ACJY C5

He was deeply dissatisfied with the state of the company. While it was true that business had been tough this year, they weren’t on the verge of collapse. His own work was still thriving, and though the loan sharking business wasn’t as lucrative as before, it wasn’t alarmingly low either.

Only the construction arm was causing problems, and since its struggles were due to his uncle’s misjudgment, it was understandable that his pride was wounded. The ambitious new ventures meant to recoup those losses were also struggling. Still, his uncle was fixated on the construction downturn, even though it wasn’t their core business. He was unusually anxious and suspicious.

In a few days, none of this would matter to Seonjae, yet he couldn’t help but feel concerned about the company he’d dedicated his life to.

“Get a grip, old man,” he scolded himself aloud.

He had more pressing matters to attend to. Maintaining composure had become increasingly difficult.

Seonjae was like a still life of sunflowers hanging on a wall. He would sit down at his desk, and the next time he came to, two or three hours would have vanished. He already worked late, but now he often stayed until midnight. And it wasn’t always work that kept him there. Sometimes he just sat motionless in the dark.

He’d drift off, and in his sleep, he’d find himself standing in the garden of that two-story house. The beginning was always the same, but the endings varied. Recently, he’d dreamt of a couple he’d never met hanging themselves, their legs dangling and spinning. It wasn’t particularly frightening, but he woke up in a cold sweat.

Days like yesterday, filled with a semblance of his usual drive, came only once or twice a week. It wasn’t nearly enough. Moreover, his haste led to uncharacteristic mistakes. They were minor slips, noticeable only to him, but small mistakes could snowball. He struggled constantly to avoid jeopardizing everything at the last minute.

In the afternoon, his uncle summoned him. Seonjae, lost in a daze, barely managed to get to his feet. He could fix his appearance easily enough, but his eyes were dull and lifeless. He used eye drops and did some jumping jacks, even slapped his cheeks a few times.

The first thing he saw upon entering his uncle’s office was Lee Hyeonjun lounging on the sofa. He smirked at Seonjae and then turned his gaze to his father.

“What happened with that land?”

“What land?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

He genuinely didn’t know what land his uncle was talking about.

“Our father’s burial plot,” Lee Hyeonjun sneered.

Shit. He’d completely forgotten.

He laughed in disbelief.

“Look at him, grinning. What, are you happy about the burial plot? Hoping our father dies soon?” Lee Hyeonjun flew into a rage.

“Be quiet,” his uncle snapped, exasperated.

Seonjae seized the opportunity, acting as if he’d been about to bring it up anyway.

“You can talk about apartments all day, but it won’t work on a land-rich man. He has no debt, no guarantees, and a decent income from a small building. I’m looking into the market price of proper commercial properties in the downtown area, and I plan to approach him again with a matching offer.”

Before his uncle could respond, Lee Hyeonjun interjected.

“Look into what? Father, just do it the usual way. We have plenty of tough guys. Send a few of them to wave their knives around, and he’ll sign the contract within a week. Why waste time?”

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“But, I mean…”

His uncle glared at Lee Hyeonjun.

Lee Hyeonjun clicked his tongue and shifted in his seat.

“I heard you stayed up all night at the office again last night?” his uncle asked Seonjae.

“Yes. It’s a VIP matter, so I’m trying to finish it as quickly as possible.”

“Alright. Take care of your health. No one can handle your work if you collapse.”

He wasn’t concerned about Seonjae’s well-being, only the void his absence would create. It was nothing new, but with his departure imminent, it irked him. His stomach churned.

“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.” He barely managed to keep his tone even.

“That cut, though…” His uncle pointed to Seonjae’s forehead.

“You should at least go to a pharmacy.”

“Yes.”

He answered readily, but he’d completely forgotten about the injury.

He’d looked in the mirror earlier, so how could he not have noticed? He couldn’t recall how he’d gotten it. It was as if someone had excised that memory from his brain.

While he was thinking about the cut, his uncle must have continued talking. He thought he heard Lee Hyeonjun’s voice too. But he hadn’t registered a single word. There was only a watery silence.

“…Jae! Lee Seonjae, you son of a bitch! Are you deaf? Why aren’t you answering?”

He turned to see Lee Hyeonjun standing and shouting.

“Don’t yell. I’m not deaf.”

Seonjae answered calmly, picking at his ear, but his palms were sweating. He wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep standing up. The fact that he’d been so completely unaware of his surroundings, even in the presence of others, frightened him.

His uncle narrowed his already small eyes, studying him.

“The money?” he asked abruptly.

“It’s fine.”

When his uncle asked, “The money?” it invariably meant, “Are you short on funds?” And this time was no different.

“See? I told you we’re paying that bastard too much. That’s why he’s slacking off.”

Seonjae chuckled at the irony of Lee Hyeonjun, who had never served in the military, talking about discipline. His uncle stopped Lee Hyeonjun from retorting.

“Head of Planning Lee, Seonjae.”

“Yes.”

“Anything troubling you these days?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You. You’re different.”

“Different how? I don’t see it.”

His uncle seemed to have nothing else to say when Seonjae feigned ignorance. But he was perceptive and wouldn’t have missed Seonjae’s change in behavior. Anxiety gnawed at him. If he stayed there any longer, he felt like everything would unravel.

His phone vibrated.

“Excuse me, I have to take this call.”

He nodded and left the office, his legs shaky.

He bypassed the secretary’s office and rushed down the emergency stairs. His phone continued to vibrate insistently, but he didn’t answer. He reached the ground floor, stumbled out of the building, and vomited. Tears welled up involuntarily. He gasped for breath.

This is insane.

He was at his limit. He couldn’t take it anymore.

Amidst the pungent, metallic smell, Seonjae thought, out of the blue, of a waterfall. He wanted to go there, to that majestic, immense place. He wanted to fall.

✽✽✽

Using his all-nighter as an excuse, Seonjae left work earlier than usual and headed to Madam Jung’s teahouse.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Madam Jung asked with concern.

“Iced Americano, please.”

“Alright, alright. You don’t want to talk about it, I get it.”

The cool air conditioning and the aroma of coffee revived him somewhat.

Madam Jung brought their coffees to the table.

“You’ve got a scratch on that pretty face. What happened?”

“This? I don’t even remember,” Seonjae said jokingly, taking a large gulp of coffee.

“Hold on, let me put some ointment on it.”

She retrieved some ointment and a bandage from behind the counter.

“It’s fine. It adds character,” he said.

“Oh, sure. It’ll get infected.”

“I’m fine, noona.” Seonjae firmly declined her offer to treat the wound.

“Tell me some stories, stories about people. I love hearing your stories, noona.”

The thought that he might never come here again made him feel nostalgic. He wouldn’t miss the smells and the stench of the marketplace, though.

“You won’t be happy unless you get your way, will you? You’re such a child,” she said with a warm smile, giving him a playful look. She then relayed the latest gossip, her own recent experiences, and news about people Seonjae might know. He felt a sense of peace. The nausea subsided, and he started to feel drowsy. But he couldn’t sleep yet. He still had things to do.

Once he felt calmer, he stood up.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, leaving the teahouse.

“Alright, go home and rest. You’ve worked hard,” Madam Jung said, patting him gently on the back.

He left the teahouse and wandered through the market. After making sure he wasn’t being followed, he hailed a cab. Still wary, he transferred multiple times between the subway and buses before reaching his destination.

It was one of his several hideouts, located amidst a slum slated for imminent redevelopment. The area was deserted. Scars remained from the violent clashes between residents protesting the redevelopment and the thugs and police hired to suppress them. This was the first neighborhood where Ilkwang Financial had participated in demolition work, a place etched in Seonjae’s memory.

Glue and butane gas canisters, likely discarded by delinquent teenagers, littered the streets where elderly residents, unable to leave, sat fanning themselves like royalty.