Episode 6
Tae‑jun didn’t say a word at first, and that seemed to make Byung‑wook think Tae‑jun was on his side. His tone got bolder.
“This ruined broadcast? Jung Ha‑yoon should take responsibility. I mean, her team is under you, Director Yoon. And I’m under you too. So… why don’t you, with all your money, just fix this for us?”
“…Ha.”
Tae‑jun let out a short, cold laugh. It was hard to tell if Byung‑wook was joking or serious.
Ha‑yoon opened her mouth to apologize again—but before she could speak, Tae‑jun stepped in front of her.
A moment ago she’d been looking at Byung‑wook’s angry red face. Now, all she saw was Tae‑jun’s broad back. Strangely, just that made her feel a little safer.
“I was willing to let your whining slide,” Tae‑jun said quietly.
“But you’re acting like a brat. I’m not letting it slide anymore.”
Byung‑wook blinked, stunned at what he’d just heard. Tae‑jun’s face stayed calm and unreadable.
“Miss Jung,” Tae‑jun said suddenly, without turning around.
Ha‑yoon jumped at the sound of her name and looked up.
“Answer me yourself,” he said.
“Did you really do what he’s accusing you of? Did you actually fail to tell them something important?”
It felt like he was telling her, It’s okay. Tell me the truth.
Ha‑yoon bit her lip hard and shook her head quickly.
“No. I never did that. I actually warned Team Leader Chae. He told me not to worry about it.”
But of course, Byung‑wook exploded.
“Oh really? You trying to frame me now? Who here heard me ignore her? Anyone?”
“You were on a call when I told you—” Ha‑yoon started, her voice shaky.
The staff looked away, lips pressed tight, refusing to say a word.
No one backed her up.
If things stayed like this, she’d be branded a liar. Tae‑jun might even think the same. Panic rose in her chest.
“I’m telling the truth!” Ha‑yoon cried out.
“Ha! Where’s your proof? You got proof to accuse me like this?”
“I… I don’t have—”
Of course she didn’t. It wasn’t like she went around recording people. She looked around desperately, but the people who’d comforted her before now wouldn’t even meet her eyes.
“See that?” Byung‑wook said with a sneer. “No proof, just trying to ruin me.”
Ha‑yoon bit the inside of her cheek hard and lowered her head. She was about to take the blame herself just to end this when—
“Miss Jung. Lift your head.”
Her trembling lashes stilled, and she slowly looked up. Tae‑jun had turned to face her, his eyes steady on hers.
“Did you do anything wrong? Is what he said true?”
“…No. None of it is true.”
“Then why are you bowing your head? Didn’t I tell you—don’t bow if you did nothing wrong. Or do you only ignore my words?”
“N‑no…”
His serious tone made her fidget with her fingers.
“If you’re innocent, hold your head high. Don’t look guilty when you’re not.”
Her throat tightened. For the first time, someone was actually taking her side—and all the hurt she’d been holding back rushed up at once.
To others, his words might sound harsh. But Ha‑yoon could feel it. He was comforting her in his own way.
She nodded quickly, holding back tears.
“Director Yoon, what are you saying?” Byung‑wook snapped. “I’ve told you a dozen times—she’s the reason this happened!”
“I’ve heard you,” Tae‑jun said simply.
He gave a dry laugh, hands sliding into his pockets.
“Funny, though. You say she’s guilty. And she says she’s not. So what am I supposed to believe?”
“Director!”
“Let me ask you then,” Tae‑jun cut him off. “You’re saying it’s all her fault. Do you have proof?”
The air in the room went ice cold.
Byung‑wook’s face flushed red, then pale. Staff shifted uneasily, swallowing hard. Everyone knew once Byung‑wook got mad, it got ugly.
And sure enough, he blew up.
“Proof? Are you accusing me now, Director? How could you think that of me!”
“Oh? You demanded proof from her just now,” Tae‑jun said coolly. “Why not show yours?”
“I’ve been with this company for years! You think I’d lie about something like this?!”
“Is that so?” Tae‑jun smirked faintly.
“And all these people here are witnesses, right? So why’s it so quiet? Or are you all thinking you can just gang up on a junior employee, blame her, and push her out?”
His words hit home. The staff paled, shifting in discomfort.
Tae‑jun went on, his voice still calm.
“But I can’t just let this slide. So, proof. You were on a call, weren’t you, Miss Jung?”
“…Yes. He didn’t hang up while I was talking to him.”
Byung‑wook’s face crumpled like paper. Tae‑jun’s lips curved slightly.
“Then this is easy. Who were you talking to? Just give me the number. Or play back the call. Don’t tell me you don’t have auto‑record on for work calls.”
Byung‑wook froze. He clearly hadn’t expected Tae‑jun to go this far. He must’ve thought Tae‑jun would just side with him and crush Ha‑yoon.
Tae‑jun waved a hand in front of his face.
“Well? Didn’t you hear me?”
“Director, this… this is a violation of privacy.”
“I didn’t say play every call. Just the part where you spoke to her. What’s with all the excuses?”
“That’s still my private call. Even if you’re a director, you’re crossing a line.”
Tae‑jun’s face went cold.
“Crossing a line? Privacy? You don’t even know what real disrespect is, do you?”
Byung‑wook flinched. Even Ha‑yoon was startled by Tae‑jun’s sharp tone and cold stare.
“You didn’t even ask me, didn’t even report to me, and you dragged one of my people into your team. Do you realize that was out of line?”
“Well, that—”
“You don’t treat me like your director at all, do you? If that’s how it’s gonna be, maybe you should go start your own team instead of ignoring me and doing whatever you want.”
Byung‑wook just stood there, stunned. No one had ever spoken to him like that. Even Ha‑yoon felt a flicker of pity at how pale he looked. The other Team 2 members looked just as shocked.
“Now. The number, or the recording.”
Tae‑jun’s eyes locked on him again. He wasn’t backing off.
“Well? Are you going to give it to me?”
Byung‑wook’s lips stayed shut tight.
All his earlier shouting and false accusations were gone—now he couldn’t say a word.
