EBP|16

What’s Going On?

Chapter 16

What’s Going On?

The employees of the Culture Business Department stared in disbelief, eyes wide as if they’d seen a ghost.

There were too many reasons to be shocked.

First, there was the simple fact that someone had come out of the manager’s office—where they had all assumed no one would be.

Second, that person was none other than Ha Geonwoo, the man newly promoted to department head.

And third, Geonwoo seemed… different.

But none of those things were trivial.

The future of the Culture Business Department depended on this moment.

“I know the sudden personnel change must have been surprising.”

Geonwoo’s calm gaze swept lightly across the room before he continued.

“From now on, the Culture Business Department will expand beyond simple sponsorships and brand image management. We will move toward projects that generate real profit.”

Every face in the room reflected the same question: What is he talking about?

Yet not one of them dared to ask.

After all, the new department head was the son of Seodo Group’s chairman.

“The Culture Business Department will now operate under the name Seodo Culture & Arts and will become an independent subsidiary of Seodo Group.”

“……!”

It was as if time itself froze.

If not for the faint ticking of the wall clock, one could’ve believed the entire world had stopped.

The office was utterly silent.

But Geonwoo seemed unconcerned with the shock around him. After pausing to take a quiet breath, he continued speaking.

“Some of you may feel that being reassigned from Seodo headquarters to a subsidiary is unfair. That’s why you’ll have a choice—stay at headquarters, or move to the new subsidiary, Seodo Culture & Arts.”

He picked up the stack of documents he had brought from the manager’s office and handed them to the nearest employee.

“Please pass these around.”

Startled, the employee scrambled to take them, standing up quickly to distribute the papers to others.

“This is the business plan for Seodo Culture & Arts. It’s currently classified, so make sure none of it leaks outside the department.”

His firm tone carried quiet authority.

Perhaps because of that weight in his voice, no one dared to turn the first page. They simply stared at him, tense and uncertain.

“In these documents, you’ll find details on our objectives and the specific projects we’ll be undertaking. To ensure quick progress, I’ll hold one-on-one meetings starting today at 1 p.m. You can make your decisions then.”

Maybe it was because they realized how little time they had to think—every employee’s pupils trembled as if shaken by an earthquake.

“I understand that working at headquarters carries its own prestige. If you prefer to remain, that’s fine. For those who wish to transfer, I’ll make sure you’re placed in your desired departments—except for those that require specialized skills.”

The quiet office erupted in hushed murmurs.

When he first mentioned choosing between staying or following him to the subsidiary, it had sounded vague, almost unreal.

But now that he’d outlined the specifics, the weight of what was happening finally sank in.

“I’m not trying to pressure anyone,” Geonwoo added calmly. “Whichever you choose—headquarters or the subsidiary—I’ll respect your decision. Just know that working at Seodo Culture & Arts is not something you’ll regret.”

He muttered softly to himself, barely audible, It might be exhausting because there’s a lot to do, though…

No one caught those words.

“At one o’clock, I’ll begin the meetings in order of seniority, starting with the deputy manager. See you then.”

As soon as he finished, Geonwoo turned and walked back into his office.

Behind him, the frantic rustle of paper filled the air as employees hurried to skim the documents.

For Yeoul, the cello wasn’t just a string instrument that made beautiful sounds.

It was her friend, her everything—an extension of herself.

She had fallen in love with it at five years old, after hearing its sound on television.

Though shy and quiet, she had told her mother, Jeonghye, that she wanted to play cello. Without hesitation, Jeonghye took her to a secondhand music shop and bought one.

Money had always been tight, and as Yeoul’s skill improved, so did the costs—lesson fees, competition fees, performance dresses.

Eventually, her mother started working as a cashier at a supermarket, and her father, Dongkyu, began driving part-time after work to help pay for it.

One day, overwhelmed with guilt, Yeoul told her mother she wanted to quit.

“Do you hate the cello?”

“No.”

“Then why do you want to stop?”

“Because I’m making you and Dad work too hard…”

“Yeoul. It’s okay. Your father and I don’t mind. You’ve grown up kind and healthy, and that’s all we could ever ask for. This doesn’t feel like suffering at all.”

Her mother’s gentle voice—always patient, never raised—made tears spill down her cheeks.

Jeonghye’s hands, roughened from work, brushed over Yeoul’s fingers with such tenderness that it hurt.

That day, Yeoul made a promise to herself.

If it wasn’t about the cello, she wouldn’t waste money on anything else.

First, she avoided making friends.

She knew even friendship and outings cost money.

Second, she studied whenever she wasn’t practicing.

She wanted to ease her parents’ burden with a scholarship.

“I couldn’t even speak up when they took away the one thing I worked so hard for.”

Why hadn’t she?

How could she have been so foolish?

There had been no reason to stay silent.

Since her wedding day, she hadn’t touched her cello once.

It had moved from her room to the living room, then to the guest room, and finally, the storage shed.

By now, it was probably rotting in the dampness—but she hadn’t even checked.

All she had done was live in constant fear of Seungtae and Songhwa’s disapproval.

“Kim Seungtae, you’re the kind of man who doesn’t care whose life you ruin, as long as you can torment Geonwoo. That’s the only way you could be so shameless.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

She couldn’t even guess how pathetic she must have seemed to him.

[Yeoul, I’m sorry for neglecting you all this time.]
[I was flustered on Sunday, that’s why I said the wrong things.]
[It’s all my fault. I’ll make it up to you.]

Reading the texts from an unknown number, Yeoul’s expression turned cold.

Of course she knew who it was—Seungtae.

He must have realized she’d blocked his number, so he was using another to contact her.

“I’m done falling for your fake kindness.”

Now she understood.

Seungtae didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt.

“I died once already. If I still let your words fool me again, that’d be an insult to my own life.”

Her poor judgment in relationships had made her blind to what kind of trash Seungtae really was—and she had paid for it with six years of hellish marriage.

“That’s why I’m never going back to that hell.”

With a steady hand, she deleted his messages and blocked the number.

Just as she was about to put her phone away, it buzzed again.

A familiar name appeared on the screen.

“Ah…”

For a split second, she thought, Who could it be?

Then she remembered—My man.

It was Geonwoo.

“Hello?”

—“…What’s going on?”

“What?”

His voice was tense, but filled with concern.