By Zephyria “By the way, sunbae, what perfume do you use?”
“Why? Are you going to buy it too?”
“I don’t even have money for that.”
Yoon Joo-ho said with a sideways smile.
“You got a good part-time job, thanks to me.”
“I am grateful for that. It’s such a sweet gig, I feel guilty.”
“Just make sure you strictly adhere to the confidentiality clause.”
“Of course. That’s why I’m getting paid a hundred thousand won per hour.”
The high-speed elevator descended from the 17th floor to the B3 floor in an instant. Yoon Joo-ho, pushing off the wall he was leaning on and adjusting the bag on his shoulder, passed Song Hyun-soo and said towards the open door.
“There are plenty of people in the world who get paid tens of thousands of won per hour and still stab you in the back.”
Song Hyun-soo watched Yoon Joo-ho’s retreating figure, his hands deep in his coat pockets as he strode away, and quickly caught up.
“I know you’ve been hurt by this person and that person before, sunbae. But there are still people in the world who aren’t like that… I…”
Song Hyun-soo’s steps slowed. It was because of the scenery, which was quite different from the underground parking lot he was familiar with. The bright, cheerful lighting was sufficient, and although it was clearly a parking lot, not a single car was visible. C01, C02, D01, D02, D03… numbered and shuttered garages lined both sides.
“Aren’t you getting in?”
Song Hyun-soo, who had been looking around the unfamiliar scenery, unconsciously turned his head in the direction of Yoon Joo-ho’s voice.
Yoon Joo-ho had opened one of the garages and was standing behind the driver’s seat of a car. First, he was shooting a coat commercial, and now it’s a car commercial. A commercial for a Porsche, a 911, a Turbo S, a Cabriolet.
Song Hyun-soo’s mouth and eyes widened as he approached the car. His body instinctively bowed respectfully towards the car.
“No way… is this it? Are we going in this?”
“Anyone would think I bought it for you. Are you that moved?”
“You wouldn’t know, sunbae. Someone like me could never even dream of a car like this in my lifetime. I take pictures whenever I see one on the road. I can’t believe I’ll get to ride in one.”
Song Hyun-soo couldn’t take his eyes off the car. He wanted to embrace it with both arms and rub his cheek against the steeply tilted windshield to express his emotion, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch the body, which was polished to a mirror shine without a single fingerprint. He might get a side kick if he did.
“I liked the shark blue, but the gentian blue looks amazing in person too.”
“You said you could never dream of it, yet you even know the colors?”
“I’ve entered my details for quotes on the website hundreds of times. It doesn’t cost money to get an online quote…”
Distracted solely by the 911, Song Hyun-soo finally noticed the two cars parked side-by-side next to it. The structure of each garage allowed for about three cars. The other two vehicles were also cars with specs that everyone would have dreamed of. A practical SUV, a stately sedan, and a sports car. A good combination.
“No way, here, these, are all yours, sunbae?”
“If you’re late for Pilates, I’ll really kill you. Get in quickly.”
I knew he wouldn’t tolerate it for long. Song Hyun-soo urgently called out to Yoon Joo-ho, who was about to get into the driver’s seat with a fierce expression, growling and snapping.
“Sunbae, sunbaenim, just once! Please take a picture of me in front of this car.”
Then, he took out his phone from his padding pocket and handed it to Yoon Joo-ho, placing it on the car’s hood.
Yoon Joo-ho clicked his tongue as if he found it absurd and scowled. Should I kill him right here, or not? That was his expression. But for Song Hyun-soo, it wasn’t the time to worry about Yoon Joo-ho’s mood. If he was going to die, he had to leave a photo behind.
“Ah, please! I don’t know when I’ll get to ride in it again, just one picture.”
Yoon Joo-ho, closing his eyes and taking a couple of deep breaths to control his temper, licked his lower lip with his tongue and snatched the phone. Glancing at Yoon Joo-ho, Song Hyun-soo chuckled briefly, making sure he wouldn’t notice.
“Sunbaenim, if possible, could you take it with me sitting in the driver’s seat…”
As Song Hyun-soo moved towards the driver’s seat after passing the hood, Yoon Joo-ho sighed, standing with one leg crossed.
“Don’t push it.”
“…Yes.”
Song Hyun-soo obediently returned to his original spot. Seeing him speak through clenched teeth, he knew he shouldn’t push his luck further.
Yoon Joo-ho walked to the front of the garage and, grumbling, took a few photos, changing the direction horizontally and vertically.
“Don’t upload it anywhere.”
“I won’t.”
He checked, and the photos seemed to be taken reasonably well.
“The license plate is visible, so it’s obvious it’s my car.”
“I know. I won’t upload it anywhere. I’ll just keep it to myself. Okay?”
Yoon Joo-ho, who was about to get into the driver’s seat, leaned his arm on the top of the open door and smiled meaningfully.
“If you upload it, we might get a scandal?”
“……”
He threw a comment that made one’s heart flutter and then got into the driver’s seat first, looking indifferent. Song Hyun-soo muttered with a look of exasperation and opened the passenger door.
“We’re guys, what scandal… what scandal could there be? Ha, really.”
The world seen from his dream car was different from before. At least, it wasn’t the world seen from the back seat of a bus.
Even in Gangnam, where a Mercedes E-Class was as common as a Sonata, cars like this were rare. Every time they slowed down for a traffic light, people’s gazes followed. Students in school uniforms took pictures of the car with their phones.
“I feel amazing. If I drove this around, I’d get attention all day.”
Yoon Joo-ho, in the driver’s seat, snorted.
“Do you really think I’d only get attention if I drove this out?”
“……”
Right. You’re Yoon Joo-ho, so you’d always get attention, even without a car like this.
So annoying. It’s true, but still so annoying.
“Ah… what would it feel like to park this in front of a fancy restaurant and hand it over to the valet?”
“Is that the advantage you see in this car?”
“You don’t even know the word ‘exit feeling’?”
“What’s that now?”
“When you get out of a supercar like this. People glance around, thinking, ‘Who could the owner be?’ That feeling of getting out of the car while savoring those envious gazes. That’s the exit feeling.”
“There are all sorts of terms.”
Song Hyun-soo tapped the leather-covered dashboard.
“It could be considered one of the features included in the price of this car.”
The car, reaching the end of Dosan-daero, attempted a slow left turn to merge onto Olympic-daero.
If they moved towards the city, they could enjoy people’s attention more, but then they would likely have to pass in front of the Look Planning building. Perhaps Yoon Joo-ho was deliberately avoiding that route.
Song Hyun-soo glanced at Yoon Joo-ho’s profile. He hadn’t said a word about Look Planning, but Song Hyun-soo felt a sense of urgency, as if he needed to liven up the mood.
“Sunbae, you know the overpass at Hannam Intersection, right? Could you drop me off at the bus stop in front of it?”
“Why?”
“I want to feel at least indirect exit feeling.”
After seeing him stuff strawberries into his mouth, Yoon Joo-ho turned to Song Hyun-soo with an astonished expression once again.
“You said to drop you off before the Seobinggo overpass. Hannam Intersection is in a different direction, so no.”
“Tsk.”
He turned his head to look out the car window with a click of his tongue, and this time, a snorting sound was heard.
“One moment you’re giggling, the next you’re huffing. You’re no different from a five-year-old.”
It was true, as Yoon Joo-ho said. He had completely forgotten the slightly awkward atmosphere from the entire practice session. Song Hyun-soo, feeling awkward, looked around the interior pointlessly and made an excuse.
“That’s because I’m honest with my emotions. You know how important emotions are to an actor, right?”
“If only you could keep your mouth shut.”
Yoon Joo-ho chuckled, shaking his head. Song Hyun-soo, seeing his profile, also laughed without reservation.
Olympic-daero, coinciding with rush hour, was no different from a parking lot. Even his Porsche, with a top speed of 330 km/h, crawled along.
Yoon Joo-ho, looking slightly bored, stared at the taillights of the car in front, resting his elbow on the window frame and propping his temple. His neat left hand, gripping the top of the steering wheel, caught his eye. The contrast between his flawless, clean fingers and the clearly visible blue veins gave off a strange charm.
“But, sunbae, do you know something?”
“What now?”
“At first, you mixed informal and formal speech with me, but at some point, you started using only informal speech.”
Keeping his gaze fixed forward, Yoon Joo-ho said indifferently, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
“……I know.”