studied brilliant marketing campaigns from all kinds of brands throughout her graduate program. She'd debated the success factors behind those campaigns with students from around the world, formed teams, and actually built out full marketing projects from scratch.
She'd assumed work would be the same — only better. Well, her school projects were just assignments, after all. She figured the real thing would be bigger, more impressive, more meaningful.
But reality had other ideas. More than half of what she actually did at work was, to put it plainly, small-time stuff. Budgets were laughably thin. Some projects existed only because the CEO knew someone who asked for a favor. Others had no clear reason for existing at all.
Even that she could live with. She was still new — of course they'd give her the grunt work. Once she built up more experience, she'd get better assignments. And she was already handling more responsibility than most people at her level.
What really got to her was the feeling that her credentials were actually working against her.
When people looked at her work, they'd say things like: *"Ah… you were in school for a long time, weren't you? This is a little… idealistic."* Or: *"I don't think you quite understand — that's a case study from overseas. We could never dream of that kind of budget."* Or: *"A real proposal is a little different from a class assignment."*
At first, Eunyoung had approached everything with the mindset that there were no failures — only steps on the road to success. No matter what anyone said, she'd tell herself, *Right, I've just been in school too long. There's a lot to learn out here.* She kept talking herself back up.
But that resolve had started to wobble. Things she'd taken as well-meaning advice began to sound more and more like digs. Every time she heard one of those not-quite-compliments, she felt a little worse. Telling herself not to feel that way didn't help.
She hadn't expected the company to roll out a red carpet because of where she went to school. But there was no reason to tear her down for it, either. People didn't seem to see her degree as the product of her own hard work. They assumed she'd had money, had been groomed from childhood, had coasted down some golden path. Someone even joked that she'd probably spent more time at clubs and parties in the States than in the library.
But surviving in a foreign country from a young age — with no friends, no safety net — had required everything she had. There were weeks she'd eaten nothing but white bread and chocolate spread because she couldn't afford anything else. She couldn't exactly pull people aside and explain all that.
Her degree *was* proof of her effort. To Eunyoung, nothing could be more clear-cut. But if people admitted that, they'd have to admit they hadn't worked as hard — so instead, they tore her down. That was how she saw it.
She told herself that someday she'd be a team lead at this company, and she'd wipe the smug looks off every face that had ever talked down to her. It wasn't an empty ambition, either — every team lead here had serious credentials. Every single one.
Except one.
Junhwi.
Junhwi had graduated from a decent enough school in Seoul. Respectable by Korean standards, but not the kind of name that turned heads on a global stage.
That had genuinely puzzled her. How had someone so ordinary made it to team lead? Did he have connections? Was he just incredibly lucky?
She'd figured it wouldn't last. Build something on a weak foundation and it'll crack eventually.
But Junhwi kept defying her expectations. He was sharper than team leads who'd gone to far better schools — quicker on his feet, more insightful, better informed. He outclassed them across the board. And on top of all that, he seemed like a genuinely decent person. He was always saying things like *I just got lucky* or *I was way worse than you when I was starting out.*
Every time she saw that side of him, she felt something shift inside her — something she'd built carefully and considered solid. There wasn't supposed to be an exception like Junhwi in her world. There wasn't supposed to be proof that ability didn't follow credentials.
Obviously, once she had as many years in the field as he did, she'd surpass him. For now, her potential just hadn't fully surfaced yet.
Obviously.
So why did she feel so uneasy?
To quiet the anxiety, she threw herself into her work. But maybe she was pushing too hard. She kept making mistakes.
"Are you… not going to eat dinner…?"
"…Oh — Eunyoung, go ahead and grab something. I had jajangmyeon at lunch and it's still sitting heavy. I completely forgot about your dinner because I was so full. My bad."
"Oh, no, it's fine. I'm okay. I was just thinking you might be hungry—"
"I'm good, really. Here, use the company card."
"No, I'm fine, I don't need to eat."
"Then at least get a drink or something."
"I'll grab something for you."
"I've still got something going, I'm fine. Go eat. Go on."
The company card passed back and forth between them several times before Eunyoung finally took it.
The office was dark. One conference room light was still on. Everyone else had gone home. Only Junhwi and Eunyoung remained.
They were there to clean up a mistake Eunyoung had made.
Under those circumstances, how could she possibly sit down and eat? She was too mortified to even say she was sorry — saying it felt like one more thing she didn't deserve to do.
If only Junhwi had yelled at her. If he'd made it obvious he was annoyed, said something like *look what you've put me through* — maybe she'd feel a little less awful right now. But he hadn't said a word. Hadn't even let a hint of irritation show. And the more gracious he was, the more she wanted to disappear entirely.
She had wanted to show Junhwi something undeniable — the gap between the top caste and the second tier, laid out in plain sight. She wanted to prove it through sheer, overwhelming ability. *Better than Junhwi was as a new hire* wasn't going to cut it. But all she'd managed to show him so far was a string of mistakes. He probably thought of her the same way he thought of any other junior employee — someone to look after, someone of middling ability, someone who was, in the end, a burden.
Eunyoung bit her lip. She had never been ordinary. In every group she'd ever been part of, she'd stood out. And now she was being treated like dead weight.
The shame burned through her like something boiling.
*This is such a mess…*
No more mistakes. She would rebuild, one step at a time.
She went down to the café on the first floor and ordered an iced Americano with three extra shots.
"I heard you two were here until the early hours of the morning."
CEO Jang said it evenly.
Eunyoung couldn't quite bring herself to meet her eyes.
"Yes… Junhwi worked really hard…"
When Eunyoung had first joined the company, she'd stood in front of CEO Jang with her chin up. CEO Jang had treated her like someone worth being grateful for — *thank you for choosing us.*
That had changed completely.
Junhwi, who had been glancing between the two of them, spoke up.
"Eunyoung handled everything. I just kept working on my own stuff and checked in on her every now and then."
CEO Jang gave Junhwi a warm smile.
Then she turned back to Eunyoung.
"As you know, Junhwi is one of our key people. What that means is that his time and energy carry a lot of value. Which is why his resources need to go toward things that are truly critical. That's not to say everyone else's time doesn't matter — but I think you understand what I'm saying."
The tone was patient, almost teacherly. But there was a blade in it. *Should someone as capable as Junhwi really be staying late to fix your mistakes?*
Eunyoung answered in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes…"
Junhwi stayed quiet. Anything he said to cover for Eunyoung right now would just look like he was trying to seem like a good person.
This was who CEO Jang was. Endlessly warm toward people who looked like they'd contribute — and ice-cold the moment she decided they couldn't. The contrast between how she treated people she'd approved of and everyone else was stark.
She had always been warm with Junhwi. At first, he'd liked that without question. Then one day he overheard her talking about an employee whose performance had been slipping.
*Working hard isn't the point. You have to perform. Growth isn't the point. You have to succeed. What's the use of failing over and over and saying 'I learned this, I learned that'? Is this a school? Are we here just to learn?*
The words hadn't been aimed at Junhwi, but they landed on him like a stone.
*If I stop delivering, that's what she'll say about me.*
After that, he always felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff.
*When will she figure me out? When will she push me outside the fence?*
But for now — he still had her trust. After the Saerom deal, it had gone beyond trust: he was being treated as the company's ace. That was everything he'd wanted. And yet it didn't feel like enough. It felt like sitting alone on a throne while everyone around him sharpened their knives.
His situation and Eunyoung's were completely different. But watching her, he couldn't feel entirely removed from it.
He glanced at her.
Her face was blank. The knuckles of her clasped hands had gone white.
They walked out of the CEO's office together.
Eunyoung gave a faint smile.
"Thank you for yesterday. I'll make sure… it doesn't happen again."
Junhwi could see she was barely holding it together. How much had her pride taken today? She'd never imagined she'd be the one falling short. Her own mistake had cost someone else, and she'd been compared — unfavorably — to someone who'd gone to a far less prestigious school. The higher the expectations you carry, the harder that kind of thing hits.
He felt a pang of sympathy for her. And underneath it, somewhere he'd never admit to, a quiet flicker of satisfaction.
*Now you get it. This is what it's actually like out here.*
He called after her as she turned to leave.
"Hey, Eunyoung… want to grab a beer after work?"
"It's not easy."
Someone like Eunyoung didn't complain about the company. Didn't say she was done. That kind of thing felt immature to her — she wanted to be the person other people vented to, the person they envied, the one who had it together. Never the one falling apart in front of someone else.
So for her, *it's not easy* was about as much as she could give.
It wasn't the first time someone with her kind of credentials had walked through the company's doors. It had happened before. They all came in the way Eunyoung had at the one-month mark — brimming with confidence. And then reality wore them down, bit by bit: the gap between what they'd imagined and what the work actually was, the gap between who they thought they were and what they could actually do.
Junhwi had always felt a quiet thrill watching that process unfold.
*You thought you were the best thing that ever happened to this place, didn't you? You looked at the rest of us like we were just worn-down office drones. Turns out you're not so different.*
It was the kind of thought he could never let anyone see.
He raised his glass in a toast.
Eunyoung lifted hers with a tired smile and clinked it against his.
He took a sip and said, "You know, Eunyoung — you're actually doing really well."
"…No, I'm not. I keep messing up…"
"Every junior makes those kinds of mistakes. Not making them would be weird."
"…I guess…"
"Nobody walks in on day one and nails everything. That'd make you a genius."
Eunyoung nodded.
Junhwi knew exactly what that had done to her. She had thought she was a genius. She'd pictured herself hitting the ground running, earning CEO Jang's trust, becoming the person everyone else envied and resented.
What he'd just said was a quiet correction: *that was arrogance.*
*You're just another junior. Same as everyone else.*
"…hic—"
"…hic— oh god, I'm sorry— hic— hic—"
"Eunyoung…?"
She covered her face with both hands. And then, without warning, tears started falling.
Junhwi froze. He'd known his words would sting her pride — but enough to make her *cry*?
He hadn't meant for it to hit this hard. He'd expected her to go quiet, maybe look a little deflated. Not this.
He fumbled for a moment, then grabbed some napkins and held them out to her.
Eunyoung dipped her head and took them.
She sniffled and pressed the napkins to her eyes.
She cried a little longer, then seemed to collect herself. She looked up at him.
Her eyes and nose were red. Her eyes were still wet.
Junhwi registered, with some surprise, that she was really pretty.
*She's even prettier when she cries…*
She blinked — eyes like small, still pools — and said, "I'm sorry… I think I was more worn down than I realized. Don't worry about it."
"Oh — no, yeah. I get it. I'd be pretty shaken up too, honestly."
Eunyoung's expression turned resolute.
"…I'm going to let it all go. Start from zero. Climb back up one step at a time."
"Yeah, absolutely. You'll be fine. You're already doing better than you think."
She looked at him, a faint flush still on her face.
"I… want to learn from you, Junhwi."