New Normal - Chapter 12

“Oh, these days it’s rare to see someone with that kind of mindset. Haha…”

The man sitting next to the Director tried to smooth things over, glancing at Shin Jisoo, who looked frozen stiff — but it didn’t help much.

Leaning back in her chair, the Director’s lips curled in faint amusement.

“Doing things without being told. Knowing what I mean without me having to spell it out. Not complaining about errands or small chores. Making coffee when we have guests, grabbing my stuff when I’m in a rush — all of that’s part of the job, you know that, right?”

For a second, Jisoo couldn’t decide whether to nod or stay still. She knew exactly what the Director was implying, but all she could do was let out an awkward laugh.

“Yes, of course. I’ve… done that kind of work before.”

“Really? Good. So you know how it goes?”

“Sorry? What do you mean, exactly…?”

“Our museum’s a bit special. We don’t just end things with an exhibition.”

The Director let out a little nasal laugh, eyes flicking over Jisoo again.

The stiff-faced man didn’t even try to stop her — he just kept his head down, flipping through paperwork like he’d seen this a hundred times.

“When I go out for meetings, you can help drive. If a package comes to my house, you pick it up and sort it. If I go shopping for clothes, you come along and help. When I’m busy at lunch, you order me coffee. That’s all right?”

She looked right at Jisoo and gave a sly smile.

Cold sweat prickled down Jisoo’s back. If she said no, she’d be out. If she said yes, she knew exactly what hell she’d be stuck in. After a moment’s hesitation, she forced herself to answer.

“Yes. That’s fine.”

The Director let out a satisfied laugh, like that was enough for now.

“All right then. You can go.”

At the man’s cue, Jisoo shot up from her seat as if she’d been waiting for it. She bowed low, mumbling a hollow thank you.

“Oh, and one more thing — we don’t do side gigs here. I hate it when my staff waste their attention somewhere else.”

Through the window — where they hadn’t even bothered to hang proper blinds — the main building looked ironically brighter and clearer than ever. Once the door clicked shut, the small office fell into a heavy silence.

Jisoo swallowed a sigh and stepped further in. The faint sounds of people outside barely reached her now. It hit her, all at once — she was alone.

She just stood there for a while, taking in her new “workspace.” Papers were scattered messily over the old desk, and a sticky note covered in hurried scribbles looked like it was half directions, half random reminders. She picked it up and dust puffed up, tickling her nose.

“Achoo.”

Rubbing her nose, Jisoo read the note again.

“Market research report. Check the latest tourism data for Jeju. Confirm NW Group contact list… Hanseong CC, 2-person reservation. Lemer Spa, Swedish massage, 1-person reservation…?”

Under the real work — local data and contacts — were random personal errands for the Director’s family, not even the Director herself. The little star mark next to them made Jisoo realize just how far down she’d fallen.

It was brutal. She sat down in the creaky chair, which whined under her weight like it didn’t even want her there. Resting her hands on the pile of papers, she honestly had no idea where to begin.

“What am I even supposed to do first…”

The quiet question drifted into the empty room, but of course, no one answered. Only the loud ticking of the clock filled the air.

Then, out of nowhere, Jisoo’s mind drifted back to her very first interview at this museum.

***

A sitting room washed in cold gray tones. On the dark, polished floor sat a low coffee table surrounded by heavy, expensive-looking sofas.

Jisoo, dressed neatly in a fitted suit, perched stiffly on the edge of one of those sofas. Her hands were tightly folded on top of each other, knuckles pale. Her feet barely touched the floor. Even her breathing sounded careful.

She’d landed this interview thanks to an introduction from her thesis advisor, who had retired right after she got her master’s degree. Sure, it was technically a “pulled-in” position, but she’d still passed the paper screening, the Hansong Group aptitude test, and multiple rounds of interviews with the actual working staff. She knew this final interview with the Director was just a formality.

Still, knowing didn’t stop the anxiety from crawling all over her skin.

There were two people sitting across from her. The first was a man in his early fifties with close-cropped hair and thin silver-framed glasses — someone she’d never seen before. Next to him sat Joo Won-kyung, the Director.

Draped in a sheer haute couture outfit that looked more suited to a runway than an office, Joo Won-kyung was already a face Jisoo knew well. The Director openly let her eyes run over Jisoo from head to toe, then leaned in to whisper to the man beside her.

Later, Jisoo would learn he was a face reader — someone the Director trusted to judge people’s fortune and character. But right then, she’d assumed he was just another foundation executive. To be honest, she was too tense to care who he was anyway.

While they whispered back and forth, the Director didn’t even bother glancing at Jisoo’s file — she just kept scanning her hair, her clothes, her shoes. Jisoo wanted so badly to wipe the sweat off her palms, but forced herself to stay still.

After a while, the man turned his eyes on her, giving her a quick once-over before finally picking up her file and pretending to read it.

“Shin Jisoo?”

“Yes, I’m Shin Jisoo,” she answered, clear and steady — though she had to drag the words up from deep in her gut just to keep her voice from shaking.

“Your education’s good. Work experience is… decent enough. This ‘Art for Tomorrow’ project — that’s one of our foundation’s, right? When did you do that?”

“I joined during my third semester of my master’s, under K University,” she said.

The man nodded vaguely, like that was fine. Meanwhile, the Director kept staring at Jisoo’s face, then looked down at her own nails, speaking almost lazily.

“But your practical experience is a bit thin. Outside of exhibition curation — do you have any experience handling VIP guests or managing sponsors?”

The Director didn’t even bother with polite speech — her tone made it clear she’d never even considered it. She flicked her eyes up, and when they met Jisoo’s, Jisoo sucked in a tiny breath. That look — cold and sharp like a snake — made her shoulders tense, but her mouth automatically spilled out the answers she’d practiced.

“I helped run the sponsor program at Space Art. I also worked on planning major sponsor events and managed VIP art tour programs—”

“You didn’t lead anything though, right? What would an intern lead?” The Director cut her off with a mocking little laugh. Her lips curved, but her eyes stayed dead cold.

Jisoo scrambled to adjust her answer. “Yes, that’s true. I was an intern, but I worked closely with the staff in charge, helping plan key schedules and coordinating on-site. I directly managed a few proje—”

“Fancy way of saying you did grunt work. Any part-timer can do that.” The Director crossed her legs. The massive high-end jewelry she wore glinted under her blouse’s deep neckline — so much sparkle it seemed impossible she’d wear that every day.

“Shin Jisoo, right? Well, as you probably know, our museum’s work is no joke. See, that attitude some people have — only doing what’s in the job description? I can’t stand that. You know how kids these days always have strong opinions but zero grit? They just quit when things get tough. I hate that kind of attitude.”

Her smile twisted into something unreadable. Jisoo pressed her lips shut. What is this? The thought barely formed when the man next to the Director stepped in, glancing at her like he was testing her reaction.

“Uh, what the Director means is — our museum is about more than just exhibitions. We handle a lot of events, so you need to know art, but you also have to be good with people. You have to be flexible and adapt as things come up. Do you think you can handle that?”

Something about it didn’t sit right with Jisoo — but she lifted her chin anyway, her eyes steady. “Yes. Of course. I don’t give up easily. That’s something I’m confident about.”

The Director burst out laughing. “‘I don’t give up easily.’ Oh wow, listen to you — a little fighter, huh? You’re like some scrappy soap opera heroine. So naive, it’s cute!”

Her loud laugh echoed around the big sitting room — sharp, heavy, and out of place. But as soon as it stopped, the air froze again. She wiped the tears from laughing so hard, then leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

“Sweetie, I don’t want someone who just doesn’t give up. I want someone with sense. Someone who’s quick. Who knows how to move without being told.”

***

 “No side jobs, my ass.” Jisoo scoffed at herself. She’d been so sure back then — so naive. She still remembered how she’d answered that question, swallowing her breath through a humiliation she’d never felt before.

“Oh my, I like her. She listens well, doesn’t she?”

But when she actually started working, reality hit fast. That “no side jobs” line from the Director? Total nonsense. As long as it was “academic work,” the museum turned a blind eye to anything. From that moment, Jisoo had this sinking feeling things wouldn’t go smoothly under the Director. But she hadn’t expected to get pushed out this far, this fast.

Standing there in that dusty office, Jisoo knew. The time she’d have to spend under that Director wasn’t going to be easy. Not at all.