Ice-heart

ch-1 drunk

Jungkook's pov

What do you do if you're a broke architect who's been wrongfully terminated from your job? Throw in a large amount of student debt for good measure, an even bigger dose of ambition, and the humiliation of being turned down by most of the major architect firms in South Korea.

The answer? You drown your sorrows in wine.

My best friend comes over and we open a bottle of white. Technically, we open two, but it's the light and bubbly kind of wine, so it only counts half as much.

"To my latest rejection letter," I say, and hold up my glass for a toast.

Jimin holds up his own. "At least you're out of Eun Il-sung's office. You could still have to work for that jackass, Koo."

"Yes, and I'd be getting paid," I say sadly. "But you're right. Here's to being broke-but at least there's no one ogling my ass!"

"To no ass ogling!"

We toast, and giggle, and descend into the kind of madness we've always gotten into. Silly and funny and entirely harmless.

Well.

At least it starts harmless.

But then Jimin leaves, and I open my laptop for a little bit of midnight fun.

Maybe watch my favorite YouTuber break down yet another shopping haul, or some intresting TK fanfictions, or Perhaps do a spot of drunk online shopping.

The job searching website pops up-I'd left it open. There's a new ad, posted in the day since I last checked.

Kim & Ryu is the firm name. They're a small, boutique architect firm uptown, one I've only heard about but never encountered. It's not one of the big players, but they're well-known for taking on expensive, prestige projects. It's also a firm that hasn't rejected me yet.

My heart sinks as I read the job description. It's not even a position as an architect. Assistant. They're hiring an assistant to the executive partner.

It involves all the usual sort of stuff-event managing, calendar work, email and phone. Damn. This city is killing me, not to mention this profession. Five years I'd spent with Eun Il-sung, and in the end, what did I gain?

Nothing. No recommendation letter, no promotion-nada. Zilch.

Is assistant the best I can do now? Have I really sunk that low?

Drunk anger rises up in me as I press the giant blue button that says "apply." I have my CV ready, so it doesn't take long to attach it and finalize my application.

Please submit a cover letter. Hah. As if they'll hire me anyway!

An idea forms in my mind. It's so silly that for a moment all I can do is grin at the empty document on my screen. Yes. Why not give them a piece of my mind too? It's not like I'm realistically going to get this job. I have no background as an assistant and not a single recommendation to my name. I'm twenty-five years old and live in a studio apartment in Seocho-dong.

I start to write. Dear... Damn it. Who's the head of the firm? A quick internet search pulls up the name. Kim Taehyung. Probably a mean old bastard, with a pudgy stomach and graying hair. Another Eun Il-sung, with his clawing hands and sickly-sweet smile. Ugh

Dear Mr. Kim (Isn't it sounds like kind of fancy-pants name?), I start typing.

You're not going to hire me, you old stooge, and let me list the reasons why. Intrigued? You should be. I'm about to tell you everything that's wrong with this industry. You're welcome.

-

-

I wake up with a pounding headache and a mouth as dry as the Sahara. My sheets are stuck to my cheek, and I can tell without touching it that my hair is a complete mess.

Sunlight streams in through my window. By the looks of it, it's late already.

"Damn," I murmur to no one and sit up, putting a hand to my forehead. I knew drinking with Jimin had been a bad idea, but then I'd received the letter of rejection from Oak & Sun...

God. That made it a total of six rejections. All major architect firms in Seoul had rejected me. Me. And I'd been valedictorian of my class at university. Sure, it wasn't Ivy League, but it had been the best I'd been able to afford on my scholarship and loans.

I stand on wobbly legs and make it out to the kitchen to grab a glass of cold water. I glance over at the potted palm tree in the corner. "Looks like we might have to go back to Busan if this continues, buddy," I tell it.

The tree looks morosely back at me. The leaves are turning brown at the edges, despite my tender loving care. I've killed every plant I've ever bought, but I'm determined that this one won't suffer the same tragic fate.

"Hang in there," I tell him. "I'll find us something. I know you'll feel better when I have a job."

Not to mention, so will I.

I take a seat at my kitchen table and open my laptop. There's a new email in my inbox.

Automatic: Thank you for your application!

I frown and lean in closer. I didn't apply for anything.

Kim & Ryu has received your application. We will be in touch as soon as possible regarding-

No. No, no, no, no, no. There was no way.

That was a joke. A drunken, stupid little joke, just to amuse myself.

I open the documents that I sent in, one by one.

My heart is pounding when I open the cover letter-the one I vaguely remember typing in drunken, self-righteous anger.

Dear God. I actually sent it.

-

-

To be continued......

What will be the result???😱
Or maybe it's time for them to meet😉