"WHAT WERE YOU ACTUALLY THINKING WHEN YOU WERE DRIVING, BRIAN?!"
Victor's shout thundered in the air-conditioned room, splitting the silence like a sudden explosion.
His face was burning red, and the veins in his neck and temples bulged clearly, as if they were dancing with every word that came from his throat. His fierce eyes stared straight toward Brian, as if He wanted to pierce and pry every hidden layer within the man.
Meanwhile, Brian stood with tense shoulders and his hands unconsciously clenched. Both his eyelids were closed but his eyelashes trembled nervously, as if courage wanted to surface but receded again before it could rise to the surface.
"Were you only focused on the road ahead of you, to the point of forgetting what was happening on your right and left sides?!"
Victor's words hit again,
"Do you think… that's what's called the right way to drive?!"
"Driving at a speed of more than 120 km/h… do you think this is some kind of chase game?!"
"To the point that you didn't have time to pay attention to anything, didn't think of anything except escaping?!"
Again and again, Victor's shouts broke in the air-conditioned room, waving, getting higher, seemingly without limit.
Occasionally, the voice faltered, a faint cough heard forcing him to bow his head momentarily, hold his breath, and sigh heavily, as if trying to calm himself before resuming his unbearable anger.
"You know what's worse than all that, Brian?"
His tone attempted to be calm this time.
But the next second, after taking a long breath that sounded almost ragged, the shout exploded again,
"You hit Margaret!"
"You hit my daughter—the only child I've protected all this time!"
"And now I regret it… I regret asking her to move to Jakarta just for my selfish reason: so that I could always be close to her."
He rubbed his face roughly.
"Yet when she was standing there, crowded in the middle of that mob… I wasn't even by her side!"
"I should have picked her up! But she always refused—she said if I came, it would be too conspicuous. And when I wasn't there… you came at high speed and hit her in seconds!!"
"Do you think being a father is easy?!"
"Having to lead a company this big while trying to be a figure who is always present for the child I love most—do you think that's easy?! It's not easy! And it is absolutely not easy!!"
"You might think I'm overreacting. You might think this is just the anger of a Director toward his subordinate. But listen carefully… what FATHER can accept his daughter being hurt by someone else—and that person is his own employee?!"
Victor screamed in one long, continuous breath, without stopping, until his body almost collapsed amidst his own emotional storm.
His body slumped back into the chair as if all his bones suddenly lost strength.
His left hand moved automatically, massaging his forehead in a rough motion, pressing his tense temples and eyebrows as if trying to suppress the waves of anger and frustration that were still raging in his head.
"You shouldn't have thought about yourself, Brian."
His tone this time was low and soft.
There was a subtle tremor in every word, slightly shaky, indicating that He still hadn't managed to control his ragged breath.
"You brought them with you. Those children… who struggled desperately to chase the dream of becoming an idol in a survival program that I never organized, but for some reason, I ended up doing it."
"And because of your actions, all social media turned into chaos. Their names were spread everywhere. Even Margaret's name was involved."
"You didn't just scare them… but also created new pressure for Margaret. She must be confused—how will she live after everyone knows she is the daughter of a CEO?"
"That is not a simple matter. That is a burden… and that burden arose because of your actions."
Every word that came out sounded forced, as if his body itself rebelled against it, but the situation forced him to still utter them.
He turned his face slightly, glancing towards Brian out of the corner of his eye.
"What made you do that? Why were you driving like someone who lost his mind—like a person drunk from heartbreak?"
"Was it because you were late picking them up from the dorm? And then you thought… being late on their first debut day as idols would leave a bad impression, huh? Is that your reason?"
Silence. Then He uttered it:
"Or actually… are you just stressed? Stressed because this job as a manager is not something you ever wanted from the beginning?"
The words flowed softly, but that was precisely what was most piercing. A truth that was slid in through a gentle voice, instead of a shout.
And for the first time, Victor's face returned to normal—as if his anger had melted, leaving an exhaustion that was more honest than anything else.
Brian did not answer immediately.
His body actually trembled even harder.
Cold sweat seeped into the nape of his neck, dripping slowly and tracing his spine, causing a stinging sensation that made his shoulders twitch slightly every time the drops slid down.
Both his eyelids finally opened—slowly, hesitantly—but his head remained bowed, staring at the floor with a heavy, anxious gaze.
"What… what should I say to the Director?"
"Will… will he believe the reason that might sound stupid, but is actually reasonable?"
His fingers clenched even tighter, gripping the fabric of his shirt until the threads stretched taut. It was as if by squeezing the thin fabric, He could wring out the nervousness and fear that had been gripping his chest since earlier.
But the feeling didn't dissipate.
"I am indeed careless… and I will continue to admit that, because that trait is inherent to me."
"If only I could control myself… driving more calmly even though I was a few minutes late from the scheduled time, maybe none of this would have happened."
"Everything would have gone smoothly. But I… I really can't think clearly when I'm panicking and nervous. All that crossed my mind was how they could arrive at the agency on time."
The image—the moment his car hit Margaret's body—surged so violently that He closed his eyes again, as if the closure of his eyelids could be the final fortress holding everything back.
He hoped the darkness that welcomed him could suppress the memory, drowning it far into the depths of his mind.
But the opposite happened—the dark space turned into a large screen reflecting every second of the incident with painful clarity.
"I… really am useless, huh?"
"I even dared to hurt Miss Margaret. She must be angry… or maybe she's blaming me now for injuring her leg. To the point that… she can't even walk."
"Brian… what have you done…? Aren't you no different from a man who has hurt a girl so loved by her father?"
His grip tightened even more—even too tight—until the folds of the fabric on his chest looked terribly wrinkled, as if crying along with their owner.
Every squeeze was a small form of punishment on himself, an effort to atone for something that couldn't be compensated with mere physical pain.
Victor simply raised one eyebrow when He realized Brian was still silent, his body still trembling, and his eyes were closed again.
"You don't intend to make me sit silently in this room forever… do you, Brian?"
The tone was soft, but precisely because it was soft, the words hit Brian like a subtle electric jolt that penetrated directly to the bone.
His body jumped slightly—not a real jump, but the reflex of someone who felt touched by something cold and unexpected.
His eyelids flew open. He forced himself to look at Victor, although beneath that gaze, his eyes wavered momentarily. At least, this time, He tried not to run from his superior's sharp gaze.
"I... I am truly sorry, Director."
He bowed briefly then stood straight with slumped shoulders and a lowered gaze.
"I admit, this is all due to my carelessness and negligence. I have tried my best to carry out all my duties well."
He paused to inhale air, then continued.
"I should have behaved professionally—setting aside the fact that I often have difficulty interacting with others, which sometimes makes me lose control and forget to stay calm in facing every issue. However, in the end… I still made a mistake."
He lifted his face slightly, daring himself to look at Victor again.
"And being a manager actually wasn't something that stressed me out."
"It's just… I really don't understand why you appointed me as their manager, when you yourself know that I tend to be less responsible when placed in other divisions."
"I am used to working in closed rooms—alone—and perhaps that is why I feel uncertain about handling this position much longer."
His voice lowered, getting softer and softer.
"I apologize if I was too presumptuous, Director."
"I am prepared to bear all the consequences… even if you decide to fire me, I will accept it, because that is indeed the result of my mistake."
A tremor still enveloped his tone, but behind that tremor, there was a thin thread of determination—a resolve trying to stand tall.
Victor exhaled a long breath, a sigh containing the bitterness of a man who had fought too often with his own head.
His shoulders slumped slowly as his body leaned against the chair while both his eyes were closed.
"That's the same as being stressed about your new position, Brian."
When Victor opened his eyes again, his gaze fell on the figure before him—Brian with his head bowed.
"Don't you remember how Margaret actually defended you at the police station earlier, while you yourself couldn't utter a single word and only nodded?"
"Even on the way here, Margaret scolded me and even threatened me."
Victor leaned his elbow on the armrest, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface—as if repeating the rhythm of Margaret's nagging in his memory.
"She said that if I dared to fire you because of something like this, she wouldn't speak to me again… and she would go home to Bandung, to live with her grandparents, rather than be here with me."
He chuckled, the laughter soft, almost like a whisper, but enough to make the tense air slowly soften.
"Funny, isn't it?"
"A thirty-five-year-old man like me, who can't control his emotions properly, submits just because of such an adorable threat… even though she actually said it seriously."
His gaze wandered elsewhere—as if the large room had suddenly shrunk, forcing him to look for a gap to breathe.
His eyes finally fixed on the glass door with the blurred surface—a thin canvas separating the real world from the moving shadows behind it. The light that penetrated the glass was only enough to show a faint silhouette—Margaret's shadow.
"Brian…"
"I'm not planning to fire you."
"However, in return… since you are also still serving as the Social Media Manager, immediately lead a meeting with your team, and divert everyone's attention to focus on the debut of the new group from our agency."
He turned his head, locking Brian's gaze again.
"Remember… you are the one who must lead this meeting, not anyone else."
"If you keep hiding behind other people's backs, you will never get a stage to prove how expert you are in this field. You don't want to disappoint Margaret any further, do you?"
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On the other side—at the very moment Victor's voice thundered—Margaret stood stiffly in front of the blurred glass door.
"What did Mr. Brian actually say?"
"Why couldn't I hear him and only hear Father's repeated shouts?"
Margaret bowed slightly, moving closer until she almost touched her forehead to the door, trying to follow Brian's lip movements, which only appeared as a faint silhouette.
Every movement—no matter how small—was immediately swallowed by the thin mist clinging to the glass, making it impossible to guess whether the man was talking, shouting, or just moving his lips in silence.
She moved her face forward again, so close that her breath left a faint, spreading mark on the glass surface, like a small mist that appeared only to immediately vanish.
But still, nothing changed.
"Father won't fire Mr. Brian, right?"
"My threat should be enough to make Father afraid to do that."
Margaret took one step back, no more than half a foot's distance.
Her gaze was fixed on the glass door, as if hoping its surface would turn clear just for her. But the door was silent, stubborn, and continued to hide the piece of the story she was trying to hear.
Behind Margaret, Frankenstein remained standing calmly, faithfully holding his body near hers.
He should have felt Margaret's every small movement, but this time He seemed carried away by something else. His eyes squinted, narrowing into that room.
"Who exactly is that man, Margaret?"
His questioning tone was carried away in a small sigh, almost like a murmur that formed unintentionally, like a thought that escaped before it could be held back.
"As far as I recall, during my visits to this building, I have never seen his face."
"Is he a new employee…? Or perhaps he has been working here for a long time, and I just never met him?"
Frankenstein leaned his body forward, approaching the glass surface.
"But, impossible… everyone here knows me, I even have their faces stored in my memory. But him… I'm not sure I've ever seen him before."
He lifted his face slightly, then moved it forward again—trying to catch anything that could be deciphered from the moving silhouette.
"Mr. Brian is not a new employee."
Margaret replied in an almost inaudible voice.
Both her eyes were still fixed on the blurred glass—squinting, widening, moving nimbly as if chasing a fleeting shadow that kept running from her sight. Occasionally, she tiptoed slightly, her body bobbing up and down in a subtle rhythm, like a bird trying repeatedly to peek at the world from behind branches that were too dense.
"He is the Social Media Division Manager."
"However, Father recently asked him to handle the new group that is about to debut directly. The reason… Mr. Brian's age is not too different from theirs, so it could reduce awkwardness, considering this is their first time being part of ASpire Entertainment."
Her voice was low, almost like a murmur carried by the passing wind, yet it was still clear and easy to catch.
"If Oppa has just seen him, it's because Mr. Brian… is someone who rarely interacts with others, due to the vulnerability that arises when facing other people."
"If Oppa thinks he is shy or an introvert, maybe that makes more sense than calling him a 'man who likes to be alone.'"
"Despite that, Father still keeps him—because his performance is neat, clean, systematic… almost perfect."
She wasn't praising Brian, nor was she defending him—she was simply conveying the truth she knew, in a way that made the man's name sound like a beautifully arranged spreadsheet that is rarely opened by anyone.
Frankenstein immediately glanced toward Margaret.
His gaze caught Margaret's side profile: the soft lines tensed with curiosity, the eyeballs busy searching for a gap—trying to find the key to open the blurred veil that separated her from the room behind the glass.
"It seems you're already fit to replace Victor Hyung's position as the Agency CEO, Margaret."
A small chuckle accompanied the end of his sentence, a chuckle that sounded like a playful flick from an older brother who knew exactly which spot would make his sister scowl.
He leaned slightly toward Margaret, as if wanting to see her expression more closely when teased like that.
"You are truly able to understand everyone so thoroughly and in detail… just like Victor Hyung."
"The difference is, Hyung gets angry easily for no clear reason and it's annoying, whereas you… you can control your emotions well, can't you?"
"I've become curious… why do you actually hate the world Victor Hyung created here, Margaret, even though you care about his employees?"
Then Frankenstein smiled thinly. A smile that wasn't entirely mischievous, nor was it entirely soft—a smile that stood between his two emotional worlds.
His hand moved, without hesitation and without rushing—rising slowly to the top of Margaret's head. His fingers touched the strands of Margaret's hair, playing with a few strands there like someone tracing the pages of his favorite book.
Margaret, realizing Frankenstein's hand was resting on her head, only sighed.
She turned slowly, her movement resembling the calm rotation of the moon, and her gaze immediately hooked into Frankenstein's—a clear look standing at the intersection of firmness and slight annoyance, yet with a faint trace of compassion creeping in.
"I'm not looking out for anyone here."
"I'm only saying what Father said when I asked for his reason for choosing Mr. Brian over anyone else."
She tightened both her arms, folding them in front of her chest as if closing a thin shield, then leaned against the blurred glass door. Her posture created the silhouette of a younger sister who had finally found the nerve to stare back at her older brother.
"Since when was being a CEO enough just by understanding each employee's character in detail?"
"Of course not. That could even become a disaster if the focus is only on their personalities, without paying attention to how those traits affect the way they work."
The tone coming from her mouth this time was sharper, fierce, like a small spark that suddenly ignited when the air was filled with tension.
That very thing invited Frankenstein's laughter to break out again—a light chuckle, a mischievous rustle that showed how much He enjoyed their little duel.
"Besides, who would be C—"
Margaret's words were instantly cut off. The corner of her eye caught something—a subtle movement at the end of the quiet hallway.
Frankenstein also turned, reflexively following the direction of Margaret's gaze, and two pairs of eyes finally made contact with a figure standing and watching them from a distance.
"Hello, Miss Visclonew."