I Faked a Crush on My Boss

Marcus wanted to go to headquarters for advanced training and asked me to temporarily take over his work.

When I refused, he started making things difficult for me.

For five straight months, I worked overtime without a single day off. It drained all my energy and even ruined my relationship.

I finally snapped and texted my best friend during a meeting:

"I honestly don't know how he can pretend so well."

The moment I realized I'd accidentally sent it to the wrong person, I looked up at his increasingly dark expression. My mind short-circuited, and before I could stop myself, I added another message:

"But somehow, you still can't pretend to keep me in your heart."

I woke up in the infirmary.

The smell of disinfectant mixed with Marcus's crisp sandalwood scent, flooding my nostrils together.

I snapped my eyes open to meet his unfathomably deep gaze.

He was sitting by the bed, his suit jacket perfectly pressed, though the look behind his glasses carried a hint of scrutiny.

"Awake?" His voice was low, emotionless.

Those two death-wish messages from the meeting room instantly came flooding back.

I remembered how he'd stared at me in shock, while the surrounding colleagues all turned to gawk at me with their gossip-hungry faces.

In my panic, I'd shot up suddenly, which triggered my low blood sugar. My vision went black and I fainted.

I jolted upright, my brain racing.

"Mr. Marcus, I... that was..." That was because I got my head caught in a door, got my brain zapped by lightning!

"Your true feelings?" He cut me off, his tone flat but sending a chill down my spine.

True feelings? Truly calling him pretentious, or truly wanting him to pretend his way into my heart?

Either one was a death sentence.

Could I really tell him the truth---that my stupid mouth was just used to trading cheesy lines with my best friend?

I opened my mouth but couldn't squeeze out a single word. Finally, I just buried my head in my knees and played dead.

"Susanna." He called my name. The volume wasn't loud, but the pressure was overwhelming. "Don't you have anything you want to say to me?"

I jerked my head up and forced out a smile uglier than crying:

"Mr. Marcus, I just admire you so much that I got overexcited and started talking nonsense. Please don't take it seriously!"

He said nothing, just looked at me quietly.

That gaze seemed to pierce through my skull and see every thought in my head.

Just as I was about to faint again from his staring, he finally spoke.

"Rest well."

With that, he stood up, straightened his already wrinkle-free cuffs, and left the infirmary.

I let out a long breath and collapsed back onto the bed.

I survived.

I thought this incident would blow over like a passing breeze.

But I underestimated the speed and power of workplace gossip.

The next day, when I walked into the office with dark circles under my eyes, I was greeted by knowing looks from all directions.

"Susanna, wow! You've been hiding your talents!"

"Right? You always seem so quiet, but you're brave enough to go after King Marcus!"

"Tell us, what happened? Did he accept?"

My colleagues surrounded my desk, every face screaming "Spill the tea!"

I was speechless, could only laugh awkwardly: "It's a misunderstanding, all a misunderstanding."

No one believed me.

My best friend Lily sent me a message:

"You're famous. I heard you confessed to Marcus in front of everyone and he didn't reject you?"

I was near tears: "I sent the message to the wrong person! I meant to send it to you."

Lily: "Then how do you explain the second message? Can't pretend to keep you in his heart? Susanna, did overtime scramble your brain?"

Me: "...My fingers moved faster than my brain!"

No one believed me, including myself.

What was more terrifying was Marcus's attitude.

He never asked me to work overtime again.

Not even once.

In fact, one time near the end of work hours, he deliberately walked over to my desk and tapped on it.

"If there's nothing urgent, leave on time."

Everyone in the office instantly gave me looks that screamed "shipping it."

I froze in place, watching him walk away.

This was unbearable.

For a whole week, I enjoyed the divine treatment of nine-to-five hours with full weekends off.

The price? I became the focus of the entire company.

Everyone looked at me like they were looking at the future boss's wife.

Even the tea room lady, when making my coffee, would add an extra spoonful of sugar and say with a smile:

"Susanna dear, get some extra sugar. Dating takes brain power."

I was going crazy.

That night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind full of Marcus's expressionless face and my colleagues' knowing smiles.

I couldn't just sit here and wait for death.

The grudge from five months of overtime had to be settled.

The resentment from my breakup had to be vented.

I sprang up from bed and opened a delivery app.

In the search box, I viciously typed two words: beat someone up.

The page loaded, showing a bunch of merchants offering "sparring practice" and "boxing experience."

I randomly clicked on one. The avatar was a delivery guy wearing a helmet.

I got straight to the point: "Hi, I want to hire someone to beat up my boss. Male, about six foot one, looks pretty built."

The other side replied instantly: "..."

I added: "Money is no object."

After a few seconds, they sent a long voice message.

I clicked it open. A voice full of positive energy came through:

"Hiring someone to hurt people is illegal! You'll go to jail! It's not worth throwing yourself away over some boss."

"Listen to my advice---there are plenty of fish in the sea. Why fixate on one? Change jobs, start a new life! Look on the bright side!"

Me: "..."

A kind-hearted delivery driver.

I silently closed the app. Beating him up was out.

But his words gave me an idea.

Since Marcus was afraid of romantic scandals, I might as well make this scandal a reality!

He wanted a promotion to headquarters, right? At this critical juncture, the last thing he'd want was unclear relations with a subordinate.

As long as I made my "pursuit" obvious and foolish enough that everyone knew about it, he'd definitely avoid me to prevent suspicion.

When that happened, forget making things difficult for me---he probably wouldn't even want to see me.

I'm a genius!

A perfect revenge plan rose up in my mind.

Step one of the plan was to make my "crush" even more widely known.

I needed a platform.

So I posted on the company's internal forum, in the anonymous section.

Title: "Help! How do I pursue that handsome, aloof boss in our department?"

I wrote the main post with heartfelt sincerity, tears in every word, portraying myself as a humble little employee madly in love and recklessly brave.

To add authenticity, I subtly mentioned a few of Marcus's habits that only our department would know, like how he only drank pour-over black coffee and liked to tap his knuckles on the table during meetings.

As soon as I posted it, it exploded.

"Is the OP Susanna from the Planning Department? Front row for the gossip!"

"Wow, is this the warrior who confessed publicly? I salute you!"

"Mr. Marcus is such an iceberg---probably hard to melt. Good luck, OP!"

Watching the replies grow rapidly, I smiled with satisfaction.

The buzz was there. Next came the actual action.

Netizens flooded me with advice.

The top comment said: "If you want to capture a man's heart, first capture his stomach! Send him a love bento!"

Good idea.

The next day, I got up early and spent two hours in the kitchen, producing a bento box with... extremely abstract presentation.

I tried hard to shape the rice into a heart but ended up with an unnameable blob.

The broccoli was overcooked, yellow like autumn grass.

The only meat dish was pan-seared chicken breast, black as charcoal.

I looked at my masterpiece and fell silent.

Whatever. It's the thought that counts. Besides, I was afraid if I made it too good, it might actually reach his heart.

After all, I just wanted to disgust him.

I packed up the bento and brought it to the company.

At noon, while Marcus was in a meeting, I snuck the bento onto his desk and stuck on a note with a giant heart.

After doing all this, I slunk back to my seat like a thief.

I waited for him to come back, see this "love" bento, and throw it in the trash with a disgusted look.

However, when he returned, he just calmly glanced at the bento box, picked it up, and walked into his private office.

All afternoon, there was no movement.

I sat restlessly, frequently glancing at that closed door.

Did he eat it?

No way. Even a dog would shake its head at that thing.

Near the end of work, Marcus's office door finally opened.

He walked out holding the now-empty bento box.

He walked straight to my desk and placed the freshly washed container on my table.

"Thank you." He looked at me, his tone still flat. "It tasted good, just a bit salty."

I was completely stunned.

He not only ate it but washed the box and even gave me feedback on the taste?

This wasn't the script! Didn't he hate stupid people the most?

Before, when I made even the tiniest mistake at work, he'd publicly criticize me, looking at me like I was an idiot---I could still picture that expression.

Shouldn't he be avoiding me like the plague?

The surrounding colleagues started whispering again, their eyes burning with gossip fire.

"Oh my God, Mr. Marcus actually ate the lunch she made!"

"And washed the box! What kind of plot twist is this!"

"Locked in! I'm shipping this couple to death!"

I felt my face burning. Not from embarrassment---from anger.

Marcus! What are you trying to do!

Step one of the plan: total failure.

I refused to give up. That night at home, I kept scrolling through the forum.

The second top comment: "Create coincidental meetings! Make him think you're destined!"

Okay, coincidental meetings.

I found out from a colleague that Marcus had a habit of night running, usually at 8 PM, at Riverside Park near the company.

The next evening at 7:50, I changed into full workout gear and showed up at the park entrance right on time.

I pretended to stretch while looking around.

At 8:10, a tall figure came running from the distance.

It was him!

I immediately adjusted my breathing, struck my most graceful running pose, and ran toward him.

When I was about three meters away, I deliberately "twisted" my ankle and weakly fell toward him.

According to my plan, he'd instinctively dodge, and I'd spectacularly fall in front of him, staging a bit of self-inflicted suffering to make him think I was a clumsy troublemaker.

But I didn't expect that not only would he not dodge, he'd steadily extend his arm and catch me in his embrace.

My face slammed solidly into his hard chest. My nose bridge nearly broke on the spot.

A strong masculine scent mixed with the smell of sweat surrounded me.

"Are you okay?" His voice came from above my head, carrying a hint of post-exercise breathlessness that sounded... kind of sexy.

I shoved him away hard and backed up two steps, covering my nose.

"I-I'm fine, thank you, Mr.---"

"Call me Marcus." He interrupted me.

I froze.

He looked at me. In the darkness, his eyes shone brighter than starlight.

"Outside the company, you don't need to be so formal."

My heartbeat skipped.

The plan failed again.

Not only did I fail to make him dislike me, I actually made him tell me to use his first name.

I trudged home dejectedly and buried my face in the couch.

Lily called:

"How'd it go, my hero? What scene did you perform today?"

I told her about the park "coincidence." She laughed so hard she couldn't sit straight.

"Susanna, oh Susanna, are you sure you're taking revenge on him and not pursuing him with rom-com tactics?"

"First the lunch delivery, then fake falling---what's next, standing in the rain to get sick so he'll take you to the hospital?"

I was speechless at her roast.

"I'm telling you, guys like Marcus are secretly passionate. The more proactive you are, the more interesting he finds you. You're basically playing with fire."

"Then what should I do?" I asked desperately.

"Deal with it." Lily gloated. "Unless you rush to him right now and tell him you've been acting this whole time and you actually can't stand him."

I fell silent.

I didn't dare.

I was afraid that the moment I said it, he'd make me re-experience the joy of five straight months of overtime.

After hanging up, I opened that help thread again.

The post had over a thousand replies now. The netizens' enthusiasm exceeded my imagination.

The latest top comment offered me a new tactic, with stratospheric popularity.

I perked up, but after reading it, I fell completely silent.