“Damn, I said I’m going. Hyung already came by once and gave me an earful, you know?”
Yeon Haejeong ran a hand through his hair with an irritated expression and cut the call short.
“Secretary Kang? Don’t need him. I’ve got my own guy to order around.”
Having ended the call, Haejeong suddenly tossed the car key he’d been holding straight at Munyeong’s chest. Munyeong caught it on reflex and stared at him with a dumbfounded look.
“Hey, you can drive, right.”
Of course he could. A grown man well past thirty who couldn’t drive would find his options in life drastically narrowed.
“I… can, yes, but…”
“Then drive.”
“Sorry? …No, I mean, I…”
“What.”
“……I haven’t finished work yet.”
“I can just tell Section Chief Dongjin myself.”
“Even so…”
“Hey. Your brain not working?”
“…Pardon?”
“I outrank Section Chief Dongjin by a mile. Think about whose good side you should be on right now.”
Munyeong faltered, at a loss for words. He knew that — but there was such a thing as principle. And truthfully, he didn’t want to be anywhere near this man. He’d been planning to ask the section chief to reassign him to a different area, and he hadn’t expected to run into him again so soon, like this.
“Go change and wait out front on the first floor.”
As if Munyeong’s answer didn’t matter, Haejeong issued the short command and lumbered back into the building. His gait was that of someone thoroughly fed up with everything. Employees passing nearby shot glances his way and whispered among themselves. The way they all peeked and murmured suggested he was already quite well known.
Well — setting aside the fact that he was a third-generation chaebol, he was the kind of person who drew people’s eyes without even trying. His refined air aside, he was strikingly handsome. His features were cool and sharp, but the kind of face anyone would instinctively look twice at. At a glance, one might even call him delicate — his looks were almost aristocratic — and yet his features were so distinctly eye-catching that back in their school days there had been no shortage of rumors about him being a trainee or an aspiring celebrity.
Ten years later, those looks were just as striking as ever. If anything, he had grown into them — aged, but in the way that something ripens. Having shed every last trace of youthful softness, he had become sharper and more beautiful. Rotten mouth aside, even Munyeong had paused and held his breath for a moment when he’d spotted Haejeong sitting at the edge of the fountain. He had looked like a painting — like someone from an entirely different world. Which was exactly why it didn’t feel real that this man’s car key was now sitting in his hand.
Munyeong looked down at the foreign-brand car key in his palm and let out a quiet sigh. There was no way out for someone as powerless as him.
**
“The uniform from before was better.”
He had done as told — pulled the car around to the front entrance on the first floor — and Haejeong, who had spotted him immediately and climbed into the backseat, gave Munyeong’s changed outfit a long, appraising once-over from behind before passing his verdict with an expression like he’d seen something truly unbelievable. It was a checkered shirt bought for ten thousand won at a flea market near his place a few years back, and a pair of cotton trousers so faded all the color had washed out.
“…Should I go back in and change again?”
But that kind of humiliation was familiar enough that, while embarrassing, it didn’t make him want to crawl into a hole and disappear. What could he do. He was someone who owned nothing better than this.
“Forget it. No time.”
Haejeong turned away with an air of being put-upon and handed over a tablet. Munyeong hesitated at the appearance of the tablet PC — the first he’d ever handled — and Haejeong’s brow creased sharply.
“What are you doing.”
“Ah…”
“Check the scheduler, there’s a list of reservations. We’re starting with the spa, so head to Baekil Hotel. The address is already in there, so check it.”
Fortunately, reading navigation wasn’t a problem — he’d picked that up from his days doing designated driving. But working a tablet was another matter, and he fumbled.
“I’ll… we’ll be departing now.”
He couldn’t quite figure out how he’d ended up playing chauffeur, but the section chief had even sent him off with a cheerful “have a good trip” as he came out of the changing room. With that much encouragement, there was no refusing. Not that there ever was. Do as you’re told, no matter what — that was his job.
He’d driven foreign cars before, if rarely, so he didn’t fumble too badly. The brakes were stiffer than he was used to and the gear position tripped him up a little, but it was manageable. Worried his driving might be grating, he glanced at Haejeong in the rearview mirror — but Haejeong didn’t seem to be paying him any attention, leaning back with his eyes closed.
Munyeong was taut with nerves the entire way, focused entirely on not rattling the man. He kept watch for cars cutting in, checked and rechecked the route the navigation laid out. In between, he stole another glance at Haejeong in the rearview. They drove like that for about twenty minutes before reaching their destination — a five-star hotel, opulent from the very entrance. But even after they’d arrived, Haejeong remained perfectly still with his eyes shut, and Munyeong hovered in uncertain silence for a long while before finally working up the nerve to speak.
“Um… we’ve arrived.”
He whispered it in the smallest, most breathless voice he could manage. Haejeong’s brow pinched and his eyes drifted slowly open.
“So.”
“Pardon…?”
“You open the door.”
“……”
“No basic manners at all.”
“Ah… right.”
“Hurry up and open it.”
Haejeong issued the short command. Munyeong, still wearing a bewildered expression, unbuckled, got out of the driver’s seat, walked around the car, and took hold of the rear door handle. He had no idea why he was standing here doing this… but there was nothing to be done about it — he was in no position to argue — so he moved without a word. Honestly, he’d rather just hurry back and clean the restrooms.
Click. Munyeong opened the door and Haejeong emerged unhurried, stretching leisurely. It was the movement of a languid, indolent animal. Munyeong stood at his side, at a loss. While he hesitated over what was supposed to come next, Haejeong — who seemed to have drawn all the ease in the world into himself — tilted his head and looked at him.
“By the way. You.”
“…Me?”
“Yeah, you. Cleaning.”
“……Yes.”
“Do you really have to go around in that falling-apart rag of a hat?”
He flicked the brim of Munyeong’s cap with his finger, looking displeased.
“It… yes.”
Munyeong hesitated before giving a quiet nod.
“You’re going to be following me around all day today, and you want to walk around looking like that?”
“Me…?”
“Yes, you. Christ. Hey, who else is here besides you — why do you keep asking.”
“Ah… yes.”
“Wow, you’re genuinely dense. Impossible to have a conversation with.”
“……I’m sorry.”
“Whatever. Just stay put.”
Haejeong, seeming too irritated to keep talking, cut the conversation short and walked into the hotel. Munyeong stared blankly at the back of him disappearing through the massive automatic doors, then got back in the car. He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He studied his hat, wondering whether it really was that bad, but he honestly couldn’t tell — so he just clicked his tongue with a vague, unsatisfied feeling.
He had always been like this, back then as much as now. Blunt and straightforward to a fault. His gift for making people feel small was something else — but Munyeong was used to it. Even behavior that amounted to pulling rank on someone below him didn’t land as a real blow. This sort of thing was commonplace, and more than that, it was Haejeong — so it felt even more familiar than usual.
Haejeong had been like this at nineteen too. And honestly, probably at ten as well. Brutally direct and rude — not just with Munyeong, but with classmates and even teachers. He’d earned himself a reputation as someone completely devoid of social skills. An all-out menace.
But for someone with that reputation, he had always been surrounded by people. Whether it was because of his connections, his money, his looks, or all of the above, Munyeong couldn’t say for certain — but it had always puzzled him. Even with a mouth that never said anything decent, the people around Haejeong always had smiles on their faces. Haejeong, on the other hand, always looked bored or annoyed. If anything, he seemed like someone who’d rather be left alone.
From the age of nineteen, after Munyeong had first developed an interest in the person that was Yeon Haejeong, he had acquired the habit of watching him. At first it was unconscious — but whenever his gaze drifted without thinking, it always ended up snagging on Haejeong. Haejeong yawning. Haejeong muttering curses to himself. Haejeong asleep with his headset on. Haejeong humming a song and then breaking into a whistle. Haejeong smoking behind the school building.
