A Second Strike Of Lightning

The Endless Chase Between the Sun and the Moon

Seven years of working for Seo Jin’s company allowed Jin Ah to learn the ropes all too well. She understood early on that they preferred to play towards their strengths and that they hesitated to venture in new markets, which was partly the reason for their success and stability. In her mind, she anticipated the failures – the bugs, the pitfalls, the Achilles’ heel of the system – and, more often than not, she was correct. She even started a silly game with herself whenever she was bored with the trivial tasks she was assigned with: listen to the proposals from various teams during presentations, steal a glance at Seo Jin, and make a guess if he was going to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the project. Her current accuracy standing was around ninety percent.

The company was like Seo Jin; she knew it like the back of her hand.

And she knew that there would always be ready-to-drink coffee in the fridge.

“It’s a good thing that my boss sees to it that the pantry is fully-stocked every week,” Jin Ah mused as she handed Seo Jin a bottle of mocha. “We’re a bunch of pampered employees.”

He snorted, then said, “Oh… Are you, now? Last time I checked, people wanted me out.”

“It’s actually the board who wanted you out” – as she corrected him, he gestured for her to give him her bottle – “not the employees. They may not be extremely fond of you, but they respect you.”

Seo Jin twisted the cap open and returned the beverage to Jin Ah, earning himself a hushed word of thanks.

“Did you really lash out at them during the meeting?” she asked after taking a swig of her salted caramel latte.

To that, he simply shrugged and casually drank his coffee.

They were standing side-by-side in front of the huge windows of the office, alternately watching the seemingly unstoppable shower from the turbulent skies and the stream of blazing red lights from the congested road below. In front of them was a vague image of two people – a tall man and a woman who barely reached his shoulder, especially since Jin Ah already took her heels off. Seo Jin recalled teasing her about their height difference when they were younger and he was grateful that their reflection in the glass pane was somewhat blurry because he could feel himself smiling at the memory of an upset Jin Ah. He’d be dead by sunrise if she caught him.

“I would have thrown a fit, too,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Inconspicuously collecting and storing user data without consent is a bad move; selling such stolen information to prospective clients is a terrible decision.”

He almost spilled his coffee upon hearing her remark.

“It’s classified information, Jin Ah,” he cautioned. “How did you find out about it?”

“I’m a project manager, Seo Jin. I should be fully aware of what my developers are working on,” she pointed out. “Besides, it’s not difficult to put the pieces together.”

Seo Jin shook his head in amusement and murmured, “You really are too smart for your own good.”

“Are they going to push through with it, though?” she investigated further, throwing him a sideway glare. “You have to give me a heads-up because if they are, I might as well edit my resume when the power outage is over.”

“I doubt that they will,” Seo Jin answered. “The legal team would oppose it.”

“Good to hear that,” Jin Ah mumbled, then shyly took a sip of the cold beverage in her hand.

They stared out the window in silence again, taking in the view of cascading raindrops and the changing hues of the panorama that was slightly distorted by the water. The reason behind his departure from the company he built was a touchy subject for Seo Jin, but discussing it with Jin Ah was surprisingly comforting. How talking to her brought him a sense of homecoming after those years of treating each other like strangers, he’d never know.