A Perfectly Normal Romance Chapter 1.3 - Encounter

“Is that really the reason?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew it. You’ve been looking good lately.”

So, even he, who has some sense, didn’t talk to me directly, but beat around the bush for several days. Seriously. Well, yeah. For you, who used to say whatever you wanted without filtering, to have put in that much effort, you must have tried hard.

“Pour me another drink.”

So, another drink. Why does everything he says annoy me? While I was scratching my cheek, Geonjung quietly nudged me and said,

“Think positive. How long are you two going to be awkward with each other?”

“It’s my choice.”

“Just get along now. You’re going to keep seeing each other anyway.”

Like this.

A relationship that once saw each other’s innermost selves can become this superficial, requiring us to be mindful of others’ perceptions.

The chicken was gone, and the beer was finished. The three of us got up and went out into the street. The street was a chaotic mess. Every bar had dragged out tables, whether legally or illegally placed outdoors, and the streets were filled with people taking photos with some inexplicable aesthetic and drinking. We were walking while glancing at each of these people. It was thanks to Seungpyo’s words beside me that I realized the reason for the strange sense of déjà vu.

“Seeing them sitting out on the street like that reminds me of a college festival.”

“It’s like Thailand, too.”

“Right.”

“I guess pretending to be naturally free like that is the trend these days.”

“Freedom. Good.”

Geonjung’s expression looked a little sad as he said that, pulling at his tie a little. The hand that touched his tie then moved to my shoulder.

“I envy you for still being free.”

“I don’t know if it’s freedom or if I’ve been spat out by this society.”

“Spat out? You’re amazing for having your own work. After being an assistant director, you’ll become a PD, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Denying it here would only lead to the same conversation repeating, so I ended it with “I don’t know”.

Even after leaving the company where I started, the work I do is similar. I still hold a camera and film things. The only change is that I’ve switched from filming people to landscapes, still life, and food.

I tried to continue doing the same work, but the YouTubers and influencers I knew from the company were contracted with the company, not me, so there was a limit to the work I could get. More than anything, it was tedious back then. I could have gotten into a studio with the portfolio I had built, but honestly, I wanted to try something different. After taking snack videos and photos for content, I eventually moved to another position. An assistant director position for a TV program.

It’s a fairly well-known educational program with filming once a week, but that’s all it is. It’s just a work consignment contract, not an employment contract. Fortunately, it’s a program targeting middle-aged and older viewers, so there’s no risk of cancellation, but there is the risk that one day, I might snap and lash out at the PD before it gets canceled.

We were having kimchi pancakes and soju at the next bar. Seungpyo flipped my phone over and, for the first time, said something that sounded like a newlywed. Seriously, it was the first time I’d heard something like that lately.

“I should get going. I don’t want to drink too much, thinking about the shoot.”

“When did you ever think before you drank?”

“I have my reasons. Just stay put.”

Then he started gathering his belongings. Is he leaving now? Something feels strange. The half-eaten appetizers and the soju bottle still covered in condensation felt awkward. As I put down my chopsticks and picked up my coat, Geonjung gestured towards me.

“You stay. Hyun is coming here.”

“What? But you guys are leaving?”

“Yeah. He said he’s almost here.”

“Hey. So, are you guys leaving or not?”

Dumbfounded, I asked again, and they said yes. Okay, broadly speaking, Seungpyo could be meddlesome and think he’s doing me a favor by patching things up between me and Hyun since we’re not on good terms. But Geonjung wouldn’t do this. Even you, knowing we’re a broken pair from that time because of what happened afterward, wouldn’t do this, even though you weren’t there then. I glared at him, and as if sensing my gaze, Geonjung made an expression that didn’t suit his stoic face. I glared at him harder.

“At least you, sit back down.”

“If it’s uncomfortable, just go.”

“He said he was coming here.”

“Just text him saying something came up and you had to leave.”

“So, are you and Seungpyo really leaving?”

Seungpyo draped his jacket over my shoulders and patted them with his other hand.

“Make up now. I don’t know why you guys fought after being so close in college, but Hyun is a good guy.”

“Stay out of it, man. What do you mean, ‘good guy’?”

“You’ll keep seeing each other, so don’t be like that.”

After saying what he wanted, Seungpyo sauntered to the counter and started picking out some candy. Geonjung also got up and said something resembling a farewell. It was at least more bearable than Seungpyo’s.

“If it’s uncomfortable, let’s go together.”

“Is he really coming? To see just me?”

“I was supposed to go alone, but Seungpyo heard and said he’d come too. To help you two make up.”

That means Hyun, who’s coming now, doesn’t know that he’ll be meeting me alone, right? Before Geonjung turned away at my frantic search for my phone, he said,

“I said, if it’s uncomfortable, let’s go together.”

“He’s coming, how can I just leave? I have to at least say something.”

“The way I see it, you not being able to leave is also part of your problem.”

“Me?”

After hearing my dumbfounded question, Geonjung left the bar without another word. Left on the table were the half-eaten kimchi pancake and the uncleared glasses. Seriously, what is this?

I really need to text him and leave. It was just as I took out my phone. The bell above the bar door jingled classically. I looked up involuntarily and our eyes met. With Hyun, who was opening the door and coming in, as if in slow motion. The intellectual-looking suit he was wearing added to his aura.

I’ve known since college. That the graceful movements, the ones that first taught me the definition of elegance, were thanks to a childhood steeped in affluence. That his sometimes disheveled appearance was just the face you’d see after tiring yourself out looking at statistical data.

His tall, model-like silhouette came closer. Like someone not knowing where to look, I awkwardly rolled my eyes to the next table before looking back at him.

Quite some time had passed since he said he’d briefly show his face at the company dinner, but his complexion was no different. His gaze was calm. After briefly scanning the empty seats, Hyun sat across from me. Wondering if he sat there without knowing, I said,

“They all left.”

“I know.”

Hyun added after his short reply,

“I saw them as I came in.”

And silence. In the meantime, the bar owner cleared the table and set new glasses and cutlery. With the table cleared like this, there was no trace of Seungpyo and Geonjung having been there. While I poked at the half-eaten, cold kimchi pancake with my chopsticks, I saw Hyun pour himself a drink and take a sip.

Recalling his past dislike for alcohol, I stared blankly. As if conscious of my gaze, he placed the rim of the glass in the center of his lips before putting it down. Even after that, there was no conversation. After a silence so profound that every note of the music playing could be heard, Hyun cleared his throat. His gaze traveled up from my fingertips, settling on my face.

“It’s been a while.”

“Considering how many times we’ve seen each other, you can’t really say that.”

“True.”

Hyun easily agreed with my words. After brushing aside the obvious pleasantry, the question that came out as he fiddled with the back of his hand was a little unexpected.

“Have you been well?”

“What?”

Startled, a more curt reply came out than I intended. Hyun briefly narrowed his eyes but continued speaking without minding.

“I wanted to ask you something, so I tried to arrange a meeting.”

“I just heard. You said you wanted to ask me about my previous company.”

“Yes. That.”

Hyun stopped mid-sentence and reached for his glass again before stopping. The blue veins on the back of his hand looked particularly prominent today.

“I haven’t heard much about you lately.”

“Oh.”

I’ve been hearing about you everywhere, whether I wanted to or not, but I guess you managed to avoid it. Nodding, I fiddled with my glass, brought it to my lips for no reason, and put it back down. Every action felt self-conscious. Tiring. I rubbed my slightly dry eyes and tried to give a relaxed smile.

“Our gatherings. You avoided them too after I left, right?”

“A bit. But I heard that you joined Link as an early member. That you joined following Lee Sungjae.”

“That’s right.”

“I knew that, and then when you came to our side recently to get information, it was unexpected. Didn’t you work there for a while?”

“I did. I was there from the chaotic early days.”

“Right.”

Seemingly lacking appetite, Hyun flicked his chopsticks and continued,

“You followed Jaesung around since freshman year.”

“Yeah.”

And that’s why we fought. It was so ridiculous.

While we were dating, we went through all sorts of incidents and fights. It couldn’t be helped. We were twenty years old and didn’t know anything. Someone slept with their roommate in our room while I was out drinking with friends. Isn’t that inconsiderate? Back then, we used to have heated debates about this kind of thing. Some would say it’s fine since the person wasn’t there, others would say it’s wrong to do that in a shared space. These clashes of our undefined relationship values and preferences were frequent. We didn’t know how much to control and trust each other, what lines to draw, and which ones could be crossed.

More than anything, Hyun hated seeing me flitting around more than I expected. He wanted me to cut back on all the activities I dabbled in, and, well, I did try to organize things a bit to focus more on our time together. Still, I couldn’t help but stay in the club where most of my seniors and friends were.

The problem was that this particular club was perfect for trips and MTs, under the guise of filming and other such activities. There were after-parties and basically everything. Because of that, we even fought at the very spot where we had our first kiss, a memory now tinged with bittersweetness. Not answering the phone was the trigger. When I finally pressed the call button, he was so accusatory that I stopped walking home on the chilly early winter night and we ended up fighting.

‘Hey, did I go cheat on you or something? The phone? Do you always answer?’

― Are you seriously comparing these situations right now?

‘Last week, from day to night, the jerk who didn’t answer the phone, was it someone other than you? Oh, I guess I’m cheating with that jerk.’

― Jio.

Oh, but Hyun still thinks that time, when we were so young and naive, was the sexiest. The way his voice would drop, right before he got angry, when he said my name.

― Is not answering the phone because of a family event the same as you not answering while you’re out drinking?

‘Not answering the phone is the same thing. By that logic, you haven’t answered for a while, how do I know who you’re seeing there?’

Oh, even as I said it, I knew I had gone too far. But that didn’t mean I was wrong, and if Hyun hadn’t pushed me so hard, wouldn’t things have been fine? I thought, lost in my self-justification again.

― What nice conversation did you have with your senior that made him say ‘We had an important talk yesterday’ and cause a scene?

‘Hey, that was just about career paths.’

― And you can’t talk about that kind of thing with me? Fuck, why do you have to crawl over there, get drunk, hug each other, and make a fuss?

‘When did I make a fuss?’

― Should I see it with my own eyes in that fucking friendly photo from your club?

That was the moment I decided to make the club cafe members-only.

‘Do you really want to see what a real fuss looks like?’

― Show me.

At those short words, my pacing feet suddenly stopped. Oh, so you want to see, huh? I lifted my head, exhaled into the air, and replied,

‘Where are you?’

― My officetel. Should I come over there?

‘No. I’m coming. I’m already out, so I’ll run over there now.’

― You’re out again?

‘I was about to go in, but I stopped to answer your call!’

And I hung up. Fine. I’m going there to make a scene anyway, so what are you going to do if you get even angrier? Just then, I heard a rattling sound from the wall next to me. Startled, I stepped back. A gruff voice yelled from the window,

‘Keep it down! I’m trying to sleep!’

‘Sorry.’

With an apology, I quickly turned and ran down the stairs. My heart pounded. Oh shit. Was it a student from our school? Did they know I was having this kind of fight with a guy? I was so angry, I completely forgot there was a window there. From now on, I decided I should only argue politely at home as I ran down the stairs.

Even though I had just come back from the MT, watched the after-party, and even bought ice cream for the new members who joined in the second semester, I was overflowing with energy on my way to the officetel. I couldn’t have been more energized. I ran past the chicken place and past the front of the school. There has never been a moment in my life where I’ve been so full of life. With that passion, I repeatedly pressed the elevator button at the officetel, restless even after I got on.

I won’t let you off the hook. You think everything you do has meaning, while everything I do is a pointless waste of time? Wouldn’t it be more meaningful for you to count the number of confessions you’ve collected in your department, you crazy bastard? You’re insane. How much of a waste of time can I be if someone asks for my number at the library, I give them a fake number, and they come back to get the right one because it’s wrong? Alright. Let’s lay it all bare today.

My raised hand trembled due to my ragged breathing and pounding heart. Before I could even press three numbers on the door lock, the door flew open with a click. As I stormed in, I faced Lee Hyun, who was leaning against the shoe rack with his arms crossed. I instinctively scanned him.

He was wearing a white, long-sleeved sweatshirt and black knee-length shorts, and he looked incredibly good in them. Wow. So this is how you’ve been showing off. I was dumbfounded, looking at his rounded knees and the long, well-defined muscles of his legs below. Aren’t you cold? Why shorts? Why! Meanwhile, Hyun, oblivious to my inner turmoil, stared at me and said something truly unbelievable.

‘You said you were outside. Why are you so late?’

‘You idiot, I ran all the way here.’

‘You had plenty of time to flirt with the new member, but you’re late to your boyfriend’s place.’

‘When did I flirt! Wow.’

Then, I suddenly remembered the scene from earlier. The moment I bought chocolate milk and ice cream for the tired members after the MT, because I felt bad for them. One of the female members couldn’t open her Gogucon properly, so I helped her open it and we chatted a bit. But seriously, because of that…

‘Flirt? What flirt! The club funds were low, so I only bought them for the others and didn’t even have any myself! Damn, this is so unfair. And when did you see that to make such a fuss!’

‘Think about who would do that at the convenience store in front of the school where everyone can see. And can you explain why you go to those MTs that always cause trouble?’

‘It’s a filming club, idiot.’

‘Why do you even join that kind of club?’

Hyun, saying such things nonchalantly, frowned as if trying to understand some incomprehensible error. Now, when students enter university, the first clubs they look at are English conversation clubs, stock investment clubs, advertising and PR societies, and so on, but back then, it was a time when you could join a samulnori club and play the buk or janggu, or whatever you wanted. Even in those times, Hyun, who joined an investment society for his future, was extraordinary. But that’s not the point.

Rather than being angry at his absurd words, my mind and emotions felt swept clean. I retorted whatever came to mind,

‘How can you say something like that? Do you even like me?’

At those words, Lee Hyun’s eyes suddenly fixed on me. His deep black pupils, contrasting with the white of his eyes, stared at me before his smooth nose wrinkled for a moment. And then, he finally opened his mouth and said,

‘If I didn’t like you, would I be having this incomprehensible conversation with you at this hour?’

He said that. To give such a sensible reply with such a bad attitude. I, who had asked the question, was speechless. Is what this guy, leaning against the shoe rack with an annoyed expression, saying right? I even tapped my ears with my palms. Hyun, who was watching my antics, straightened up as if annoyed and nudged me.

‘Let’s go.’

‘Why?’

‘Let’s get some ice cream.’

At the time, I thought it meant going out for some fresh air, a kind of gesture of reconciliation, but looking back, something bothered me. Was it because I had mentioned during our earlier argument that I bought ice cream for the other members but not myself, that he specifically suggested getting ice cream? It was too late to ask.

Instead of the convenience store in front of the school, which he claimed everyone in town had seen, we each grabbed a cone at the convenience store on the first floor of the officetel and trudged outside. Behind the building was a small, well-landscaped park, a bit dim. We plopped down on a bench and calmly reviewed the earlier conversation without getting heated.

So, Lee Hyun, with his magnanimous generosity, decided to overlook my involvement in that meaningless club with its weekly meetings and presentations. Here, another brief argument ensued. I argued that clubs are inherently for pointless fun, while Lee Hyun heatedly insisted he didn’t understand why I’d do something so pointless. We each took a bite of our ice cream and shut our mouths.

Anyway, he felt a deep sense of self-disgust looking at the club activity photos, even going so far as to find the club cafe. Among those photos, there was one of me with my arms around club president Jaesung, faces flushed, which I honestly didn’t remember, but since he insisted, I decided to check it later.

He had planned to talk calmly with me after coming back, about Jaesung saying something about “our precious…” and “good conversation…”, but why didn’t I answer the phone? And why was I eating ice cream so affectionately with a female member at the convenience store in front of the school?

At this point in the story, having diligently finished my ice cream while listening, I threw the wrapper into the nearby trash can. Meanwhile, Hyun, who hadn’t been able to take a proper bite of his ice cream because he was busy expressing his feelings with a cold expression, had his taken away by me. I then held it up to his lips. Hyun, looking at the ice cream offered to him, said,

‘What are you doing?’

‘Yes, it was my fault for opening the ice cream of someone who’s not even close to me. I’ll feed my boyfriend, Hyun. Let’s make up like this. Honey. Please.’

‘You think this makes up for it?’

He pouted. I felt the corners of my eyes, which I was trying to keep smiling, twitch.

‘Then what should I do?’

He finally opened his mouth and took a big bite of the ice cream I offered. The white cream melting on the outside disappeared in one bite. As his Adam’s apple moved slowly and he took another bite, Hyun suddenly smiled and leaned slightly towards me, bringing his lips close to my ear. And whispered,

‘Jio.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Want to try eating your ice cream from the other side?’

‘…You’re crazy.’

I couldn’t control my expression at the sudden realization that I was dating a complete lunatic. I smeared the ice cream I was holding up to his lips all over his mouth. Crazy bastard. Hyun licked the white cream off his lips and laughed for a long time, without a care in the world.

This topic was uncomfortable in many ways. Sure, I can sit face to face with Hyun and talk about anything. We can have constructive conversations to improve our relationship. We can even agree on what to say when people like Seungpyo or other friends get married, or when someone in society brings it up. We could become less awkward than we are now.

But I hate that the topic is Link. There are too many memories tied to Link. If I pull out that one word, memories of my freshman year of college, club activities, the time I dedicated every vacation, and the fights with Hyun all come flooding back. It can’t not be uncomfortable.

Hyun came, and whatever he wants to hear, I can’t help it if I don’t want to talk about it. With an uneasy feeling, I clasped my hands together on the table and said,

“I don’t really want to talk about that place. It wasn’t good, and I have nothing good to say. It’s probably changed a lot now.”

“I’m prepared to hear bad things.”

“Still, I don’t want to.”

“I’m not just asking you to do it for nothing.”

“Then?”

“I’ll formally request an interview.”

“There’s probably nothing that requires my information enough to warrant an interview.”

Hyun, who always struggled to explain things like this, described my former company using words I couldn’t even guess at. I just stared at him, and he continued his explanation.

“That company was sold. A private equity fund is bidding, and they’ve commissioned us to properly evaluate the company’s value. They specifically asked us to pay extra attention since valuing influencers and YouTube channels is tricky. In these ambiguous situations, interviewing former employees is the best method…I’ve reconsidered several times, but there’s no former employee who’s seen and experienced the core of it like you have. I’ll make sure you’re compensated well, so think about it.”

The thought of asking “How much?” is plagued by two other thoughts. Should I really have to dredge up memories of my former company, which I struggled so hard to put behind me, just to get a little interview fee? And with Hyun, no less?

As if he had interpreted my complex expression, Hyun continued without waiting for my answer.

“Each interview will take about one to two hours, and sometimes we conduct more than twenty interviews. It’s about one to two hundred thousand won per session.”

As I blinked twice, I thought it over. Twenty times. Two hundred thousand. The maximum amount multiplied instantly filled my mind. It’s a significant amount of money for me to refuse. Excessively so. It’s enough to move or buy new equipment. It’s also enough to help me look for another job if things get really bad… But.

“It would help. So…”

“No.”

Cutting off what seemed like a long explanation, I stood up. Lowering my gaze from his, I shook my head. So, no.

“I won’t do it.”

He didn’t seem surprised, as if it was within his expectations. He simply stared at me. Blink, blink. Every time his thin eyelids moved, his clear eyes fixed on me. Under his silent gaze, I frowned back before turning away to break the eye contact.

As I walked away, I didn’t sense him following me. Nor did I hear his voice calling me back. I pushed open the door and went out before any lingering feelings could take hold.

My current job title is assistant director, or just something vague they call me. It’s at an outsourced production company for an educational program. I took the job thinking it would be a short stint, but leaving isn’t as easy as I thought. It’s not a strict rule, but due to staff shortages, I have to find a replacement before I can leave, and finding one has been difficult.

It’s a program introducing various lifestyle tips and restaurants in the afternoons, so I underestimated it. I didn’t know it had a reputation for being the graveyard of the educational department. Korean food and restaurants are limited, and the places we can visit are also limited, so it’s harder than I thought. Sometimes, I follow up on strange rumors in the neighborhood, and most of them turn out to be nothing.

Today as well, I glanced around the office filled with people racking their brains, trying to clear my head of useless thoughts. Truly useless thoughts. Why am I thinking about something I already refused? I held my phone, which hadn’t rung or received any messages since that day, and stood up. I bowed to everyone I made eye contact with and was about to leave when I noticed the PD’s head popping up from below the partition.

“Jio.”

“Yes.”

Today, it’s Jio. Being called by my name is a relatively good start. He’s only a year older than me, but this PD, who’s been on this team for seven years, has a knack for wielding those seven years of seniority all at once. He looks normal, so why does he act like that?

“Why is the scene I told you to cut still there?”

“Well, I rearranged the editing sequence, and it seems more natural…”

“Just do what you’re told. Do I have to worry about this and tell you again?”

Hey, fuck. Just pick one. I took a breath and remained silent. Usually, every team has its own atmosphere. The dress code might be casual. Or, if it’s casual, there might be teams that criticize you for looking sloppy. Each team can freely set its own atmosphere.

While any approach is fine, a team that doesn’t choose a single approach and criticizes based on the PD’s daily mood is a team that surpasses the predictable threshold of misery. Last time, he said, “What will you become if you only do what you’re told? You should be able to make judgments and handle small things on your own to count a year as experience, right?” Usually, I would have at least tried to argue, but…

“I apologize.”

Even that felt too tiring today. It seemed like the PD was at a loss for words at my compliant response. I bowed my head slightly and gathered my laptop, USB, and other belongings before saying,

“I’ll re-edit it and send it tonight.”

“Okay. Do it quickly and send it over.”

“Yes.”

I quickly left, leaving the still clueless PD behind. Today, even responding felt like a chore. Nitpicking is usually about taking your anger out on others, but if you accept it like this, it makes the other person feel awkward. Especially if someone usually talkative like me does this.

And maybe today, my editing will be especially terrible because I’m being pressured by the PD. No matter how much I tried to focus, my mind kept returning to Hyun’s offer and the company. Even though it was pointless to think about it now.

Stepping out of the office, the dark sky seemed even more prominent. It was past 9 pm. I walked through the streets, now clear of the rush hour crowd, and into an alley. The goshiwon was just a temporary place, so being close to the office was my priority. Thanks to that, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to walk around comfortably in jeans like this. I walked deep into the alley, packed with illegally parked cars, and stopped by the convenience store before entering the goshiwon. As always, after contemplating, I ended up grabbing four cans of beer.

I was walking back with my hands full. At the corner of the alley leading to the goshiwon, in front of a tiled wall reflecting the light, stood a familiar silhouette. I was about to pass by without a thought but ended up staring. The person’s face, leaning against the wall in a three-piece suit, was obscured by the darkness, looking more like someone from a back alley than a respectable member of society. I saw a cigarette butt, which I didn’t think he’d dropped, get crushed under my foot. For a moment, I was taken aback and stuttered slightly.

“Wha, what are you doing?”

“I was going to wait in front, but I thought it might look strange.”

As he looked up at the goshiwon sign behind me, his profile was tinged with a reddish glow. Look at him, acting like he didn’t realize that standing around at the entrance of the alley leading to my goshiwon, not even right in front of it, could be burdensome.

“So, why are you here?”

“Because I’m disappointed.”

Saying so, he stepped out into the light. I saw the slightly upturned corners of his eyes droop a little. He’s gotten better at feigning innocence since I last saw him. It might have worked in the past, but now, with his perfectly put-together appearance, that expression just looks ridiculously cute.

“You didn’t even try to stop me that day, what are you disappointed about?”

“You don’t listen if you don’t want to. That day, I thought you wouldn’t.”

I felt the corners of my eyes lift at his presumptuous statement. I turned around again. Don’t engage. Don’t get drawn in. I walked briskly, but his voice followed right behind me. It seemed he was determined to follow today.

“Where are you going?”

“To drink beer.”

I tightened my grip on the rustling plastic bag. Where else would I go? I looked around for a place to kill time and spotted a small playground where only passing adults lingered, the children absent. As my pace noticeably slowed, Hyun followed my gaze and murmured in a surprisingly gentle voice,

“You drink here?”

“That’s you.”

I deliberately jabbed at him, but his smooth face remained unfazed. He simply nodded, shoved both hands into his jacket pockets, and said,

“Is that what you’re going to pick on today?”

The way he responded was so natural, I almost felt like I was back in freshman year. Like we had just left the library.

Dumbfounded, I walked past the playground bench I was about to sit on. Reaching the slide in the center, I nudged the metal end with my toe and asked,

“Should we sit here? Your place of memories.”

“Sure. Go on.”

Ah. His expression just twitched. If he had maintained his composure, I would have told him to get lost, but seeing that made me curious about his next expression.

I sat down on the edge of the square platform next to the slide, unsure of its intended purpose. Hyun sat down close enough that I could almost reach him if I stretched out my arm. I was worried about him getting his suit dirty, but he didn’t seem to mind. He put down the laptop he was carrying, and then the questions continued.

“I thought you’d be carrying your camera.”

“I only rent or bring it out when needed.”

“Ah.”

“Do you know everything I do? How did you even know I lived here?”

“Seungpyo.”

“Ah, that bastard, seriously.”

No. Forget it. I suppressed my rising anger like someone with intermittent explosive disorder. I have a feeling that if Geonjung had asked, he would’ve told him everything. Geonjung’s obliviousness is a strength, but also a weakness. Yes, because he’s so easygoing, even after knowing what happened between Hyun and me, he just went, “Oh, uh,” and let it slide. Let’s just focus on the positive.

Thinking that, I looked to my side and saw Hyun sitting comfortably, supporting his weight with one arm stretched out behind him. Calm down. Calm down. He opened one of the beer cans I had bought and took a refreshing sip. He examined the beer can in his hand, then glanced at the remaining ones.

“You didn’t use to drink this beer.”

“Wow, this is crazy. Seriously.”

“Is it that upsetting to be asked about your beer?”

“No, your attitude… right now… what are you doing?”

“I’m working.”

What kind of work involves being this impolite while taking such a personal interest? Getting angry at this is also my anger management problem. Yes, that’s definitely it.

I sighed and opened a beer can. The cool hiss as the tab popped open, followed by a large gulp, made my chest feel like it was simmering. I frowned deeply, staring at the ground.

“Seungpyo said you picked Link.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I was curious.”

Just as I was about to ask “Curious about what?”, the blunt end of the slide caught my eye. Seungpyo’s words also came back to me, a natural chain reaction of memory.

“That thing back then.”

“Which thing?”

“The thing Seungpyo saw.”

“That Seungpyo, seriously.”

“Was it because of me?”

A long sigh, almost audible, brushed past my ears. Even after hearing that, I kept my gaze fixed forward. Don’t get drawn in. Right now, he’s probably draining the energy from his pale face and putting on a pitiful act. Or…

“If I answer…”

He might draw my attention with that deep voice.

“Will you do the interview?”

“No.”

It’s not that my life is so barren and emotionally empty that I want to hear you say no. I’d rather hear that it was because of me. That you’ve reflected on it a bit, just like I did when I was making such a fuss day and night. And that it made you sad. I took another sip of beer to calm my pounding heart and looked away as I spoke.

“Be honest. If you say it was because of me, I’ll do it.”

“You would have answered even if I didn’t say that.”

“So. What’s the answer?”

“Yes.”

His obviously contrived, listless voice had the strange effect of invigorating me. It’s truly baffling. Feeling a feather-light sensation, I curled my toes and couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Worried about further misunderstandings, I added an explanation.

“I’m not laughing because of you right now. I’m laughing because of that company.”

“Was it that bad?”

“Well. How should I put it…”

There’s a very famous theory. The classification of red oceans and blue oceans. And generally, business ideas that everyone knows about, including me, and make me think, “I want to try that,” are likely to be red oceans.

But sometimes, through beginner’s luck, those who take their first steps accidentally discover a blue ocean. That was my case. Ironically, it was through Link that I, who had never considered investments or startups, stepped into a blue ocean.

Link started as a small group within the university’s filmmaking club. Sungjae, the club president, Junwoo, who was in charge of finances, and me, who had gotten a taste for video and photography.

We scraped together our allowance and part-time job earnings to buy equipment without even thinking of it as an initial investment. We rented a basement room near the school as our studio, painting the walls white until the paint clung to our clothes. We filmed a few videos and took some photos there, and then my half-baked idea sparked it all.

‘Should we offer photo editing and video services to bloggers?’

Most of the work at the advertising agency where I worked part-time during vacations to earn some extra cash was that. Established, glamorous advertising agencies planned TV commercials and promotions, but most of the work for a part-time worker at an online advertising agency was contacting bloggers. Sending messages that started with “Hello, Blogger-nim” and signing contracts. Then, some of the people I got to know said things in passing like, “If you take some photos for me, I’ll pay you,” and so on.

Sungjae saw it as a source of income, a stepping stone to our grand goal of making independent films. So, we easily decided on the name that day. “Link.” Later, when explaining it to others, we’d say our goal was to be a fast and sturdy bridge connecting advertising agencies and influencers.

We started casually, but the work steadily increased. As word spread about the quality of our photos and videos, more and more clients sought us out. We witnessed the beginnings of almost every SNS platform. Over time, some platforms faded away, while others exploded in popularity.

The same happened with our business. We diligently wrote reports to receive government funding, got selected as a core business and received initial investments, and spent countless nights in our small office crammed with equipment. Then came the era of video.

Right before everyone grabbed their share and blossomed, I cluelessly got off at that very juncture where we had toiled so hard. I should have persevered. I realized I should have stayed, even if it meant pushing that Park, the team leader who always picked on me, into the Cheonggyecheon stream after a company dinner, after YouTube, advertising, and influencers began to synergize explosively, even making appearances on TV broadcasts.

One to two hundred thousand won per session. Up to twenty sessions. And the thought of my past being laid bare because of it. I idly picked at the inside of the torn snack bag, thinking. You know that saying, “It was too much money to refuse.” That. Is the reason I don’t want to talk about it because I’m still not fully over it?

I swallowed with a dry throat. Hyun, who I thought would try to persuade me more or use smoother words, simply waited patiently. Is this Hyun’s style? I doubt it. Seungpyo said he’s incredibly eloquent when he works.

“Is this usually how you are when you work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like this… never mind.”

Are you being considerate of me, holding back your words because of something in the past, waiting patiently without pressuring me? I was about to ask, but stopped. Because I knew it wasn’t true.

As his eyes narrowed, the shadows cast by his eyelashes seemed to deepen. Emboldened by the slight buzz from the alcohol, I allowed myself to appreciate his face for the first time in a while. The form of you hidden within the impeccable frame and neat suit.

Sometimes you seem like an infinitely flexible snake, yet when I catch unexpected glimpses of gentleness, I wonder if there’s something fragile within you. There’s a side of me that indulges in such fantasies. Of course, I know it’s just a fantasy. I’ve seen all your heavy, solid sides. All of them. Now I guess I can see what you’re like at work.

Don’t be stubborn. I’ve already come this far because of my stubbornness. I have to take every opportunity I get. Thinking so, I asked weakly,

“How does the interview work?”

“When are you free?”

“What about you?”

“I’ll adjust to your schedule.”

“I have a shoot on Thursday and a meeting the next day, so… I’m usually free from Friday evening. But not always. Honestly, it’s more often unpredictable.”

“Then I’ll assume it’s the weekend. Are you free this Friday evening?”

“I’m free for now.”

“I’ll contact you.”

Hyun stood up first, his long shadow falling over me. With his face indistinguishable in the darkness, he said,

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Go inside. It’s late.”

As he watched me go inside, I blinked repeatedly. Reassured that my face, hidden in the shadows, was just as invisible as his.

Lying on the narrow bed in the goshiwon after the long day, I thought back. The noises from outside the thin door tickled my ears like whispers, but as I focused, they faded into nothingness.

Link’s initial business model was a hybrid between a video production company and an advertising agency. As the influencer market, initially centered around blogs, shifted towards video and personal SNS, we carved out a niche by addressing what traditional advertising agencies couldn’t handle.

I was a core member, but I didn’t know the specifics of the business. Junwoo wrote the business plans and documents for submission, and Sungjae was in charge of meeting people and promoting the company. I just filmed videos for influencers. A lot of them. I filmed so many. Like Choi PD barked at me, I might have been lacking in composition skills, but I was good at capturing emotional and visually appealing footage. I later got pretty good at editing too.

Fifty million won. That’s the amount I received when I handed over my initial stake and left. It was money I hadn’t touched, intending to use it for equipment or a deposit, but it ended up being frittered away. It was also used to cover my father’s hospital bills. Still, I got back more than double my investment, so it was fine. What did the people at the company think when they saw me leaving with such naive thoughts? They must have laughed. How much did they laugh? How pathetic did I seem? And how stupid?

And the fact that Hyun also thought I was still involved in that makes my heart ache even more. I forced myself to acknowledge the reality. It’s over. Once I finish re-editing, I’ll think about the shooting plan. The meeting tomorrow is a bigger problem.

But I couldn’t stop the thoughts from swirling. I’ve never regretted anything so much. If I had just stayed at the company. If I had stayed and sat across from you, handing you a respectable business card.