DMSD | Chapter 20

“Well, at least mentoring counts towards your performance evaluation score, so try to manage it without too much stress. That’s the hardest part, though.”

Manager Lee wasn’t the warmest person, but he was one to offer support when he felt his colleagues needed it.

“Manager.”

After a brief pause, Myeongeun asked, “Have you heard anything about Kwon Jinhwan?”

“Heard anything?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you heard anything about him joining the office today.”

Manager Lee glanced around, lowering his voice. “I’ve only heard rumors about the president’s third son. I didn’t even know he actually existed until today. So no, I haven’t heard much about his employment here.”

Thankfully, it seemed the HR Manager hadn’t started broadcasting any gossip yet. Even if he was close to Executive Director Kwon, he’d likely be cautious about badmouthing the president’s son.

“Why? Did the Manager say something?”

“No, just curious.”

Myeongeun brushed it off with a smile. After coordinating with Manager Lee to delegate some morning tasks to Supervisor Yu and Kim Junyoung, he headed toward the break room. He knocked deliberately and said, “It’s me,” and, as expected, Section Chief Yang opened the door with a grin.

“All done?”

“Yes,” he replied, nodding as he scanned the room for Jinhwan. Jinhwan was seated at a side table, engrossed in his phone. Even with the person he had supposedly been eagerly waiting for finally present, he didn’t even look up.

“Did you really have a meeting with Deputy Manager Song?” Section Chief Yang asked in a hushed tone.

“Of course not,” whispered back Myeongeun.

“Well done.”

Section Chief Yang nodded approvingly, sneaking a glance back at Jinhwan. Then he gently nudged Myeongeun out of the break room.

“Well, well, here he is at last—the mysterious third son of the president. I thought it was just a rumor!”

“Right?” replied Myeongeun nonchalantly, though he was secretly wishing the rumor had remained just that—a rumor.

“But you know, this Kwon Jinhwan… in the meeting room, I almost thought he was some kind of social misfit.”

A social misfit. With a faint smile that barely covered his discomfort, Myeongeun was taken aback by Section Chief Yang’s next words.

“But he’s actually easier to communicate with than I thought?”

According to Section Chief Yang, while Manager Lee was setting up Jinhwan’s workspace, Jinhwan simply stood next to him, watching silently.

“With someone his size just standing there, you can’t help but feel uneasy.”

So, Section Chief Yang had approached him, suggesting, “Jinhwan-ssi, shouldn’t you help out with your workspace setup?” To which Jinhwan had looked down at him and asked blankly, “What am I supposed to help with?”

“Section Chief.”

Any hope that Myeongeun had for Jinhwan’s “rehabilitation” disappeared, and his shoulders sagged.

“Where in that did you see any signs of ‘communication’?”

“No, no, you don’t get it.”

Section Chief Yang had a different interpretation than Myeongeun.

“It didn’t feel like ‘Why should I help some low-level manager?’ He genuinely looked like he didn’t know what to do.”

After a moment of thought, she added, “Honestly, it reminded me of my son.”

“Isn’t Wonwoo eight now?”

“Yeah. If I leave him in an unfamiliar place by himself, he reacts the same way. He just stands there, clueless. He doesn’t think to adapt or escape; he simply can’t.”

In other words, Jinhwan’s social and adaptability skills were roughly on par with a first grader’s.

“Once the setup was done, he went and waited by the meeting room door, as if waiting for Assistant Manager Go. Poor Manager Lee was at a loss, so I just took him to the break room and showed him around. Funny thing—he loves dunggulle tea.”

Internally, Myeongeun couldn’t help but scoff. This was the same guy who had glared at the tea like it was his sworn enemy.

“It’s not that surprising. Why is that strange?”

“It’s just… he’s young, polished, and all. I asked him what he wanted, assuming he’d choose coffee, but he just grabbed the dunggulle tea bag.”

“What’s that got to do with his appearance?”

When Myeongeun chuckled, Section Chief Yang grinned as well.

“It’s a compliment, you know.”

She patted him on the back and urged him to go in. Strangely, the comment warmed Myeongeun’s heart. Perhaps it was because he’d just been subjected to hearing about how “empty” and “useless” Jinhwan was, not to mention comments about his mental state. Hearing that someone actually liked him made him feel unexpectedly moved.

“Yes. Thank you, Section Chief.”

“For what?” she asked, slightly puzzled. The answer had come from a momentary feeling, and even Myeongeun needed a second to process why he’d said it.

“You’re someone who really understands eight-year-olds.”

“You’re a peculiar one,” she replied, heading back to her desk with a smile. After taking a deep breath, Myeongeun peeked into the break room. Jinhwan was still there, sitting at the side table with his phone, just as he’d been before. Now, though, a long paper cup sat on the table next to him, with the string of a dunggulle tea bag poking out.

“Jinhwan-ssi.”

Opening the door a little wider, Myeongeun walked into the break room and called out to him with a smile. Jinhwan only glanced up from his phone briefly before lowering his gaze again.

What’s on that phone, gold?

Feeling awkward, Myeongeun muttered internally, then headed to the sink to fetch his mug. Grabbing it from where he’d left it to dry the previous day, he started brewing some coffee, sneaking glances at Jinhwan as he did.

Tall and broad-shouldered. Even with just a hoodie and leather jacket, his strong build was clear. He wore jeans that showed off his long legs, with a striking face to top it all off. No matter how rude he might have become, Myeongeun felt a little proud that the five-year-old kid he remembered had grown into such a handsome young man.

The little guy’s all grown up and looking great.

Forgetting all the trouble Jinhwan had caused him, Myeongeun found himself smiling at the sight.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the break room.

As he turned around with his mug, he suddenly noticed the room felt warm. The heating had been on full blast that morning to warm up the building after the chilly night.

“Jinhwan-ssi. Aren’t you hot?”

Jinhwan was typing something on his phone and, after a slight pause, replied, “Not really.”

“Oh, are you sensitive to the cold?”

“Not really.”

Well, aren’t you just a bundle of charm?

Setting his mug down on the table with a light thud, Myeongeun sat across from Jinhwan. Jinhwan looked up at him, slightly startled by the sound, then lowered his gaze back to his phone as Myeongeun took a sip of his coffee.

“Jinhwan-ssi, are you busy?”

“Yes.”

Although by now he should’ve been used to Jinhwan’s nonchalant responses, it still made him glance at Jinhwan with slight annoyance. He picked up the clipboard and said, “Alright, I’ll just work on something for a bit then.”

Opening the sealed folder, he found a set of guidelines issued by the HR department for contract employees. It was odd that they’d printed it out and placed it in the folder, but the contents were familiar, so he skimmed through it.

Wait a second.

He blinked twice.

What on earth is this?

He opened and closed the clipboard, double-checking to see if these guidelines were truly from the HR department. They didn’t match the typical company regulations. After verifying the legal approval by the top legal team member on the second page, he finally understood.

<Kwon Jinhyeok, Attorney>

With HR’s consent, the legal team—specifically, Kwon Jinhyeok—had crafted special regulations just for Jinhwan.

Myeongeun went through these special regulations for Jinhwan one more time.

1. No violence. Definition of violence: includes physical, mental, spiritual, and verbal acts that intimidate others.

2. No tardiness. Office hours begin at 8:50 a.m.

3. Adhere to set working hours. End of the day is 6:00 p.m. sharp.

4. Greet all colleagues, including the Manager, at start and end of each day.

5. Commit earnestly to tasks during work hours.

6. Behave with basic decency. Definition of basic decency: knowledge, understanding, and judgment expected of an ordinary person.

7. Do not order delivery for lunch alone; eat with colleagues.

8. Listen to Assistant Manager Go Myeongeun, stay close to him whenever possible, and refrain from contradicting him.

9. Avoid riding a motorcycle to and from work if possible; use public transport or a personal vehicle.

10, 11, 12… The list went on endlessly, and by the time he reached the later points, the words began to blur together. Though written in standard font, each line seemed to exude a strict force.

“…What is this…?”

He murmured to himself unconsciously, at a loss for words as he continued down the list. Only after reading through all twenty points did he realize what this set of rules resembled.

A daily life schedule.

Yes, that’s what it was—a daily life plan. It was just like the proper lifestyle schedules he’d made with his mother as a child, the ones assigned by teachers as part of moral education. Each section was a circle filled with tasks to complete, and for each task accomplished, he’d earn a fruit sticker.

The only difference here was that, instead of fruit stickers, Jinhwan was rewarded with his salary and continued use of his credit card.

The pinnacle of this proper lifestyle schedule, undoubtedly crafted by Kwon Jinhyeok and Kwon Jinhyeon, was rule number twenty.

20. Ensure adequate rest for work. Bedtime recommended at 10 p.m., mandatory by midnight.