OCB Prologue

Web Services Development Team 1.

Hyerin gently knocked on Seongchan’s desk, like she was knocking on a door.

“Sorry to bother you while you’re focused, but… um…”

Seongchan scowled and looked up. Even though she hadn’t said anything yet, his face was already full of annoyance and irritation, which made her instinctively shrink back.

“If it’s about a red underline or a build error, go back,” he muttered, cutting her off.

She pressed her lips together—looking like it was that kind of question. Flinching slightly at his harsh tone, she quickly changed her demeanor, sounding more indignant than before.

“Come on, I’ve only been here not even a month! Can’t I ask a few things? You’re only in your second year too, you’re still a rookie! Just help me out a bit, will you? You just started earlier than me, doesn’t mean—”

“Hey. You know what the most important skill for a developer is?”

He was still typing rapidly as he asked.

Hyerin, thinking hard, cautiously replied,

“Creativity?”

“Search skills. Sea. Rch. Got it? Now go back to your seat and be proactive. Struggling in the beginning is how you get better.”

In other words, he wasn’t going to help. She sighed deeply and turned to go back to her desk. Just then, Seongchan suddenly pushed everything aside and pulled up the news fullscreen on his monitor.

Raising an eyebrow at the weather report that came on, Hyerin teased,

“You always watch this news channel. Are you a fan of the weathercaster or something?”

Still staring at the screen, Seongchan just let out a deep sigh.

Fine, whatever, I’m going.

As Hyerin turned around and flipped him off behind his broad back, the 60-second forecast ended, and Seongchan turned his head right on cue. Her raised middle finger was now directly in front of his face, casting a shadow over his already unfriendly expression.

As the air around them froze from the tension, Hyerin stood frozen for three seconds, then—still holding her finger up—shoved it straight into her own nostril.

“I—I was just picking my nose. I usually use my middle finger for that.”

It was obvious he didn’t buy the ridiculous excuse, but he just shook his head as if to say, whatever.

“Quit screwing around and get lost.”

A foul-mouthed, prickly mentor.

She should never have nodded when he asked on her first day if it was okay to speak casually. At first, she just wanted to fit in—since the sunbaes all talked to each other informally—but so much for a flat, friendly team culture.

If this were her brother, she’d have smacked the back of his head and bolted. But since he was technically her boss, all she could do was sulk quietly and flip him off inside her pocket.

Even though it had only been a month, the thought of quitting never left Hyerin’s mind.

On her very first day, she’d made an announcement:

‘Please don’t fall for me. It’s tiring having to turn people down all the time.’

She was the only woman on a team full of men, and just like back in college where she was crowned the “Goddess of Engineering,” she figured it was only natural she’d be popular again.

But the reaction she got was colder than an Alaskan blizzard.

“Hey, the second season of ‘Otherworld Pretty Girl’s Revenge’ dropped yesterday. Did you watch it?”

“Of course I did. Nanako’s literally a goddess. That transformation scene? Gorgeous. They said the animation team poured their souls into it…”

Lunch with her teammates always turned into conversations about stuff Hyerin knew nothing about.

She’d passed a tough coding test and made it through a grueling third interview to land a spot in this elite team—only to find out it was basically a cave full of shut-in otakus. It was devastating.

No wonder no one seemed interested in her.

These guys wouldn’t even glance at a woman unless her eyes took up more than half her face.

Looking across the table at Seongchan, who was quietly eating just like her, she asked,

“You’re not into real women either, sunbae?”

Was even Seongchan—famous in the company as the “handsome dev team guy”—one of them?

There wasn’t a hint of interest in his eyes when he looked at her.

Without even bothering to answer, Seongchan just chewed his food in silence and her question was ignored.

This jerk. She cursed him inwardly, but before she could stew for long, the other sunbaes, who had been in the middle of praising Nanako-chan, jumped in with leering eyes.

“Wait, do you like Seongchan or something?”

Hyerin’s eyes widened as she shook her head wildly.

“Are you insane? Me? I hate that sharp-eyed, snappy-ass type, okay? And on top of that, the more I see him, the more he looks like my damn brother—and just looking at him pisses me off!”

Her voice had risen without her realizing, and for a moment, every eye in the cafeteria turned their way.

Not that Seongchan cared—he just calmly spooned up more soup.

As the moment passed and the noise of the cafeteria picked back up like someone had unpaused it, Hyerin scratched her head awkwardly and continued,

“I was just curious ‘cause I heard he didn’t have a girlfriend. The HR ladies keep bugging me to ask… and, well, he did seem interested in that weathercaster earlier, so…”

She mumbled the last part like a half-hearted excuse.

Junsoo, the sunbae sitting next to her, patted her on the shoulder and shook his head.

“He’s basically one of us too.”

“Wait… Seongchan-sunbae’s into 2D girls too?”

“No, he’s been in love with his childhood friend for fourteen years. The weathercaster. At that point, is he really any different from us?”

“……”

“It’s kind of tragic, huh? At least we move on when a new show comes out. But him? He’s been stuck on the same girl for fourteen years…”

Fourteen years of unrequited love.

It didn’t match Seongchan’s prickly personality at all—it sounded more like some kind of pure-hearted melodrama.

Hyerin stared at him with a strange look, then suddenly scoffed through her nose.

“Fourteen years? Big deal.”

Her dismissive tone must’ve struck a nerve, because for the first time, Seongchan looked up from his bowl and met her eyes.

A faint trace of bitterness crossed Hyerin’s face.

“There’s someone here who’s on their twentieth year.”

Twenty years, and she was only twenty-six.

Hyerin’s one-sided love had been clinging to her since she was six years old—painfully, relentlessly.