Page 4 of Break Room
I decided then and there: I’d sleep straight through until morning – and then get the heck out of here.
I had no desire to broadcast to the world that I was disliked by my coworkers. What if my family saw it? What if this show created preconceived notions for people who might come to know me? I pictured strangers pointing fingers at me, whispering, ‘No wonder people hate him.’ The thought deflated me. But soon, a sense of betrayal welled up, slowly brewing into anger – especially towards two of my coworkers, A and B.
A would microwave sauce-covered chicken breasts that splattered all over the microwave, never bothering to clean it up (I even saw him doing push-ups on the floor as he waited for them to heat). B, whose job was stocking office snacks, only bought her own personal favourites.
And yet, somehow,myactions are worse than theirs?
If anything, B should have ensured a variety of snacks, both crispy and soft, salty and sweet, to meet the tastes of the entire team: a mix of Moncher Cakes, Lotte Custard Cakes, crackers and potato chips. Instead, she always picked the same old overlycrunchy snacks, likeramyunddangandjjolbyeong, filling the office with the endless sound of echoing crunches and leaving everyone’s fingers covered in seasoning dust. And let’s not forget that B, more than anyone else, devoured most of them.
Could it really be that A and B, of all people, had had the audacity to complain to Il-Kwon about me without considering their own actions? Had they really taken such offence at my behaviour? And had this so-called perceptive producer, completely blind to the full context, really cast me as one of the show’s ‘villains’, simply because I dared to put cola in the ice-cube tray?
I couldn’t sleep that night. After hours of fretful thinking, I eventually crawled out of bed. It was only natural that my hands would reach for the game instructions and the cast non-disclosure agreement, which I hadn’t bothered to look at until now. The NDA was pretty standard: no social media activity for the duration of the production, no unnecessary personal interactions, and strict confidentiality before the show’s release.
I set aside the NDA and picked up the game instructions instead. They were much simpler than I’d anticipated.
During the game, you are expected to carry on with your tasks as you normally would do in your workplace.
Work hours are from 9am to 6pm.
You may use the break room at any time but with one caveat:your time is limited to a maximum of 100 minutes per day.
Your mission is simple: identify the mole among you.
The mole joinedwithout a referral, and every hint about the mole is a lie fabricated for the sake of the programme.
Your goal is to compare the hints provided with your personal observations to determine who among you is theconstructed character.
To get a hint card: Break the ‘rules’.
In exchange for each hint card, you can choose which player you would like to receive a hint about.
The hint will be delivered to the wooden box at your door.
I stopped reading and shot up. I didn’t remember seeing a box in front of my door earlier. I stepped outside and poked my head into the hallway. Sure enough, eight identical wooden boxes were now hanging on the doors, one for each of us. They must have been set up right after we’d all gone into our rooms.
The boxes were compact, each with a small, hinged door. I opened the latch on mine and found a tiny copper key and lock set inside. Without much thought, I tapped the box lightly with my fingers before using the key and padlock to secure the door shut. My eyes wandered to Coffee Mix’s door next to mine – her box was already locked. I returned to my bedroom and turned my attention once more to the game instructions, slowly absorbing each line.
In exchange for each hint card, you can choose which player you would like to receive a hint about.
The hint will be delivered to the wooden box at your door.
Note:If you want to get a hint about yourself, you will need two hint cards.
My eyes lingered on the note, which was written in slightly smaller text than the rest of the rules. I hadn’t noticed it before. While I was certain I wasn’t the mole and didn’t actually need a hint about myself, I still wanted to know what that hint could be. The curiosity gnawed at me, far surpassing my desire to winthe game or the prize money. I needed to see those hints to know what my coworkers might have said about me. The urge felt stronger than the nervous anticipation of receiving an annual performance review, opening a school report or even reading what people wrote in a farewell card.
My desire to uncover hints about myself was greater than my desire to identify the mole. Giving up and never knowing what my coworkers had said about me felt like a bigger loss. Strangely, as this realisation settled, my chaotic thoughts seemed to fade, leaving my mind unexpectedly clear – like the sky after a storm.
CHAPTER
Four
I woke up early the next day, just before dawn. The clarity I’d felt the night before had subsided, replaced by the nagging thought that I should leave and go back home. But I couldn’t bear the thought of facing my co-workers – sulking and picking fights without knowing what they’d said about me, or, worse, behaving awkwardly as if nothing had happened as I sat at my desk.
I wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.
I pulled out the agreement from the envelope and carefully read through the clauses about the prize money and appearance fee. The minimum payout for winning this show, by identifying the mole, was at least thirty million won. If I ended up the sole winner, it could exceed one hundred million. Running the numbers in my head, I felt a surge of enthusiasm. That amount alone wasn’t quite enough to fully ignite my motivation from scratch, but it was more than sufficient to push my wavering determination over the edge.
After signing all the required documents, I stuffed myself with the corn soup and warm bread that had been left on the table in my room by the staff that morning (probably a product placement, considering they’d asked to keep the brand labels visible while I ate). Finally, I felt a sense of ease wash over me. As I finished breakfast, Schumann’sTräumereiplayed softly through the speakers installed in my room.
