2

The move was absolutely awful. There was no exhaustion; in fact, you had very little to move besides your clothes. However, it was incredibly uncomfortable having six girls staring at you. First, there was the owner of the house, Seoyeon, who seemed to monitor your every move outside your room. She was a real pain, but at least you understood a little. She made it clear: she didn't trust you. But then there were the stares of the other five, especially the one you understood: Xinyu. That look, a mix of disgust and disdain, annoyed you immensely. You wanted to yell at her, you wanted to ask what her damn problem was, but you knew it wasn't smart. You had nowhere else to go, and you weren't going to make a scene.

Then there were the looks from the other four girls. You didn't know much about them beyond a brief introduction they gave. Lynn, an exchange student at some university, or something like that, had mentioned. She wasn't a constant presence in your gaze; in fact, her expressions were more shy and a bit apathetic. Mayu had dreamed of being an idol, but she failed. You remembered very well why you thought her dream was ridiculous, although at least she offered to help you more than once. She seemed like a sweet girl; perhaps that's why she had such a naive dream. And then there were Nien  and Kotone, two girls you'd actually paid more attention to than you'd intended. You found them extremely attractive. While Nien radiated charisma and was incredibly pleasant at first glance, Kotone was the complete opposite. She seemed withdrawn, and you felt she was looking at you with even more distrust than Seoyeon. You also thought you detected what you believed to be discomfort, as if meeting new people was extremely difficult for her.

However, all that didn't matter, because another Monday arrived, and wanting to avoid any kind of interaction that could turn into conflict, avoiding any common area of ​​that house, in fact you left too early for work, you preferred  to focus any idea on something that could produce money that you needed so much, instead of socializing or making the attempt.

And without realizing it, a week passed in that damned routine. No, it wasn't life—leaving that house early and arriving as late as possible. But certainly, it wasn't so different from how you'd lived for years, except now you slept alone. That was the only change, and for some reason, even though it seemed like just a small detail, everything was different. Everything, from feeling lonely, which seemed obvious, to stranger things, like the odd feeling that nothing you did made sense, as well as the hatred you started to feel for everyone, and finally, an abnormal libido that awoke out of nowhere. It was totally strange. For almost a year you'd barely thought about sex, but the last week had been cruel. You were aroused every hour, no matter what you did. In fact, you bet you'd masturbated more that week than in the last five years.

That dynamic was ruining your focus on work. In fact, you had  a lot of pending tasks you couldn't finish, even though the deadline was Monday. But it wasn't entirely your fault; in fact, it was mostly your fault. It was all the fault of one of the interns you were in charge of, Hayeon. She was a damn brat who spent all her time lazing around. Many of the things you asked her to do, she only did half-heartedly or didn't do at all. That had already prevented you from making much progress. And to make matters worse, on Friday, for some reason, she wore a baseball jersey and jeans, which made you lose your mind. You felt dirty, perverted, but you had spent the whole weekend fantasizing about her: the way you would take her from behind, how you would eat her out, what it would be like to be inside her, how warm and tight the sensation must be. You imagined how you would dominate her until she was no longer that brat and was just addicted to your dick.

You wanted to stop fantasizing, reminding yourself that you had to finish the marketing campaign proposal for the new album of one of the company's biggest artists, but you just couldn't. You felt like one of those disgusting teenagers, but every time you thought of Hayeon, that mattered little. You thought about how exciting it would be to hear her call you "daddy" while you thrust into her again and again, and you adored her breasts. And without realizing it, without knowing when it was night and when it was day, lost to the point of not eating for two days, your weekend had already passed. On Sunday night, you tried to come up with a proposal. It seemed like it had been written by a beginner, but you were exhausted, especially physically. How you had gotten to this point, you didn't know, but you did know that you had relieved any feelings of arousal you had, for now, and that was priceless. You felt bad. A part of you, the part that said it was horrible that an intern in jeans had you fantasizing for two days, somehow remained. The satisfaction, the sexual relief, and finally you had incredible anxiety, you knew very well that your professional reputation was at stake, your project was a damn piece of shit, a project that had a two-month development timeframe.

And your Monday began with even more anxiety, anxiety you managed to control, enough to appear calm during your breakfast, while driving to work, when you greeted people in the office hallways, and while explaining the pathetic proposal you designed. But when you finished speaking, and silence descended, a silence that felt foreign, you felt your heart pounding intensely. You thought you could hear it from miles away. You had always received words of praise, but this time you saw the CEO's face of utter anger, the artist Seo Dahyun's face of discomfort—it was almost pity, like the pity an older person feels when a child shows them their best effort but that effort has a horrible result—and finally, the incredulous faces of Dahyun's creative team.

“I deeply regret the pathetic idea you just witnessed. Rest assured, there will be repercussions for such poor work. I would appreciate your understanding and a grace period. This time, I swear, truly competent people will be involved.” These were the words that broke the silence, the CEO’s words, but not directed at you. In fact, you stood there while a conversation that at times seemed like an argument unfolded, a conversation between the singer’s team and you, the CEO. You entered a trance, hearing noise, some date, the word “unacceptable.” The details you perceived became fewer and fewer.

"Take your damn things and get out, I don't even know why you're still here," those were the words that snapped you out of your trance, words full of annoyance, words you barely managed to understand, because when you turned your attention back to the world, you were alone with your boss.

“Sir, I swear I’ll do better this time, please let me stay on the project,” were your words, or rather, your babbling.

Your boss laughed sarcastically, "Do you really have the nerve to ask to stay on the project? Do you really think you still work here? I won't repeat myself one more time, take your things and get out, you have all day to say goodbye or do whatever shit you need to do here."

“You can’t fire me, it’s not entirely my fault, Hayeon…” the words came out with indignation, and a little anger, however you couldn’t continue your excuse because you were interrupted almost immediately.

"Are you seriously using a damn intern as an excuse? What kind of idiot are you? You can't even admit your damn mistake when it blows up in your face."

“You can’t fire me, I was the one who designed the marketing campaign using bots on music lover platforms, I was the one who designed…” Your words came out with total anger  this time, it was obvious that you were a pillar since you started working there, however, once again you were interrupted.

"For God's sake, anyone could have thought that, I'm sure you've seen it somewhere else, but you know what? It worked, which was the important thing. Now you can't even make a damn proposal for a simple job. You've gone from being a functional mediocrity to being useless. I won't repeat myself one more time, take your things and get out." And with that, he left.

Minutes later, you stormed to your office, seething with rage. It was a damn joke, a mistake that wasn't even entirely yours, and now you were jobless, just when you needed it most. You wanted to kick something, to scream at everyone that they were idiots, but you did nothing. You just got to your office and started packing, alone. During that awful hour, you tried to cram everything into a box while simultaneously trying to control your anger. No one showed up, not even that damn Hayeon, to find out what had happened to the project. She probably didn't even care. You crammed every damn thing you owned in a fit of rage, until you came across a photograph, the only one you had there. It was you and Yooyeon, three years ago, where she was hugging you with the beach in the background. You remembered that day, too vividly to even recount it. You didn't want to think about her anymore. Because of her, your whole life had gone to hell. So instead of putting it in that box, you threw it away. into the trash.

You tried to leave that building silently, you didn't want anyone to notice that you had been fired, it was pathetic, a mistake, a damn mistake that triggered an unjust sentence, although it seemed that finally something was going right that day, no one had noticed how you left, no one until you were waiting for the elevator, it was taking too long, so long that it gave time for someone to notice you, for someone to speak to you.

“Hey, did you get fired?” That was the question you heard. You didn’t want to turn around to see who owned that voice. You didn’t need to, you knew. She was the only person who spoke to you outside of work.

“It seems so,” was what came out of your mouth; you didn’t want to talk, you didn’t want to explain, and for the first time in weeks, you were thinking about not wanting to be rude to someone.

“But why? What happened? They can’t” Yes, one after another, that’s how Nakyoung  asked and reacted, leaving no room for a response, while you just begged for the damn elevator, it seemed so humiliating that they knew you had been fired.

"Well, it seems they can," were the only words you uttered. You didn't want to talk anymore, you didn't want anything, and at the same time you didn't want to say anything that would hurt someone who seemed genuinely concerned about you. You hadn't seen someone like that in a long time, even if it was just Nakyoung, your co-worker.

Fortunately, she seemed to understand that, she seemed to understand that you didn't want  to talk, and seconds later the elevator arrived.

“You know that if you need help, or just someone to listen, you can call me,” was all Nakyoung said as you entered the elevator.

Tuesday arrived with the taste of such a great defeat that the libido that accompanied you for a week no longer existed, although the anger and hatred did, in fact it intensified, everything was a fucking shit, you planned to do nothing, you didn't want anything, until you remembered that photo with Yooyeon , you remembered her, her and her fucking ridiculous dream, that dream that left you in ruin, so you decided to go to that fucking cafe, claim the part that belonged to you.

You arrived at that ridiculous place around noon, and you smiled as soon as you entered; there, at the bar, was your ex, you didn't even have to look for her.

“We need to talk,” was the first thing you blurted out as soon as you were in front of her, and from the way she looked at you, you knew you had surprised her.

“I’m sorry, but I’m a little busy, maybe later,” Yooyeon sounded too reasonable, too polite, and that infuriated you even more. She didn’t seem affected by your presence; that first reaction of surprise was nothing more than that, surprise.

"Okay, I'll be quick, I need you to give me my share of this, my investment," the words came out of you in a demanding tone.

Yooyeon looked at you for more than a second in silence and her face was serious, like that of someone waiting for a joke to end, but when she saw that you were waiting for her answer, she finally spoke.

"You're joking, right? You have no part here, you gave me that money, you told me it was okay, I don't owe you anything, there's no document that obliges me to do it, and I repeat, you gave it to me."

Yooyeon 's words  made you boil with rage; it was instantaneous. How could she calmly assure you that she didn't owe you anything, that part of that tacky cafe wasn't yours? Your anger was so intense that you exploded.

“Look, I need the fucking money, give me the damn money, I invested all my savings in this shit, I think it’s only fair that I ask for my share.” Your words were screams now.

“First, calm down. I don’t owe you anything. It was a damn gift, a gift I wouldn’t have accepted if I’d known this was your reaction.” The way Yooyeon spoke was still too calm, and that made you even angrier.

"Okay, okay, it's okay, it's totally okay, incredibly good," you repeated over and over at first as you began to walk in circles in front of the bar, and you didn't stop using those words when you started throwing things at the wall, cups, spoons, sugar packets, at some point you didn't know what you were drinking, you were just throwing it .

And you didn't stop until you felt a horrible burning in your eyes, you stopped seeing and couldn't even open your eyelids, before you could react someone put your hands behind your waist, and you managed to feel some handcuffs, that's when through pain you managed to understand that the police were arresting you, and if you had any doubt, you were forced to walk while they threw you into a patrol car.