The Woman Who Stole My Flower
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
#14.
But what if Hye-eun went in her place?
Hye-eun would naturally be thrilled, Jooheon wouldn’t have any reason to get angry, the department head wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of that anger, and of course, it was great for Yeon-seo too. It wasn’t just a win-win—it was a bona fide win-win-win-win.
Yeon-seo made up her mind.
“Would you really do that for me?”
“Of course!”
Hye-eun beamed, a wide, dazzling smile lighting up her pretty face.
“Thank you, Manager Jung Yeon-seo!”
Seeing how overjoyed she was made Yeon-seo feel good, too. Feeling happy whenever she saw someone else happy—that, in the end, was simply Yeon-seo’s nature.
*
Sung Hye-eun had never liked Jung Yeon-seo for a single moment. That had been true until now, and of course, it would remain true in the future.
They had joined the company at the same time. Before being formally assigned to their respective teams, there was a period of about a month where they rotated through various departments without a fixed affiliation. It was a sort of hands-on aptitude test.
It happened back then. While Hye-eun was helping out in the Management Support Office, she had to work late and ordered a gimbap delivery at one in the morning. The person who arrived with the delivery was none other than Jung Yeon-seo. As it turned out, Yeon-seo’s family ran a snack restaurant.
[What’s this? Isn’t this special treatment? Should we call for an audit?]
Hye-eun had only meant it as a harmless joke. The other people laughed along, but Yeon-seo didn’t smile in the slightest.
[Assistant Manager, our shop doesn’t usually take delivery orders. You called and begged because it was too late to find anywhere else taking orders, so I asked my dad, and he lost sleep to make this for you. It’s not like we charged a penny more than our regular prices, either.]
Without a hint of anger, Yeon-seo spoke clearly and calmly.
[Even if you offered it, I would politely decline thirty-eight thousand won’s worth of ‘special treatment.’]
Her well-reasoned words made Hye-eun’s face burn, and before she knew it, she found herself apologizing.
[Sorry, I was just making a joke. I guess it rubbed you the wrong way.]
[It’s fine.]
Blessed with natural beauty, sharp intellect, and the status of an only daughter from a wealthy family, Hye-eun had spent her entire life surrounded by people who catered to her every whim. That was the very first time someone had kept a straight face and pushed back against her words. She had never felt so utterly humiliated.
The next time they clashed was when they worked together on a project for the CSR Team. There was a set budget allocated to support an elementary school soccer team, but only one team could be chosen.
Among several candidates, Hye-eun naturally selected the team with the best track record. They were kids from an affluent school district who had won the local youth soccer tournament the previous year and advanced all the way to the national tournament finals with great results.
In contrast, Yeon-seo recommended an elementary soccer team run by a local community children’s center, comprised of kids from low-income families. Their record in the same tournament last year was an elimination in the preliminaries.
[These kids have terrible results. Shouldn’t they perform reasonably well so we can actually use it for PR?]
[The Gangnam kids can keep playing soccer even without our support. But for these children, their sponsor cut their funding, so if we don’t step in, they won’t be able to keep playing at all.]
Yeon-seo stood firm.
[Poverty isn’t a crime. We should let kids keep playing the sport they love.]
Hye-eun couldn’t understand it. She understood wanting to play soccer, sure. But why do it with someone else’s money?
Hye-eun’s father, the current CEO of Bellator, was a self-made man who had achieved everything through sheer competence. Because of that, he placed extreme emphasis on hard work in everything. He believed that any obstacle could be overcome with effort, and that poverty—barring exceptional circumstances—was one’s own responsibility.
Raised by such a father, Hye-eun naturally thought the same way. Being poor was proof that one hadn’t worked hard enough, and it was something to be ashamed of.
Yet far from feeling ashamed, Yeon-seo acted so entitled, as if the company owed them something.
[If they don’t have the talent but still want to keep playing, shouldn’t their parents take responsibility for that?]
[Why wouldn’t the parents want to? They just can’t because they’re poor. It’s not the children’s fault that their parents are poor.]
[That’s just the way life is. How can the child of someone who lazed around without putting in any effort expect to do everything they want, just like the child of someone who worked hard?]
Of course, Hye-eun also felt bad that young children couldn’t pursue a sport they loved because of money. But wasn’t it the way of the world that you couldn’t have everything? If some had things while others didn’t, wasn’t it only right that those who worked hard were the ones who received?
[Did you see with your own eyes whether they worked hard or not, Assistant Manager?]
Setting aside whose opinion was right, it was absurd that Yeon-seo was brazenly talking back to someone who clearly outranked her.
[It’s not like the old days when people starved and couldn’t get an education. We live in a society where everyone has equal opportunities. If someone is still poor despite that, isn’t that proof they didn’t put in the effort?]
When Hye-eun parroted the words her father always said, Yeon-seo smiled.
[You must never have stumbled in your entire life, Assistant Manager. Must be nice.]
Without a single trace of sarcasm, Yeon-seo sounded genuinely envious, which only made Hye-eun angrier. Who was she to treat her like some pampered, rich princess? I worked myself to death to get here too!
Ever since she was young, Hye-eun had studied until her nose bled to get into a prestigious university abroad. Because graduating was harder than getting admitted, no one knew how agonizing it had been to maintain top grades throughout. Even when she moved to Bellator Korea as an experienced hire after working at a foreign firm right out of college, she had gotten in purely on her own merit, not her father’s influence. There hadn’t even been a blank space on the resume to write her parents’ names.
Jung Yeon-seo, on the other hand, had graduated from a barely mid-tier university in Seoul. Hye-eun figured that was the result of hardly studying at all. How dare someone who had never put in any real effort preach to her?
[Manager Jung Yeon-seo, aren’t you stepping out of line?]
[I apologize.]
In the end, she received an apology from Yeon-seo, but the incident made Hye-eun realize down to her bones: she and Jung Yeon-seo were thoroughly incompatible.
Ultimately, Yeon-seo’s recommended team received the company’s sponsorship on the grounds that it better aligned with the CSR Team’s purpose. Afterward, Hye-eun was formally assigned to the Management Support Office, and Yeon-seo to the CSR Team she had wanted from the start. With their teams divided, there were fewer occasions to work together, but Hye-eun continued to pick on everything Yeon-seo did.
Originally, the Management Support Office had a tendency to look down on the CSR Team, who constantly came asking for favors. Hye-eun took advantage of that atmosphere to humiliate Yeon-seo whenever the opportunity arose.
[We submitted the approval request, so just wait.]
[I told you we’d give it to you when the time comes. Did you leave soccer balls on deposit here or something?]
She didn’t stop at mere verbal jabs. Hye-eun egged on the head of the Management Support Office to delay budget executions and stall the release of supplies. Even when she threw her weight around like that, there were no repercussions. The CSR Team wasn’t in a position to raise their voices in the company anyway.
[You have no idea how much our backs break in the Management Support Office trying to provide all that funding and supplies.]
So, what she said at yesterday’s team dinner was simply a remark without any particular malice. Just doing what she always did, naturally.
[Does this company belong to you, Manager Sung?]
She hadn’t dreamed in a million years that Jung Yeon-seo would suddenly lose her mind and charge at her like that.
Of course, Hye-eun was no pushover. There was no reason for her to take an insult from a lowly regular employee lying down in front of everyone. Normally, she would have lost her temper right on the spot, demanding to know how a subordinate dared speak to a superior that way.
The only reason she hadn’t was because of Kang Joo-heon.
Throughout yesterday’s dinner, Hye-eun had watched where Joo-heon’s gaze was directed. His eyes were constantly fixed on Jung Yeon-seo, who sat all the way in the corner. Even while raising a toast, even while answering other people’s questions, his eyes had not wandered elsewhere for a single second.
Yeon-seo, by contrast, had never looked at Joo-heon once. So she probably remained completely oblivious—unaware that the only reason she was able to say everything she wanted until the very end was solely thanks to Kang Joo-heon.
What Kang Joo-heon’s gaze signified was unmistakable. He was conscious of Jung Yeon-seo as a woman.
It was irritating, but Hye-eun didn’t think it was anything serious. After all, they were two people who had met only a few days ago.
[No, a person.]
She had wondered for a moment if that mosquito—or person—Joo-heon mentioned at the dinner might be Jung Yeon-seo, but there was far too little connection between the two for that to be true. Jung Yeon-seo didn’t even look at Kang Joo-heon at all.
Regardless, even if Kang Joo-heon had some slight interest in Jung Yeon-seo, turning that degree of interest toward herself would be effortless. And that was exactly what she intended to do.
