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"Okay, so I'm thinking she could accidentally be pushed into oncoming traffic—"

"And who exactly would be doing this accidental pushing?" You cut Jeno off with a scoff.

Currently, you were laying on your back on your bed, head hanging off the end of it and phone in hand. Your best friend, Lee Jeno, was on the other end of the line, jokingly scheming to get you a job at his workplace. Jeno somehow worked as a legal assistant at the best civil law practice in your city, and you, on the other hand, were unemployed. This was what you got for taking an extra year to get your master's degree to become a paralegal instead of immediately jumping into the workforce after undergrad.

That was where you and Jeno had met: Intro to Philosophy on your very first day of college as two bright-eyed freshmen with surprisingly similar career goals and the same taste in 00s pop punk bands. Now you were a year and a half past graduating with your bachelor's, and six months past your master's. And what had that extra effort gotten you? Many, many interviews that all ended the same way: You're "an incredible applicant," but "too educated" for the pay of the position and/or "too inexperienced."

Jeno, on the other hand, had declined your suggestion to further your education together and instead landed himself a legal assistant job right out of college. So now here you were, living off the remnants of your student loans and savings as you desperately hunted for a paralegal job.

Your best friend's elaborate plans to get you a job at his firm would typically make you laugh, but this time you couldn't even muster up a chuckle. Earlier today when you checked your bank accounts during a break from emailing out your résumé, you were confronted with the fact that your savings were running out; you didn't have enough to even get you to the end of your lease in six months.

"God will, duh," Jeno said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His current plan was centered around a junior partner's paralegal dying of a myriad of mysterious causes, and apparently this time involved divine intervention too.

"Oh, right, of course," you rolled your eyes.

"I'm serious about the fact that Yejin needs to go, though. I have no clue how she's still employed. And you would be the perfect fit for Ms. Haseul, she kind of does a little bit of everything, but her main focus is general corporate representation. Wasn't that what you specialized in for grad school?"

"It is, yes."

"Then there we go!"

"I appreciate the sentiment, Jeno."

You sighed. All this talk about a job that you'll never have was bringing down your spirits. "Anyway, I have half a leftover pizza in the fridge calling my name right now. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, bye, Y/N! I'll keep my ears peeled for any sign of dissent in the ranks so you can slip your way in!"

"Right, bye."

Hanging up, another sigh tumbled out of your mouth as you tossed your phone somewhere further up your bed. Truthfully, you weren't hungry in the slightest, you just wanted to get out of that conversation. You brought your hands to your face to rub circles against your temples and closed your eyes; you were getting a headache. Hanging upside down off the foot of your bed certainly wasn't helping, but you couldn't be fucked to move at this point.

A moment of self-pity later and you opened your eyes with all intentions to get up and take your migraine medication, but you froze when you were met by a dark shape. Squinting, it took you a second to process that the shape was someone's legs and shoes, and you let out a yelp. Startled, you went to twist yourself around to face whoever was in your room, but just managed to fall off your bed instead. You very narrowly avoided snapping your neck, landing on your shoulder instead, eliciting yet another yelp, but this time one of pain.

obsidian black ❧ n.jm | the golden fruit duology (1/2) ✔Where stories live. Discover now