10 rules of a Secretary chapter 25

Manifesting as an omega had nothing to do with my will. In every situation in my life, my opinions never mattered.

Even when I missed the chance to forfeit my inheritance, my father’s debt was passed directly to me.

The debt notice that came with my high school diploma is still vivid in my memory.

At this point, my life was thoroughly tangled.

None of my wishes for an easy life came true. Even my wish for a normal life was unachievable.

“Mr. Seonyul, you’ve been reassigned to the secretarial office, not the marketing team. Did you know?”

When I was reassigned to be the CEO’s secretary, notorious for his horrible reputation, instead of my intended department, I was at least grateful it wasn’t a dismissal.

It was when I got used to the job that this happened. It was exactly in my sixth year.

I had just gotten a week-long vacation after sticking two days onto a weekend, but I was sick the whole time. Still, it was fine.

It was really fine, even if my vacation was ruined by the pain of manifesting.

The problem was that as an omega, I couldn’t be a secretary. Omegas weren’t suited for secretarial work. Who would hire an omega, vulnerable to heat cycles and pheromones, as a 24-hour secretary?

I was at a crossroads. Choices flooded every moment of my life. Like choosing an answer on a test, I had to pick between a and b.

Not just in exams, but at any moment, a choice would emerge, demanding my answer. So, I decided to hide it.

It was the obvious choice. The world’s view of omegas, especially male omegas, wasn’t kind, so I respected my decision. That decision still stands.

I suppressed my pheromones with inhibitors. Thankfully, I didn’t suffer from taking them, but taking the medication four times a day wasn’t easy. I endured it for three years.

I saved a considerable amount, but it all went to filling the loan sharks’ pockets. It was nowhere near enough to buy a comfortable place to rest my body.

In such circumstances, the modeling job I started accidentally became a grateful and fortunate opportunity.

“But damn… I didn’t expect things to go wrong here…”

My choices always ended up off the mark. Finding answers was sometimes too difficult.

Loosening my suffocating tie, I left a text asking Cha Chiyeon when she would be back, and lay down again. The rough texture of the sofa cover pressed against my cheek.

Turning onto my side, I blinked slowly and looked at my phone vibrating in my palm.

―Time to eat (22:00)

I lifted my body and took out the suppressant from the inner pocket of my jacket, throwing it into my mouth.

Though I was used to taking it without water, I recalled Cha Chiyeon’s warning that doing so often would eventually harm my throat.

Reluctantly, I took some tap water from the kitchen, holding it in my mouth before swallowing the pill.

After drinking more water, I let out a bitter laugh at the lingering taste.

“So damn bitter.”

It was a taste I could never get used to.

From the start of work until the end, there wasn’t a single moment to rest.

As a reward, I got off work early for the first time in ages, but surprisingly, I couldn’t stray far from the office. I slowly flipped the grilled assorted intestines in front of me with tongs.

Across from me, Yoon Sanghye was sobbing uncontrollably, downing shot after shot of soju without pause.

I wondered if it was okay to drink like this on a weekday, but I had no intention of stopping her. Sometimes people need to forget reality. I’ll have to buy his some hangover cures tomorrow.

“That damn bastard…”

Yoon Sanghye’s face was a mess of tears as she continued to drink. Her eyes were swollen, and I was worried about how she’d look in the morning, but I silently placed the now fully cooked intestines on his plate.

“That son of a bitch… He left me… He left me…!”

Getting more emotional, Yoon Sanghye slammed her shot glass down on the round table. The drum-shaped table wobbled for a moment but then settled down.

A few people around glanced at us but that was all. I looked at the half-spilled soju, feeling it was a waste, and refilled his glass.

“So, when’s the wedding date?”

“Next Saturday…”

Hearing Yoon Sanghye’s almost lifeless voice, I paused with the tongs in my hand.

What a bastard. How could he set a wedding date just a week after breaking up?

Was it even possible to arrange a wedding this quickly? In other words, that shameless guy never intended to marry Yoon Sanghye.

Why was Yoon Sanghye drinking in front of me?

The story was simple. After dating for four years, Yoon Sanghye’s boyfriend passed the bar exam and gradually distanced himself from her, eventually breaking up with her.

Just a week after the breakup, word got around that he was getting married. It was a story straight out of a trashy drama, but unbelievably, it was real.

I had heard jokes about reality being worse than drama, but seeing it unfold before my eyes was different.

“Just drink for now.”

I put down the tongs and picked up my shot glass, clinking it lightly against Yoon Sanghye’s.

The clear sound of glass clinking rang out briefly, and Yoon Sanghye tilted her glass back. The soju, once shimmering, disappeared in an instant. I followed suit but stopped short.

Even on a weeknight, there was no guarantee my irritating boss wouldn’t contact me, so I had to refrain from drinking to avoid any potential mishaps.

Still, I was tempted, and as I stared at my glass for a long time, Yoon Sanghye tapped the table with his fingers, her voice weak.

“Seonbi…”

“Yes?”

“Please, be my boyfriend.”

I blinked in disbelief at the absurdity of her request. Yoon Sanghye fumbled with her phone and showed me a screen.

[Please bless our marriage.]

It was a wedding invitation. As I squinted and read slowly, it was outrageous. The guy was beaming as if he had been waiting for this moment. On top of that, the wedding venue was a place I knew well.

It was a place I often went to with CEO Han. High-ranking people usually booked entire hotels or buildings for their weddings, laughing and chatting elegantly with a wine glass in hand. This was one of those places.

It looked luxurious, and unlike regular wedding halls that hosted multiple ceremonies a day, this place only hosted one couple per day, in an entire four-story building.

“Nice place.”

“I can’t let that bastard get away with this. How can he live well after leaving me? I’ll kill him!”

Yoon Sanghye slammed her soju glass on the table and started crying again, her sobs tugging at my heart. She glared at the smiling face of her ex-boyfriend on the screen, then looked at me with a determined expression.

“I’ll give you a month-long spa full course!”

“No need. Just treat me to a nice meal.”

“Hoo… That bastard… Really, that damn bastard…!”

At my light acceptance, Yoon Sanghye cried again, carefully putting her phone back in her pocket and downing another glass. I glanced around and saw four empty green bottles.

If she kept drinking like this, he wouldn’t be okay the next day. Worried, I looked at Yoon Sanghye and shoved a piece of well-cooked intestine into my mouth.

It was savory and delicious. I thought the day would end quietly.

An hour ago, I would have liked to slap myself for thinking that.

As I pondered why I was sitting there, the sound of ice clinking in a glass made me turn my head.

There, half-drunk, sat CEO Han.

“…CEO. You’ve had a lot.”

“Have I?”

He said, holding an on-the-rocks glass lightly, a faint smile on his face. The smell of alcohol wafted over.

The glass looked unusually small in his large hand. I sighed softly as I looked at his slightly smiling lips.

“You have work tomorrow.”

“Can’t I take a day off?”

“….”

Despite his casual words, there wasn’t a trace of fatigue on CEO Han’s face, but I knew all too well.

In the past eight years, while I took 40 days of vacation, CEO Han hadn’t taken a single day off. No matter how much I cursed the job, I couldn’t quit, and the reason I endured was because of him.

If someone who had everything could endure, there was no reason I couldn’t.

70% of startups worldwide fail within five years, and only 10% survive for ten years.

Simple statistics showed that it was remarkable for CEO Han’s company to grow steadily for eight years.

Naturally, behind that success was Han Doha, who treated the company like his home.

“You too.”

CEO Han lightly tapped my fingertips and smiled loosely. He looked both like a full-fed beast and a starving animal.

The expression, showing two contradictory emotions, was genuinely intriguing. As I watched his face, I sighed and turned my body slightly.

“…Yes. You can take a day off. I’ll adjust your schedule now.”

As I rummaged through my bag to take out my tablet, CEO Han let out a short sigh. He casually reached out his long fingers, took the tablet from me, and set it on the bar table.

“Later.”