Chapter 25: Don’t Agitate Me

It was the same staff member I’d met last time at Daejin Hospital.

He waved at me with a cheerful smile and walked over.

“…Oh? You’re back at work right after being discharged.”

He looked quite different from when he was wearing a hospital gown.

Meeting him again at the broadcasting station, he looked far too healthy to be someone who’d just had surgery.

“Yes. I had enough rest because of the procedure.”

He said that with an awkward smile. But it felt strange that someone from the camera team had come all the way to the Programming Department just to see me.

“So what brings you here?”

“Ah, the director asked you to attend today’s meeting.”

I tilted my head at the word “meeting,” and he added quietly, “The news team’s meeting.”

“Ah, I see. What time does it start today?”

“Starts at 3 p.m.”

Hearing it was a team meeting made my anchor appointment finally feel real.

Still, it was odd that he’d gone out of his way to come to this department just for that.

Something that could’ve easily been relayed over the phone.

“I wanted to deliver the message myself, and I had something I wanted to say to Anchor Han as well.”

Perhaps reading the look on my face, he explained further.

“I see. Thank you. I guess I’ll see you in the newsroom tomorrow.”

Tomorrow was scheduled to be my first broadcast since returning as an anchor.

“Oh? You have business with me too?”

Senior Yeong-Joon, who had been listening to our conversation, turned his chair toward the staff member.

“Yes. It’s about the broadcast. You’re free to monitor things now, right?”

Seeing the staff member awkwardly standing beside Yeong-Joon’s desk, I got up from my seat.

“You can sit at my desk. You’ll be more comfortable discussing things there.”

Sitting right beside the monitor would make it easier for them to talk.

Yeong-Joon glanced at me as I stood and asked, “Where are you going, Yoon?”

“HR called me for a moment.”

Since I’d just received my appointment, HR had asked to see me—so I figured I’d take care of it now.

I hadn’t noticed while sitting, but walking through the hallway brought a wave of stares.

Still the same stares, huh?

Probably because of the anchor appointment, the openly hostile gazes clung to me.

Sharp, wary eyes filled with suspicion.

—

As Yeo-Jin left, the Programming Department, which had been quiet, began to buzz again.

Most of the people talking wore expressions of disapproval.

“So the appointment really went through. Unbelievable. She’s really going to be an anchor?”

“What a joke. If they were just going to choose based on family background, why even hold auditions?”

Only after Yeo-Jin had left did the complaints begin pouring out.

As the noise around him grew, the staff member lifted his head.

“?”

Yeong-Joon also seemed to hear the rising voices and paused mid-conversation.

He tossed the script he was holding down on his desk and stood abruptly.

“Everyone. Why don’t you knock it off?”

He had tried to stay out of it at first, but their behavior was crossing the line.

The fact that someone from the news camera crew was visiting, and they were gossiping about Yeo-Jin so openly, made him furious.

“Why are you all so obsessed with someone else’s personal life? And can’t you see there’s a staff member from another department right here?”

Yeong-Joon’s reproachful words cooled the room like a bucket of cold water tossed on them.

One announcer, who had been chatting just moments ago, answered with a grumble.

“Even if it’s personal, what kind of anchor ignores her own parents when they’re seriously ill? They say she hasn’t even shown her face at the hospital.”

“She’s an anchor—her image directly affects the credibility of the news. If the viewers find out, there’ll be an uproar.”

“That’s what I’m saying. It’s already on the company board—just a matter of time before it spreads.”

Rumors had already made their way beyond internal gossip into the open.

“She’s just a chaebol heiress who bought the anchor seat with her money.”

“She got the job thanks to her family but can’t even visit her parents, who are at death’s door.”

The rumors kept snowballing into supposed truths.

“To be honest, I found it suspicious that she even returned to work.”

As the accusations piled up from every corner, Yeong-Joon loosened his tie in frustration.

How could they speak with such certainty about things they hadn’t even confirmed? Even though it wasn’t his business, Yeong-Joon felt betrayed by his own colleagues.

“It’s just rumors. She hasn’t said a word, so don’t you think you’re jumping to conclusions?”

His sharp words fell over the room like a splash of ice water. And just like that, the office went silent.

As he had said, the person in question hadn’t said anything.

And yet no one dares to speak up.

Seeing everyone just eyeing each other in awkward silence, Yeong-Joon huffed and returned to his seat.

“Anchor Han.”

The staff member sitting next to him called softly.

“Ah, sorry. I got a little worked up in the middle of our talk.”

“Not at all. But… I’ve just come back to work after a while, so maybe I’m not reading the room right…”

The staff member fanned himself, still a bit flustered, and asked Yeong-Joon, “Were those comments about Anchor Yoon Yeo-Jin?”

Her name hadn’t been mentioned, but the context said it all.

Yeong-Joon hesitated; he didn’t like that someone from another department had picked up on the gossip, but he answered, “Yes. Haa, seriously… There are these ridiculous rumors going around about Anchor Yoon.”

“Rumors?”

“I’d rather not go into details… I’m sorry.”

Looking sincerely apologetic, Yeong-Joon avoided his eyes, but the staff member waved it off.

“No, it’s fine. Doesn’t sound like it’s anything good anyway.”

What he was hearing didn’t match what he thought he knew. From what people were saying, it sounded like Yeo-Jin was neglecting her seriously ill parents.

Something about this feels off.

He briefly wondered about the inconsistency but turned to look at Yeong-Joon, who had resumed pointing to the monitor to explain something.

***

[That concludes tonight’s news.]

Inside the radio studio during the evening broadcast, the green ON AIR light went off.

It’s over.

I gathered the scripts scattered around and spoke to the staff standing nearby.

“Great job, everyone.”

“Announcer-nim, today was your last broadcast, right?”

It seemed she’d heard about my appointment as an anchor.

“Yes. Unfortunately. I just got the position—it’s a shame this one ends so soon.”

“Well, still, this is a great step forward. Congratulations!”

She sounded more excited than I felt. I thanked her and left the studio.

Did something get on me?

While recording, my hands had gotten sticky with something.

I stopped by the Programming Department to drop off some things, then headed to the restroom.

Chae Seo-Rin?

At the far end of the hallway, I saw Seo-Rin entering the bathroom.

I considered using a different one but looked down at my sticky hands and decided to follow in.

By the time I entered, she was already in one of the stalls. Planning to just wash up and leave, I began scrubbing my hands with soap.

Suddenly, the phone I’d left by the sink lit up and buzzed.

Park Hyeon-Ik was calling.

“Yes, Uncle.”

I tossed the used tissue into the trash and picked up the phone.

“Did you prepare what I asked?”

– Yes, everything’s ready, even the documents. Should I send someone?

It was something I’d requested after learning more about Intech.

I’d come up with a way to lay a trap naturally for the ever-cautious Seo Ji-Han.

“No, I’d prefer to receive it in person.”

Having someone else deliver it felt too risky.

At that moment, the bathroom stall door unlatched.

In the mirror, I saw Seo-Rin walking toward the sinks, and our eyes met.

She stared at me silently as she approached.

“Can you come to a café near the station tomorrow?”

– Sure, let’s do that.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I ended the call while locking eyes with Seo-Rin.

The intense malice in her glare made her hatred for me perfectly clear.

Of course she’s angry. She was sure she’d get the anchor seat.

She must’ve been confident until the last moment, and then the results flipped on her.

Even with Ji-Han personally stepping in, she still failed.

“Unnie.”

I was just about to fix my hair and leave when her voice stopped me.

There was a slight tremble in her tone.

“What the hell is going on?”

“…?”

Seo-Rin turned from where she was gripping the sink, as if stifled by frustration.

“Did you use money or something?”

“What?”

“Or was it that guy—Seo Jae-Ha—did he pull some strings?”

I blinked in disbelief, but she stepped up right in front of me.

“…Ha?”

“There’s no way this can happen. Why you? How did you become the anchor?”

She got right in my face, barking the words like an accusation.

Looking at her up close, she seemed halfway unhinged. Her resentment at losing to me was almost pitiful, and it made me laugh involuntarily.

“That’s what you did.”

She was the one who’d tried to sabotage my audition by locking me in the set. She was the one who leaned on my fiancé’s influence to claim the anchor position for herself.

“Don’t you get it? Think hard about what you just said. You’re the one who manipulated my fiancé to get the anchor job.”

“…Ha…”

“And don’t think I don’t know you were the one who lured me to the set and locked me in. You did all of it.”

She went quiet for a moment, then scoffed. “There’s no proof.”

Seo-Rin looked at me smugly, eyes full of conceit.

I’d heard from Secretary Han that the basement level 2 CCTV was conveniently out that day.

“You say I lured you? I never even looked for you that day.”

When I later went to the director, he confirmed that Seo-Rin hadn’t come looking for me on audition day.

Even the staff member who relayed the message said he got it through a messenger app.

There’s no one else who would’ve gone this far except you, Chae Seo-Rin.

But it was all circumstantial—there was no hard proof.

And that’s exactly why she was so confident.

“Of course, I have no proof. I didn’t even try to find any.”

Seo-Rin’s eyebrows twitched at that.

I had no desire to stoop to her petty games. I didn’t have the time or the tolerance for it.

“I didn’t want to waste my energy digging through your little tricks.”

Understanding what I meant, her face twisted with suppressed rage.

“But don’t you dare bring my parents into this again just to provoke me.”

My voice was cold as I warned her. I had no intention of letting it slide that she’d used my critically ill parents to spread damaging rumors about me.

“I might just get creative and find the kind of evidence you’ll wish was fake.”

As my eyes turned sharp with resolve, Seo-Rin clenched her fists tightly.