By Zephyria 
The escape was more meticulously planned than I had anticipated. Everything proceeded while avoiding people we knew directly.
The vehicle that took us to Seoul was a 1-ton truck on the verge of being scrapped, procured by Hyung through someone he knew from the surfing business. The arrangement was that once we arrived in Seoul and parked the car at a pre-arranged spot, the owner of the car, who followed us by express bus, would retrieve it.
After that, a senior who was Hyung’s squad leader in the military introduced us to a private investigator. We only stayed at a motel for the first two days; through that agency, we immediately signed a lease for a room.
We left behind a letter implying that if they tried to find us before we contacted them, we would resort to stronger resistance, such as self-harm. Even so, the probability of them inquiring about our whereabouts at Morae’s house was not negligible. In fact, it was very high.
To prepare for that, we also needed to move with the help of a private investigator, an expert, to cover our tracks as much as possible.
The head of the private investigator’s office, who was a senior from Hyung’s squad leader’s hometown, didn’t look like someone who worked in that line of business, though I couldn’t be sure. Based purely on appearance, the owner of the surfing business looked much more like a ‘private investigator.’
“Don’t even touch the money in your bank accounts. We will take over that money as is. For us, well… we can just launder it a few times and withdraw it. We’ll give you the cash equivalent of your deposit, so use cash only. You won’t be using credit cards, right? Nowadays, even ordinary people watch movies and have that much common sense.”
While complaining that it was becoming difficult to work lately due to clients who acted like experts after watching a few movies and tried to dictate terms, the director took out the cash equivalent of the deposit Hyung and Morae had saved from his safe.
It was a considerable sum: the money Hyung saved for about a year after graduating high school until enlisting, not spending or wearing anything new, combined with the savings Morae had accumulated from pocket money received from adults since childhood.
“What? Does it look small now that you see it in person? Should I calculate it in 10,000 won bills to offend you?”
The director chuckled at us, who had been sitting stiffly, constantly tense. Even though he wore a neat suit like an office worker and his hair was neatly styled, in moments like that, you could tell he was someone involved in the underworld.
“Just kidding, just kidding. 50,000 won bills are easier to store, so they’re better.”
However, without needing to hide the money deep in drawers or behind floorboards, it was entirely used to find a place to live.
Though it was a large sum for us, the only types of apartments we could afford with that money in Seoul were semi-basements or rooftop rooms. While semi-basements and rooftops were comparable in that they were hot in summer and cold in winter, we agreed that rooftops were better because you could see the sun.
Even though it was far from the subway station, and you had to go up a rather steep staircase to use the bus stop, we were reassured by the director’s words that we could live there for at least one to two years without being discovered.
A guarantee that this escape would not end as a mere feeble resistance.
For now, that was enough.
As we had no spare money, the furnishings in our one-room rooftop apartment consisted only of a modular box for clothes, bedding, and a few essential kitchen utensils. Morae commented that this made the room look spacious, which was nice.
It had already been about three weeks since we moved in.
Perhaps the meticulous preparation paid off, as our daily lives were settling in without any particular signs of threat so far. Within a week of moving, I started working a part-time job at a moving company, and Morae and Hyung already had jobs lined up.
‘What Happened in Bali.’
The cafe, located deep in a residential area instead of a busy, expensive commercial district, was a place that, true to its name, evoked images of a free and relaxed southern beach. Hyung’s senior, who had introduced us to the private investigator, was the owner of the cafe, and Hyung worked as a kitchen assistant while Morae was in charge of the floor.
After finishing the dinner service, the owner would give us the leftover ingredients from the day, and then Hyung would practice by cooking the cafe’s menu at home.
One of our daily routines now was to sit on the wooden deck placed at the edge of the rooftop, which had been there since we moved in, and chat about our day while drinking a can of beer with the food Hyung made.
We were young, more than the word ‘young’ could describe, and the noise from the newlywed couple downstairs fighting like a war every other day, or the poor rooftop room that would surely become an oven in midsummer, didn’t matter to us.
Even though the climb of 62 stairs was arduous, the Seoul night view from here was not cold or arrogant. It resembled the lights of squid fishing boats floating far out at sea, and it also evoked Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night.’
These were days when a sense of freedom, as if liberated from something, and vague worries, a baseless excitement in my chest and a feeling of being chased, all intertwined within me and swayed quietly.
“So, who was that person?”
Morae asked, showing interest in my story about what happened today.
“She’s the younger sister of my mother’s friend… she briefly taught me art when I was little.”
Upon hearing that it was someone connected to our parents, a subtle expression flickered across both their faces before disappearing.
“But you met again like that? That’s amazing. If you sent it in as a story to a radio show, you’d probably win gift certificates.”
Morae said, gathering the last bite of nasi goreng on her plate onto her spoon. Despite Morae’s efforts to lighten the mood, Hyung’s expression was still slightly stiff.
“She knew about my family’s situation through my aunt.”
“…Really?”
Only then did Hyung relax his face and take a sip of beer.
“She worked in Hong Kong and came back to Korea about four years ago. She’s working at a private gallery now.”
“A gallery? If she taught you art and now works at a gallery, she’s been in the art world all along?”
Morae, who had been diligently chewing the last bite of nasi goreng, swallowed and then said, “I guess so. She has about three exhibition schedules lined up, so she doesn’t have time to worry about her home. When I went to help her move, the house was really a mess.”
I replied, idly spinning a beer can with about a third of its contents left in my hand. I had drunk a little more beer than usual today. Because of that, I felt a slight warmth in my cheeks, even though the breeze was pleasant.
“Are you going to do it?”
It was Morae’s question, as if she wanted me to accept the Teacher’s offer.
“I’m still not sure.”
“If seeing that person is difficult, there’s no need to do it.”
This was Hyung’s concern, lest it stir up past wounds.
However, seeing the Teacher’s face wasn’t difficult or anything. In fact, the most honest emotion that came to mind as soon as I recognized her was gladness. Her face was not connected to painful memories.
“Seo Yi-hyun is almost a god at organizing. She’s not doing it because she knows your situation and is deliberately trying to help you; she happened to be looking for someone and you were the perfect fit, so she made the offer. If you’re worried about being a burden, don’t be. That would be more of an insult to her. Just do what your heart tells you.”
Morae, having completely finished her meal, said this and then took a refreshing gulp of her reserved beer.
“Ah, I should do that.”
That was my reply, but it was difficult to pinpoint where my heart was leaning.
“Morae and I are both working, and we don’t need money urgently for the time being, so think about it comfortably and decide.”
“Okay.”
Hyung seemed to have a slightly more cautious stance than Morae. People react and cope with wounds in various ways…
The next day, I had to be in Gwangjin-gu by 7 AM. It was time to wrap up for the day to prepare for tomorrow. I needed to fall into a deep sleep before the downstairs newlyweds started yelling and fighting.
When you opened the flimsy front door, which looked like it could be dislodged with a few strong shakes from an average adult male (though whether it actually would be was another matter), you entered a narrow kitchen space barely large enough for two people to lie down side-by-side. Beyond the sliding doors that opened to either side was the room.
The private investigator, who had shown us this room on behalf of the landlord who had moved to Jeolla-do to farm, had emphasized that it was a ‘somewhat separated studio apartment.’
Morae and Hyung slept beyond the door, and I slept in the kitchen. We divided it that way and laid out our futons.
They strongly objected, saying, “Why do you insist on sleeping in the kitchen when there’s space in the room? Are you trying to make us feel like trash?” But I just wanted to protect them to that extent.
Even though they didn’t act like a couple in front of me, I knew that their relationship wasn’t just about being comfortably like friends.
“Lee Hyun-ah, let’s just sleep in the room together. I’m cool, okay?”
Leaning against the frame of the open sliding door, Morae, who had been watching me lay out my bedding in the kitchen, said the same thing again today.
I sat on the fluffy new futon, hugged my pillow, and looked up at her with a deliberately playful expression.
“Noona.”
“Yes?”
“I’m cool too. I’ll just sleep here.”
Morae let out a chuckle. Then she smiled warmly with affectionate eyes. With a goodnight wish, she disappeared beyond the door.
However, we couldn’t continue living like this with just one door between us. It was fine now because it was a warm season, but once autumn arrived, cold air would seep in through the flimsy front door. I also didn’t want them to keep feeling sorry for me and worrying.
Although I knew their escape was not just a romantic elopement but a kind of struggle to live as themselves, I hated that they still couldn’t freely share even physical contact, despite seizing the hard-won freedom and the opportunity to love freely.
Up to this point, I had followed their suggestions, but for my future life, I had to devise my own plan.
Lying on my back with my hands clasped behind my head, facing the ceiling, I could hear Hyung and Morae talking quietly beyond the sliding door, whose opaque glass panels were divided into chocolate-like squares. I couldn’t make out the content.
I had told them I didn’t know what to do about their questions, but I was clearly aware that this was not the time to be picky about things. If it was work that paid, I had to do something first.
Even when I lay down to sleep, even when I closed my eyes, the fact that I couldn’t hear the sound of waves made me realize how far we, and I, had come.
■ ■ ■
Every day, I drew by myself. Around the fourth grade of elementary school, I wanted to attend an art academy. My parents immediately enrolled me. But once I went, it wasn’t very fun.
I wanted to know how to express the subjects I wanted to draw as I pleased, but most of the time, it ended with us playing with water in the buckets and brushes, or them having us dip our palms in paint and stamp them on sketchbooks.
After a week, I declared I didn’t want to go anymore. My parents, without asking any questions, said it was fine if I didn’t go. Of course, we couldn’t get a refund for the remaining three weeks of the tuition fee that had already been paid. At the time, I didn’t realize how generous that gesture was from my parents’ perspective, given our family’s modest circumstances.
Then, when I came home, I gained a teacher who drew with me.
She was someone who taught me not only how to transfer the world I saw onto paper but also how to see the world through the eyes of an artist.
Lessons with the Teacher were like an exciting adventure. The mundane surroundings I thought I knew well transformed vividly, like pop-up cards exchanged at Christmas.
I drew the gnarled roots of a tree protruding from the soil, not just a tree, and the shadow of the neighbor’s house cast on the wall, not just a house. The world was full of things to draw, and what I saw today was new again tomorrow.
I drew with the Teacher for about a year. Thinking back now, she probably stopped teaching when she graduated from college and left for Hong Kong. That was ten years ago.
Hyung and Morae seemed worried that I might bring up the past whenever I saw the Teacher, but the past I recall when I see the Teacher is even further back. A time when the world was full of adventure and mystery.
“Ah, I feel so much better now that something’s in my stomach.”
The Teacher, having neatly finished the twelve pieces of sushi arranged in her rectangular lunchbox, leaned back loosely against the chair back, putting down her chopsticks.
“Things kept coming up, so I only ate a kimbap roll around 3 PM and haven’t eaten since.”
She explained with a slightly embarrassed smile towards me, who was chewing a mouthful of sushi, a texture I was trying for the first time.
“You eat slowly. I’m sorry I can only offer store-bought food.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve never eaten such delicious sushi before.”
I accepted the Teacher’s offer, and today was the fifth time I had visited this house. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she was so busy she wouldn’t notice if I went out wearing mismatched shoes; only today could I finally meet the Teacher face-to-face.
She wasn’t completely off work yet. She had stopped by the house to pick up some materials she needed to take with her, so she was also having dinner there. After dinner, she had to go back to the gallery. It was already almost 11 PM.
“Did you… not go to college?”
The Teacher asked in a cautious tone as she twisted open the cap of a bottle of water.
“Yes.”
“And art? Are you still drawing?”
“No….”
When I first recognized the Teacher’s face, the emotion that came to mind was gladness, but immediately following that was a sense of guilt for not drawing.
What I learned from the Teacher was not so much technique as the ‘gaze’ itself when drawing. The excitement and pure immersion of that time, when it felt like a new world had opened up, and the lingering faintness of that sensation in my body made my guilt even greater. My gaze naturally fell downwards.
“I’m sorry.”
“Lee Hyun-ah, don’t be. What’s there to be sorry about? I was just wondering how you were doing these days. I haven’t touched a brush in quite a while, either.”
The Teacher said this in a light tone, as if it meant nothing, and tilted the water bottle to drink.
“It’s a shame. I liked your paintings.”
“I liked your paintings too.”
This time, she smiled a little mischievously at me. I smiled back, feeling awkward.
“That’s how life is. Circumstances change, and people change according to circumstances. In my case, I didn’t quit by force. I just got tired of it all and wanted to throw myself into a new situation. A place where everything is new, you know? Working at a gallery suited my aptitude and was rewarding, so I settled there. I’m very satisfied now. It’s the same for other performing arts, but in art, only a very small number of truly talented people are recognized as artists. The rest either paddle hard on the fringes of art, or just go around with the pretentiousness of being an artist… it’s easy to end up like that, isn’t it? If I had kept drawing, I would have just been an artist who held exhibitions with my own money and had friends buy my work. I have no regrets.”
The Teacher’s words had a light aftertaste. She was sincere.
But I couldn’t so cleanly dismiss it by saying I had no regrets or lingering feelings. So I kept my mouth shut, casting a meaningless gaze at the two remaining pieces of sushi.
“The gallery I’m at now is growing rapidly. For the first few years, we just struggled to build a foundation with no results… so it was psychologically tough, but now that things are starting to pick up, even though it’s physically demanding, I’m having a blast. It’s the same here; you have to row when the tide is right. I have three more exhibition schedules coming up, so I’ll be busy like this until the end of next month. It’s a good thing I met you. Otherwise, I would have been stressed even after coming home.”
As if the thought alone was dreadful, the Teacher ran her hand through her stylishly cut hair.
“I don’t do much.”
“The state of the house being completely tidied up when you come home. Everything in its place. That’s more than enough.”
I didn’t need to cook or do laundry. I didn’t know how to cook, anyway. My job was entirely organizing and cleaning. Since it was a large house with many decorative items and paintings, it took some time, but it was never difficult or complicated work. I was glad if this level of effort was practically helpful to the Teacher.
“Once the exhibitions currently in progress are over, let’s talk leisurely. I’ve wanted to visit there too. What Happened in Bali?”
I had already explained our situation roughly to Teacher, in case anyone tried to find us through them.
“Yes, let’s definitely go together next time. It’s fun.”
After sharing and eating the two pieces of sushi I left, we stood up from the table.
“I’ll give you a ride on the way to the gallery. Let’s go together.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll clean this up and then go in. I can take the bus.”
Teacher checked the time on their wristwatch and lightly pinched my cheek over the table.
“Let’s clean up together and take my car. The bus schedule is tight too.”
Before I could refuse, one of Teacher’s two cell phones, which had been placed on the table, rang loudly.
“Sorry, is it loud? I keep the ringer loud in case I miss an important call. Just a moment.”
While Teacher turned slightly away and answered the call, I hurried to clear the table. Since they were disposable containers, cleaning up was simple.
“Yeah. Why? Artist Yoon? …Ha… Why does that guy always fixate on such useless things? Yuni, you… No, you must be doing the display right now. Alright, I’ll talk to Artist Yoon, so you just ignore his calls from now on and focus on the display… Yes, I’ll take responsibility.”
Even before I quit painting, I knew nothing about the inner workings of the art world or how galleries operated. But judging by Teacher’s lifestyle, it was clearly not an easy place.
From what I could hear, it seemed another problem had erupted at the gallery. I was just glad they had finished eating, and rinsed the lunchbox containers with water.
“Yi-hyun, what should I do? Something came up at the office, so I think I need to head back in a hurry. I’m sorry for saying I’d give you a ride first. Take a taxi instead, okay?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve finished cleaning up, and if I go now, I can catch the bus.”
As I shook the water off the rinsed containers at the sink, I turned my head to look at Teacher. As if out of habit, Teacher rested one hand on their hip, fiddled with their eyebrow with the other, and bit their lip. Their gaze suddenly shifted and landed on me. Their face showed a faint glimmer of expectation.
“You said you don’t have the moving company job tomorrow, right?”
Holding the water-drained containers, I nodded awkwardly. Teacher strode over and firmly grasped my wet hand.
“Yi-hyun, please save me. No, save my kids.”
■ ■ ■
Gallery Phantom.
The gallery, with its somewhat grand name, was located on the mid-slope of an uphill road leading to Bugaksan, behind Hanok Village. The site wasn’t very large, but it was a considerable two-story building compared to the charming smaller buildings around it.
I had been given a rough overview of the situation by Teacher on the way here, and they had assured me that the tasks assigned to me would be simple and require no special know-how, so I had no worries. Yet, as I followed Teacher through the heavy main gate, which exuded a cool aura, I still lacked confidence in whether I, an outsider and a novice, could be of any help.
“Just do as the staff instructs. I haven’t seen you for ten years, but I can tell from how you manage my house. They’re simple tasks a beginner can do, so don’t worry. Okay?”
Teacher lightly patted my back as we passed through the cozy, high-ceilinged hall right in front of the entrance and ascended the stairs leading to the second floor.
It was an elegant staircase, wide and made of a material that was almost white, like ash gray. It felt so delicate that I was careful even where I stepped.
“Manager! Artist Yoon is currently….”
“I’ll handle Artist Yoon from now on. Here. This is the gift I brought.”
“……”
Teacher placed me in front, then put their hands on my shoulders from behind and pushed me forward about a step. The person who suddenly found themselves face-to-face with me at close range simply looked up at me without a word. Their expression showed they couldn’t grasp the situation. Mine wasn’t much different.
As soon as we entered the second floor, multiple spaces divided by temporary walls appeared, and through corners that turned in different directions like a small maze, I caught glimpses of artworks hanging on the walls.
It was a space that was pathologically entirely white. Even if the temporary walls with paintings were understandable, the floor was the same pale ash gray as the stairs. The structural ceiling, elevated with a gap above the temporary walls, was also the same.
In that white space, the person standing before me was entirely black.
With short black hair that looked deliberately dyed even darker, a blouse with padded shoulders, training pants that didn’t match the blouse at all, the slippers they were wearing, and exaggerated thick-rimmed glasses—everything was black.
From a natural posture, I looked down at the top of their head. Despite their petite height and small build, the image they projected was intense. Even their eyes, seen through the lenses, had clean black rims. It was a gaze without any hostile or friendly filter, a gaze that asked about my identity as it was.
“This is the friend who’s helping me with my new house, the one I told you about. I asked her to help out at the gallery just for today. She’s good at anything, so she’ll be helpful.”
This was Teacher’s answer to her unspoken question. She turned her gaze from me and shrugged.
“Having one more person is better, I guess. Manager, please deal with Artist Yoon quickly. My phone is about to explode.”
“Alright, I’ll go take care of it right now. Where did Juhan go?”
“He went down to get artwork from Section C.”
That was it. The woman with the short black hair returned to the place where she had been working, and Teacher hurried out of the gallery to resolve the trouble with Artist Yoon. Perhaps Teacher was overestimating my social skills.
The woman, who had been cutting something at a makeshift workbench, glanced at me and spoke quickly.
“I’m sorry to bother you right after meeting, but I’m quite busy, so I’ll get straight to the request. Could you help me move some artwork to the basement? If you open that door and go down the stairs, you’ll find a piece of firewood struggling in the storage room. Ask him and help him out.”
It didn’t seem like a situation where I could hesitate due to unfamiliarity. I opened the white door with the ‘STAFF ONLY’ sign as instructed and went in. Descending the narrow stairs led directly to the basement storage.
The thick steel door with security devices was wide open, so I didn’t have to search for the person she had mentioned.
In the spacious room, entirely white like the floor above, I easily spotted a man dressed head to toe in black, just like the woman upstairs.
He was about my height or a bit taller, with a lean build and unusually long limbs. He had his back to me, busy moving between the organized paintings. His heavy boots, the kind punk rock bands might wear, were striking.
“Excuse me….”
“Aargh! Shit, you scared me!”
I thought I had made enough noise coming down the stairs, but perhaps he was too engrossed in his work to hear me. Despite my cautious call, the man jumped in surprise and even stumbled.
The man who turned around had a face as unique as his attire. It was a mask that gave off a distinctive vibe, making it difficult to categorize as handsome or not. His perfectly straight bangs, long enough to almost poke his eyes, further enhanced his individuality. It was a face you would never forget after seeing it once.
The woman upstairs also seemed to have two or three piercings on her face, but this person had even more accessories. His exposed ears were densely adorned with hoop earrings of various sizes, like a spring notebook. He also had piercings on his eyebrows and nose, and lips. A thin chain connecting the ring piercing through the center of his lower lip to the piercing on his eyebrow caught my eye.
Neither the woman upstairs nor the person before me looked like typical gallery staff. However, the aura emanating from both of them was quite similar.
In the all-white space, they exuded a clear presence, as if their outlines had been drawn with a marker pen.
The man, who had stopped working and stood with his hands on his hips, holding a file, looked at me with a slightly stern expression. He must have been waiting for my introduction.
“I was sent by Teacher… Manager Han. The staff member upstairs told me to come down to the basement and help.”
“Ah… really? I thought… our representative always says there are ghosts in the basement.”
Perhaps embarrassed by how startled he had been earlier, the man said this, touching the piercing on his lip.
“I’m sorting out the paintings that need to be moved upstairs. When I find the painting on the list, please move it here.”
He pointed to the paintings gathered near the entrance and led the way.
The man identified the paintings based on the list and their designated areas. The sections were systematically divided, like A-1, 2, 3… B-1, 2, 3…, making it easy to find the paintings. It was a battle of time and labor.
When the man found a painting, I would move it to the entrance. Meanwhile, the man would find the next one. That was the process.
“By the way, what’s your relationship with Manager Han? They wouldn’t have hired someone from some part-time job site this late at night, would they?”
There was no small talk during the work, but as he rechecked a painting I had moved, he asked me a personal question for the first time.
“I’m the housekeeper for the house they just moved into. They asked me to help because the gallery is busy today.”
“Ah, the housekeeper they recently hired…”
I nodded at him as he looked at me intently once more.
“I didn’t know you were this young. What’s your name? Even if it’s just for one night, we should know each other’s names. I’m Kwon Juhan.”
“I’m Seo Yi-hyun.”
He knelt before a painting, and I held the corner of the canvas to prevent it from falling. We shook hands, a bit belatedly.
“Since we’re only working together for a day, let’s just call each other Juhan, Yi-hyun.”
I nodded again in agreement with his suggestion.
He brushed off his knees and stood up. Now we had to move the paintings upstairs. There were twenty-four pieces in total, including large works that looked like size 120 or larger. These were works and products to be exhibited and sold starting tomorrow. To handle them with care, we decided to carry them together, excluding the very small pieces.
“I might not look like much, but you don’t look particularly strong either… These are quite heavy. You absolutely must not drop them, so stay focused. If you drop one, our representative won’t let you, Yi-hyun, live.”
To move the first painting, we positioned ourselves on either side of the canvas. As if imagining the scolding he might receive from the representative, Juhan lightly warned me while his shoulders trembled slightly.
Juhan went up the stairs first, and I carefully followed behind him. The exhibition space was on the second floor, so there were quite a few stairs leading up from the basement. At the landing between the first and second floors, Juhan signaled for a brief stop.
“Are you… working out? You’re stronger than you look… Are, are you okay?”
“I’m doing part-time work at a moving company.”
He looked me over again, as if searching for traces of strenuous physical labor.
Although we looked similar in build, carrying heavy items up and down stairs was something I did almost every day recently. It wasn’t strange that I had gotten the hang of it.
“If it’s too heavy, should I lift from the top next time? It looks harder for you walking backward.”
“No, it’s not heavy. It’s just that I’ve already moved about thirty pieces today… I’m usually not like this. Let’s go again.”
Juhan, still catching his breath unevenly, lifted the painting again with his lean, long arms, his joints particularly prominent and sharp-looking.
And as soon as we reached the second floor and carefully set the painting down, he collapsed onto the floor.
“Aargh, I can’t do any more! I moved thirty pieces by myself today! My legs are shaking!”
He yelled and pounded the floor with his hand, but the woman with the short black hair didn’t even glance his way, instead starting to unwrap the painting we had just placed.
It was a work depicting stacks of old books rendered in hyperrealistic technique. Judging by the texture of the surface, it didn’t seem to be made solely with paint.
“Over there. See the paper marked ‘No. 1’? It needs to be hung on that wall. Let’s lift it together.”
Although she wasn’t very tall, she seemed to know everything about how things worked here. Therefore, it was unlikely she would make a mistake by misjudging whether she could lift a canvas based on its size.
Indeed, she and I had no problem lifting a painting whose height was similar to mine. As the foreman said, some things are more about technique than strength.
“Baek Yuni… As expected, you’re incredibly strong… When did you hang all the Section B pieces by yourself? Just leave them, I told you.”
Juhan, still lying on his back staring at the ceiling, only turned his head to watch us hang the painting. Come to think of it, the messiness of the area next to where she had been working when we arrived had been tidied up.
“I only did what I could. You two can do the rest later. I need to match the captions for the Section B artworks now.”
“Okay.”
Juhan, who had declared he could do no more, seemed to have recharged somewhat and suddenly sat up, grabbing an ion drink from the makeshift workbench and twisting off the cap. I wasn’t particularly thirsty, but he offered me one too, so I took a few sips.
“By the way, did you introduce yourself to Yi-hyun? You didn’t, did you? You were rude and immediately told her to do this and that, weren’t you?”
“Is it a problem to ask someone to work when we met for work?”
Yuni, who was arranging the captions with information like the title, materials used, and year of creation in her own order on the workbench, paused for a moment and looked back at me, despite saying that. Whether it was my imagination or not, her expression seemed slightly apologetic.
“I’m Baek Yuni.”
“I’m Seo Yi-hyun.”
This is a pencil, and that is a desk.
Juhan, watching our bland introductions, which were like the example sentences often used when learning English for the first time, chuckled, his shoulders shaking.
“It’s quite a sight, two people who are shy like this. Call each other Yuni, Yi-hyun. We agreed to do that with me too.”
I wasn’t surprised at all that he judged me as shy. I figured I didn’t look like someone who was outgoing. I had that much self-awareness. However, Juhan’s assessment of her was unexpected.
Would someone who gave the impression of neat, gothic lettering like her ever feel like she was on the outside, alone in a crowd, like me? It was hard to imagine.
“Shut up. If I set my mind to it, I can transform into a god of social interaction.”
“That’s true. It’s just that it’s a machine, not a god. You’re completely soulless when you’re selling.”
Yuni was looking down at the captions, and the two of them were talking, so they didn’t notice, but I, who was facing the stairs, couldn’t miss the new presence.
Starting with strands of fine hair that seemed to fly lightly, a face with distinct and deep features emerged, and a man dressed in a stylish suit quickly ascended to the second-floor lobby. He was incredibly… incredibly large and flamboyant.
“Why would I put my soul into sales? The soul is for artists to put into their work.”
Yuni said sharply, placing the last caption in its spot. The large man had, in the meantime, arrived right in front of the workbench where we were gathered.
“You speak the truth.”
The man interjected into the conversation with a smile.
“Representative!”
Yuni’s face and voice were filled with joy as she called him that.
Ah, so that was the gallery representative Juhan had mentioned. The one who had scared Juhan by saying there were ghosts in the underground storage.
He was very tall. His physique was excellent, but his sleek build meant that despite his imposing height and broad shoulders, he didn’t look clumsy at all. His exotic face, which at first glance might have suggested he was a foreigner, revealed a slight Eastern touch upon closer inspection.
“Ah, why did you come so late?”
“You know those two. They wouldn’t let me go, using reservations as an excuse.”
He was a very large, very handsome man. His exotic features, which would have been inexplicable if he weren’t mixed-race, gave him a glamorous and special aura. It seemed to set him apart from everyone else. It was as if this was what it meant to be someone who existed not as a gazer, but as an object of others’ gazes….
It was the first time in his life he had ever thought such a thing.
Perhaps someone like this was a Golden Alpha?
“So, did you secure the reservations?”
Yuni had an air about her, as if she might grab the man by the scruff of his neck if he replied that he hadn’t secured any reservations.
“I got three. Here’s the reservation list, so please put up the sold-out cards.”
Yuni, taking the list from the man, beamed as if the sales revenue from those pieces would go directly to her. She then added the memo the man had given her to her notebook, which seemed to have doubled in thickness with various receipts and documents.
“We thought we were going to die, the two of us. We haven’t even finished moving all the paintings in Section C. Artist Yoon is making a fuss because he doesn’t like the order of the pamphlets.”
“Yes, yes, I heard. You’ve been through a lot. Manager Han will handle Artist Yoon, so let’s finish this up. Hmm… let’s finish in three hours.”
The man raised his wrist to check the time, and his gaze suddenly turned towards me. All the important matters had been discussed, and now he seemed to want to know the identity of the outsider who had been present all along.
My own gaze, which had been stealing glances at him out of curiosity about this novel species, shifted downwards towards his neck.
“Manager Han brought me in a little while ago. Asked me to help out just for today. Lee Hyun, this is our CEO.”
Even without looking directly at him, his gaze was unbearable. It was a gaze that showed no consideration for how I might feel it. It felt like it was suffocating me, exploring me from any angle he desired.
“Hello. I am Seo Yi-hyun.”
I forced out my voice, which felt reluctant to emerge, and greeted him.
I wasn’t unsociable, but I usually felt awkward in new relationships, not intimidated. But now, I was shrinking back.
Assuming the man was an Alpha, I couldn’t tell if this unfamiliar constriction was due to his Alpha pheromones, which I had never experienced before, or simply his human presence built on his accumulated experience and confidence.
However, as far as I knew, it was impossible for a Beta to detect the pheromones of an Alpha or Omega.
If I had still been in that fishing village, I wouldn’t have immediately guessed the person opposite me was an Alpha, even with his outstanding looks and imposing presence. But here, it was entirely possible.
I desperately wished for the ion drink Kwon Joo-han had given me. I held it in my hand, but I couldn’t bring myself to open and drink it.
“How do you know Manager Han?”
The question was thrown out at the end of his gaze, which felt like it was slowly tightening its grip on me.
His voice was cold and rigid, completely different from the one he used with Joo-han or Yuni. I could even sense a hint of hostility that he made no effort to hide.
“I work as a housekeeper at Manager Han’s place.”
The man’s lips twitched at the end of his gaze. He seemed displeased with my stated affiliation. Fortunately, the questioning stopped there.
Turning his gaze away from me, the man took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair in front of a makeshift worktable. While he rolled up his shirt sleeves, Yuni briefly reported the current progress. The man and Joo-han would handle the transportation of the artworks, and my role would shift to assisting Yuni on the second floor.
Once the man disappeared up the stairs with Joo-han, the constricted atmosphere seemed to relax, and it felt like there was enough oxygen to breathe. I realized my shoulders had dropped, and even my muscles had been tense.
After downing half of the ion drink, Yuni handed me a roll of thick double-sided tape.
“Shall we get along, you shy people?”
The work proceeded smoothly. We attached captions to all the artworks in Section B and hung the pieces in Section C as they were brought up from the basement. After completing the display up to Section D in this manner, the floor of the viewing room was littered with all sorts of trash. I was tasked with cleaning up while they made other preparations to welcome the guests the next day.
When both the first and second floors had taken on a presentable appearance, Teacher returned with a late-night meal. As the sun was about to rise, it was more like an early breakfast than a late-night meal.
We all gathered in the office on the first floor, around a large table laden with sandwiches and coffee. Everyone was chattering about which sandwich they would eat.
Even with Teacher, my only acquaintance in this gallery, present, I didn’t feel any more at ease than before. It was likely due to the man who spoke and moved with several times the presence of anyone else, effectively excluding me from this space.
Such a person truly existed. Simply by not looking at someone or speaking to them, that man could make me feel as if I were trapped behind a glass wall, isolated.
It was different from being completely ignored. He continuously projected an uncomfortable distance, a sense of dryness.
“Manager Han, Lee Hyun works very well. Compared to when Kwon Joo-han first started, you could believe she’s a veteran even if she had more experience.”
Yuni’s praise, which I felt she wouldn’t offer lightly, was a small comfort.
“Baek Yuni, did you not have a tadpole phase?”
“Uh, I was a frog from the start. Right, CEO?”
“Hmm, Yuni didn’t have a tadpole phase. That’s why I snatched her up.”
The man nodded while chewing on an avocado sandwich. He was a kind boss to his employees.
After nearly five hours of labor, the man’s appearance was considerably disheveled compared to when he first appeared in the second-floor hall. His unusually soft hair, which had been neatly styled before, now kept falling down. His shirt and pants were wrinkled, and the traces of fatigue were evident under his eyes and on his cheeks.
Yet, he didn’t look shabby. Just a little tired. And therefore, a little more sensitive, a little fiercer.
“Thank you, Lee Hyun. Without you, we might have stayed here all night and had to go straight to the opening after showering at a nearby hotel. What would I have done without meeting you?”
Teacher leaned his temple against my shoulder and pretended to cry. Whether it was my imagination or not, the man’s gaze from across the room felt sharp.
“You must be tired. Do you want to take your sandwich home and eat it?”
Perhaps due to the mental tension, I wasn’t sleepy despite having long passed my usual bedtime. However, that didn’t mean I didn’t feel physically exhausted. I was too tired to refuse Teacher’s offer.
As I packed the sandwich into my bag and was about to say goodbye, Yuni, who was seated at the head of the table between me and Connor, suddenly stood up.
“Lee Hyun! Could you come one more time for tomorrow’s event?”
It seemed like she had spoken the thought as soon as it occurred to her, as Yuni looked surprised by her own words. She took off her glasses and placed them on the table, her dark eyes clear despite the all-night work.
“Why? We’ve managed well with this team so far.”
She turned her head sharply, her bob haircut flying, and looked at the man. From my angle, I could only see her cheek, but she seemed to be glaring intensely at him.
“We’ve been barely hanging on by a thread! And CEO, I think this current schedule is quite inhumane!”
“……”
The man pursed his lips as if he had no choice and shrugged his shoulders. Everyone’s expectant gaze, except for the man’s, turned towards me. I paused, my bag strap halfway over my shoulder, and looked at the faces of the three people in turn, unable to speak.
Joo-han, seated next to the man, held up one index finger and made a pleading expression, his face contorted. Teacher looked at me with a faint smile.
“You can comfortably refuse if you’re tired or have other plans. But if, if, if it’s okay…”
“I’ll help, as long as it’s not dealing with guests… I’m not good at that kind of thing…”
I didn’t quite know why I said yes.
Perhaps I sensed a nostalgia for the past in Teacher’s face, or perhaps the unconscious excitement of being surrounded by art and helping with art-related tasks after a long time played a role. Or maybe it was the simple pride of a twenty-two-year-old, feeling useful and needed by someone, even for simple tasks.
But there was one clear reason that I couldn’t deceive myself about.
The moment I saw the man eating his sandwich with an expression that suggested he didn’t care what decision was made, a sense of defiance arose. It wasn’t a powerful surge, but it wasn’t so faint that I could dismiss it as if it never happened.
With a nonchalant expression and demeanor that implied he couldn’t help it if his employees wanted it and decided on it, the man ate his sandwich and drank his coffee while I received the schedule for the next day.
As I left the office, he merely gave a slight nod over the shoulders of the others, remaining seated. His gaze had already shifted away before I could return his greeting.
As I got into the taxi heading home and closed the door, reality rushed in as if it were a signal. The music playing on the radio, the driver humming along to it, the scenery outside the window – all of it demanded energy to be accepted as reality.
If I turned the taxi around and went back now, it felt like ‘Gallery Phantom’ would have vanished.
■ ■ ■
The VIP opening was scheduled to begin at 3 PM.
Yuni explained the rather late opening time:
“Most of our gallery’s main clients are big names in the fashion and entertainment industries. If we open in the morning, no one will come. Most people start their day around noon.”
It was a plausible explanation. Even though I didn’t know who the most popular celebrities were these days and had never flipped through fashion magazines, I had enough common sense to guess at the irregular lifestyles of people in those fields.
However, I was slightly puzzled by the fact that the gallery’s main clients were from the fashion and entertainment industries.
While fashion and entertainment are closely related fields, the connection between an art gallery dealing in fine art and those two industries didn’t seem very deep. Perhaps the consumer base for art had diversified so much that a gallery’s main clients could be filled with fashion and entertainment figures, while I had been living in seclusion in that fishing village.
From a traditional perspective, Yuni and Joo-han looked more like models or designers than gallery staff who would guide visitors on the power of lines and the imagination inspired by empty space in traditional East Asian paintings.
I had privately speculated that they might dress neatly like other curators on a day they were attending to VIP clients, but that was not the case at all.
They had even more piercings and accessories, and their makeup was coordinated with their looks, making them appear even more put-together than the day before.
After moving all the pamphlets, fresh from the printer, into the office, I separated the ones for the permanent exhibition from those for distribution today. I then asked a question about something that had been bothering me since yesterday.
“Phantom seems to have a relaxed dress code, doesn’t it?”
Joo-han, who was returning after placing the stack of pamphlets for the permanent exhibition on a windowsill shelf, chuckled as if he had anticipated such a question.
“Our gallery?”
When I nodded, he continued his explanation.
“Our gallery has a rather unique business policy. Since our main clients are from the entertainment and fashion industries, our CEO’s policy is that employees must also have a certain style to appeal to them. So, unique outfits are actually welcomed.”
“If that weren’t the case, Kwon Joo-han would have failed the interview, wouldn’t he?”
Yuni said this as she passed by the table we were working on, having just returned to the office after checking on the catering company’s progress.
“Who was it that dragged someone to an interview they didn’t want to attend?”
Joo-han retorted indignantly, turning back, but he couldn’t elicit any response from Yuni. Yuni’s phone, which had been ringing almost non-stop since I arrived that morning, began to ring again.
Joo-han quickly turned back and resumed putting pamphlets into plastic bags. He gave up quickly.
“We love it. We don’t have to separate our work persona from our after-work persona, and we even get an allowance for clothing expenses.”
While I understood that there were no restrictions on clothing because the main clients were from the fashion and entertainment industries, the question of how the gallery’s main clients came to be from those sectors remained.
However, it wasn’t a level of curiosity that would keep me awake at night if I didn’t get a clear answer, so I just nodded.
“You know, right? There are many Alphas and Omegas in the entertainment industry. I bet you’ll get your fill of eye candy today.”
Of the celebrities popular these days, I could only match names with faces for one or two people. However, knowing their names might serve as good conversation starters during our beer sessions with Morae and Hyung.
Joo-han had told me to look forward to the celebrities and Alphas and Omegas I would see at today’s party, but in my opinion, was there anyone more ‘Alpha-like’ or ‘Alpha-esque’ than the man from yesterday, the CEO of Phantom?
Even if he wasn’t an Alpha, or even if he were a Beta, to someone like me, an ordinary person, he was the very image of a Golden Alpha.
It wasn’t just because of his features, which were almost foreign with a slight touch of Eastern mystique, typical of mixed-race individuals (he was the type where the Western influence remained much stronger. While I hadn’t definitively confirmed if he was mixed-race, his features and eyes made it biologically impossible for him to be purely East Asian).
The unique and unparalleled aura and presence he exuded were not logical but sensory. I might be able to draw him, but explaining him in words would be difficult.
It wasn’t a concept of being ‘more’ superior or ‘more’ great. It wasn’t even a feeling of being a different race. Even seeing an unrealistically beautiful foreigner would still evoke a feeling of, ‘He’s human, but so different.’
What was this in front of me? It was that kind of mild shock he elicited.
When he parted his sensual lips, which were slightly upturned, I felt as if he would speak in a strange, beautiful alien language, like music.
Although his personality didn’t seem very amiable, I couldn’t deny the natural curiosity one feels towards a new being, the way my gaze was inevitably drawn to him again.
Was he truly a ‘more’ special Golden Alpha, or was a presence of that magnitude common among Alphas? As Joo-han said, perhaps seeing various Alphas at today’s party would provide some clarity.
When I returned to the office after moving the pamphlets, now all in bags, to the temporary desk in the second-floor exhibition hall, Teacher had arrived and was talking with Yuni. Approaching them with a smile, happy to see them, Teacher also smiled back and lightly stroked my bangs.
“Where is the CEO?”
Teacher asked Yuni.
“He’s having lunch with Inwoo-ssam and will come straight here afterward.”
“Then everything is almost ready. Haa… I thought this deathly schedule was impossible, but it’s actually happening. It’s even more relaxed than usual! Just one more person, and it makes such a difference, right?”
Teacher put an arm around my shoulder and sought agreement from Yuni and Joo-han that I had been helpful in proceeding with the schedule. They, as if waiting for such a question, vehemently expressed the urgent need for additional staff at the gallery.
Now, with only the catering setup on the upper floor left, there would be no issues with the 3 PM opening. We gathered around the table, each with a cup of coffee Teacher had brought, to enjoy a final moment of leisure before the opening began.
“Yuni and Joo-han, you’ll have to take turns attending to customers. There are times when customers have questions about the art, and both the CEO and I are unavailable. During busy periods, Yuni and Joo-han might both need to leave the desk. Lee Hyun, you just need to hand out pamphlets at the desk.”
It wasn’t that I lacked skill, just that I was shy, so I figured I could manage something like that.
“Smiling and being friendly… is it okay if I can’t do that?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Lee Hyun, your expressionless face is charming, and customers will like it even more. Don’t worry about that…”
The Teacher’s words, meant to encourage me by saying my expressionless face was charming—a claim I found hard to agree with—gradually faded and then stopped completely. The smile slowly drained from his face, and in the end, it contorted into a grimace, as if he had just drunk something bitter.
“I’ve lost my mind… Of course. I knew it would be too smooth sailing this time.”
The three of us fixed our gaze on the Teacher, who was muttering while rubbing his face with both palms.
“It seems I left the book the editor-in-chief of
As soon as the Teacher finished berating himself, Yuni stood up.
“I’ll take a taxi and go get it. It’ll take 30 minutes round trip.”
“We can’t do without the book, Yuni. Even if you say you read it, we need the physical copy… That person will sulk over it for at least a few months.”
Just as the Teacher said this, almost shouting with a look of horror, Yuni was already taking her wallet from her desk in the back of the office.
After a moment of hesitation, I stood up and lightly grasped Yuni’s arm.
“I’ll go.”
I glanced at Yuni, who hesitated for a moment, then checked the wall clock hanging on the pillar by the window. It was almost 3 o’clock.
“If Yuni isn’t here, the work will be paralyzed. It’s not like it’ll be a disaster if I leave for a bit. I’ll go.”
“…Alright, I’ll ask you to.”
It was a different side of her compared to yesterday, when she had given me work instructions before we’d even introduced ourselves upon arriving at the gallery. Seeing that she seemed reluctant to ask me, who was only helping out temporarily, to do an unplanned task, I gave her the biggest smile I could manage. I could somewhat understand Joo-han’s words when he described the two of us as people who were shy around strangers.
I arranged to receive the book information on my phone and hurried out of the office. Behind me, I could hear Yuni’s light scolding and the Teacher’s tearful voice asking for her forgiveness (?).
As Yuni had explained, there was a large bookstore about a 10-minute taxi ride away. I had visited this bookstore a few times with friends when I was in middle school, using the excuse of buying study guides. The interior had changed significantly since then, perhaps due to a major renovation, but I didn’t have time to marvel at the drastic transformation.
I found and bought the book without much difficulty, but it took some time to hail a taxi for the return trip, likely because it was a holiday afternoon in the city center. After receiving a message from Yuni saying there was still plenty of time before the author arrived, I finally sighed and leaned back in my seat.
The road back to the gallery was more congested than the way down. The area was packed with stylish cafes and restaurants, and the narrow roads and alleys were bustling with people out for holiday outings.
As I took the book out of the paper bag and quickly looked through it, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of urgency as I checked my surroundings out the window.
About 10 meters from our destination.
A large car with a solid silhouette caught my eye as it entered the parking lot in front of Phantom. It was a very large car, not often seen. Yet, despite its overwhelming size and somewhat authoritative, linear design, it was elegant without appearing clumsy. Even without knowledge of cars, anyone could tell it was a high-end luxury vehicle.
While imported sedans were common on the road, its imposing presence was undeniable, perhaps due to its frame being larger than most SUVs, or its exterior design that set it apart from regular sedans, reminiscent of a ceremonial vehicle.
It might be a hasty judgment, but I thought I knew who the owner was.
Though there was still some distance to Phantom, I had the taxi stop in front of a quaint, Hanok-style cafe.
The person who got out of the car, having parked it in the small lot in front of the main entrance designed for about four or five vehicles, was, as expected, the CEO of Phantom.
He stepped out of the car wearing a shirt that revealed the roots of his long, firm neck with its wide collar, and a suit made of thin material. His hair cascaded down naturally with a slight wave.
The man, dressed in a cobalt-tinged sky blue suit—a shade darker than his eye color (though he was wearing sunglasses now)—looked more flamboyant than yesterday, but also more relaxed. His attire reminded me of Italian men on a weekend picnic in the countryside, as seen in a movie I’d watched once. He wore a suit, but it didn’t look stiff; it was comfortable, yet not casual.
“The weather is excessively nice. To be stuck in a windowless gallery on a day like this, forcing a social smile… You really owe me a pricey meal.”
“Am I doing this just for myself? Stop complaining.”
Another man emerged from the passenger seat and grumbled at him, to which he responded firmly. The man in the passenger seat, also wearing dark sunglasses, was tall and well-built, but he was clearly Korean.
As I hesitated at the entrance, wondering whether to quietly enter the gallery first or wait for the two men to go in, their gazes turned towards me. I gave a short bow.
“Haven’t seen you before, who are you? A new girlfriend?”
The man in the passenger seat, more welcoming than the CEO of Phantom, showed blatant interest with his question. He immediately frowned at the absurd question.
“I’d have to have a girlfriend to have a new one.”
“What, aren’t you Lau Wikun, who becomes a sweet lover to whoever is in bed with you?”
At the man’s teasing interrogation, he let out a scoff. It was a scoff, but it sounded like he’d heard a genuinely funny joke.
“Who’s been spreading that around? That I was sweet.”
He handed the keys to the valet, who had been hired temporarily for the day, and then, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into the top pocket of his jacket, added,
“Then that bastard must have slept with me.”
A smile still lingered on his lips. It was a smile with impure motives. The kind of smile one might give, not out of displeasure at the other person’s rudeness, but out of delight at having found a weakness.
There were about ten steps between us. I considered whether I could go in first, leaving them to chat amongst themselves, but he was, after all, the owner of the place where I was working.
“So, you’re saying you don’t have a girlfriend, right?”
Walking around the front bumper towards us, the man from the passenger seat lightly massaged his shoulder, then, taking off his sunglasses and biting the tip of them, looked at me and asked again, as if to confirm.
This man, too, had a face that was considerably well-proportioned and handsome compared to the average person, but he didn’t possess the peculiar otherworldliness that made one wonder if he were an alien. At least, this one was like me. Someone with better external conditions, a more sophisticated person.
“Shouldn’t you have figured out my taste by now?”
The CEO, speaking as if the conversation were tiresome, added with a sigh, hands shoved into his pant pockets,
“She’s a part-timer.”
Finally, he revealed the answer to what the man from the passenger seat had been curious about from the start: my identity. She’s a part-timer.
It was a May afternoon, with sunlight overflowing everywhere, so much so that sunglasses were necessary. Because they were standing with the sun behind them, I had to squint towards them.
“Oh, really?”
The man from the passenger seat immediately broke into a wide smile and approached me, offering his hand for a handshake.
“Hello. Was our conversation a bit much right in front of you? I didn’t hear Phantom was hiring part-timers; maybe I should work here too.”
“Hello. I’m just helping out temporarily for today.”
As we awkwardly shook hands, the CEO walked towards the main entrance. Lightly placing a hand on my back as if to guide me towards the entrance, the man from the passenger seat showed interest in the paper bag I was holding.
“Ah, too bad. What is that? Is it heavy? Let me carry it for you.”
“It’s just a book.”
The man threw his head back and laughed, even though I hadn’t made a joke.
As we entered the gallery, just a few steps behind the CEO, the opening had already begun. Soft music flowed throughout the first and second floors, and a lively excitement could be felt from upstairs.
With a promise to see each other again later, the man from the passenger seat followed the CEO and quickly disappeared up the ivory staircase.
The sight of the two men, both well-built and dressed in high-quality suits, ascending the marble stairs was visually striking, though one was too complex and the other too simple. Not in terms of their essence, but their immediate impression.
And both were people living in worlds unrelated to mine.
After leaving the book in the office and hurrying up to the second floor, I saw that more than half of the 50 or so VIP customers who had indicated their attendance had already arrived. As I had heard beforehand, they were a decidedly glamorous-looking group at first glance.
Around the CEO and the man who had just arrived, there was a rather boisterous exchange of greetings. I also saw Teacher and Yuni, each attending to their own small groups of people.
Joo-han was manning the temporary desk.
“How did it go?”
“I put it in the director’s bag in the office.”
Joo-han’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at me. Then, he nudged me with his elbow and laughed.
“This person is more meticulous than she looks.”
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should take it as a compliment, and then just gave an ambiguous smile.
It wasn’t time for the main event yet. The guests seemed more preoccupied with finding familiar faces and exchanging pleasantries than with appreciating the art. The area around the CEO was the most vibrant.
“We invited about 50 VIPs, and each VIP can bring two or three guests. They could become new customers. It’s not even 3:30 yet, and we have over thirty attendees… so it’s a pretty good start today.”
This was Joo-han’s assessment after glancing at the attendance list.
In the hall right in front of the stairs, a long buffet table was set up, with a railing overlooking the first-floor lobby. Simple finger foods and desserts were beautifully arranged on the tablecloth that draped to the floor, adorned with floral decorations. Catering staff in uniform moved among the elegantly dressed guests, serving food and refilling champagne glasses.
The party had a relatively relaxed atmosphere rather than a stiff one. On the temporary desk managed by Joo-han and me, drinks and a few simple snacks were also set up for us.
I first picked up a bottle of water with an unfamiliar label to quench my thirst.
“The people here now are the customers who account for over 70 percent of our gallery’s revenue, but they don’t have a real eye for art, nor do they come here to enjoy a cup of tea and appreciate paintings during their busy schedules as a pastime.”
Chewing on a bite-sized sandwich, Joo-han leaned closer to me.
“See that person wearing a wide-brimmed hat over there? The one who just arrived.”
Following Joo-han’s gaze, I easily spotted a man ascending the stairs to the second floor, accompanied by two people who appeared to be his entourage.
“That’s the magazine editor who wrote the book Lee Hyun bought.”
The man, who looked to be in his late 40s, was rather short with a plump, fair face and expressive features. He seemed to be quite close with the CEO, as they greeted each other with French-style cheek kisses.
“Kun, congratulations on the opening. Why are you so busy? I can’t even see your face.”
As he guided the man, who seemed a bit disappointed, into the inner exhibition hall, the CEO smiled gently. Of course, his smile was charming, as he was a great beauty, but it also felt like a mechanical smile, as if mass-produced. In any case, this event and situation were work for him, so it wasn’t something to criticize.
“It’s a fashion magazine called
Joo-han swallowed the sandwich in his mouth, pouring down the champagne in his slender, long glass.
Thanks to the customers busy exchanging greetings and being introduced to new people, the temporary desk was very quiet. Not a single person came to pick up a pamphlet.
“We focus more on fashion, living, and luxury magazines rather than art magazines. Honestly, the gallery market in Korea is saturated right now. You don’t need a license; if you have money, you can open one, so there are an enormous number of galleries, big and small. Naturally, many close down within a few years. On the surface, it looks sophisticated, talking about the artist’s unique style or the work’s message while hanging paintings, but the competition here is incredibly fierce. If you start with the idea of getting a fancy gallery owner business card because you have money, you’ll be quickly pushed aside by people who are fighting for their lives. And you can’t ignore the power of the established large galleries. The market is small, so there’s no room to squeeze in.”
Finishing his explanation, Joo-han, who seemed to be choking, tapped his chest. I offered him my champagne. With a nod of thanks, Joo-han quickly emptied the glass and then picked up a cookie.
Today, his lip piercing and ear piercing were connected by a chain. It seemed inconvenient for drinking or eating, but Joo-han himself looked very comfortable, as if he had accepted it as part of his body.
“That’s why our CEO decided to attract customers who hadn’t spent money on art until now.”
After hearing that much, I could roughly understand why the gallery’s main clientele consisted of people in the fashion and entertainment industries.
“This market is largely based on social connections, so it’s not simply a matter of going to a gallery with art you like at the moment and buying it. It’s incredibly difficult to attract customers who already have existing gallery relationships, so we targeted people who have money but haven’t bought much art.”
Joo-han made a circle with his thumb and index finger, a gesture for money.
“The result, as you can see, is a huge success. We even moved to a building like this in Samcheong-dong.”
He shrugged his shoulders lightly, as if it were nothing, or perhaps proudly. Joo-han then popped the remaining piece of cookie into his mouth.
To be honest, I had thought Phantom might be one of those galleries started with the idea of ‘having money and wanting a fancy gallery owner business card,’ as Joo-han had put it.
Not for any other reason, but the CEO of Phantom gave the impression that he was born into a sufficiently wealthy family that he didn’t need to aim for self-made success, and his current demeanor when dealing with customers showed no sign of the desperate, unavoidable business-related subservience.
He maintained a polite and friendly service smile throughout, but that was all.
Rather, the people around him showed him more favor, and those who seemed to have weaker connections with him were looking for an opportunity to approach him. Even to my dull eyes, that atmosphere was very clear.
Putting aside his abrasive behavior towards me since yesterday, I mentally apologized to him for the assumption I had made based solely on his outward appearance: the image of a ‘young master who easily obtained everything with his parents’ money.’
I didn’t think starting something based on one’s parents’ or family’s wealth was inherently wrong, but it was also true that I considered achievements built through one’s own efforts to be of a different value.
He had pulled Phantom up from the very bottom, or perhaps there had been some family assistance. Whether it was the former or the latter, it was clear it wasn’t a sandcastle simply built with immense capital and inherited connections.
The first time since I started working at the desk, someone took a pamphlet. It was a woman wearing large sunglasses that covered half her face. Looking closely, it wasn’t that the sunglasses were big, but that her face was small. I might not know her, but perhaps she was an actress or a singer.
As the woman who took the pamphlet disappeared into the exhibition hall inside, calling out a name in a delighted voice as if she had met someone she knew, Joo-han told me her name, saying she was a popular actress these days, but again, it was a name I had never heard before.
“Anyway, because of the CEO’s management style, he’s considered a complete heretic or troublemaker in the art world… basically treated like Satan. They say a blue-eyed Golden Alpha charmed people with pheromones to sell paintings, dragging down the dignity of art. Some critics even spouted nonsense, calling him a male prostitute who sells paintings with his body?”
Joo-han, resuming the conversation from earlier, raised his fist in the air as if he could grab the critic who uttered such words. He looked indignant even thinking about it again.
However, the protagonist of the story, the CEO of Phantom, was smiling like a painting, surrounded by many people.
This was a gallery that exhibited and sold artworks, but most people here were paying more attention to the man than to the paintings.
A middle-aged woman dressed in a tweed two-piece suit subtly showed off her familiarity by lightly linking her arm through his, and indeed, envy mixed with jealousy flickered in people’s eyes. Their expressions of emotion were so direct that it vaguely reminded me of my elementary school days, when I tried so hard to get the teacher’s attention just once more.
The CEO of Phantom, as if unaware of the complex desires intertwined around him, skillfully and cheerfully modulated the atmosphere with a likable demeanor.
No, perhaps he was precisely grasping the intensity and direction of those desires and orchestrating their entanglement.
To belatedly point out the description of ‘a blue-eyed Golden Alpha who sells paintings by charming people with pheromones,’ his eyes were not a simple blue. They were closer to a pale blue, as if sun-kissed, or perhaps faded from crying too much.
Unlike a deep blue that has a clear color reminiscent of a jewel but lacks vitality, it was a more delicate and seemingly alive blue… like the foam of waves as Morae rides and rises on a board. As if it could shatter and disappear.
It was a color that was quite contrary to his impression, which seemed overwhelmingly strong and arrogant.
“But our CEO doesn’t release his pheromones. I don’t know about his private life, but he never does in public. His control is maxed out, to the point where even Golden Omegas can barely detect it. Oh, do you know about Golden Alphas… that sort of thing?”
“I don’t know much.”
“Not interested?”
Among the vast Beta population, there are few who are not interested in Alphas or Omegas. Sometimes out of curiosity about those with a secondary gender, sometimes out of admiration for them, who are generally known to possess splendid looks and outstanding talents. And sometimes, out of simple, light interest in the peculiar.
Even though I thought he was, in a crude sense, a bit ‘annoying,’ I answered that I was not entirely uninterested, feeling curious if he might be a Golden Alpha due to his unique presence.
Yes. He was indeed a Golden Alpha. The result was as predictable as it was bland. His appearance was large, strong, and beautiful enough to be a mascot for Golden Alphas.
But he doesn’t release pheromones at all. That was where my prior knowledge ended.
“Alphas and Omegas are ultimately about reproductive ability… well, this isn’t the place to discuss it in detail. Anyway, the CEO isn’t at a level where his pheromones are involuntarily released or where he reacts helplessly to others’ pheromones. Many Betas discriminate against Alphas and Omegas, calling them beasts who abandon their humanity, ruled by instinct, but a Golden Alpha like him can even control their rut with pheromones, so there’s no basis for criticism. Yet, they criticize him. Closing their eyes and ears. Still, when I hear them babbling about it being a pheromone business, honestly… I wonder who is lecturing whom about dignity.”
The only Alpha around me was Morae, but she wasn’t the type to talk extensively about herself as an Alpha. I also didn’t have enough interest to search for information about Alphas and Omegas.
Information about Golden Alphas and the CEO of Phantom must already be well-known in this industry, so what Joo-han was saying was likely just small talk to kill time, at a level that wouldn’t matter even if a temporary part-timer, essentially an outsider, found out. Yet, more than half of it was information I hadn’t known.
“It’s amazing. They say being a Golden Alpha isn’t just about being born that way, but that personal training accounts for more than 50 percent of its completion. It means he’s reached this level through consistent training in managing his instincts since puberty. He smiles so casually as if everything is easy, but… he’s not ordinarily tenacious.”
Saying that, Joo-han took a sip of champagne, his gaze fixed on the CEO over his tilted glass.
Following Joo-han’s gaze, the man was still at the center of the group, leading the atmosphere. Skillfully, and sweetly.
As the owner and host of the party, his smile was fair to everyone, but it also carried a warmth different from an ordinary smile, enough to mislead those who lacked immunity to it.
Contrary to his hostile attitude towards me, I tried to imagine this man, who responded kindly to each attendee like sunlight shining everywhere, relentlessly pushing himself in private and undergoing solitary internal training, but it was difficult.
Right beside me, I heard Joo-han bite into another cookie.
“But I like that. Becoming incredibly tenacious to get what you want. Appearing relaxed on the outside, but paddling furiously underwater to achieve your greedy desires.”
Crunch, crunch. While chewing the cookie diligently, Joo-han grinned.
Was it really like that?
Did he also have that desperate struggle, paddling furiously underwater to get what he wanted?
It was impossible to imagine from his current appearance, overflowing with the composure befitting a Golden Alpha, as if he had possessed everything from birth.
Even now, standing with one leg casually crossed, holding a champagne glass in one hand and smiling, he looked, to exaggerate slightly, like a born ruler.
I tried to imagine him putting in great effort underwater, but what popped into my head instead was him pedaling an imitation swan boat at an amusement park. Even that scene didn’t suit him, but it was easier to imagine.
My directionless thoughts were briefly interrupted by the appearance of Yuni, who approached the desk, almost stumbling in high platform sandals.
“Here. Two pieces are sold out.”
She threw a small notebook onto the desk with a very tired face. Joo-han eagerly picked up the notebook.
“Already? You’re really capable. Want me to switch?”
“Yeah. My mouth is going to cramp.”
“Okay.”
Joo-han, full of ambition like a reserve player waiting for his chance on the bench, stepped into the exhibition hall in place of Yuni.
It seemed Yuni had succeeded in selling two pieces after dealing with customers until her mouth was about to cramp. Since I helped with the caption work yesterday, I had a rough idea of the prices of the works displayed here. To sell two such expensive pieces in less than an hour, she was indeed capable, as Joo-han said.
“Shall I get you a drink?”
As if she didn’t have the energy to answer, Yuni nodded while sitting on a chair behind the desk, tapping her leg.
“There’s juice, and they have many kinds.”
“Alcohol. Get me some alcohol.”
“Is champagne okay?”
“Not in a glass, fill up a water glass.”
As I returned to the desk with champagne filled to the brim in the largest glass as she instructed, the Teacher, who was attending to a customer about ten to fifteen steps away from the desk, raised their voice slightly towards me. Since the entire exhibition hall was buzzing, it wasn’t a particularly jarring tone.
“Yuni, could you bring me the editor’s book from the office? It should be in my bag.”
I handed her the glass, stopping Yuni as she was about to stand up almost reflexively.
“I’ll get it. I know where it is.”
I hurried down the stairs and retrieved the book from the spot where I had put it earlier. As I returned to the desk after handing the book to the Teacher, I felt like a child presenting homework copied from a friend to the teacher. Not that I was trying to pull off a major deception, but I was inexplicably nervous and found it hard to even turn my head in that direction.
“Manager Han, did you even underline it? You’re amazing. There’s a difference. Many people buy books and get them signed to make them visible. But I know better. Most people just buy them and don’t even read the content. But Manager Han doesn’t treat people like that. There’s sincerity. That’s why I can’t help but open my wallet when I come to Phantom?”
Fortunately, the ‘Teacher’ didn’t seem to notice the ‘copied homework.’ They even praised the homework.
Yuni, who had downed half the champagne as if it were grape juice, looked up at me with wide eyes, just as Joo-han had done a moment ago.
“You underlined it in the meantime?”
When I nodded to her whispered question, a bright smile returned.
Whether she had originally intended to purchase it or it was an impulsive decision made in an elevated mood, the editor of a powerful magazine showed active interest in buying a painting to recommend for her recently promoted daughter’s office.
“It’s nothing special, but it’s funny that they get so happy over something so trivial, right? But that’s how it is here. Even if we sell paintings, sometimes it feels like we’re just dealing with people’s emotions. If you put it nicely, it’s a profession where sales are important, and more directly, it’s about appeasing them. Sometimes it makes me feel a bit of existential dread.”
Yuni said with a wry smile as she watched the editor’s back move to another section with the Teacher to check the recommended works.
Before I could ask for a more detailed reason for that smile, she was called back into the exhibition hall. The time for socializing was over, and it was time to officially promote today’s main attractions, the paintings.
Left alone at the desk, my idle hands felt awkward, so I cleared away the empty glasses we had drunk from and idly tidied up the remaining pamphlets, when suddenly a shadow fell over the desk.
“Can I get a pamphlet?”
Looking up, I saw the man from the passenger seat smiling.
His smile itself was bright, but strangely, it had a way of provoking resistance in the viewer. It must be due to his characteristic light tone and seemingly flippant attitude.
I handed him a pamphlet, but he didn’t seem to have much interest in the pamphlet itself.
“I recently moved to the 32nd floor. I used to live in a detached house with a garden, and moving to a high-rise building makes me feel cooped up and bleak. Could you recommend a painting for me?”
The man scanned around my chest as if searching for a name tag.
“Seo Yi-hyun.”
The man, who had been looking at me intently with eyes full of laughter, shook his head lightly.
“Even your name is my type.”
It was a self-muttering remark, as if he found it awkward.
From the moment I saw him at the main entrance, there was something… his attitude seemed to be trying to charm me, but it also looked more than half like a joke, and since I hadn’t received any direct proposition, I couldn’t find a reason to react. He didn’t seem to expect a reaction from me either. From beginning to end, the man was talking to himself and amusing himself.
“I’d like Yi-hyun to recommend one. What would be good? Something that can help me relax.”
“I’m just an intern helping out today…”
“It’s okay, just recommend one. It’s just for reference.”
The CEO and Yuni were already attending to customers. The Teacher and Joo-han were nowhere to be seen, presumably attending to customers in other sections. Although I was reluctant, since he asked for a recommendation knowing I was a temporary intern, I figured there wouldn’t be any problems if I did as he asked.
“Where do you plan to put it?”
“Hmm… if Yi-hyun recommends it, I’d like to hang it in the bedroom…”
The man chuckled, emphasizing the word ‘bedroom’ meaningfully. I looked at his light face, which smiled like a typical TV drama playboy, and stepped out from behind the desk.
There were about 50 works displayed in the exhibition hall.
This exhibition was a joint show by six or seven artists affiliated with the gallery, with some artists exhibiting as few as two pieces and others as many as ten or more. Having helped with the preparations until late last night, I had the images and general locations of those paintings organized in my mind.
Without hesitation, I led the way and stopped in front of a work painted on a square canvas, 53 centimeters on each side.
It was a painting with a cubist, bizarre interpretation and a cheerful, lively cartoon-like style. Conversely, it had dark and heavy colors.
“This one? This painting?”
The man asked repeatedly, as if he didn’t understand why I was recommending it. I nodded twice.
After glancing back and forth between the painting and me, the man turned around and looked around as if searching for someone, then called out to the CEO, who was talking with three or four people in front of a large pop-art style work.
“Kun, come over here for a moment.”
The CEO, after excusing himself from the people he was talking with, approached us.
Although I wasn’t particularly short, I wasn’t small either. The passenger seat man’s lips were at the tip of my nose, and the CEO’s lips were at the tip of the passenger seat man’s nose. He was well over 190 centimeters tall.
As he approached, he again had a look of annoyance, as if everything was a bother. Well, a sweet smile like that of a lover to everyone would be an unnecessary option in front of the passenger seat man and me.
Standing askew with one hand in his pants pocket, he urged the passenger seat man to get to the point.
“I asked you to recommend a painting for the bedroom, and you recommended my work. What do you think?”
The CEO’s gaze turned to me. Despite our relationship of only two days, it was the longest gaze he had ever fixed on me. It was also the first gaze that was neither indifferent nor hostile.
It wasn’t the gaze of a pack leader lion watching the movements of a strange animal lurking nearby, assessing if it was a threat to its group, but a gaze that looked directly at me as an individual.
As his gaze, which meticulously scanned me as if receiving information about me through my eyes, moved past me, the surprise at the coincidence that the painting I recommended was the work of the passenger seat man who received the recommendation finally dawned on me.
“How do you think this painting would suit me?”
“You didn’t know the artist was…?”
“You wouldn’t have. I’m not complaining about that, but I’m curious why you recommended this painting to me.”
The passenger seat man seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this situation.
“Will you tell me honestly? Please.”
Was he so starved for honest impressions that he even added ‘please’? Looking at my lips, with his hands clasped as if in prayer, I took another look at the painting behind him.
I had only lost myself in it and tried to paint it alone; I had never been curious about other people’s opinions on paintings. However, recalling the emotions I felt from a single award experience and its accompanying critique, I could understand the man’s feelings before me.
“It seems to show everything honestly, but there’s a part that doesn’t…”
“What part?”
“It feels similar.”
“Me and this painting?”
“Yes.”
“Is it not honest? Me and this painting?”
I found myself stepping back involuntarily because of the man who thrust his face closer, bombarding me with questions.
“It’s a bit different from that… I want to be honest, but I can’t be honest… It’s like that kind of state. In the sense that it reveals that state without reservation, it can also be considered a kind of honesty…”
At my further explanation, the playfulness disappeared from the man in the passenger seat’s face, while the CEO, conversely, let out a laugh. It was a very short laugh, but it was undeniably a laugh.
“I’m sorry. I’m not good with words… And it’s just my personal impression, so please don’t worry too much.”
The man in the passenger seat, who seemed momentarily flustered, then bent down and peered closer at my face with an intrigued gaze. He had already returned to his usual light expression.
“What are you doing after work today? I heard you finish at 6.”
I struggled to keep up with the sudden shift in conversation.
“Cleaning up… I have to.”
At my answer, the man, for the first time, removed his exaggerated, simpering smile and wore a disappointed expression. Then, he nudged the CEO’s arm beside him, seeking agreement.
“This is a solid wall, right?”
The CEO looked at me with a serious expression, as if searching for the answer on my face. I didn’t avoid his gaze.
What I was facing was an incredibly beautiful color. Forgetting for a moment that they were eyes, I was captivated solely by the living beauty of that color and slowly admired first the left eye, then the right.
The next moment, the man’s focus unhesitatingly shifted away from my gaze.
“Wall or not, do you feel like doing that to someone ten years younger than you?”
The CEO, clicking his tongue, said that and then turned his back, returning to his original spot.
As I let the man in the passenger seat’s words about knowing the best mandu-guk place in Seoul, and asking me to make time even if it wasn’t today, drift away, I thought: Had I ever told the CEO my age?
■ ■ ■
“Did you really read the editor-in-chief’s book, down to the underlining?”
Joo-han and I placed five or six bottles of leftover champagne from the party on the large conference table in the office. The CEO opened one of the bottles, poured it into a glass, and asked Teacher, with a mischievous smile.
“Did you even have time for that lately? That book came out less than two weeks ago, and think about how we’ve spent those two weeks.”
Teacher, accepting the glass from the CEO and moistening his lips, replied, resting his legs, which must have been tired from standing, on the table.
“Then what is it?”
“What is it, Lee Hyun?”
Teacher, as if he had been curious all along, demanded an answer from me.
“I thought it wouldn’t be good if it looked too new… So I got some smudges on it in the taxi, underlined it… folded a few corners… that’s what I did.”
Strictly speaking, the instruction was only to buy the book. But Teacher had mentioned he was actually reading the book, and I felt embarrassed to present a book that had just been purchased for the sake of a superficial autograph. As it became a topic of conversation, I felt nervous, wondering if I had done something unnecessary that wasn’t even asked of me.
The atmosphere, which had been warm as we celebrated the not-bad sales figures after the party, briefly became stiff and frozen. The source of that chill was, of course, the CEO. As I had felt yesterday, he had a talent for controlling the mood with just the angle of his gaze or his expression. It wasn’t solely due to his position as owner that others had to gauge and match his mood.
“You could have offended him by mishandling his book. Underlining and folding pages… aren’t there many people who dislike that?”
As if to himself. The CEO mumbled while drinking champagne.
“I only thought that it needed to show signs of having been actually read. I apologize.”
“Lee Hyun, why are you apologizing? Kun, what’s wrong? You’re going too far?”
Teacher slammed his champagne glass onto the table.
“I wasn’t saying anything, I was just asking if you’d considered the opposite perspective.”
Shrugging, he pretended to drink champagne, avoiding Teacher’s gaze.
While it wasn’t the icy hostility from yesterday, his perverted attitude remained. Teacher seemed slightly angry. That was rare.
“CEO Ryu is a result-oriented person, a performance-oriented person. Lee Hyun made the editor-in-chief happy and increased sales, so you should give her a bonus, why are you being so confrontational? Do you dislike the person I brought here?”
His eyes slowly turned towards me. I couldn’t know what kind of private relationship Teacher and the CEO had, or how close they were, but I could sense that he trusted Teacher completely. At least towards Teacher, he didn’t wear an annoyed expression or an villainous smile. Nor did he offer the mechanical smile armed with harmful sweetness, like candy made in a factory.
“What’s there to like or dislike? She’s just here to help for a while. You know I’m uncomfortable working with strangers. If Manager Han tells me to give a bonus, I’ll give it.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. Ugh… I thought you’d changed a bit, but you’re still the same.”
Shaking his head, Teacher finished the remaining champagne, emptied his glass, checked the time, and stood up.
After this, the CEO and Teacher had an after-party with VIPs, even more important than the VVIPs.
“People don’t change after twenty-five,” the CEO said in a playful tone, like he was coaxing, and lightly patted Teacher’s shoulder. He then took out a card from his wallet and handed it to Yuni.
“You worked hard today. Once you’re done cleaning up, play to your heart’s content.”
Yuni, who was organizing the remaining pamphlets, quickly ran over and snatched the card. Her eyes lit up as she asked,
“Is it a company card? CEO’s personal card?”
He lightly pushed Yuni’s forehead and scowled.
“Why are you guys so obsessed with that? Do you like spending my money that much?”
“Yes, because it feels like affection.”
“There’s no affection in personal cards, so stop talking nonsense.”
The catering equipment and leftover food had already been collected by the company, and all that was left was a little tidying up inside and out to finish the day’s work. As I was about to head up to the second-floor exhibition hall to start cleaning, Joo-han hesitated with an apologetic expression and spoke.
“Our CEO… he’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t he?”
“Don’t worry too much about it. He’s not like that only to Lee Hyun-ssi; he’s just like that to people he meets for the first time,” Yuni added.
Smiling as if to say it was fine, I folded the legs of the temporary table that had been set aside.
“When I first came here, it was even worse. I was so pissed off I seriously considered scratching the car with a knife and disappearing.”
Thinking about his current attitude towards Joo-han, it was hard to imagine. But judging by Joo-han’s expression, it didn’t seem like a fabricated story to comfort me.
“But if I did that, he’d find me by any means necessary and make me pay… so I gave up on scratching the car. I thought he’d find me, strip me naked, and scratch my body with knives.”
Joo-han contorted his face and dramatically shivered his shoulders, as if he had actually received such a threat from the CEO.
“Well… don’t you think the fact that you aggressively approached the CEO was a major cause?”
That was Yuni, who was attaching ‘Sold Out’ stickers to the artworks sold today from inside the exhibition hall.
“Hey, who aggressively approached… It’s because of the pheromones! How can I refuse a Golden Alpha’s pheromones!”
“What are you talking about? Why would the CEO release his pheromones in front of you? And you’re a Beta.”
Perhaps embarrassed by the weakness of his self-defense after having extensively explained the Golden Alpine CEO’s excellent pheromone control abilities to me, Joo-han glanced at me.
“What I’m trying to say is, the CEO’s personality is just bad, he doesn’t particularly hate Lee Hyun-ssi. That’s the point. The CEO isn’t confrontational because he dislikes someone. He treats everyone like that until he starts to like them.”
I didn’t know if this was comforting, but at least it seemed true that he wasn’t tormenting ‘only me’ specifically.
As we lifted the table with its folded legs from both sides and moved it towards the railing, Joo-han added,
“And if the CEO wanted to, he could probably even project pheromones onto a Beta and make them fall for him.”
Yuni leaned against the partition dividing the sections, frowning.
“Are pheromones like a superhero’s special move? Something you ‘project and make them fall’?”
“If you set your mind to it, it can be a special move. Hey, and do you know what’s stronger than pheromones?”
Saying that, Joo-han looked alternately at Yuni and me. Neither of us had an answer. Joo-han tilted his chin up slightly, adopting a somewhat arrogant posture.
“It’s taste, taste. Taste is above pheromones. At first, I was slightly swayed by the Golden Alpha pheromones, but once I came to my senses, I realized it wasn’t my taste. My taste is…”
Joo-han’s passionate lecture about his taste continued: a man in his late thirties, whose facial lines were starting to soften, a man lost in lethargy at the boundary between youth and middle age.
From their conversation so far, it seemed Joo-han’s romantic interests were men. And he didn’t seem to try to hide that inclination, even in front of me, with whom he wasn’t very close. Nor did I have any intention of pushing him beyond a certain line because of it.
Yuni, as if she had heard this dozens of times, shook her head. Then, as if there was no need to listen further, she grabbed my wrist and led me down the stairs.
Thinking about it, I had no reason to hate someone I had only met twice. Like Teacher and Joo-han had said, it was just the CEO’s consistent way of dealing with strangers.
I became curious. What would it feel like to be ‘specially’ hated by him?
I thought that perhaps among the people who had visited the exhibition hall earlier, there were many who wished to become ‘special’ to him, even if it meant being hated.