“Ah. He hasn’t come out yet. Well, he just took his position yesterday, didn’t he? Executive Director Yeon.”
“The scale of that inauguration ceremony was something else.”
“I’ve never seen an executive director inauguration that lavish before.”
“Executive Director Yeon is the Chairman’s son, so of course they’d go that far.”
“It’s all for show. My son, so you’d better do well — something like that.”
“Ah, but seeing him yesterday… Executive Director Yeon really is everything they say he is.”
One of the staff members glanced over at Munyeong and brought it up carefully.
“Well… he’s quite a well-known figure.”
His infamy(?) was apparently considerable, because everyone was looking away and dancing around it.
“Still, it’s Baekil Group. Whatever the rumors say, I genuinely wanted to get into Baekil.”
“I saw the job posting this time and applied in secret, but got knocked out at the interview.”
“I heard there’s some kind of test on top of the document screening and interview too.”
“He’s always been known for being picky about who he keeps close. Though I heard the salary is in the hundreds of millions….”
“They say it’s on par with department head-level pay.”
“That’s incredible. How did you pass?”
The conversation flowed naturally toward Munyeong again. He sat there with a beautiful piece of grilled meat right in front of him, clutching only his business card. It felt like an entirely different world here too, and the discomfort made his whole body ache.
“Ah, yes… that… somehow it just sort of….”
Munyeong stumbled over his words and gave a vague non-answer. It was a question that had no proper answer.
“Somehow? Come on, there must be some kind of indicator at least. Interview scores, something…. Did you study abroad somewhere?”
Munyeong fidgeted, running his hands over his knees. None of what they were talking about applied to him, so there was nothing he could say. His hesitant, unconfident manner gradually drew curious sideways glances from everyone around him. And then —
“Let’s leave it there. This isn’t the kind of gathering where we came to ask personal questions.”
“Why so stiff about it. We have plenty of time anyway.”
“You know full well we should be on alert at a gathering like this, don’t you.”
The one giving the blunt response was someone who had been mostly quiet until now. He was also the most businesslike and formal-mannered of the secretaries present.
At the sharp rebuke, the others’ chatting came to a full stop. Even said in a businesslike manner, it had clearly struck a direct hit. It was only then that Munyeong could escape the eyes that had been pouring over him. The moment Haejeong was involved, he always had to be in the middle of everyone’s attention.
In the end, Munyeong didn’t eat a single piece of meat. It wasn’t only because the atmosphere had turned heavy so suddenly. It was simply that once he became conscious of the fact that this was a place he had no business being in, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. And never having found out what exactly this gathering was, Munyeong quietly headed to the car once the meal was over. He had no choice but to sit in the driver’s seat in silence and wait for it to end.
He wasn’t the only one waiting in his respective place. But he was the only one who appeared to have nothing to do. The others had gone back to their own cars and were busy with work — checking tablets, going through briefcases full of documents, regularly taking business calls. Things he’d noticed while idly looking around, bored of waiting. On top of that, several of them were going back and forth to the private rooms where their bosses were, moving busily. Among them were secretaries who hurried to receive their barely-conscious employers being carried out by restaurant staff.
Whether this sort of thing was commonplace, the restaurant employee who had no trouble moving a grown man was enormous in build. But the state of the men being carried out on restaurant staff’s backs seemed strange. Too strange to simply call it being drunk. The secretaries, too, were frantically stuffing their employers into back seats and looking around nervously, clearly hoping no one was watching.
A hush-hush atmosphere settled over everything, and while Munyeong was puzzling over it, a staff member appeared behind him, slurping coffee. It was the same person who had been pressing Munyeong earlier about how he’d gotten into Baekil.
“They’re already coming out.”
“…They look very drunk.”
Munyeong said quietly, watching a car speed off, and a small laugh came from behind him. A contemptuous snicker.
“You really don’t know anything, being new and all.”
“…Pardon?”
“This place. It’s not just a regular restaurant.”
Munyeong blinked his clear eyes and stared blankly.
“There’s entertaining going on, sure, and business talk too — but not for those people.”
“What do you mean….”
“By now they’re all at a certain age, a certain rank, so they have to keep up appearances in public.”
“…….”
“So they enjoy themselves quietly. Among themselves.”
Even after spelling it out that much, the man gave a puzzled smile at Munyeong’s face, which still didn’t seem to understand.
“…You’re genuinely naive.”
“……What?”
“You really don’t know? That.”
The man pursed his lips and jutted them forward.
“Drugs.”
“……Ah.”
“The Dowon Trading director who left earlier is notorious for being a hard user.”
“…….”
“Some of them just do weed on the lighter end. Smoke a joint, play some cards, and if there’s a staff member they like—”
The man made a gesture — slapping one open palm with the side of his other fist — and laughed crudely with a face that said it was obvious. The dull smacking sound struck Munyeong as vulgar, and he couldn’t hide his alarm.
“Can’t have them making a scene, so guys like us have to keep watch and get them home safely.”
The man took another long sip of his coffee.
“Executive Director Yeon is well-known too, apparently. Word is he got caught a few times in the States.”
“Ah…. I see.”
“You really don’t know anything at all.”
At the blank, clueless reaction, the man shook his head as though he genuinely couldn’t understand. Munyeong could feel the suspicion — how did someone like that even pass? Then a phone vibration sounded. It was the man’s. Any pretense of ease vanished in an instant — he urgently shoved the coffee cup into Munyeong’s hands and answered with both of his own.
“Yes, Senior Managing Director. Yes. Yes, understood.”
The man answered with all due formality and hurried back inside the building. At his almost comically sudden disappearance, Munyeong stared dazedly at the leftover takeout cup now in his hand. At least his questions had been answered, he thought — so he was happy to toss the trash and dust off his hands. Then he recalled what the man had said and let out a quiet sigh.
If it was purely for pleasure, it wasn’t any of his concern — but he’d heard it from Juho a few times. That the worse life got, the harder it was to let go of drugs. Having worked in that industry for a long time, Juho had been exposed to a lot of illegal things, and he knew plenty.
He knew it was needless worry, but it stayed with him. Not because Haejeong was his first love, and not because he still had feelings for him. Just because he was one of the few people Munyeong had ever known — and among them, the one he had held closest to his heart — he couldn’t help it. Had it been really hard for him in America?
Munyeong returned to the car and waited for him quietly. Whether there was worry in his heart or not, the fact that there was nothing he could do about it was the same then as it was now.
**
It wasn’t until close to the end of the gathering that Munyeong was summoned. And it hadn’t even been Haejeong who contacted him directly — a restaurant staff member had come to fetch him. The place they led him to was tucked deep inside the restaurant. It was more secretive than he’d imagined, and far more of a mess. Haejeong wasn’t the only one in there — and none of them looked anything like they had when they’d entered the restaurant. Every trace of composure and perfection had vanished; they were like different people entirely. Some were barely dressed, a stale odor hung thick in the air, and every single one of them had eyes that were not quite right. Haejeong was no different.
That Haejeong enjoyed drinking was something Munyeong had known since the very first day they’d met again. When preparing for the inauguration, during the inauguration itself, the drink had never left his hand. It was the same now. Haejeong was drunk beyond recognition — a completely different person — and yet he was still pouring alcohol down his throat.
“Oh — you’re here. Hey, hey, hey, hey—!”
