My Boss, The Peeping Tom

8 AM during the subway rush hour, a creepy old man kept pressing against me from behind.

At first, I thought it was just the crowded train—understandable.

But then I felt him getting aroused.

I snapped. "What, the subway's so packed it got you excited? Got no shame? Keep rubbing against my ass—what, you wanna catch a whiff or something?"

"Miss, it's just too crowded. I didn't mean to," he said with fake innocence.

I got off one stop early.

Today was my first day at a new job, and thanks to this creep, I was late.

When I finally arrived and reported to the department manager's office, my stomach dropped.

The manager was the same pervert from the subway.

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"What a coincidence. Never thought you'd end up as my subordinate," Manager John Deross said with a grin.

My emotions churned inside me.

"Chloe Langley, born in 2001, graduated from Shanghai University of Commerce… You Gen Z kids are bold and innovative, full of drive, but way too opinionated. Like this morning—you mistook me for a pervert, didn’t you?"

I cursed every ancestor of his in my head, but this was the workplace. I forced a smile.

He stepped closer, looped the work ID around my neck, then patted my shoulder. "Don’t worry, I’m not petty. From now on, we’re colleagues. If you run into any work issues, come to me. And outside of work, we can be friends too. If life ever throws you a curveball, I’m here to listen and help."

"Thank you, Mr. Deross," I said, swallowing my disgust.

The moment I left the office, I furiously brushed off my shoulder, muttering under my breath about bad luck.

This was my first job after college, and I’d already landed a creep for a boss.

The team lead showed me to my workstation. Next to me sat a fair-skinned, pretty woman named Charlotte Sherwood, born in 2000, who had worked here for two years.

"Did John the Pig try anything in the office?" she whispered, leaning in.

I recounted the subway incident and what happened inside.

"How does a department manager not have a car?" I frowned.

"Oh, he has one. He just refuses to drive it. Claims it’s for 'low-carbon eco-friendly commuting,' but really, he rides packed subways during rush hour just to grope women."

My jaw dropped. "That’s disgusting!"

"Tell me about it."

"And you all just let him get away with it?"

"A few brave women reported him before, but nothing came of it. Most of the office is Millennials and Gen Y women with families. They can’t afford to lose their jobs, so they endure it."

"Damn it, I can’t."

"Neither can I, but jobs are hard to come by," Charlotte sighed.

Three days passed.

At noon, the office was quiet, everyone resting at their workstations.

I returned with bubble tea and froze. John Deross was crouched in front of Samantha Linton’s desk. She was wearing a skirt.

Furious, I shouted, "Mr. Deross, what are you looking at?"

He startled and scrambled to his feet.