My Boss is a CHICKEN?!

"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!!"

A dramatic, thunderous voice echoed through the mansion like Zeus himself just entered the group chat.

I turned around slowly—very slowly—like the final girl in a horror movie about to realize the killer is behind her.

At the top of the grand staircase, there stood a man wearing pink bunny slippers and a silk robe that screamed "retired chaebol villain but make it fashion."

He looked around 70—but carried the aura of a man who could bankrupt a company with a single cough.

And… oddly enough, kind of looked like Jeon Jaehyuk?

Was he… Mr. Jeon's grandfather?

"You wouldn't dare, woman" the old man snapped. "Do you think you'll leave the Jeon Mansion alive?"

My eyes widened.

I beg your WHAT?!

IS HE THREATENING ME?!

What is this? Penthouse Season 19?!

"ARE YOU BOTH FATHER AND SON THREATENING TO KILL ME?! WHAT EVEN IS THIS PALACE?! WHY IS MR. JEON A CHICKEN?! WHAT IN THE DEEP-FRIED HELL IS GOING ON?!"

"I SAID DON'T YELL, WOMAN!!" he shouted again, loud enough to scare the chandelier into swaying.

I flinched.

My soul flinched.

He glared at me. "And what did you just say? Father?!" he asked, cheeks turning suspiciously pink. " Do I look like his father?!"

Oh. He liked that.

Someone's enjoying this delusion a little too much.

"N-No! My tongue slipped" I stammered.

"I take it back. You look like his… grandpa."

BOOM.

His face turned tomato red.

He looked like he was about to throw his bunny slipper at me with the force of a thousand family curses.

"GRANDPA?!"

Sir was about to yeet that bunny slipper at my face like it was a homing missile.

"Father, don't act like a low-class peasant,"

A calm, elegant voice floated down like piano notes in a horror movie.

I looked up and spotted a regal-looking woman descending the staircase like a slow-mo K-drama villainess.

Hair? Perfect.

Outfit? Designer.

Aura? Stepmother from a high-budget Kdrama.

Who is she now?

Is this a live-action chaebol soap opera?!

I clutched my chest and instinctively hid behind Mr. Jeon like a confused intern dragged into a boardroom brawl.

Who even are these people?!

This house has more plot twists than my entire life.

Mr. Jeon scoffed and turned his head to glare at me.

"You're so done, Mira Kim. Say goodbye to your career."

"Say goodbye to your life!!" the Grandpa growled.

"THROW HER TO BAMSEOK, JAE!! Even her bones won't be left for forensic investigation!!"

"WHAT?!" I screeched, grabbing Mr. Jeon's arm in terror.

"WHO IS BAMSEOK?!"

IS HE A SCIENTIST?!

"ARE YOU GOING TO TURN ME INTO A CHICKEN TOO?!"

"…Bam" he said flatly.

"Huh?"

"Our dog."

DOG?!

Wait—

THE DOBERMAN?!

The one that chased me up a tree yesterday and barked like he wanted my soul?!

Why would someone name a dog Bamseok?!

WHO GIVES THEIR DOG A FULL GOVERNMENT NAME?!

That's not a pet name.

That's a Chairman name.

"THAT BEAST?!" I gasped. "NO. NO NO—"

He gave me the look.

The 'Shut up or you're becoming dog dinner' look.

OH. MY. GOD.

THEY'RE GOING TO HAVE THEIR DOG MURDER ME.

I'M LITERALLY GOING TO BE DOG SNACKS.

THEY'RE FEEDING ME TO THE DOG.

THE DOG WHICH LOOKS LIKE IT EATS IRON RODS DAILY FOR PROTEIN.

I'm literally shaking.

My legs are spaghetti.

My soul just packed its bags and left the group chat.

"I WON'T TELL ANYONE OKAY?! MR. JEON I WAS JUST KIDDING. HAHAHA. JOKE'S ON ME. LITERALLY. I SUPPORT POULTRY PRIVACY. I—PLEASE!! "

I begged like a street performer with no talent and too much hope.

"Oh? She's up?"

Another voice entered the scene like it was casually late to the chaos.

I turned with the grace of a collapsing folding chair.

Another man.

In his 50s.

Salt-and-pepper hair.

How many people even live in this house?! Is there a waiting list?!

The man was wearing track pants, dripping in sweat, and looked like he just ran laps around the mansion.

Wait… old people exercise?!

My mom rots in bed like it's her full-time job.

(Says the one who wakes up at 6AM to "accidentally" flex on the neighbors with a workout. Satire. Totally.)

I gulped and scooted behind Mr. Jeon again like he was a human riot shield.

Great.

Another family member to scold me.

I can already feel my soul filing for divorce.

Okay, yes.

I might've committed a tiny, microscopic crime by trespassing.

But come on!

How was I supposed to know Mr. Jeon turns into a literal CHICKEN after dark?!

Had I known I'd be witnessing poultry horror, I would've taken a left turn straight into therapy instead!

And now I've got a full panel of chaebol-level villains taking turns emotionally assassinating me.

Mr. Jeon glared.

Mr. Jeon: Retired Edition yelled.

And Madam Jeon?

She didn't even open her mouth, but her glares pierced through my soul, sent it to Mars, and requested it never return.

So I looked down, bracing myself for Round 3: Verbal Roast from Track-Suit uncle.

"Did you eat, kid?"

CRACK.

That was my neck. From how fast I whiplashed my head toward him.

DID YOU EAT, KID?!

Is that what he said?!

Not "How dare you break into my house" or "Prepare for legal consequences" but…

"Did you eat?"

What dimension am I in?

His voice was terrifyingly gentle.

Like a horror movie lullaby.

Why was he being… nice?

Is this a trap?

A psychological tactic before feeding me to the dog?

Wait.

What if he doesn't know?

What if he doesn't know I trespassed last night?

What if he doesn't know his cold, intimidating, lawsuit-scented son turns into poultry after sunset?!

"Ah, Junghyun-ah" Grandpa Jeon barked. "Let's prepare a feast for her too since she knows our deepest family shame. Why just breakfast, hmm?"

Sarcasm.

Soaked. Dripping. Sizzling.

So this man knows.

He's one of the Chicken Cult members too.

Which means… this new guy must be—

"I mean, what can we do about it now?" he shrugged. "We'll just have to let it slip."

Someone give this man a Nobel Prize.

Finally, a voice of logic in this family of melodrama and feathers.

Of course you can't do anything about it!!

I already saw the tail feathers, people!

Stop acting like we can Ctrl+Z the trauma!

"I'm Jaehyuk's dad, by the way. You can call me Junghyun."

…

Did he just… introduce himself? To a peasant like me??

Sir, no. That's illegal.

You're a deity.

You're the father of the chicken CEO.

I should be bowing, chanting, and offering fruit baskets.

Wait— Mr. Jeon technically fired me so he's not even my boss anymore,

but still.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir. I'm Mira Kim" I said politely.

'Honor'? Seriously, Mira? Could you sound any more like a pageant queen?

"GIVE HER HALF OUR PROPERTY WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!!" Grandpa Jeon howled, practically vibrating with fury. "THIS GIRL BROKE INTO OUR HOUSE! SHE SAW JAEHYUK MID-TRANSFORMATION! WHY ARE YOU ALL ACTING SO CALM?!?"

This hag—

"What can I do about it, Dad?" Junghyun replied coolly. "It's not like I can erase her memory."

"AT LEAST PRETEND TO CARE!!"

"Why? So I can have hypertension like you?"

BOOM. Daddy Jeon scored.

He dropped that line like it was the diss of the decade.

I snorted.

Just a little laugh.

Tiny giggle.

Barely audible.

Grandpa Jeon's ancient ears twitched.

His glare shot toward me like a GPS-locked missile.

"What's so funny?" he growled.

I immediately looked down at the floor.

My dignity lay there somewhere.

"Is your mouth stitched shut?" he snapped again.

"I-I'm sorry…" I muttered, trying not to combust on the spot.

"Throw it in the trash" he hissed like a Bond villain with a slipper collection.

I took a deep breath.

Breathe, Mira.

Do not launch the sandal back.

Control the urge to trip him down those stairs.

We are in survival mode.

Suddenly, I felt fingers grip my wrist.

Mr. Jeon.

I winced.

He said nothing.

Not a single word

He started dragging me like a silent executioner leading his prey.

And then, he shoved me out.

Literally.

Yeeted.

Like I was expired milk.

"Ouch" I hissed, sprawled on the ground like roadkill with dignity.

"If I ever see you in front of me again…" he said darkly, pausing at the door—

"…you're done."

SLAM.

What. Just. Happened.

Before I could even emotionally reboot, the dog started barking.

I turned to see it—inside a kennel the size of my apartment.

The pet of the beast.

I wouldn't be surprised if he actually murders me. This mansion was so huge, he could bury me alive in the backyard and no one would ever know.

My bones?

Bam would chew them like a chew toy from Daiso.

No one would look for me.

No one would care.

Well…

Maybe Yuna would.

After like… three weeks.

When I don't show up for our iced lattes.

She'd probably be too busy trying to outrank someone on LinkedIn in the meantime.