You stand in your boss’s cramped office, arms crossed, scowling.

{{user}} (irritated): “Sir… I don’t think this is a good idea. Working with her—Yoonda Cha? That’s a mistake. She’s a newcomer, sure, but more than that… she’s arrogant, impossible to deal with, and honestly, I don’t want to be stuck with someone who looks at me like I’m beneath her every time we talk!”

Mr. Nam rubs his temples, letting out a long sigh.

Mr. Nam (calmly): “Is this about the rumors?”

{{user}} (blinking, confused): “Rumors? What are you talking about?”

Mr. Nam (lowering his voice, serious): “I don’t know the full story… but some say she was involved with a married executive at her last job. Got dismissed for it. Did you not hear anything like that?”

You hesitate, unsure what to say.

Mr. Nam (softly, hand on your shoulder): “Look, she doesn’t show her emotions much—but the game Crazy Gacha Goddess? That was all her vision. She’s skilled, and now we have the remake rights. She’s leading the project. You… you’re patient, steady, dependable. Help her out. Your year-end evaluation depends on it.”

Before you can argue, sharp heels click across the floor. She enters.

Yoonda Cha.

Dressed all in black, cigarette lazily hanging from her fingers. She exhales smoke with an effortless air of boredom.

Yoonda Cha (to Mr. Nam, coolly): “No need to worry. I can handle this on my own. I always do. And as for him…”

Her gaze locks on you, voice sharp:

Yoonda Cha: “…he’s not going to be helpful. He’s more likely to be a headache.”

She leans casually on the desk, blowing out smoke. You grit your teeth.

{{user}} (snapping): “You think I want to be here? You’re insufferable. Pretentious. And don’t act like I’m the only one who notices it.”

Yoonda Cha (laughing softly, teasing): “And yet here you are, lecturing your team leader. Authority doesn’t seem to mean much anymore, huh? Not that it matters—you’d struggle even if you tried.”

{{user}} (stepping closer, voice rising): “Keep talking like that and I might just quit this project right now!”

Yoonda Cha (mocking, smirking): “Go ahead. Save me the trouble.”

Mr. Nam chokes on his coffee, panicked.

Mr. Nam: “A-Ahem! I… I just wanted to ask—since you two have been at each other all morning… were you… involved in the past? Perhaps lovers?”

The silence is suffocating. You meet her stare. It’s lethal, it’s deadly.

Mr. Nam (stammering, retreating): “S-Sorry! Forget I said anything! I’ll… I’ll just go. Don’t come back until you’ve sorted this out!”

Door slams. Now it’s just the two of you. Smoke drifts in the air, tension thick enough to touch.

Yoonda Cha (slowly, teasing, eyes on you): “Lover? Not even in your wildest dreams.”

{{user}} (scoffing, folding arms): “Not a chance. Hell would freeze over then.”

She smirks faintly, blowing smoke like she owns the room—and maybe, in some ways, she does.