My Boss is a CHICKEN?!

I'm so motivated right now I could build a spaceship out of office supplies, slap a sticky note that says "To Mars" on it, and launch myself out the window using sheer willpower and passive-aggressive emails.

That's how motivated they've got me.

"Fighting!" Jin-ho said, with his coffee raised like it was a weapon in a caffeine-fueled revolution.

"Fighting~" Haewon added, slightly less enthusiastic, like she was still unsure if she actually wanted me to live or not.

"FIGHTING!!!" In-Young screamed at decibel levels that probably cracked a few windows on the 17th floor.

Alright.

That's it.

I'm motivated.

Inspired.

Possessed by the spirit of all underpaid employees before me.

"FIGHTING" I yelled, fists raised to the sky like she was summoning the ancient gods of chaos and caffeine.

Everyone clapped like I was going off to war.

Which, let's be honest—I was.

Off to the 22nd floor.

Aka: The Lion's Den.

The floor where dreams go to get audited and interns forget how to breathe.

I walked towards the elevator like a soldier marching into battle, minus the armor and plus a whole lot of anxiety.

Finally, I got into the elevator and hit the button. My reflection stared back at me in the metal doors like, "Girl, you sure about this?"

No. I was not sure.

But I was too caffeinated and peer-pressured to back out now.

Ding!

The elevator doors opened to the eerily quiet 22nd floor, aka The Ice Kingdom, home of Mr. Jeon the chicken.

I tiptoed to the camera scanner next to his fancy glass door—the one that scans your face like you're breaking into MI6.

Only this time?

Nothing happened.

The camera's little red light was off.

I waved at it.

Nothing.

I leaned closer and smiled like I was on a dating app.

Still nothing.

"Are you serious right now?" I hissed.

I even tried the 'tap the side like an old TV' method. Still nothing.

HELLO? THIS IS A MULTIBILLION-WON COMPANY AND YOUR CAMERA IS OFF??

I looked around.

Empty.

Silent.

Haunted.

Okay, no camera access.

Plan B: Call the man himself.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Jeon's number, praying he'd miraculously be in a decent mood and pick up.

Ring. Voicemail.

Of course.

OF COURSE.

The one time I'm voluntarily trying to talk to the Grim Reaper in a tailored suit, he ghosts me.

I tried again.

Still nothing.

Okay, rude.

Now I had two options:

Walk away and pretend this never happened.

Sit my butt down and wait like a desperate contestant outside the audition room on a survival show.

Guess which one I picked?

I sat. And waited. For a full hour.

On a cold, slightly wobbly chair beside a potted plant that looked more alive than me.

The time?

6:14 p.m.

The office was getting quieter by the minute. People were leaving. Lights were turning off. Even the vending machine gave a final wheeze and powered down.

Still no sign of the man himself.

I squinted at the door like maybe it would magically open.

Nothing.

Then finally, I spotted an employee walking by—some overachiever with three laptops, a Bluetooth headset, and the expression of someone running on ambition and protein bars.

I flagged him down.

I stood up and went towards him.

I swear the chair let out a sigh of relief.

"Um, excuse me" I said, with the hopeful tone of someone asking if the Titanic is still afloat. "Do you know where Mr. Jeon is?"

He didn't even pause. "Oh, he left over an hour ago."

I blinked.

"An hour?" I croaked, like I was learning how to speak human for the first time.

"Yeah. Around five. Why?"

WHY.

WHY.

WHYYYYYYYYY???????

I smiled. A slow, twitchy, terrifying smile.

The kind that makes even horror movie villains say, "She's not okay."

"Nothing" I replied, my voice cracking like a cursed porcelain teacup. "Absolutely… nothing."

My soul ascended. My will to live descended.

I turned and walked towards the elevator like a cursed Victorian ghost bride.

Each step was agony. Not physically, but emotionally. My pride was melting into the carpet tiles.

By the time I reached the elevator, I was a woman scorned.

A woman betrayed.

A woman abandoned in a hallway like yesterday's cafeteria kimchi.

I jabbed the elevator button like it owed me money.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

"YOU. EMOTIONALLY. UNAVAILABLE. MAN-CHILD" I hissed under my breath.

"You overpriced ergonomic chair with a god complex."

"May your phone always be at 1%. May your socks always be wet. MAY YOUR WIFI BE FAST ENOUGH TO BUFFER BUT NEVER LOAD!!"

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open revealing… the cleaning lady.

And there I was—mid-rant, eyes wild, jabbing the elevator button like it owed me child support, muttering curses about emotionally unavailable CEOs and face scanners that should've been sent to hell with Internet Explorer.

We made eye contact.

She blinked.

I blinked.

She froze.

Took one full look at me… disheveled, twitchy, emotionally unhinged and gave me a slow, supportive thumbs-up.

A whole-hearted, 'you got this' thumbs-up.

Like I was doing God's work.

Or like she'd seen one too many corporate breakdowns to be surprised anymore.

She stepped back.

Maintained eye contact.

And hit the "close door" button.

WITHOUT. SAYING. A. WORD.

Lovely. Someone call the Grim Reaper—tell him I'm ready early.

…

Just as I was about to slam my head into the elevator doors—

My phone buzzed.

I looked down with the last flicker of hope I had left.

Mr. Jeon: [6.21 pm]

"Submit the project summary by tomorrow 4PM instead. I moved the board review."

...

I stared.

I re-read it.

Again.

And again.

4 PM tomorrow.

He gave me an extension.

AFTER I stood outside his cursed door for over an hour like a human doormat.

WITHOUT TELLING ME.

WITHOUT A SINGLE WORD.

"You emotionally stunted Excel demon" I hissed like a woman on the edge of a nervous breakdown and a caffeine crash.

"May your coffee always be lukewarm.

May every elevator you take stop at every floor for no reason.

May your socks forever be slightly damp."

I wasn't done.

"May your Wi-Fi drop right before every investor call.

May all your pens run out of ink halfway through your signature.

And may your favorite tie get caught in the paper shredder—slowly.

MAY YOU WALK INTO EVERY MEETING WITH SOMETHING STUCK IN YOUR TEETH AND NO ONE TELLS YOU!!"

I yelled before staring at my reflection in the mirrored doors and pointed at myself like I was making a dramatic K-drama promise.

"Mark my words, Jeon Jaehyuk. If I die doing this project, I swear I will come back as a ghost and haunt your office printer. Your files will never print straight again."

The elevator doors opened. I marched out like a war general with frizzing bangs and a dry throat full of fury.

Tomorrow, Mr. Jeon was going to meet a new Mira.

A braver Mira.

A louder Mira.

And possibly, a Mira holding a fire extinguisher as an emotional support item.