“By the way, you.”
“……”
“How did you know my name?”
He must have overheard Munyeong say it to the front desk staff earlier. The look he fixed on him as he asked was sharp. Wondering if Haejeong was suspicious of him, Munyeong hesitated slightly. It was only natural that Haejeong wouldn’t know — they had never formally introduced themselves — but there were plenty of ways to talk around it.
“…You’re, you’re famous.”
“……”
“…Someone… remarkable, they say……”
Munyeong fumbled over his words, trying his best to say something flattering. He wasn’t used to flattering people, so it came out stilted.
The truth was, he hadn’t known Haejeong was famous — not until he’d heard from Jeongmi about the newly incoming Senior Managing Director. Out of curiosity he’d asked once, and got an earful of the man’s entire history. Apparently even back when he was stationed at an overseas branch, he was already notorious for abusing his position. His reputation for being indiscriminate — men and women alike — was just as well-known. Word had it that while he was in New York, a scandal broke out with a local male actor and things got quite messy. Jeongmi had relayed it all as though she were talking about the world’s most irredeemable troublemaker, adding that if it had been a scandal with a woman, at least the rumor wouldn’t have spread so badly. That was how famous Yeon Haejeong was. Famous enough that even ordinary people like Munyeong knew.
At Munyeong’s answer, Haejeong gave a nod as though conceding the point and dropped his suspicious gaze.
“Fair enough.”
He murmured it almost to himself, then moved back toward the members-only section with a satisfied look on his face.
**
Stepping into the hotel room Haejeong had mentioned, Munyeong’s mouth fell open of its own accord. The room was the size of a house. There were two bathrooms alone, each with an enormous soaking tub, and three separate bedrooms. The first thing that greeted him when he walked in was a floor-to-ceiling glass wall with the glittering city view laid out in full. It was a suite — the kind he’d only ever heard about or seen in dramas. Munyeong was so overwhelmed by the situation that he couldn’t even bring himself to walk in properly, and stood hovering at the entrance with an awkward expression for a long while. His shoes were too old and too dirty to be setting foot in a room this lavish and beautiful. The contrast was too stark — he couldn’t easily make himself step forward.
After deliberating for a long moment, Munyeong took off his shoes and turned them to face the very edge of the entryway. He tucked them into a corner where no one would notice, but his eyes kept drifting back to them regardless. With nothing left to do, Munyeong stood rooted to the spot, glancing around aimlessly. The opulence — unlike anything he had ever seen in his life — felt alien, and somehow even a little frightening. He hadn’t known places like this existed, and his neck prickled with goosebumps. It felt like touching anything would be wrong, so he kept his hands to himself and stood still by the door. Staring any longer at this hotel room — which even smelled good — didn’t feel right, so Munyeong pulled his cap down lower over his face and didn’t move from where he stood.
About an hour passed like that. Suddenly, the sound of classical music rang out, and someone knocked heavily on the door from outside. Munyeong floundered for a moment before remembering Haejeong’s instruction to open the door, and moved to do so immediately.
“Hello, I’m the head manager of the styling team here to attend to Senior Managing Director Yeon today.”
The man bowed a full ninety degrees the moment the door opened. Caught off guard by the extremely formal greeting, Munyeong bowed back just as deeply in a fluster.
“Ah, hello.”
“We received a call from Rep. Chu and… oh…”
The manager straightened up, caught sight of Munyeong, and faltered — stepping back to check the room number on the door outside. He looked it over again, then turned back and examined Munyeong with an expression full of doubt.
“This is Royal Floor, Room 101, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And you are…”
The manager was clearly suspicious of his very presence, and Munyeong shrank slightly, ducking his head without answering the implied question and speaking up instead.
“The Senior Managing Director told me to have you come in.”
Munyeong turned to make way and said it politely, and the manager gave a lukewarm nod before stepping inside with the staff he had brought along. He had come with roughly fifteen people, and the moment they entered the hotel room, setup began. Staff members unpacked the loads they had carried in, going through items one by one.
“Handle the clothes carefully. If anything gets damaged, it comes out of your own pocket.”
“I already covered them. Should I hang them here?”
“Yeah. Get the steamer out and set everything so there are no wrinkles.”
The garments they unpacked numbered more than ten. Five three-piece suits, five or six outfits consisting entirely of suit jackets, and twelve pairs of dress shoes alone.
Not only the wardrobe team but the hair team and makeup team were all buzzing with preparations. A full-length mirror and an array of makeup tools were brought in separately and arranged one by one, filling the extra table they had brought along in no time. Munyeong watched the whirlwind of activity with an uneasy expression before quietly approaching one of the staff members.
“…Is there anything I can help with?”
“Pardon?”
The staff member seemed genuinely taken aback by the question and looked helplessly over at the manager who was overseeing everything. The manager looked Munyeong over once more, let out a short sigh, then reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and held out a card.
“Could you go down to the café on the first floor and get us some coffee?”
“Oh.”
“Check with everyone to see what they’d like.”
Munyeong hesitated and didn’t take the card right away. He was briefly wondering whether it was alright to leave the room without Haejeong’s instruction.
“What. You don’t want to?”
The slightly put-out reply made Munyeong look at him with mildly startled eyes.
“You seem to be here for that sort of thing… You’re not Senior Managing Director Yeon’s secretary, I take it.”
“……”
“And you’re the one who offered to help first.”
The person who had bowed so deferentially the moment he laid eyes on him had completely changed in tone and manner. Most people in positions of authority behaved this way, so Munyeong gave a neutral nod.
“Of course. I’ll be right back.”
Munyeong borrowed a pen from one of the staff. There were quite a few people, so he’d need to write down their orders rather than try to memorize them — but there was no notepad in sight, and he didn’t carry one, so he started writing on his palm instead. Getting there wasn’t the hard part; going up to people who looked busy was. Some were short with him for interrupting while they worked, and some rattled off their orders as though they’d been waiting for the chance.
The only coffee Munyeong had ever had in his life was vending machine coffee or instant coffee mix from the break rooms at construction sites or cleaning jobs. Once, as an adult, while working in Daehak-ro, he had wandered into a franchise café packed with university students and tried to order — but it hadn’t gone well. He didn’t know what half the things on the menu were, he was the only one fumbling about trying to decide, he was the only one taken aback by the prices, and he was the only one in the place who seemed out of place among all the people laughing and chatting without a care — so he had quietly turned around and left.
Of course, he knew what an iced Americano was. This wasn’t his first time running a coffee errand. Aside from some menu called a “frapchi-no” or something, he could more or less follow along.
“You haven’t left yet?”
Just as he had finally finished writing down everyone’s orders and was about to head out, the manager — who had been sitting on the sofa scrolling on his phone — looked up with a creased brow. Munyeong startled, apologized quickly, and hurried out of the room. He made his way to the café in a rush, only to run into a second problem. When he tried to order at the counter, the staff directed him to use the kiosk, and he ended up struggling in front of a machine taller than himself for quite some time.
After more than ten minutes of standing there fumbling, the person behind him started to get visibly annoyed. As the café grew restless, one of the staff came out, heaved a loud sigh, and offered to put the order in for him. The sweat from the stress of the kiosk had smudged some of the writing on his hand, and he couldn’t read out a few of the orders clearly — the staff member told him, in a voice barely containing its irritation, to come back once he had all the orders sorted. Munyeong ended up being the very last person to place his order, and carried the coffee back to the hotel room in a carrier. Getting there with around ten cups without spilling was its own ordeal. He was walking down the hotel corridor holding his breath — terrified of dropping something — when a familiar voice cut in from behind him.
“What are you doing out here.”
That voice never failed to startle him, no matter how many times he heard it. Munyeong’s shoulders jumped and he turned around to find Haejeong — a full head taller than him — looking down at him.
“Ah…”
Munyeong’s thoughts were slow to catch up, and before he could get any words out, the impatient Haejeong’s expression twisted sharply and he asked again.
“What the f— tch. What are you doing out here.”
He bit back the full word — the f nearly all the way out — and asked it like a thug shaking someone down. His stance and delivery were exactly that of a loan shark making his rounds.
“…I went to get coffee…”
