The reason he’d watched Yeon Haejeong without end was because he seemed like the kind of person he’d never encounter again in his life. It had simply been fascinating to see, right before his eyes, someone living in a world so completely different from his own. If he disliked something, he showed it. If he was annoyed, he showed that too. He paid no mind to what anyone thought of him — and yet the people around him, rather than keeping their distance, bent over backwards trying to get on his good side. There were kids who clashed with him, of course, but Haejeong threw punches easily. Violence came naturally to him, and when he got into it with classmates, he’d hurl chairs without a second thought. In short, he was no different from a tyrant.
Munyeong used to practice the curses Haejeong used most often when he was washing up alone at the orphanage. They were words he’d never used in his life, and even as he tried them out, they felt so unnatural that he laughed at himself — but underneath that, there was a bitterness too. The thought that a person’s life could be so completely reversed by something as arbitrary as the circumstances of their birth. Munyeong envied him. It might seem foolish, but even knowing that Haejeong’s reckless rudeness, his thoughtless behavior, was wrong and unkind — occasionally, very occasionally, Munyeong envied it.
Sitting quietly in the driver’s seat, all that came to mind were memories from long ago. It had been a past he’d sent far, far away and forgotten, yet the simple fact of seeing him once more brought it all back as if it had happened yesterday — it was strange. Was what the eye could see really that powerful? Or were human emotions really this shallow? A mark he’d told himself was nothing more than a burn scar from that time, that era, that person — the moment he saw him again, the scar-like traces left behind, the heart still vivid with feeling, surged as though it were all happening yesterday.
Dazed, Munyeong suddenly received a text. It was an unfamiliar number.
[Come up.]
A short command. If he thought about it, in this situation, there was only one person who would send a command like this. Munyeong sat awkwardly upright, phone gripped in both hands, at a complete loss for what to do — and after deliberating for a long while, sent a reply.
[Why?]
He didn’t have the courage to walk into that enormous hotel alone.
[Stop talking back and come up.]
He’d only asked for a reason, and being misread as talking back felt a little unfair. But what could he do. He was in no position to argue with this person.
[wich floore shoud i go to.]
He wasn’t quick at typing the way people these days were, and fumbled for a while before sending it — but the reply came fast.
[Which floor.]
I misspelled again, Munyeong thought, feeling sheepish, and was about to reply when another text came through right away.
[Should.]
[You’re a complete moron.]
…It was a little irritating that he felt the need to add that, but Munyeong couldn’t deny it, so he obediently sent back a reply.
[I’m sorry.]
Munyeong hadn’t had much schooling, and his mind was comparatively slow too. Whether it was a natural limitation or not, even learning to read and write in elementary school hadn’t come easily. He’d only barely finished memorizing his multiplication tables by the time he graduated elementary school. Back then, surviving took priority over studying.
He had attended school, but there weren’t many places that treated a student properly when that student showed up every day in the same clothes and shoes worn through to the soles. There were no children who befriended him, and back then, no teachers who felt sorry for him either. Even attending class, he was excluded and couldn’t fit in anywhere. He’d drifted along until he somehow enrolled in high school, but never managed to graduate. His attendance had fallen short because of work, and on top of that, he’d been expelled due to an incident back then, so he never graduated. His highest level of education was middle school. That was exactly why he was always grateful to the employers who took him on.
[Floor 18.]
Haejeong sent the information without any further small talk. Munyeong stepped out of the driver’s seat with an expression full of uncertainty and hovered at the hotel entrance. Other than when he was working, he’d never set foot in a place like this, and the self-consciousness was overwhelming. There was a real chance he’d walk in and get thrown out.
[is it really ok for me to come in?]
After lingering for quite a while, he finally sent one more text.
[Get here within 1 minute.]
Munyeong’s face drained of color as he hurried inside the building. The lobby, with its soaring ceilings, was intimidatingly lavish. There was a lounge in the lobby as well, and even on a weekday morning it was full of people. Munyeong shrank into himself and quietly looked for the elevator. He didn’t want to be noticed. But there was no one else dressed as plainly as he was, so he stood out all the more. He could feel eyes flicking toward him, and one of the front desk staff was watching him with focused attention. Well — if he were the staff member, he’d have done the same. Setting aside the shabby, worn state of his clothes, he had his face practically wrapped up in a cap and a mask, which was enough to look suspicious to anyone.
Munyeong pushed through the embarrassment and stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button for the 18th floor, and only when the gilded elevator doors slid shut did he finally manage to breathe properly. He stared up at the floor indicator with anxious eyes.
The moment he stepped off at the 18th floor, a long reception desk came into view, with one male and one female staff member standing behind it, both straight-backed. Munyeong shuffled awkwardly and looked around. He’d been told to come up, but the person himself was nowhere to be seen. He spotted an entrance to the right of the desk and edged toward it, only for a man in a suit who looked like a security guard to step in front of him.
“Are you a member?”
It was a politely worded question, but one with the underlying assumption that the answer was obviously no. Which was true, so Munyeong just gave a careful nod.
“I’m not a member… but, I was told to come up….”
“Do you have someone you’re with?”
“I, with someone, it’s more that… uh, I’m just staff.”
He fumbled through the explanation, and the security guard frowned at first as if he didn’t quite follow — but quickly pieced it together and asked again.
“Ah, you’re staff. May I have your name?”
“I, um… Im Munyeong.”
The staff member tilted his head at his answer, typed a few keys, and asked with a puzzled look,
“I’m not finding you as a current guest member….”
“Oh, oh, not me — Yeon… Haejeong.”
He stumbled over the name in his flustered rush, and the staff member’s expression cleared in immediate recognition, without even touching the keyboard.
“You mean Senior Managing Director Yeon?”
“Oh… yes.”
The staff member gave him one more brief once-over and tilted their head again, unable to quite hide a look of mild suspicion. A brief silence passed, the kind that made it clear a verification call might be necessary —
“You’re a minute late.”
Yeon Haejeong appeared at the entrance, dressed in nothing but a shower robe.
“Oh… that is… I….”
At his devil-like appearance, Munyeong stumbled over his words for a moment — but come to think of it, coming in under one minute had been impossible to begin with.
“…To be fair, coming in one minute was impossible to begin with….”
“Talking back—sh*t.”
Haejeong bit down on the curse with distaste and clicked his tongue. Munyeong shuffled nervously and readjusted his cap for no reason, head drooping. Then the man standing crookedly across from him narrowed his eyes slightly and gave Munyeong a long, slow look up and down.
“…But you.”
“Yes…?”
“You look like someone.”
At the out-of-nowhere remark, Munyeong startled and began to fumble.
“W, who…….”
“Someone. Goes around looking like a complete beggar from head to toe, talks and moves like he’s got nothing going for him.”
…At the description that sounded more like an insult, Munyeong scratched the back of his neck with a blank expression. Haejeong said it just like that and stared at Munyeong as if he could bore a hole through him. Under that piercing gaze that felt like it could cut right through to the bone, a cold sweat was threatening to break out — and then.
“Forget it.”
Haejeong tossed the key card over to him and got to the point.
“The wardrobe and hair people are all coming, so wait and open the door for them.”
“M, me?”
“Yes. You.”
Munyeong looked vaguely put out — uncertain whether he was even supposed to be the one doing this. And yet there he was, doing exactly as told. Driving. Helping with his schedule.
He stood there clutching the key card, hesitating like an idiot — and Haejeong, who had been about to turn away, paused and looked back at him again with that same lingering gaze. Under the unrelenting weight of it, Munyeong found himself lowering his head without thinking.
