"Thank you, Mr. Kim!"
The hall shook from the thunderous shout of every worker. The sound was so unified that Suho wondered if they’d practiced this in secret. Palms smacked together in applause so violently that tomorrow’s infirmary visits would be filled with sprained wrists.
Suho raised a hand, feigning embarrassment. "No need to thank me. This break is what you deserve."
’Deserve? Hah! What you deserve is less work, fewer shirts produced, and my precious money bleeding like a stuck pig. But sure, worship me like I’m your savior while I carefully steer this ship into glorious financial ruin.’
He coughed lightly. "Since you worked overtime yesterday, today is a public holiday. Go home and rest. No pay will be docked."
Gasps spread like wildfire. Eyes widened, jaws dropped. Some workers clutched each other’s sleeves like they were afraid of fainting.
"Oh, and since today is Friday... tomorrow and Sunday are rest days too. That makes three consecutive days off. Return the day after."
The hall erupted. Applause, cheering, and even a few sobs. One worker actually pinched his neighbor so hard the man yelped.
"Three days in a row?!"
"Pinch me—no, not like that! Damn, it hurts!"
"Then it’s real! We’re not dreaming!"
Suho turned to leave with calm dignity. Inside, he was laughing like a madman. ’Yes, my sheep. Rejoice. Every clap you give is another nail in the coffin of profit.’
Even after he’d gone, the workers remained frozen, eyes glazed like stunned fish. Then, chaos. Shouting, hugging, disbelief. Some men who hadn’t smiled in months were grinning like children at a fair. The factory was no longer a workplace—it was a miracle temple, and Suho was their prophet.
"Cho Rin, notify remote workers of the new policies." Suho lounged back in his chair, spinning a pen like a conductor’s baton.
"Yes, Boss," Cho Rin replied. She lingered, cheeks pink, staring at him with eyes that glowed like he’d just handed her the moon.
Suho blinked. "...What? Do I have dirt on my face?" He rubbed furiously at his cheek, half-convinced he’d walked in with breakfast crumbs.
"N-No, nothing." Cho Rin blurted, blushing even harder. She turned so fast she nearly tripped, scurrying back to her desk. Her heart raced. ’Two days off a week? Paid overtime? A boss who gives holidays like candy... He’s not just a boss; he’s an angel.’
Suho leaned back and sneered inwardly. ’Angel? Lady, I’m Lucifer in a suit. Keep worshipping while I sabotage revenue like it’s an Olympic sport.’
Jiang Cheng adjusted his freshly pressed shirt, walking down the road with a bounce in his step. For the first time in three months, he was heading home. Three whole days off! His wife wouldn’t believe it.
His town was just three hours away by bus. But under the old system, missing even one day meant losing his attendance bonus, and without it, his monthly budget collapsed. He’d never dared leave. Until now.
Since Boss Kim took over, everything has changed. Insurance, housing fund, higher wages. Now, weekends and holidays. Jiang Cheng grinned, imagining his wife’s face when he told her. He already had a plan: when the cafeteria opened, she could work there as a cleaner. Four thousand salary, plus insurance. Husband and wife together, in the new double dorms. No more separation. A dream.
’Boss Kim, you’re not just my employer. You’re the man rewriting my life.’ Jiang Cheng thought, eyes misty.
"Old Jiang! Day off?" A voice called. Lu Zhenguo, a former colleague, approached with a teasing grin. "The sun’s rising in the west, huh? You never take leave."
"I didn’t take leave. The boss gave me one." Jiang Cheng’s grin widened.
Lu snorted. "What, unpaid leave? Boss ran out of work?"
"These are paid days," Jiang Cheng corrected, proudly holding up three fingers. "Three days straight. And weekends, from now on. Paid."
Lu blinked. "Paid weekends? You’re serious?"
"Ask anyone at our factory. It’s true," Jiang Cheng said smugly, puffing out his chest like a rooster.
Lu opened his mouth, but a coworker’s shout dragged him back. He turned reluctantly. "If this is real, Jiang... Your boss isn’t human. He’s a legend."
Jiang Cheng waved goodbye, chest still swollen with pride. Watching Lu jog away, he sighed softly. ’If not for Boss Kim, I’d be like him too. Tired, hopeless. But now... I can dream again.’
At a noodle shop near the industrial park, workers from other factories gathered for lunch. One leaned in, whispering as if sharing forbidden lore. "Did you hear? That T-shirt Factory under Kim Suho... their workers get weekends off."
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"It’s true. I have a cousin there. Paid overtime, holidays, and insurance. The boss even gave them three days off starting today."
The table went silent, chopsticks hovering mid-air.
Another worker scoffed. "Impossible. If my boss heard this, he’d faint. Factories like ours chain us to machines. Days off? That’s a fairy tale."
Yet whispers spread faster than steam from the bowls. By evening, half the industrial park buzzed with the same story. Kim Suho’s name became a legend—a myth. The boss who defied the gods of cheap labor.
Suho sat with a coffee, smirking at the chaos outside. Outwardly, a benevolent saint. Inwardly, a devil.
’Let them gossip. Let them worship. Every praise is just another sign I’m burning money beautifully. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.’
"Cho Rin, wake up; it’s almost seven. If you don’t get up, you’ll be late for work!"
Jo Hee tugged at Cho Rin’s blanket. Normally, Cho Rin was the first one up, rushing to the factory like a model employee. But today, she lay there like a sleepy cat.
Cho Rin cracked one eye open. "Mm... Xiao Lan, you’re up."
Jo Hee shoved her phone in Cho Rin’s face. "Seven o’clock!"
Cho Rin yawned. "I’m resting today. No need to panic."
Jo Hee gasped. "Rest? Are you sick? Do we need to go to the hospital?" She reached out to feel Cho Rin’s forehead.