Shin Juho’s eyes went wide in an instant.
“What? Really?”
“Once the debt is cleared, Juho — you can just live a normal life, right?”
Shin Juho thought it was Munyeong’s quiet eyes that had struck him as he asked that. There was a kind sadness in them, and a resigned acceptance.
“I just want you to live… an ordinary, honest life.”
The sincerity was audible in the worried tone of his voice.
“Without any shortcuts. Just safe…”
For Shin Juho, who had always thought of himself as someone born to live in the gutter, it was the first time in his life he’d heard words that genuinely meant something. Words said purely for his own sake. To Shin Juho — who had spent his whole life reading the room and playing along to keep others happy — Im Munyeong was a fool, a pushover, and yet someone who had come into his life like a godsend. Probably the only one he’d ever have.
“Did you eat?”
Shin Juho finally tore his eyes away from the suit and slung an arm around Munyeong’s shoulders as he tidied up in the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
“What’d you have?”
“Cup ramen on the way.”
On his walk home from the bus stop, Munyeong had spotted a convenience store and stepped in to grab a quick cup of ramen because he was hungry. It had been a long day and he hadn’t had a chance to eat a proper meal.
“From the one out front?”
“Yeah.”
Munyeong answered straightforwardly. Shin Juho liked that about him — ask him something and he’d tell you, say something to him and he’d reply honestly, always guileless in how he responded.
“Call me next time. We could’ve eaten together.”
“I didn’t know you were coming today. You staying over?”
“Yep. That okay?”
“Of course. Want some apple?”
Munyeong smiled softly and pulled an apple out of the refrigerator.
“I kept it for when you came.”
He knew Munyeong kept a spare, careful household. Munyeong had no debt and barely any monthly expenses beyond rent and utilities. He really did live by working hard and nothing else.
That frugality showed in his everyday life too. He rarely ate out and almost never bought meat. Whether it was the absence of appetite or the absence of greed, there was simply no desire in him for lavish meals or luxury items. And yet even running a household like that, whenever he bought anything at all, he always wanted to share it with him. Like a child who couldn’t bear to eat even half a bean alone.
“Cut it like a rabbit.”
“Okay.”
Im Munyeong was the one person Shin Juho could be a little spoiled with. And he believed it would stay that way. Because Im Munyeong had always done whatever he asked. Shin Juho thought so, smiling with easy confidence.
The next morning, Munyeong arrived at work without fail and looked quietly down at Haejeong, who was bundled up tight in the blanket, fast asleep. He was sleeping in every sense of the word — mouth hanging open, dead to the world. Munyeong hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should even clean. He was sleeping so soundly that Munyeong almost felt bad at the thought of waking him. The one thing that bothered him was the smell of alcohol in the office. Spotting a whisky bottle on the floor near Haejeong’s feet, Munyeong quickly picked it up and hid it before anyone could see.
He took out only the trash and saved the Senior Managing Director’s office for last. Director Hwang’s office was dirty again today, with cigarette butts as well. No smoking indoors was one of the rules the head office took seriously. He felt a flicker of concern, but he knew well enough that the rights and wrongs of executives weren’t his place to get involved in, so he quietly took out the rubbish and said nothing.
Even after finishing all the other floors and coming back, Haejeong was still deep in dreamland. He was even whimpering and tossing in his sleep like a child. Whether to call it endearing or just a little absurd — Munyeong held back the laugh that almost slipped out and quietly went to wake him.
“…Senior Managing Director.”
Worried he’d be told off for touching him carelessly, Munyeong prodded Haejeong with a single finger, ever so lightly. Not even a twitch. Munyeong had no choice but to leave the vacuuming for last and start with the bins and shelves first. A stillness floated through the room — and then a phone rang out, jarringly loud. Munyeong instinctively turned his head toward the sound, and Haejeong startled awake with a strange noise and lurched upright.
“Ugh, what?!”
He sat up with a frightened look, glancing around the office in a daze before his eyes landed directly on Munyeong. The way he looked at him was a little blank. He seemed completely out of it, so Munyeong pointed at the phone sitting on the table.
“…You have a call.”
Only then did Haejeong seem to piece it all together. He wrinkled his nose and clicked his tongue like he was swallowing his own embarrassment.
“Damn. Scared me.”
He muttered it to himself with a slightly sheepish air, then jabbed aggressively at the end call button. Munyeong turned back to his work. Now that Haejeong was up, at least he could run the vacuum.
“……”
“……”
Haejeong stared at Munyeong’s back as he mopped. Munyeong just went about his work like nothing had happened, as though Haejeong were invisible. A strange irritation stirred in him, and he tossed the blanket he’d been clutching tightly down onto the floor. The edge of it landed just at the toe of Munyeong’s shoe.
“Pick that up.”
He’d been perfectly happy wrapped up in it, sleeping soundly — and yet Haejeong said it as if it were some inconvenience. Munyeong, without so much as a flicker on his face, picked the blanket up and dipped his head.
“Yes.”
He was carrying out his work with the precision of the perfect subordinate. The sight of him, utterly unruffled by anything said to him, was starting to grate on Haejeong. He was tapping the surface of the sofa rhythmically with one index finger — tap, tap. The composure of it, acting like they were strangers meeting for the first time, was irritating.
Haejeong glared at Munyeong’s back as he wiped down the bookshelves and moved to the desk. He then propped both legs up on it with arrogant ease, on top of the work documents spread across it that he was supposed to review since taking office. He picked up something at random and pretended to look at it, all while quietly watching the back of Munyeong moving busily in front of him.
It seemed like he was the one who ought to be treating Munyeong as invisible — and yet now it felt exactly as though he himself had become invisible to Munyeong. It was the first time he’d ever felt something like being ignored, which perhaps explained why it was getting under his skin. Without realizing it, Haejeong crumpled the document he was holding in his fist. He stared down at the paper blankly for a moment, then seemed to think of something amusing — he let out a childish little laugh and tossed the stack of papers onto the floor. It hit Munyeong squarely on the calf and fell to the ground.
Munyeong felt the light impact and turned around. He looked down at the papers scattered at his feet, then raised his head and looked once at Haejeong, who was leaning back in the executive chair with both feet up, sitting there with arrogant ease.
“Is this how you clean?”
Haejeong rocked slightly back and forth in the chair and shot at him in a belittling tone. Munyeong glanced slowly between the papers and Haejeong, then quietly picked up the trash.
“I’ll be more careful.”
Munyeong responded exactly by the company manual. The unspoken rule among the cleaning staff: no matter what anyone in a high position says to you, there are only two answers — “I’m sorry” and “I’ll be more careful.”
“Ha.”
Haejeong let out a hollow breath at the professional composure that refused to be rattled, even by petty provocation.
He’s completely ignoring me.
Munyeong hadn’t ignored him at all — but Haejeong was working himself up on his own, and he got to his feet. While Munyeong cleaned a single shelf, Haejeong moved his seat three times, fidgeting restlessly.
I wonder why he’s in such a bad mood first thing in the morning, Munyeong thought for a moment — then let it go. Even if he thought about it, it had nothing to do with him, and it wasn’t his place to make it his business. So he focused on his work.
“This too. Fingerprints all over the glass.”
Haejeong had drifted over toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall and tapped against the window with a displeased look, the view outside fully visible through it.
“Oh, yes.”
Munyeong stopped what he was doing at his words, walked over to the glass wall, grabbed the glass cleaner, and spritzed it. A few drops must have landed on Haejeong’s face — he had been standing right beside him, guard down — because he suddenly raised his voice.
“Ugh, peh! Oh for — peh, peh!”
Haejeong made an exaggerated scene of it, and Munyeong, startled, quickly grabbed some tissues and handed them over.
“Are you all right? I’m sorry.”
