“Ah, hyung’s the one who ran his mouth without knowing a thing, so why are you taking it out on the wrong person.”
“Damn, this little shit really has no filter when it comes to his hyung.”
“Hey, if you’re done, get out.”
Yeon Haejeong gestured at Munyeong to leave and swiftly issued the order to clear out. Munyeong was momentarily flustered and glanced back and forth between the man and Haejeong before bowing and quickly wheeling the cart out of the office. Only once he had hurried far enough away from the office could he finally breathe properly.
Reading between the lines of the conversation, it seemed the newly appointed Senior Managing Director was Yeon Haejeong — and the man who appeared to be Haejeong’s older brother looked to be a high-ranking executive at this company. Haejeong’s brother didn’t seem to be a Director, who were known for being difficult. He was obviously older than Haejeong, and if he held a higher position, there were only two titles that fit: Managing Director or Vice Chairman. And at this company, those two positions were held by Chairman Yeon’s eldest son and Chairman Yeon’s nephew, respectively.
Then Yeon Haejeong really was the son of Chairman Yeon, the head of this company. Word going around among employees was that there was a notoriously troubled youngest son — someone no better than a street thug, said to run wild doing every reckless thing imaginable, so infamous he was considered Chairman Yeon’s one and only flaw. But Munyeong had never dreamed that person would be Yeon Haejeong. He had vaguely assumed Haejeong was just some kid from a wealthy family — not the son of the head of a conglomerate this massive. A third-generation chaebol, no less.
“What took you so long today?”
The cleaning staff had their lunch earlier than everyone else. While regular employees were arriving for work, the cleaning staff would gather in the break room to eat the lunches they’d packed, chatting among themselves. After that, they took a short rest before cleaning the restrooms and emergency stairwells on every floor. Restrooms were cleaned at least twice a day. Since the entire high-rise building served as headquarters, cleanliness was something they were especially meticulous about. The company believed cleanliness was part of employee welfare. And because of that, the daily wage was, at least, higher than average.
“Ah, something came up on my end…”
Munyeong smiled awkwardly and took a seat in an empty spot. Today’s lunch was a sandwich he’d made from leftover bread. Bread, egg, and a thin spread of ketchup — a simple meal he’d been making since his days at the orphanage.
“My goodness, kid. You’re eating that again?”
Munyeong’s lunch options were limited. Egg sandwiches, or rice balls coated in nothing but dried seaweed flakes. Anything more than that felt like an indulgence to him. Frugality was so ingrained in him that saving came naturally. Filling his stomach with just enough was even easier.
“Have some of this too.”
“This too.”
Jeongmi spooned a little of the stir-fried anchovies she’d packed and offered them over, while Sunggil handed him an apple she had peeled and cut into pretty slices.
“It’s fine, really…”
“Is that enough for a young man your age? Next time I’ll pack more. Let’s share.”
Sunggil smiled warmly and always made a point of sharing food. The truth was, everyone working here was in similar circumstances. It might have been a blessing just to have work at all, but in Sunggil’s case, she was already nearing seventy. The reason she continued doing this grueling work at that age was simple. She needed money. Even if her situation was slightly better than his, they weren’t so different in the end. Knowing that, Munyeong felt guilty even for accepting what was offered.
“So how did it go?”
Jeongmi leaned in and asked. She seemed curious about the new area he’d been assigned — her eyes were bright with interest. Munyeong smiled sheepishly and reached up to fidget with the back of his neck.
“It was a bit rough.”
“Was it? I heard it’s brutal over there. Why else would Yeongsu just up and disappear without a word.”
“Honestly, even so. You should at least say something before you quit. I didn’t think Yeongsu was that kind of person.”
“You think Yeongsu only had one or two run-ins with Director Hwang? Last time he came in with bruises on his face.”
“On his face? That’s the first I’m hearing of this.”
“They hushed it up on Director Hwang’s side. Yeongsu looked so pitiful back then. He was working day and night to pay for his mother’s surgery too. Anyway, you be careful too. People like Director Hwang always go after people like us. People they can mess with without it affecting their lives one bit.”
“…Rotten people. In contrast, our Chairman and Vice Chairman are true gentlemen. Gentlemen through and through.”
Sunggil finished the last of the apple and poured hot water into a paper cup of instant mix coffee in the break room. A little instant coffee, a green tea bag, and a water dispenser so old it belonged a decade ago. It was a stark contrast to the kitchenette in the Senior Managing Director’s office. The ginseng tea, jujube tea, the flashy espresso machine that made you feel like you were at a café, the state-of-the-art water dispenser where you could even choose the type of ice — none of that existed here. He never imagined that even ten years later, he would come to understand the gap between himself and Yeon Haejeong so clearly in a moment like this. Laughably, even after ten years of not seeing each other, Yeon Haejeong was just as rude, arrogant, and utterly devoid of manners as he had always been. It was pathetic that all Munyeong could do was laugh at that. What a joke — he couldn’t even bring himself to say hello after all this time.
“By the way, are you okay?”
Jeongmi asked out of nowhere as they ate. Munyeong had been lost in thought and looked at her blankly, not sure what she meant, and Jeongmi glanced around discreetly before looking down at his hand.
“Your hand, I mean. I noticed it was shaking badly before.”
Munyeong let out a quiet sigh and lowered his hand. He smiled awkwardly, unable to answer, and Sunggil caught on and gave Jeongmi a light nudge. She quietly scolded her for bringing it up unnecessarily — but unfortunately, Munyeong heard every word.
“…Yes. It just happens every now and then.”
A few days ago, people had witnessed one of the seizures that came without warning sometimes, and there had been a small commotion where they had nearly called an ambulance in alarm. It was a symptom left behind by an accident he’d had some time ago.
“Sounds like there’s a story there. You’ve been through a lot.”
Jeongmi patted him gently in comfort. Munyeong thanked her with a short bow of his head. The day of the accident, he had felt a dull ache in his hand and arm. But outwardly there had been nothing to show for it, and honestly, going to the hospital over something so minor had been a luxury he couldn’t afford at the time.
But one day his hand began to swell, and eventually the seizures grew so severe he couldn’t hold onto anything at all. He had no choice but to go to the hospital for a thorough examination. The diagnosis was nerve damage from not receiving treatment in time. He was told it was severe enough to qualify for a disability rating, and that rehabilitation could improve it — but that the seizures would only decrease in frequency, not disappear entirely. Rehabilitation, of course, was out of the question. At the time, he had only recently become independent and had absolutely no money to cover the cost of treatment.
The numbness and the pain he could live with, but the problem was never knowing when a seizure might suddenly hit. Especially when one came without warning in front of others — the looks of shock and helplessness from people around him were a burden. Those looks would quickly shift into pity, or sometimes into contempt, as though they’d been subjected to something unpleasant. He didn’t welcome either.
Munyeong finished eating and stepped outside the building. He had about twenty minutes to spare. Stepping out from the high-rise company building, a rest area for employees seemed to be waiting for him. A flower garden that stretched out like a pleasant open walkway even had a three-tiered fountain in it. Munyeong would sometimes walk through this place quietly, like a trespasser. Since he wasn’t a full-time employee here, he didn’t have the nerve to enjoy a space meant only for employees as though it were his own.
Those who know, know — morning sunlight is warmer than afternoon sunlight. The company employees were walking into work, soaking in that sunlight without a care. Some hurried in, some strolled with music in their ears, and some dragged themselves in weighed down by exhaustion. All while basking in this beautiful morning light. To Munyeong, it was a scene that felt almost ideal. And it made him feel good. Even just watching something he himself could not have — it was enough.
“I told you, keep this up and I’m not going!”
A harsh voice cut through the peaceful morning commute and drew everyone’s attention. Munyeong, who had been slipping along like a trespasser, startled and turned around. A man sitting on the edge of the fountain he happened to be passing was on a phone call, his suit rumpled and disheveled. One look at the way he was dressed and Munyeong knew exactly who it was. There was no way not to know. It was someone he had just crossed paths with moments ago.
Yeon Haejeong was smoking heavily, shouting like a man making an unreasonable scene.
“Is it my inauguration or my mother’s? Ah, then fine. Let Rep. Chu handle it. It’s not like she doesn’t have plenty of ambition anyway.”
Munyeong tried to slip away, but by chance their eyes met directly. He quickly averted his gaze and tried to turn away when —
“Hey, cleaning.”
The call stopped him in his tracks.
“Whether the executives curse me out or not — what’s it to me? We’re the ones paying their salaries anyway. If they don’t like it, just fire them.”
Haejeong walked slowly toward him, still on the phone.
“If you can’t handle it, fire me. Either way, I’m not coming home, so you can count on that. I’ll be sleeping at the office every day. If that bothers you, lift the hotel ban. Petty of you, blocking every hotel nearby. What, are they all VIP-only or something? Funny how they won’t even take guests without a word from Rep. Chu.”
His caller was likely his mother. Rep. Chu — that is, Madam Chu Yeonan — was Chairman Yeon’s one and only wife, currently serving as the Director of the Baekil Foundation, and holding the position of representative at quite a number of affiliates, including Baekil Department Store and Baekil Hotel. It was a bold personnel decision made on the grounds that Chairman Yeon, known to be devoted to his wife, loved and cherished her dearly. Even without taking on all actual operations herself, Chairman Yeon had delegated the representative titles to his wife. Knowing how beloved she was, those around her were even more careful not to cross Madam Chu Yeonan. All except for one person, of course.
