Even someone as oblivious as him could see that there were countless employees Haejeong could summon with a single phone call. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it felt like Haejeong was being unreasonable on purpose. But why. Why?
“…So, would just driving be enough?”
“Hey. A position like this normally requires showing up with a few staff in tow. You never watched dramas?”
I don’t. There was no TV at home, and his phone wasn’t a smartphone, so watching videos wasn’t an option either.
“But you’re going to walk in there looking like a beggar?”
“…I’m just a cleaning employee… Why would I need to go there…”
“You’ve been talking back this whole time.”
By this point it really did seem like Haejeong was just being difficult. Munyeong didn’t understand the reason — but he couldn’t push back any further. He hadn’t expected to be dragged along to an official event, and he had no desire to go. Of course he didn’t. What possible grounds did he have for showing up somewhere like that. This was entirely Haejeong’s doing.
The wardrobe team arrived in under thirty minutes, drenched in sweat. They had assembled a full set — shirt, dress trousers, blazer, shoes, and socks — and looked ready to collapse on the spot. The moment they returned, Haejeong didn’t even glance over and issued two words flat: “Dress him.” In the meantime, Haejeong had knocked back several more glasses of whiskey.
Seeing that, Munyeong felt a flicker of concern — but he was more worried about himself, being dragged into the fitting room. The whole situation was so absurd it was suffocating, pressing down on his chest like a weight.
“What’s going on here?”
One of the staff fitting his shirt fixed him with a baffled stare. Munyeong, reluctantly changing into the clothes, ducked his head at the scrutiny.
“He’d look like a completely different person if he just took the hat off.”
“Oh wow. Right? Incredible.”
“Hey, stop chatting and hurry up. There’s seriously no time.”
When the side conversation threatened to drag on, one of the staff members who looked like they’d give anything to clock out cut it off without mercy. It was a tense situation, after all. From what Munyeong understood, the inauguration ceremony was not far off. And yet the man of the hour was currently watching a film, smoking cigarettes, and sipping whiskey, while some cleaning employee who had appeared out of nowhere was being put into a suit that had no business being on him.
“Hair team. Get his hair done too, quick. — Oh wait, you should’ve started on it before we got here.”
“That would’ve been ideal. The Senior Managing Director didn’t say anything about it.”
“His hair is really long. Wasn’t it uncomfortable with the fringe covering your eyes like that?”
Forcibly seated in a chair, Munyeong couldn’t get his bearings between the rapid-fire conversation and the barrage of questions. The fitted clothing alone was uncomfortable from the start — the collar felt like it was tightening around his throat.
“Look at this skin. What kind of man has skin like this?”
“A little dry, but not a single blemish. Not one.”
“Foundation is going to go on beautifully.”
The hair and makeup team talked even more. Munyeong sat there like an idiot, not fully understanding what was being done to him.
“Is, is makeup part of this too?”
“Not full makeup, just a basic base. Your lips are quite dry though. Pout them out a little for me.”
“L, like this…?”
“Yes. Oh — your lips are so red too. Did you put something on them?”
“…No…”
“You’re very handsome. Why have you been hiding it all this time.”
The makeup lead muttered to herself, unable to make sense of it, and applied lip balm to his mouth. This was the first time anyone had ever touched his face and body with such careful, attentive hands — Munyeong froze completely and couldn’t move.
“Your fringe is too long so I’m going to push it back. I’ll add some volume, so please don’t touch it with your hands.”
The hair lead worked without small talk, getting straight to it. The moment his always-downward fringe was swept back without ceremony, his field of vision opened up, bright and clear. When his fully exposed face appeared in the mirror, Munyeong looked away in embarrassment.
“Are you alright?”
One of the wardrobe staff checking the final fit asked out of nowhere. Munyeong looked at them in surprise and felt the staff member’s gaze drop to his hand. He had apparently been trembling without realizing it. Munyeong closed his other hand around his wrist and held it still. He tried to smooth it over with an awkward smile, and the staff member replied with practiced nonchalance.
“Looks like you’re nervous.”
Munyeong nodded and said nothing more.
The staff member moved on without dwelling on it, and the moment passed quickly. But in order to suppress the fine tremors in his right hand, he had been gripping it hard, and his hand had gone red, close to bursting. Fortunately the tremors stopped soon, and just as Munyeong let out a quiet breath of relief, one of the staff let out an involuntary sound of amazement.
“Wow. You’re a completely different person.”
Munyeong lifted his gaze indifferently and looked at himself in the mirror. For the first time in his life, he had something applied to his face, and had experienced gel, wax, and hair spray. Being groomed like this was a first, and the unfamiliarity made him want to squirm out of his own skin.
When he stepped out of the fitting room, the manager who had been going over the schedule couldn’t conceal his surprise at the sight of him. That look only made Munyeong more self-conscious, and out of habit he ducked his head low.
“Why — why have you been going around like that?”
The manager was so genuinely flustered he stumbled over his own words. Munyeong had no idea what to say in response, and instead of answering, just rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.
“This is honestly incredible. Have you ever been scouted? For entertainment, I mean?”
“Uh, no.”
“Wow… well, would you be interested? I know quite a few people in that world, so if you’re open to it…”
“Stop embarrassing yourself.”
Haejeong had appeared directly in front of them without either of them noticing. The manager snapped back into his professional manner with impressive speed and retreated without making eye contact. Haejeong seemed satisfied with the manager’s appearance and didn’t say anything further, getting straight to the point.
“Drive.”
He tossed the car key over and strode off at a leisurely pace. In the space where he had been sitting, a whiskey bottle that was now more than half empty was visible. He had drunk that much of the high-proof stuff in just that time. It wasn’t Munyeong’s place to worry — but the concern washed over him anyway, strangely.
How significant this next event was became clearer with every passing minute. Throughout the preparations, Haejeong had received several calls, and later on, someone sent directly by the Chairman had even shown up at the hotel room — though Haejeong had sent them away. After that, his older brother had called again, and shareholder executives had reached out one by one through private channels. Eventually Haejeong’s irritation peaked and he nearly hurled his phone out the window, only stopped at the last second by the manager.
On top of all that, the fact that he was even bothering to worry about how a single low-ranking employee was dressed made it clear. This event truly mattered. And yet here he was, heading there having already drained half a bottle of whiskey. Even without standing close, Munyeong felt like the alcohol was radiating off him. The heavy cologne was stronger, of course — but anyone sharp enough would catch it immediately.
Munyeong climbed into the car that the parking attendant had already brought around and quietly observed Haejeong in the back seat. Haejeong was already leaning his head against the seat with a look of exhaustion. In that moment, the hair lead’s strict warning not to let him rest his head against anything came flooding back. That can’t be good for his hair… it’ll all be ruined, Munyeong thought with a small, idle worry as he pressed the accelerator smoothly.
He was tired, yes — but compared to twelve-hour shifts of hard labor at construction sites, and cleaning seedy venues through the dead of night while dealing with difficult customers, this was nothing. What wore on him more than the physical exhaustion was the emotional weight of being in the same space as Haejeong for so long.
The only first love he had ever had in his school days. The only person he had ever truly loved. It was painful to have that person right here beside him now. Because the two of them had never, not once, been on good terms. Because that love had only ever gone in one direction. Because his feelings had been nothing but a burden to the other person — nothing but something to be despised. It was, if anything, a relief that Haejeong didn’t remember him. A relief not to feel that revulsion directed at him again.
Munyeong kept his eyes quietly on the road ahead. He held the steering wheel firmly and stared straight forward, making a conscious decision to stop checking Haejeong’s condition in the rearview mirror.
For over twenty minutes, not a single word passed between them. The closer they got to the venue, the more exhausted Haejeong appeared. He would sit with his eyes closed, then suddenly click his tongue or mutter a curse under his breath. Every time, Munyeong’s shoulders jerked in reflex, and he forced his eyes wider, terrified of making a driving mistake.
To make matters worse, the road was deep in rush-hour traffic. Timed perfectly with the end of the workday, the cars ahead simply refused to move. Whether the appointed time had arrived or they were already running late, Haejeong’s phone was the most active thing in the car. It rang without pause, relentlessly, enough to make Munyeong wonder if it might give out.
“For fuck’s sake…”
After ignoring it several times, Haejeong finally caved to the persistence and answered the call. Too irritated to even hold it to his ear, he put it on speaker, dropped it onto the seat, and spoke.
“How many times are you going to call.”
— Where are you right now!
