Can Murder Be a Workplace Accident? Chapter 2.5

“Take the handkerchief.”

A piece of white cloth hung at the edge of his vision. Min Isak, still collapsed on the floor, offered the handkerchief with one hand.

“You can just go to the restroom and wash up.”

“Don’t want to take it? Why? Because it’s from me? Do you think I’m pitying you?”

The hand holding the handkerchief trembled. He said nothing.

“If you have that much pride, then quit the gallery. I’ll give you a hefty severance package.”

“I cannot do that.”

Click-clack. The sole of the shoe heading toward the office kicked the floor tile nervously.

“If you’re not going to use it, throw it away. Someone else touched it, so seeing it will probably just piss me off.”

Behind the turned back of Namgung Tree, Min Isak dropped the handkerchief. His attitude was one of indifference, whether it was accepted or not. The thin piece of cloth rode the air and slid softly to the floor. It slipped under Namgung Tree’s shoe, as if pleading with him not to. Namgung Tree stomped on the handkerchief as if it weren’t his own. A black shoe print remained.

“I apologize. There was a small friction with Chief Min in the hallway.”

The atmosphere in the office was a mess. Having shouted at the top of their lungs in the hallway, with only a steel and glass door in between, it was impossible that they hadn’t heard.

The employees were busy just staring silently at their monitors.

“Who is in charge of administrative duties?”

From an inner desk, exhibition designer Baek Girim reluctantly stood up. Walking toward her, Namgung Tree took a card out of the wallet in his jacket.

“It seems it’s too late for a verbal apology… This is my personal card. Please eat whatever you’d like for lunch.”

Her eyes narrowed at the card that had been dropped on her desk. After a moment of gauging whether it was okay to accept it, she picked up the card. She was about to lift her head and say thank you, but Namgung Tree had already gone into the director’s office.

“How terrifying.”

“Did you hear him yelling?”

The employees who had been sitting at their desks swarmed to Baek Girim’s desk. It had been a chaotic Monday morning, with the owner’s intrusion and the fight between the director and the chief curator.

“Ms. Lee Jihye, you’ve never seen anything like this before, have you?”

Baek Girim spoke to the intern, Lee Jihye. She nodded, her eyes wide like a rabbit’s.

“It’s not uncommon, it happens occasionally. It’s just that this time it’s more violent because the director is a man.”

“I suppose so. Director Lee Yang-hee and the previous chief curator used to make abusive remarks and even raise their hands to Chief Min all the time.”

Song-hee chimed in.

“Right, right. But back then, we were fine because Chief Min covered for us… Our chief curator seems cold on the outside, but he has a soft spot for others.”

Baek Girim felt that the future was bleak. It was a relief that he was at least the type of person to throw down a card and say sorry for shouting, but if this kind of thing repeated every time, her meals would feel heavy in her stomach.

The curators, having reached the same conclusion as her, all sighed in unison.

“But still. Why does someone as capable as the chief curator work here?”

The intern Lee Jihye suddenly interjected.

“He’d be treated better if he went to another gallery, wouldn’t he?”

Baek Girim, Song-hee, and the rest of the curators and junior curators looked at each other and then burst out laughing as if they had seen a comedy show.

It would have been natural to get annoyed at the childish question, but they showed a rare magnanimity. It was also the role of a senior in the field to shatter the fantasies filling the intern’s head.

“The art world is all intertwined. It’s all the same field, and the same guys are the same guys. Ms. Lee Jihye, what was your major again? Ceramics? Then you know K Pottery Gallery, right? Do you know who the director is there? It’s Master Lee Jeong-ok’s daughter. Her son-in-law is the president of Gyojeon Mulsan, the largest pottery materials supplier in Korea. You know who Master Lee Jeong-ok’s father is without me telling you, right?”

“Professor Lee Jun-hak…”

Lee Jihye answered in a barely audible voice.

“That’s right. The father of Korean pottery history. He was also the director of the National Museum of Korea and served as the head of the Cultural Heritage Administration. He’s the most influential person when it comes to designating intangible cultural properties, so even the most renowned masters are in a frenzy because they can’t send him gifts during the New Year and Chuseok holidays. Master Lee Jeong-ok’s second son followed in his grandfather’s footsteps and is a professor at S University, and her third daughter studied in Japan and is now the head of the ceramics department at Hangang Auction. Don’t you feel anything listening to this?”

A string of stories about the cartel connected across generations was laid out. Lee Jihye clamped her mouth shut.

The example of K Gallery was extreme, but it was enough for her to understand that a single connection could tie everything together through family, region, and school. Even among the employees of Gallery Spring, there were quite a few connected by school ties.

“If he storms out, who’s going to take him in? The gallery business is all about connections anyway, do you think anyone would offer him even a part-time job, being scared of Printemps?”

Song-hee chimed in from beside Baek Girim.

“He could just open his own gallery.”

A strange sense of defiance arose. From what she had observed as an intern, Chief Min was skilled. He was fundamentally different from other curators who only spouted pretentious theories and pointed fingers.

“Hahaha.”

They burst out laughing again.

“What were you listening to, Ms. Lee Jihye? He can’t even get a part-time job, and you want him to open a gallery? If Printemps decides to sabotage him, he won’t be able to secure a single painting.”

“That’s right. My mom told me to build connections with Madam Kim before she sets up a gallery for me, so that’s why I came here. Half the curators here are probably in the same boat as me.”

The employees who caught Song-hee’s glance shrugged their shoulders with awkward expressions. It was surprising for an intern, but the things they were telling her were open secrets that could only be heard on the industry front lines.

“Since he’s so capable, couldn’t he be specially recruited as a public official if he set his mind to it?”

“Oh dear… Easy for you to say. A public official.”

There were also public officials who worked as curators in museums and art galleries under the title of curatorial researchers. She recalled the people who had competed for Lee Youhwan at Hangang Auction a few days ago.

“Such a divine position…”

As soon as the topic of public officials came up, jeers erupted from all sides. Her face turned bright red with embarrassment.

“Didn’t the news report that there was a fight at Seohyun recently between the S University and H University factions over who would become the director?”

“Yes. It must be a sensitive issue because who becomes the director from which faction determines not only promotions but also the hiring of new public officials, temporary contract workers, and even public service researchers.”

“I’m jealous. Hankuk University of Arts can’t even get to the interview stage.”

“Getting cut at the document screening is better. Imagine getting your hopes up after passing the interview, only to meet a professor at the interview who you clashed with at a conference. They don’t ask you a single question and act like a spring breeze to the pre-selected candidate, it really turns your stomach.”

The employees chattered and giggled as if they wanted her to hear.

“So isn’t it amazing that our chief curator, as a graduate of Hankuk University of Arts, has climbed to the highest position he can possibly reach right now?”

Seeing the intern’s stiff face, Baek Girim sneered. From the outside, it seemed like a noble profession working with artworks, but on the inside, it was a densely woven spiderweb. If you misstep even once, you can’t escape no matter how much you struggle.

“So, Ms. Lee Jihye, if you don’t have money or connections, and you don’t have the grit to endure like our chief curator, then quit quickly. There are tons of people who can’t get out and are stuck bouncing between intern and junior level with a salary around two million won even after they’re over forty.”

It might have sounded like a taunt to Lee Jihye, but Baek Girim’s words were self-deprecating. A few curators nodded, thinking they would have changed professions if they were 10 years younger.

Squeak. The door opened and Min Isak came in. He walked with a blank expression and sat down at his desk. At the same time, the gathered curators naturally returned to their own desks to prepare for the afternoon meeting.

There had been such loud shouting outside, but everyone acted as if it were a normal day. Lee Jihye got goosebumps. She watched Min Isak waiting for a printout from the printer with a strange expression, then returned to her own desk.

Meanwhile, Namgung Tree was sitting at his desk, glaring at his poor watch. He had ordered him to bring the documents in thirty minutes, but he was very reluctant to see the face of the person he had just choked and threatened.

It wasn’t that he was scared of being sued…

Namgung Tree looked down in disgust at the object that had risen powerfully between his legs.

“What is this.”

In a workplace where everyone except him and Min Isak was female, he had almost made a huge fool of himself.

They say that the aggressive desire to strike an enemy’s neck is connected to the desire for dominance to press down an opponent in sex. But there was no need to prove that theory with his own body, was there?

“I’m not a kid, I shouldn’t get confused.”

He sat in the chair and let his body go limp.

Knock, knock. There was a knock on the door. He quickly crossed his legs, which had been spread wide. He straightened his back and cleared his throat. He looked at his wristwatch.

It was time for Min Isak to come in.

“Come in.”

While his shoes crossed the director’s office, Namgung Tree sat on the sofa with his hands clasped over his knees, pretending to be lost in thought. The target of his violence, who had also made him aroused… He was genuinely uncomfortable.

Min Isak stopped walking beside the desk. Unable to just awkwardly stare at the tips of his shoes, he raised his eyes. Namgung Tree’s gaze quickly passed over Min Isak’s face and moved to the window next to him, and the scenery coming in through the window. He smelled of soap, as if he had just washed up.

“This is the proposal for the fall exhibition you requested.”

He pulled a file from the bundle of documents he was holding and placed it on the desk. The exhibition title was printed in large Gothic font. He tapped the proposal with his finger.

“What about the report meeting?”

“It is scheduled for two o’clock this afternoon in the fourth-floor conference room.”

“Alright. I’ll try to be there on time.”

That was the end of the conversation.

There was nothing more to talk about, and nothing more to be angry about. The same must have been true for the other person. Besides, it was obvious that someone who had just been choked and threatened would not want to be in the same space for a while, but Min Isak was hesitating in front of Namgung Tree’s desk.

“What is it?”

He finally couldn’t stand it and lifted his head.

“This is… the handover material for you, Director.”

Min Isak quickly placed the bundle of documents he was holding on the desk. Along with it was a USB he took out of his pocket.

The documents were thick enough to be at least ten centimeters. Since a gallery’s work wasn’t limited to buying paintings or holding exhibitions, the thickness of the handover materials was not surprising.

Just looking at the organization of the hired staff, there were departments for exhibition planning, collection management, education, and separately, IT, facilities, parking, cleaning, and maintenance. Unlike curators who only had to do their assigned work, this was an area of work that a gallery manager had to understand. From the various connections of the employees to how close they were with the former director.

“Did you make this?”

He said, stroking the cover of the report with his thumb. In principle, he should have received it directly from the former director, Lee Yang-hee. Of course, it was unlikely that she would show the kindness of preparing the materials herself while being fired.

“I have updated the data that the previous directors shared with the current status.”

“When did you make this thick document?”

It had been less than a week since the former director was fired. Even a simple status update would have taken a considerable amount of effort.

“I made it on Friday.”

“On Friday? After coming back from Hangang Auction?”

In disbelief, Namgung Tree stared intently at Min Isak. While he had been lost in old memories and drinking himself into a stupor, Min Isak had been preparing the handover materials.

Min Isak, who was nodding, looked somehow relieved.

“Yes, that’s right. Please don’t worry about it. It was data that I always prepared anyway.”

“Worry about what! …It’s just infuriating that you’re trying to make me work as soon as I get here.”

He snapped and then hastily tried to cover it up.

“Leave it and go. I’ll read it.”

He said something he didn’t mean and gestured toward the door with his chin. But Min Isak still hesitated, unable to move from in front of the desk.

“What, again?”

“What are your plans for lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“Yes. I heard you gave your card to Ms. Baek Girim. Since it’s the first time eating together, it would be good for you to join them, Director.”

He had planned to do so anyway. If he hadn’t realized he was aroused, he wouldn’t have rushed into the director’s office. If he hadn’t gotten hard in the first place, he wouldn’t have been flustered.

Seeing his smarmy face asking about lunch plans, he felt annoyed again. He was about to uncross his legs, but flinched and crossed them the other way instead.

Min Isak’s gaze was still fixed on the handover documents and the storage device. Namgung Tree inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It was a good thing the solid wood desk was large enough to hide his lower body.

“…Let’s meet at the first-floor entrance in twenty minutes. There’s a French bistro I know well within walking distance, so we can go there.”

Namgung Tree gave the instruction, thinking of the restaurant Bae Taemin ran.

“Yes. I will inform everyone.”

“Really, get out now.”

He bowed politely. As he slightly lowered his head, a dark red, almost black, ecchymosis was visible through the crumpled collar of his shirt.

The bruise was as large as his own palm, more than enough to completely cover the lip mark left by some unknown piece of human trash. A strange sense of satisfaction and, at the same time, a sharp pain pricked a corner of his chest.

Namgung Tree frowned at this contradictory emotion that had come to him again. He had no desire to feel this way even while eating lunch. As Min Isak was about to open the door and leave the director’s office, he gave him a task.

“And install the basic programs on the computer before the afternoon work starts.”

Namgung Tree pointed at the computer and shook his head. Deleting personal files was a given, but Lee Yang-hee had even deleted the basic programs that came pre-installed on the computer when she left.

Anyone could see it was a ‘fuck you’ gesture. But as the director, there was no need for him to eat that ‘fuck you’ himself.

“Chief Min, we already know each other, so there’s no need for you to eat lunch with us, right? Installing programs isn’t a difficult task, so you can do it yourself. Let the IT team eat with us.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Come in twenty minutes.”

He silently followed the instruction.

Twenty minutes later, Min Isak entered the director’s office, where the window had been wide open. Leaving him sitting at the desk, Namgung Tree left the director’s office.

Lunch with the employees was pleasant. Bae Taemin, asking if he had really come to boost sales, served complimentary wine to every table without being asked.

“Did the chief curator not come?”

“He said he couldn’t come because he had work to do.”

“Again? We work to live, but the chief curator works too hard.”

Delicious food and good quality wine. In the cheerful atmosphere, the conversation about Min Isak ended there. Half-listening to the employees’ murmuring, Namgung Tree forced the ratatouille down his throat.

The food, which he usually ate well, wouldn’t go down today for some reason.

On the way back to the gallery, a sudden shower fell. Was it because it was about to rain? He deceived himself into thinking that the unpleasantness that had been soaring since morning was all due to the humidity.

The next day, Min Isak requested a business trip. The destination entered into the system was Printemps Kim’s residence, where the entire family currently lived together.

When asked what he had been doing, Min Isak only answered briefly that he had delivered the Lee Youhwan piece. However, when he returned home after work that day, the Lee Youhwan painting was nowhere to be found.