Lee Jiwoo
At 2:45 PM my desk phone rang.
"Lee Jiwoo-ssi, Team Leader Kim needs to see you in Conference Room B in fifteen minutes."
Park Mina from HR spoke with that practiced sympathy they probably taught in training seminars.
"I'll be right there," I said and hung up.
My hands were steady when I set down the phone, probably because I'd had six hours to prepare for this moment.
"Jiwoo-ya?" Yuna stared at me with wide eyes. "Conference Room B, that's—"
"I know what it is." I stood and grabbed my phone. "I'll be back."
We both knew that was a lie.
The walk to the third floor felt longer than it should have, and other employees looked away as I passed because everyone understood what the summons meant. I kept my chin up and my pace steady, refusing to look defeated before they'd even said the words.
Conference Room B was small and windowless just like I remembered. Team Leader Kim sat on one side of the table with Park Mina next to him, and between them sat a cream-colored envelope that matched the warning I'd received this morning.
"Please sit down, Jiwoo-ssi." Team Leader Kim still wouldn't meet my eyes.
I sat and folded my hands in my lap, waiting for them to start.
Park Mina spoke first with her voice soft and rehearsed. "I'm sorry but the company is going through restructuring and several positions are being eliminated. Unfortunately yours is one of them."
I'd spent six hours preparing for those words but they still landed like a punch to the stomach.
"Why my position specifically?" I kept my voice steady.
"It's not about your work," Team Leader Kim said quickly. "Your performance has been excellent and this is purely budgetary—"
"When was this decided?" I interrupted.
They exchanged a glance that told me everything before Park Mina even answered. "The restructuring plan was approved last Thursday."
Last Thursday meant almost a week ago, which meant Team Leader Kim had complimented my audit work on Friday while knowing the entire time that I was already terminated. Something cold settled in my stomach at the realization.
"So you knew for six days," I said slowly, "and not one of you thought to warn me?"
Nobody spoke and the silence stretched between us like a confession. Team Leader Kim's eyes dropped to the table as if the wood grain suddenly became fascinating, while Park Mina's face tightened with that polite fear of someone who knew they were in the wrong.
It told me everything I needed to know.
"Company policy requires HR to handle all termination communications." Park Mina pushed the envelope toward me with careful movements. "Your severance package is quite generous with three months' salary plus—"
"Who requested my termination specifically?" I asked.
Team Leader Kim's jaw tightened and he still wouldn't look at me. "That information is confidential."
"Of course it is." I took the envelope and stood up, watching them both relax slightly now that I wasn't making a scene.
No crying or begging or demanding explanations they couldn't give anyway.
"I'll need you to clear your desk by 5 PM," Park Mina said. "Security will escort you out."
"Naturally." I walked to the door and paused with my hand on the handle. "Can I ask one more question?"
Park Mina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Of course."
"The other fourteen people being terminated today, are any of them from accounting?"
Another exchanged glance between them before Team Leader Kim answered. "No, you're the only one from your department."
Interesting because fifteen people were being fired across the company and I was the only one from accounting, despite Team Leader Kim always complaining that we were understaffed.
"Thank you for your honesty," I said and walked out.
The hallway felt colder than before and I stood there for a moment trying to process what just happened. The warning note had said not to trust what came after, which meant after the firing and after clearing my desk and after security escorted me out. Something was supposed to happen and I needed to be ready for whatever it was.
My phone buzzed with a text from the same unknown number as before.
Go straight home. Don't stop anywhere. Lock your door and wait.
Someone was watching me and someone knew my schedule before I did, guiding me toward something I couldn't see yet. The warning at 9:47 AM and the text at noon and now this, all pointing me in a direction I didn't understand.
I walked back to my desk where Yuna was pretending to work while obviously watching for me.
"They let you go," she said quietly, and it wasn't a question.
"Budget cuts." I started pulling things from my drawers, watching three years of work fit into a cardboard box someone had left by the supply closet.
"This is wrong, Jiwoo-ya, because your work is better than half the senior accountants here."
"Apparently that doesn't matter anymore." I packed my coffee mug and the small succulent that had somehow survived my terrible plant care. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet." I looked at her carefully before continuing. "Yuna-ya, if anything strange happens or if anyone asks about me, don't tell them anything. Promise me you'll be careful."
Her eyes widened with concern. "What do you mean strange? What's going on?"
"I'm not sure yet but promise me anyway."
"You're scaring me."
"Good, because being scared means being careful." I finished packing and picked up the box. "I'll text you when I can."
At exactly 5 PM a young security guard appeared at my desk looking uncomfortable with his assignment. "Lee Jiwoo-ssi? I need to escort you out."
"I know the way," I said but followed him anyway.
The elevator ride down was silent and the lobby was full of employees leaving for the day with their briefcases and tired faces and conversations about dinner plans. Normal people having normal days while mine had just imploded.
Outside the October evening was cold and getting dark, and Seoul rushed past with its usual indifference to individual catastrophes. I stood on the sidewalk holding my box and trying to decide what to do, because the text had said go straight home but part of me wanted to run and disappear before whatever was coming could catch me.
My phone buzzed again with another message.
Trust me. Go home.
I looked up at Haneul Group's tower rising forty-three floors above me, and somewhere up there CEO Kang Jihoon was probably finishing his day and signing documents and making decisions. He was completely unaware that I'd been protecting him for three years and completely unaware of who I really was.
I turned toward the subway with my box and my questions, knowing that my brother had died asking questions about this company and now they'd thrown me out for doing the same.
But whoever was sending those messages didn't know one thing about me.
I'd spent three years preparing for this moment and they could let them think I was defeated, because tomorrow I'd show them what a mistake they'd made.