One of the startled employees hurried out of the elevator and helped the deputy general manager up off the floor. Then both of them stared at Yeon Haejeong in disbelief. If they’d seen it right, Yeon Haejeong’s leg had kicked the deputy general manager square in the shin with full force. Neither of them could make any sense of it, and they both stood there dumbfounded.
“Wh — what was that……”
“Oh. My bad?”
Yeon Haejeong narrowed his brow like it had been an accident, and said it in a tone that was anything but sorry.
“I’ve just got long legs.”
He tapped those very legs — genuinely longer than most — and tilted the corner of his mouth up.
“Accidentally clipped you and you went flying like that. Isn’t that a bit much?”
By then the elevator doors had begun to slide shut on both sides. Through the narrowing gap, Yeon Haejeong tossed out one last parting remark.
“Well then. Do try to get some actual work done. And cut the gossiping.”
By the time the doors were nearly closed, his face had gone cold and flat, eyes fixed on them without warmth. The two employees crouched blankly on the floor understood something clearly now. The rumors about the notoriously difficult Managing Director Yeon were true — and they had, without question, gotten themselves on his radar. The deputy general manager gripped the back of his kicked knee and let out a pained, irritated groan. That actually hurt like hell. He glared with impotent resentment at the elevator doors that had swallowed Haejeong up, limping as he stood.
Working at night was a rare thing for Munyeong. When he came up to his assigned floor, the night view through the windows was breathtaking. He’d always seen only the brightening morning sky — he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d looked out at a city draped in night like this. Munyeong paused for a moment and took it in. It was cleaning work, yes, but where else was he ever going to see something like this? Looking down over a city locked in night from this high up was not something that came along often.
Munyeong liked beautiful things. Not in the way of a person’s appearance — more like the vivid green leaves and clear bright flowers you could only see in summer, or the cool, still atmosphere of a city in winter. What he was looking at now was the same. A night view that could only be seen because it was night, and a sight he could only see because he happened to be working here. In small, quiet beauties like this, Munyeong found little reasons to feel that life was worth living.
“Another one slacking off.”
He had let go of the cart and was staring vacantly when a voice came out of nowhere. Munyeong startled badly and turned his head with wide eyes.
“How — why are you……”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“……I thought no one was here.”
Munyeong pressed a hand to his startled chest and took a slow, steadying breath. It was well past the hour when everyone else had gone home. He hadn’t imagined for a moment that Haejeong would still be here.
Still recovering, Munyeong looked up at him. He was sucking something through a takeout cup. At first it looked like coffee, but the color was slightly off.
“…Aren’t you drinking coffee at this hour?”
He said he couldn’t sleep……
“No.”
He answered shortly and walked right past. He went into his own office, but the walls were entirely glass, so everything inside was visible. Whether he had a great deal to get through or not, his desk was buried in piles of documents. With only the desk lamp on, he settled himself deep into the executive chair with the air of someone thoroughly done with the world, legs propped up on the desk, poring over papers. Munyeong found the sight of it somewhat unexpected. He hadn’t thought of Haejeong as someone who stayed late and actually gave a damn about work.
Munyeong started cleaning the other offices first, careful not to disturb him. He ran the vacuum, wiped down the full-length glass panels with a mop, emptied the waste bins, cleared the shredded documents from the utility room. He finished the washing up the secretaries had left, cleaned out the staff room, and all that was left was the office where Haejeong was.
Munyeong peered through the glass from outside. Haejeong had fallen asleep at some point — slouched in the chair, out cold. The sight of him sleeping soundly like that, draped across the chair, made Munyeong reluctant to wake him, given that he’d said he couldn’t sleep. He killed his footsteps as much as possible and slipped into the office. Moving quietly, he started picking up the visible mess without waking him. He dusted, wiped down the shelves and bookcase, then carefully organized the scattered documents across the meeting table one by one.
Once he’d seen to everything, Munyeong considered again whether to wake him or not. It’d be better if he went home and slept in a proper bed. As he deliberated, his eyes landed on the drink Haejeong had been working through. Munyeong picked up the takeout cup and brought it to his nose. He’d half-suspected, and his instinct wasn’t wrong.
The smell of vodka was overpowering. Again.
It seemed what he’d said was true. That he needed alcohol just to sleep.
“What are you doing.”
The sudden voice made Munyeong nearly drop the cup on the spot. Haejeong was still in his chair, head resting back — he’d woken at some point — and was watching Munyeong sidelong with a still, steady gaze.
“What are you doing.”
He swept his eyes up and down Munyeong with a skeptical look, apparently having caught the whole scene of him sniffing around a cup someone else had been drinking from.
“…I came in to clean… but you were sleeping.”
“Then why are you holding someone else’s cup.”
“Ah……”
There was no good defense for that.
“Wondering if this bastard’s been drinking again?”
“……No. It’s nothing like that.”
“Nothing, my ass. It’s alcohol, so what.”
“……Wouldn’t it be better if you went home and slept?”
Munyeong said it quietly, and Haejeong let out a faint laugh. A soft, deflated sort of scoff, as he looked at Munyeong squarely.
“Again.”
“……Pardon?”
“You’re doing that worried thing again.”
Yeon Haejeong caught the concern in Munyeong’s expression with sharp precision and narrowed his eyes. Then, chin propped in his hand, he murmured as if thinking aloud.
“…Either you have no pride.”
“……”
“Or no self-respect……”
He seemed to think it over briefly, then leaned back deep into his chair with that arrogant ease and smiled unpleasantly.
“Or maybe.”
“……”
“Do you like me?”
It landed like a flippant, throwaway joke — but Munyeong went completely still. The idea was so absurd that he reflexively brought a hand to his own chest and asked.
“Me… me?”
“Yeah.”
“……Th — that makes no sense——”
He couldn’t hide the flustered disbelief on his face and stumbled over his words. Haejeong watched him and let out a low, contemptuous laugh.
“Doesn’t make sense?”
The loaded question made Munyeong’s expression falter, and he looked at Haejeong slowly. All the quiet unease he’d been suppressing with surely not came rushing in at once.
“Then what about ten years ago.”
“……”
“Did it make sense then?”
……Surely not.
Munyeong’s face had gone pale as a corpse, lips moving without sound.
His eyes, wide with shock, and those gentle eyes — both began to tremble.
“……Surely not……”
But the surely not was real. Because Yeon Haejeong couldn’t possibly remember him. It had been over ten years, and Munyeong had always believed he was just one of countless people who had passed through Haejeong’s life without leaving a mark. He had never once mattered to Haejeong — which was exactly why he had been so certain it could never be.
“From back then. All the way through. Without stopping.”
“……”
“Don’t tell me you still like me, Im Munyeong.”
