A Perfectly Normal Romance Chapter 2.1 - I Hate You

The meeting in the office finally ended, but it was incredibly late. 10 PM. My heart skipped a strange beat when I saw the message that had already arrived.

“Will the interview be tonight?”

Even though it was an extremely work-related question, it still had that effect. As I walked, clutching my phone, the assistant writer shuffling next to me in slippers, rubbed their eyes and asked,

“Assistant Director, want a beer tonight?”

“I have plans.”

“With who? A woman?”

“No. A man.”

“Who? Someone you could introduce me to?”

Introduce. He’s popular, has unsettlingly good looks, and a self-centered personality. On top of that, thinking back to the way he organized his books and his tidy desk from when we practically lived together, he seems to have obsessive-compulsive tendencies as well.

“No. His personality is…not good.”

“What about his looks?”

“Personality is more important.”

I replied like that and passed by, then suddenly glanced at my reflection in the glass wall. I stared at my obviously tired eyes and then turned away. What good would looking good do me now? As I walked with that thought, the quick-witted assistant writer seemed to have noticed.

“Are you really going to see a man? Not a woman?”

“No.”

“Why are you so concerned about meeting a friend?”

“Even if he’s a friend, I look too shabby.”

“Why? Our Assistant Director is the most handsome in our team.”

“Our team is… well, you know.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong, can I?”

“No. Isn’t Choi PD the best looking?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Why? Choi PD is tall and proper.”

“His personality is a disaster. Assistant Director, I’ve lived my life hearing ‘You have a temper, huh?’ from other places. But the people here… Ugh. Seriously. They are on the level of ‘Let’s not even bother with them.’ Ah, really. I think Choi PD might have figured out that my status message last week was targeting him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t treat me like dirt today.”

“Let’s stop talking about Choi PD.”

“Whoa. Are you taking his side?”

“It’s not taking sides, it’s that I feel like I’m about to say something too harsh.”

Regardless of being an accomplice or not, Choi PD is too demanding and a common enemy to all of us on the team. A common enemy who only gets along with the main writer. It was as I turned the corner. As if he had heard his name being called, Choi Yoo-seok PD, who had stepped out saying he had to make a phone call, was walking toward us down the hallway.

The assistant writer’s expression brightened, a stark change. I didn’t even have the energy to smile, so I just tried to fix my expression somehow. Fortunately, the assistant writer’s cheerful voice offered a greeting.

“PD-nim, you’ve worked hard today.”

“You too.”

The assistant writer, with their cheerful voice, seemed to have passed his test as his gaze shifted towards me. I tried to smile belatedly, but it seemed to be too late. His piercing glare brushed past me. I bowed my head as if in greeting and ignored him. As my feet slowly moved past him, it felt almost like I was being assaulted by his aura.

Finally, as his footsteps faded away, the assistant writer and I, as if we had agreed beforehand, quickened our pace and said nothing. Only after he was completely gone did they whisper to me.

“Why is PD-nim like that again? I mean, I made a mistake this week, but I don’t know why he’s trying to eat you alive.”

“I should just quit.”

“No! If you leave, Assistant Director, who am I going to comfortably ask about what’s going on on set?”

“The PD?”

“Are you crazy?”

That PD wanting my head is one of the reasons I accepted Hyun’s offer. Something has to happen for me to quit and leave. Ignoring the assistant writer’s protests, I went to my desk and gathered my things. It wasn’t much, just shoving some notes into my pocket and slinging my camera over my shoulder. I greeted my colleagues, their faces pale under the fluorescent lights. Mine probably wasn’t much different.

“I’ll head out first.”

The assistant writer leaned further over the table and whispered to me as I passed.

“Assistant Director, you’re not really going to quit, are you?”

“If I hit the jackpot, I will.”

Hearing my words, the assistant writer waved me off, seemingly relieved. We both knew it wouldn’t happen.

The old streets of Yeongdeungpo were filled with an unfamiliar military smell. A musty odor, not quite a stench, rose from the rain-slicked asphalt. The streets, a strange mix of the impossibly huge Times Square, the adjacent red-light district, various offices, and worn-out signs, creating a peculiar atmosphere, gradually transitioned into more polished buildings as I neared Yeouido.

Crossing a small stream, the boundary became even more distinct. The round dome of the National Assembly building emanated a soft glow, and beside it stood a forest of colorful buildings. I sat blankly at the edge, looking up. The height of the buildings seemed endless.

I often look back on the past whenever I have time. Today, as I waited for Hyun, I found myself recalling memories connected to him. I remembered something Seungpyo had rambled on about. He said the office Hyun was in had an expensive price per square foot. Something like a few thousand. I asked him why he’d settled in such an expensive place, and the answer was unconventional.

‘Companies like that intentionally move into the most expensive places. To show off how much they’re worth.’

The trajectories of our lives, which had been running in different directions, were accelerating even further apart. The strange thing is that amidst all this, an intersection has somehow appeared once again. Who knew you’d ask about my previous company? You hated me working there. But now, it’s helping you with your work. Life is truly unpredictable.

Right on time, I saw a figure walking towards me from afar. Seeing him emerge from the shimmering forest of buildings, I wondered if the time we were close was just an illusion. I stared at the tips of his shoes as he approached with an effortless grace that was different from mine. His features became clearer each time he passed under a streetlight. His jet-black shoes stopped in front of me, and we were silent for a moment. I was the one who moved first, breaking the silence.

“Where should we go?”

“That way.”

“I thought this kind of thing was done secretly in hotel rooms or something.”

“If you make a big fuss, people think it’s something important and they’ll dig deeper.”

Hyun, with his briefcase tucked under his arm, walked ahead and entered a restaurant. It wasn’t a place where you had to take off your shoes. We sat down in a booth, and he, already scanning the menu, asked,

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah. You?”

At my answer, Hyun lightly nodded.

“Sort of.”

I wondered why he’d even asked, considering the amount of food he ordered. Perhaps it didn’t matter since it was on the company card. He seemed to have ordered everything available, from stew to fried dishes, filling the table. I asked again,

“I already ate. Isn’t this too much?”

“Is that what you call eating?”

He gave me a somewhat different question in return. Flustered by his glance, I raised my hand and touched my face here and there. Did I look that bad?

Thinking back, I remembered picking at snacks during a long, drawn-out meeting. Choi PD asking, “Got any ideas?” and me suggesting something, only to be met with his scornful, “Is that all you’ve got?” while I nibbled on a few more snacks.

As I remembered, I wordlessly picked up a spoon and scooped up some broth. I let it cool a little, but I only blew on it once before drinking it, and as soon as it touched my lips…

“Ouch. Hot! Ah…”

“I told you to let it cool.”

“When did you say that?”

I gently rubbed my burned lip with my tongue and tried to enunciate clearly. He just watched me burn myself. I muttered pointedly,

“You eat too.”

“No. Let’s just work.”

He opened the briefcase he had set down beside him and took something out. He placed a thin notebook and a fountain pen on the table, then turned on the recording function on his phone. Recording? It made me feel uneasy.

“Do you really need to record that?”

“I need to review what I miss. I won’t share it anywhere.”

“I’ve been thinking about what to say, but all I can think of are curses. Or really trivial memories. I doubt any of it will be useful.”

“Just tell me the curses you want to say and the trivial memories. I’ll ask follow-up questions if I have any.”

His long fingers grasped the fountain pen, and I thought he was about to start, but then he gestured with his eyes towards the rolled omelet on the plate.

“Eat while I organize my questions.”

He started writing. I watched, fascinated, as neat letters formed on the blank page. I started eating the rolled omelet and the stir-fried dish next to it. I blew on the stew carefully, afraid of burning myself again. After a few more bites, Hyun, having written a few numbered sentences on the white paper, looked up with his dark eyes and asked,

“Why did you leave your company?”

“Internal conflicts.”

“You have to explain in more detail. Meeting twenty times means going over every little detail of the past in the interviews.”

“Right. I guess so.”

There’s no such thing as easy money in life. It seems I can’t just get interview fees for nothing. Before speaking, I cleared my throat and organized my thoughts. Why did I leave the company?

“There was someone my brother newly brought into the company. There were other problems too, but… things I was concerned about. Hold on. Let me organize my thoughts. You know more about our company now anyway.”

“In terms of figures.”

“Figures are enough, aren’t they? Anyway.”

I have to tell a story worth the interview fee. At least as much as the food laid out here. I touched and released my burned lower lip with my finger as I slowly began to speak.

“Honestly, I don’t know much about the company structure or anything like that. Junwoo would know that well. He was in charge of all the submissions to the government, contracts, legal advice, and all that. Brother Sungjae went around meeting people and introducing the company. I was mostly busy going back and forth filming influencers, editing, and being cooped up inside. So I just trusted and followed… I trusted what Brother Sungjae was doing. Then there was a lot of friction.”

“You two were inseparable.”

The emotionally charged words struck my ears. For a moment, I stared blankly, wondering what he meant, but Hyun across from me had a confident attitude, as if asking why I was looking at him like that. He even intensified his dark gaze, glaring at me. Inseparable… How could he use such an expression? After a tense staring contest, where I could only open and close my mouth, I asked in disbelief,

“We’re supposed to be talking about work, right?”

At my irritated words, Hyun’s mouth twisted. It quickly closed again though. It seemed even he realized that what he just said was clearly a personal remark. He looked at me sideways before averting his gaze. Instead, his wrist moved. Tap, tap. The fountain pen moved, marking dots on the paper, but it hadn’t yet formed any words. It seemed I had to say something that would be written there. A slight pressure tightened my chest. The moving fingers stopped again.

“This company, honestly, its operation system is a mess, and it doesn’t have any patents or technology. As I said before, it’s hard to evaluate its worth. I wouldn’t have even bid on it.”

“You’re so great. Then why did you choose it?”

“Why? Never mind. Who initially came up with Link’s contract system?”

“What contract?”

“The initial contract form was an exclusive contract, telling influencers to only promote our stuff. Link’s game-changer was this point. I heard they eased the conditions, allowing influencers to take on more contracts.”

“That’s right.”

“They didn’t have to exclusively promote our products. They could naturally insert them when creating other content. In exchange, the pay was lower. They secured hundreds of influencers by guaranteeing autonomy, listed them, and provided the list to advertisers. ‘We have a wide pool. Choose a few. We’ll connect you with all of them. But it’s not an exclusive contract. Promotion will be conducted alongside other companies’ products. Therefore, the unit price is lower.’ They were able to circulate the list to smaller businesses with that lowered unit price.”

“That was something we all discussed and implemented.”

“Still, who first brought up this business model? Do you remember?”

Hyun’s fountain pen drew a few circles. Then, it connected them with lines, creating vertices, and then branching out into more lines. I sighed shallowly, rubbed my forehead with my fingers, and then with difficulty, started to speak.

“Well, everyone says they said it, but as far as I remember, I was the first one to bring it up.”

“So it was you.”

“In my memory. Everyone will claim they did it.”

“So it was you, right?”

His gently prodding voice sought confirmation once more. I responded with a low hum, “Yeah.” Now, Brother Sungjae goes around promoting it as if it’s a business model he came up with…

“I was the one who was in direct contact with the influencers. In the beginning, since we were just a few recent college grads putting our faces together, they didn’t really trust us. It wasn’t at a scale where we could ask for exclusive promotions, so I asked them something. Instead of dedicating an entire video to one product, how about grouping products into categories and introducing various items? Even though the individual pay would be lower, there would be more freedom since there wouldn’t be specific information or instructions they’d have to include.”

“What was their reaction?”

“I brought it up casually, and they all responded positively. And the listing wasn’t presented to advertisers in a fancy presentation format from the beginning. We had so many small contracts, so as we showed them, it became possible for them to choose multiple people. It developed into that format.”

“So, you were the one with the direct relationships with the influencers.”

“That’s because I was the one going out for the filming.”

“I see.”

“I see?”

Hyun muttered to himself and continued writing something in his notebook. Even though it was Korean, it was as hard to decipher as English cursive. As I watched his hand movements, I moved my spoon on my own. He was silent for a while as I took a few bites, then spoke again as I swallowed.

“The remaining staff doesn’t have stable relationships with the influencers.”

“I thought they were getting along well.”

“Superficially, yes. But the survey results weren’t good.”

“Why?”

“That’s the problem. I saw the company’s core competencies as two things: filming staff capable of providing superior video quality, unlike other places; and extensive contracts with influencers. Did you do the filming with your own camera, by any chance?”

“Yes. They had equipment there too, but I preferred using what I was used to.”

“There are a lot of complaints about the decreased quality of the VCRs from the freelance videographers they hired after you left.”

“I see.”

Even just hearing about it felt like it was digging into a wound, a company I tried not to look back on. I tried to answer casually, playing with my spoon, but eventually, I voiced my inner thoughts.

“I heard things weren’t going well, but I guess it was true.”

“Are you happy?”

“Hmm…”

Today, Hyun asked in a soft tone that seemed to melt my heart. Is this his working style? Because he waited and listened as if my words were important, I felt like saying all sorts of things. Looking at the edge of the bubbling stew, I nodded slightly.

“Would I be happy if they were doing well without me? I hoped that things would go wrong somehow because I wasn’t there.”

“They actually are.”

“A lot?”

“In many ways.”

Click. The cap of the fountain pen closed. Is it over already?

“For today, since it’s the first day of the interview, let’s finish eating and go.”

“If today is the first, are there more?”

“Yes.”

“Will we come here next time too?”

“No. I’ll contact you again.”

Hyun, finally picking up his chopsticks, spoke in a casual tone.

“Is it okay if I meet with some of your former colleagues?”

“People from the company?”

“Influencers. The ones you filmed.”

“I think that’s fine. But why?”

“I was trying to figure out why the survey responses were the way they were, but after hearing your story, I think I understand. I’ll talk to them face-to-face.”

“Okay… So, is it really over for today?”

“Yeah. Eat comfortably.”

At his words, I blew on the hot food and looked up slightly. Looking at his downcast eyes, seemingly focused on his meal, I thought, ‘How can I eat comfortably in front of you?’

Despite that thought, I ended up eating almost everything. It was now nearing dawn. Stepping out of the restaurant, we checked and found that we were going in completely opposite directions. It was time to part ways. Standing next to Hyun as he checked the time, I suddenly couldn’t resist the urge to ask,

“You know, that company…”

“Yeah.”

“Should I have stayed and endured it?”

“Well…”

‘You should have,’ or ‘You’re stupid for not enduring it.’ I expected such obvious responses. But Hyun, unexpectedly, replied calmly,

“That’s what we’ll find out.”

I know that even that response was very generous.

The late-night bus was empty. I walked to the back, plopped down, and occupied two spacious seats. The light bus, with so few passengers, flew down the road and started crossing the bridge. As I carefully checked my messages, I remembered the one from my father. I sent a short text, and he immediately called. He’s still awake at this hour? I closed my sleepy eyes and answered the phone, putting it to my ear.

“You’re still up?”

―You’re coming home at this hour?

“Yes.”

Before I could even say, “It just happened…”, my father said in a blunt tone,

―So why did you quit a perfectly good job?

“I think you forgot, but you weren’t very happy with me working at that company before.”

I didn’t know his memory would be embellished like this. I still remember him saying, “Everyone else is going to big corporations, so why are you wasting your time there, sleeping in snatches and not preparing for certifications?” Why are memories so selective? It’s the same with relationships. Just like forgetting all the bad times and only remembering the good ones every time you see someone.

―It was better than this. Staying out this late.

“I’ll work hard and make my directorial debut. Did you take your medicine?”

―I took it.

“Don’t forget again. I’m going to do well, very well.”

As I babbled these words, what happened just a few hours ago came to mind: the image of the assistant writer completely relieved and reassured by my words, “I’ll quit if I hit the jackpot.” I let out an empty chuckle, finished with a goodbye, and hung up. Even though it was dawn, patches of light were spreading outside the bus window. I couldn’t shake the feeling of crawling into the lowest depths of that graveyard of lights.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

I had a dream for the first time in a while. A colorful dream, from the fresh green of new leaves and scattered sunlight to the darkness that burrowed and gnawed its way underground. Something like the incessant clicking of a shutter relentlessly pounded at my temples, and the moment that sound exploded, threatening to burst my head open, I woke up.

My sweat-drenched body lay slightly askew on the narrow bed in the goshiwon. I stared at the stained ceiling, the nature of the faint marks unknown, and pressed my hand against my neck and skin. A clammy moisture clung to my palm. The sounds of constant movement echoed from the goshiwon hallway just beyond my head.

I knew I’d have trouble sleeping at least once. I sat up, feigning composure. Perhaps from being tense all night, the back of my neck and head felt stiff. As I touched my neck and moved it from side to side, my knotted muscles twisted as if screaming.

My mind was still hazy. I entered the cramped bathroom, threw off my clothes, and turned on the water. Perhaps because of the relentless stream of cold water, a piercing pain shot through my temples, as if splitting my head in two. I stared at the water swirling down the drain before turning off the faucet. Is it because of the second interview coming up? A dream, saturated with the colors of the past, weighed me down, crushing me little by little.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Maybe this was my punishment for making excuses to my father last week about making my directorial debut. That thought wouldn’t leave my mind throughout the sluggish planning meeting. When Choi PD criticized even the topics that came up during the writers’ brainstorming session, an uncomfortable silence fell over the meeting room.

I forced myself to focus, pretending to underline my notes as I looked at the assistant writer across from me doing the same. But my mind was still adrift, floating in empty space. My tangled thoughts were a complete jumble. I think part of the reason my mind was so stirred up was the two million won Hyun had just deposited. If I do this a few more times and have some breathing room… At that moment, Choi PD’s eyes, after scanning each person one by one, landed on me.

“Assistant Director, what do you think? Any ideas?”

“Well… how about finding first loves?”

I felt everyone’s gaze subtly converge and then disperse after my thoughtless remark. Blood rushed to my face for a moment. I should have just suggested another food show. Or cooking, or travel.

Choi PD’s expression was particularly telling, so I added an excuse.

“I saw a movie last week. The newly released movie about finding first loves.”

“Of course you’d watch a movie like that.”

What kind of a 29-year-old assistant director at an outsourced production company watches first love movies? I definitely got the feeling it wasn’t a compliment. Did he want to say something like, ‘That’s so pathetic,’ or something?

“That’s why you can’t make your directorial debut.”

This PD, who wants to expose social injustice yet lacks any social skills himself, has a habit of blurting out whatever comes to mind. And sometimes, he hits a nerve. My cheek stung, and I closed my mouth. Fortunately, the main writer stepped in and steered the meeting back on track.

“Let’s take it easy this week. It’s tiring to always deal with heavy topics, so let’s go to a famous local restaurant. The story and the response to this week’s <Suspicious Neighbor> were good, but some viewers are showing signs of fatigue.”

The idea of playing it safe with a food show this week came up again, and the PD seemed to have run out of ideas to squeeze out. People started talking busily, discussing restaurants they’d been to. I was about to drift off into my own thoughts, observing them with unfocused eyes, when…

“So, Assistant Director, any recommendations?”

“I… heard from my parents about grilled eel in Goseong.”

“Who’s going to go all the way there? Will you go, Assistant Director?”

And so, after being criticized one more time, the planning meeting ended. The jerk of a PD criticized me for suggesting a faraway place, yet in the end, he chose a restaurant serving a hoe platter in Sokcho. The assistant writer, who had to go on a preliminary survey, had a look of utter despair.

After wrapping up the editing meeting like that and checking my schedule, I headed off to my new appointment.

I arrived a little early and took a seat at a table on the cafe’s terrace. I gazed briefly at the people passing by beyond the terrace railing.

People’s tastes don’t change easily. My first movie was the kind I watched last week. It had a decent narrative and story, and it ended with a happy ending. If I were to look it up again now, it was quite popular and had its merits, but that’s all.

Sometimes, when I have nothing to do, I put on that movie, drink beer, and fall asleep. Maybe it’s because it was the first one I saw, but if a movie is more intense than that, I think the story is exaggerated, and if it’s less intense, I think it’s bland. It unintentionally became the standard for my taste. I should have refined my taste with more masterpieces.

Hyun, whom I was waiting for, arrived. The air itself seemed to change just by his presence. Looking at his sleek, well-ironed blue-tinged shirt and the cuffs fitting snugly around his wrists, I self-consciously checked my own attire: jeans, a white t-shirt, and a cardigan. We sat facing each other, our appearances contrasting sharply.

I quietly observed him as he took things out of his sleek, expensive-looking leather briefcase. I’ve thought this since we were young: every single one of his movements is calm yet precise. Amazingly so. Hyun briefly took a phone call, and during that time, I continued the thought I was having earlier.

Still, I think I’m pretty decent… To use an analogy, I think I have the box office power of a 3 million viewer movie. If things go well, I could even reach 5 million. But Hyun is blockbuster level. Today, looking at his long, seemingly delicate neck tilting slightly, his arms exposed as he rolled up his sleeves because he was hot, and the shape of his defined muscles, I thought to myself…

He said he would only ask a few short questions today, and he was done quickly. We talked about the influencers we would meet next time, and as Hyun took out his laptop to take notes, I suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu. Where was it? We studied together quite a bit. Among those times… I think it was the library.

‘Where are the guys?’

‘Getting late-night snacks.’

‘Wasn’t the cup ramen we just had a late-night snack?’

‘Seungpyo wants chicken and took the guys. Come if you want.’

‘No, thanks. Let’s go in.’

‘It’s stuffy inside. I want to stay out here for a bit.’

‘Then let’s solve the problem I asked about earlier. Which one was it?’

‘That one? Hold on. Here it is.’

He opened the textbook to a problem that was difficult even after looking at the answer. Hyun, sitting next to me, pulled his chair closer. I glanced around, but no one seemed to be looking at us strangely. They probably thought he was just helping me with the problem. Even so, was it my oversensitivity that made him feel too close?

Hyun, looking at the problem I pointed out, clicked the back of his mechanical pencil, stretched out his arm, and pulled a notebook closer. I watched as he scribbled down formulas, and then…

‘There’s a formula for this. Don’t you know the sum and difference formulas?’

‘I asked because I didn’t know.’

It was when I retorted, bristling at his teasing. The long, white hand that was moving on the notebook reached over to my textbook. He scribbled something on the white margin and then pulled his hand back.

It’s nice being alone with you.

And then he nonchalantly went back to writing formulas in his notebook. I stared at the words left on the margin of the textbook and his profile, which I couldn’t believe had written those words, and then forced my gaze back to the formulas in his notebook. He had already moved on to a long explanation, too late for me to follow.

‘Do you understand?’

‘You’re smart.’

‘Do you get it now?’

He grinned and tore out the page from his notebook with the formula he’d just written and placed it in my textbook on the page with the problem.

‘Here.’

Now, let’s think. In a situation like that, who could possibly focus on studying? This means that my C grade wasn’t because I was lazy or anything.

“Hyun.”

It felt like it had been a long time since I’d said his name out loud. Hyun’s fingertips, which had been moving across the glass table, paused and then started moving again. Did my voice sound strange? No, it didn’t. I’m incredibly good at controlling myself in front of Hyun. Because I didn’t want to be any more pathetic.

“Before you dated me, did you really not date at all?”

“What?”

“Were you just receiving confessions? Was there anyone? In high school?”

“…What’s with you asking that now?”

His black eyes pierced me. A chill emanated from his sharp gaze and dark eyebrows. Looking at the tip of the fountain pen bending under his grip, I stirred my ade, pretending to be distracted.

“I can ask now because it’s nothing anymore.”

“Cut it out.”

With those words, Hyun, his lips pressed tightly together, abruptly stood up. I was momentarily struck by his height and physique. He tucked his briefcase under his arm, his muscles taut. His tone was clipped, as if he’d cut off all emotion.

“I’m leaving.”

His retreating steps were even and measured. Following glances naturally clung to his back. I forced my gaze away from his undeniably eye-catching form and stirred my melted ade, creating a swirling vortex in the center. Then, I stopped.

I couldn’t ask about his past relationships before because we were dating. Anyway, my curiosity remained unresolved.

Was I the first melodramatic movie screened in Hyun’s life?

You were my first.

Taking a sip of my stirred drink, I looked around the cafe, with its scattered plants.

Because the first movie I saw was moderately successful, I can watch anything now. But with relationships, because I met you, a huge blockbuster from the start, it’s a little tough.

What about you?

Did you forget me easily? How easy was it?

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

I got a haircut. I was enjoying the feeling of my trimmed bangs tickling my forehead as I walked down the street when… The wisdom of our ancestors is truly remarkable. Once a solar term passes, the weather changes dramatically, as if passing through a gate. Now, the sunlight began to hold a warm energy.

Feeling the warmth gathering in my outstretched palm, I stood at the crosswalk. A large clothing advertisement dominated the bus stop next to me. Should I buy some clothes? Come to think of it, I don’t know when I last bought any. Wow, when was it? I can’t remember.

I was lost in thought when my phone vibrated as I crossed the street. It was Daeun. A little puzzled, I quickened my pace and stepped onto the sidewalk. What was up with a sudden call, not even a text? I answered, and a calm voice called my name.

―Mr. Jio.

“Why so formally?”

―Listen…

“You need a favor.”

―Yeah.

“What is it? Just say it.”

―Are you close with Hyun again these days?

“No.”

I firmly refused, not knowing what favor she was going to ask. It was the truth, even before it was a refusal. Close? Who and who? The two you’re thinking of are exes who spectacularly imploded.

“Who told you that?”

―No one, but Seungpyo said you’ve been seeing him a lot because of work, so I thought you made up.

“No, first of all, there’s nothing for us to make up.”

Because there’s nothing left between us.

―Oh, come on, you’re doing it again.

“Really.”

―Anyway, since you see him often these days, could you ask him if he’s open to a blind date?

“A blind date? Who for?”

―My coworker set me up on two blind dates, and this friend saw Hyun’s picture and went crazy, begging me to ask. She said it’s okay if she gets rejected, just please ask him.

“Then tell her she got rejected.”

―Ah, but still. It feels wrong to just say that without even asking.

I’m not really comfortable asking that…?

“But are you okay with setting Hyun up on a blind date?”

―Why?

“You liked Hyun.”

―Ohh.

Daeun, who once considered this her biggest worry, spoke in a truly nonchalant tone.

―He’s not meant to be mine.

‘He’s not meant to be mine.’ 

Even though it wasn’t directed at me, it somehow stung. Did it bother me because I still hadn’t let go?

Why is everyone saying things that cut me to the core these days? I stopped walking and looked up at the sky between the buildings.

‘God, are you doing this because you know I haven’t moved on? Are you telling me to know my place and give up?’

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re too good for him.”

―Oh, whatever. My friend has a good family background, she’s pretty, and she’s smart and capable at work. I think she and Hyun would get along well.

“I wonder if they’d even have time to date, being so similar.”

―That’s true. I wonder if she clocks 100 work hours a week like Hyun.

“100 hours?”

―Yeah. Seungpyo told me. I asked him if he’d contacted Hyun recently, and he said Hyun’s in a project now and working 100 hours a week. He said Hyun sees you the most these days, so I asked him to drop a hint.

100 hours a week? There are 24 hours in a day. Even after flexing and unflexing all my fingers, the calculation was difficult. Subtracting the minimum hours for sleep and commute time… It was unbelievable. I finally understood why Hyun’s face seemed sharper every time I saw him. He wasn’t always dressed up; he was always coming straight from work… No wonder he always ordered so much food when we met. It wasn’t for me; it was because he was hungry.

Is that any way to live? For future interviews, I should just answer quickly and let him go. So I can be at peace and he can live like a human being. This isn’t some other feeling, but a natural empathy and compassion stemming from the shared experience of living in the same society.

―So, just ask him once. I’ll buy you a microwave when I move, okay?

“No, Daeun, I’ll buy the microwave…”

―Then I’ll buy you an air fryer. Jio, love you always!

Before I could respond, she hung up.

‘Daeun, I can buy a microwave myself. And an air fryer too!’ 

I shouted belatedly, but it was too late.

Oh, whatever. I wouldn’t ask him that even if I were crazy. I already asked him the crazy question, “Who were your exes?” out of nowhere, and now this? Even I think that’s too much.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I entered the restaurant. Geonjung said it was a fusion Chinese pub. It was my first time there, but the food was clean and quite good.

It was still relatively early in the afternoon, so there were even fewer occupied tables. I spotted Geonjung sitting by the wall and sat across from him. I took off my light jacket and placed it on the seat next to me, then looked at the menu. Feeling a strange gaze, I looked up. I mouthed, “What?” and Geonjung’s eyes were fixed somewhere on my forehead.

“Did you get your hair done?”

“Yeah. Does it look okay? Tell me where.”

“Looks good.”

He turned his attention back to the menu. My gaze followed. Cold Chinese noodles, tomato and egg stir-fry, mapo tofu… After carefully scanning the menu, we placed our order. As Geonjung handed me a wet towel, he suddenly asked,

“I haven’t had time to ask with you being so busy lately…”

“What?”

“You left your place after breaking up with that guy, right? Didn’t it work out?”

“Ah, that.”

I hadn’t expected him to ask about that, so I awkwardly moved my hand near my ear.

“Yeah, it didn’t work out.”

I swallowed the cold water, recalling the already lukewarm emotions from that time. Looking back, he was quite a decent person. He was a researcher, quiet and thoughtful. He said he’d understand if I came home late. Well, anyone can say that, but… His appearance was also quite my type.

“You said he was good.”

“I thought so too.”

So I thought I could love him this time. But it didn’t work.

It was already in the past anyway. Contact dwindled after that, but I guess it’s over now. Geonjung nodded lightly, avoiding eye contact as he flipped through the menu again. Then he asked,

“So, are you two getting back together?”

“…What are you talking about?”

“Why’d you get your hair done?”

“No, seriously. That’s really prejudiced and discriminatory. Do gay people only get their hair done when they’re trying to seduce someone?”

“That’s not what I meant. Never mind.”

“What do you mean, never mind? Do you think you can just say anything, Geonjung? Look me in the eye.”

I pressed him, but Geonjung stubbornly stared at the menu. After that, whenever I brought it up, he just pretended not to know. Very stubbornly.

˙✧˖🎥⋆˙

Our interview today was similar to the others. Slow-paced, not much talking, asking and answering a few things, and a lot of eating. Every interview is a luxurious feast. Now, I even look forward to what we’ll eat each time we meet, without a shred of shame. Today, it was a beef restaurant, a place I always passed by but never thought I’d enter.

The staff member who grilled the meat meticulously sliced it and arranged the pieces neatly on the grill. The rich, savory aroma of sirloin filled the air. Usually, I’d be busy giving short answers and focusing on eating, but today, a sudden pang of sympathy struck me. So, I…

“You eat a lot.”

I picked up a perfectly grilled piece of beef and placed it on Hyun’s plate before taking any for myself. Hyun stared at the piece of meat that had appeared on his plate. He probably hadn’t expected it to land there. Because of his unwavering stare, I practically dropped the meat, rather than placing it gently.

Trying to ignore the sudden stiffness in the air, I shoved a piece of meat from the grill into my mouth and chewed. The hot meat seared my mouth.

“Hiss. Ow.”

Tears welled up as I mumbled, and as I poured myself some water, a look of exasperation followed me. I rubbed my eyes fiercely and snapped,

“What are you looking at?”

“Then eat without crying.”

He never lets me win. I glared at him, but Hyun remained unfazed. He simply continued eating quietly, with perfect posture, a model of dining etiquette.

We effortlessly polished off 4 servings. Hyun didn’t bother hiding his fatigue. The way he slowly wiped his hands with the wet towel seemed even slower than usual. I watched the blue veins on the back of his hand branch up his arm, then suddenly looked up.

His tired eyes looked slightly softened. Other guys look haggard when they’re tired, but why does he just look sexier? His skin, pale and firm, looked even more supple, as if he would accept anything I said, radiating a sense of vulnerability. Even though that’s impossible.

Because we’d been sitting by the grill, the outside air felt a little chilly. Watching him light a cigarette as we stepped out of the restaurant, I thought,

‘I still want to squeeze into any opening I find with you. Am I crazy?’

At that moment, Daeun’s words came to mind, unnecessarily: that she had the perfect person to introduce to Hyun. My discomfort at her words, and the flicker of hope I’d felt.

Will the day come when I can ask such a thing without feeling this way? When my feelings are completely resolved?

It doesn’t seem like that day will come soon. Then I should try to force it. I should at least make the effort.

“Hyun.”

“Yeah.”