CI 1.9

Thanks to saving on food expenses from the free meals of the past few days, an idea he’d never usually have occurred to him. Usually, he didn’t order delivery because it was expensive and the portions were not small, and he’d end up not finishing it. If he ordered delivery, what should he eat? Maybe something good for a hangover?

Suddenly, the “ox blood sausage soup with plenty of plump sausages” that Boss Won had mentioned came to Son Yeo-il’s mind. It was a food he didn’t particularly like, but his mouth was watering at the thought.

Knock knock. Someone knocked on Son Yeo-il’s door and said something startling. “Delivery’s here.”

Huh?

What could that mean? Son Yeo-il felt disappointed in himself for letting out a surprised “Eeng?” in Boss Won’s manner of speech rather than just “Eng?”, but that wasn’t the issue. Did I… order something? Did I really order something instead of just thinking about it? When did I do that? Is the alcohol making me forget?

Confused, Son Yeo-il hesitantly answered, “Yes?” The person outside the door spoke again, this time with a bit more humor and a more sinuous accent than the first greeting. “Delivery’s heeere.”

Ah! Damn! Finally recognizing the voice, Son Yeo-il stomped his feet alone in his room. “Boss Won. Why are you doing this, really?”

From beyond the door came the sound of giggling, as if the other man was about to die of laughter. “Oh, I’m hurt. How can you not recognize your wife’s voice?”

“Who’s your wife? No, I mean, what are you doing?”

As Son Yeo-il got angry, Boss Won seemed even more delighted. After laughing until he was out of breath, there was the sound of something rustling behind the door. “If my husband doesn’t want to go out, as his wife, I should bring him a meal, right? Do you like ox blood sausage soup? You were completely drunk on Friday, and I was wondering if you’ve recovered from your hangover yet.”

Huh? Having just thought about ox blood sausage soup moments ago, Son Yeo-il opened his eyes wide and looked around his room in disbelief. Did that pervert install CCTV in my room? No, even with CCTV, he wouldn’t be able to see my thoughts.

Although the soup was quite welcome, Son Yeo-il kept his mouth firmly shut. If he honestly said, “I was actually craving ox blood sausage soup,” Boss Won would probably go on and on about fate and destiny.

“Well then, shall we now enjoy a bowl of ox blood sausage soup together in Attorney Son’s room?”

At Boss Won’s subsequent suggestion, Son Yeo-il couldn’t help but be startled. It was an offer he should quickly refuse, since he had been willing to skip lunch to avoid being in the same room as that pervert of a man.

But what would happen to the innocent soup? It was Boss Won’s fault for being a pervert, not the soup’s. Son Yeo-il, his mind filled with thoughts of the soup, almost opened the door like someone in a trance.

But the next moment, there was a slight rattle of the doorknob and the rustle of a paper bag, and then Boss Won said, “Just kidding, just kidding. I’ll leave it on your door, so enjoy it comfortably, okay?”

During this unexpected turn of events, before Son Yeo-il could find words to respond, Boss Won really did just hang the soup bag on the doorknob and went back to his room. Feeling bewildered by the whole thing, Son Yeo-il brought the warm paper bag into his room. After setting the table and taking a spoonful, another message came. 

[Does it taste good?]

As the meal was too appetizing to reply with both hands, Son Yeo-il typed a response with his left index finger without putting down his spoon. 

[It’s delicious. Thank you.]

[Are you enjoying it? Are you eating it with fermented shrimp paste?]

[No, I’ve never tried that combination before.]

[Huh? You’ve never put fermented shrimp paste in ox blood sausage soup? I don’t know what I’m doing with this Seoul country bumpkin~]

The problem wasn’t that he hadn’t tried it in ox blood sausage soup—Son Yeo-il had never eaten fermented shrimp paste at all before in his life. He’d occasionally seen it at soup restaurants, but its unfamiliar appearance made him hesitant to try it.

Thinking that mentioning this would cause more fuss in the end, Son Yeo-il quickly added the shrimp paste to his soup. But after adding it as if in a trance, he realized there was no real reason to do as Boss Won instructed.

This guy keeps making me lose my mind.

Since he’d already eaten more than half and filled his stomach, he picked up his spoon with the mindset that he could stop eating if it didn’t taste good. But the moment he took a spoonful, Son Yeo-il’s eyes opened wide. While slurping up the broth with “hap, hap” sounds, another message came from Boss Won.

[Yes, yes. Even your eating is pretty.]

How can he say it’s pretty when he can’t even see? Is there really a CCTV in his room? Tilting his head in puzzlement, Son Yeo-il asked something he’d been curious about.

[But you know how to speak standard Korean.]

[Huh?]

[When you first said the delivery was here, you used Seoul speech.]

[Huh? How could a Korean person not speak standard Korean? I hardly ever use dialect originally.]

Son Yeo-il nearly spat out his food, laughing with a “pffft.” From beyond the wall came the sound of hearty laughter, followed by another message.

[That’s funny.]

CCTV or not, the walls were thin enough that most sounds carried to the next room. Son Yeo-il replied without hiding his incredulity.

[You’re saying you don’t use dialect, Boss Won?]

[That’s right. Chungcheong people don’t use dialect originally. You could just say our sentence endings are a bit different.]

It was amusing that someone who usually sent messages in dialect was suddenly using standard Korean at precisely this moment. When Son Yeo-il simply giggled quietly without responding, the other man added as if feeling wronged:

[I’m not joking~ When I go out, people really think I’m from Seoul.]

Son Yeo-il thought that was probably based on appearance. Boss Won had well-proportioned features without any rough edges and an intense aura. If he just kept his mouth shut, it would be easy for people to misunderstand.

Being from Seoul didn’t make one particularly more handsome, but it was certainly curious that such a good-looking man wasn’t at a film set but instead involved in gangster activities in the countryside.

How did he end up doing that kind of work? Wait. Didn’t he say he’s going down the straight and narrow path from now on? Is that true?

Son Yeo-il became curious about something he’d never wondered about before. Until now, whether that man was a gangster or an ex-convict didn’t matter to Son Yeo-il in the slightest, so he hadn’t been curious.

Well. It still didn’t matter now either. Furthermore, Son Yeo-il despised anything resembling a background check. After hesitating briefly while cleaning up the empty dishes, Son Yeo-il asked an uncharacteristic question.

[What do the people who came to move the bed today do?]

If he had to make an excuse, the weekend was still quite long, and it was obvious that if he stayed alone quietly, he’d sink into melancholy thoughts again. With a full stomach and improved mood, it didn’t seem bad to ask a few questions of someone who had moved in next door, though the likelihood they’d ever be involved in each other’s lives permanently was slim.

[Don’t worry, they’re all cultured fellows~ That guy with the shaved head? That’s Jae-deok. He runs a flower shop at the intersection in front of City Hall.]

[A flower shop?]

[His flower baskets are amazing. Even when City Hall holds events, they all order from his shop.]

Son Yeo-il tilted his head to one side, recalling ‘Jae-deok’ with his shiny bald head and arms covered in what looked like Chinese characters. He seemed far from the flower type.

[Then what about the man with his hair tied back?]

[Gyu-sang? He also lives very culturally. He runs a photo studio next to Jae-deok’s place, is married, and has a kid. The kid is six and goes to an English kindergarten.]

[What does an English kindergarten have to do with being cultured?]

[You’re right, being fluent in Korean is enough, isn’t it?]

Though he didn’t want to laugh, thinking the next-door neighbor might be eavesdropping, he couldn’t help but giggle. Son Yeo-il climbed onto his bed, positioning himself as far as possible from the wall adjoining the other room to prevent sound from leaking out. He shifted around, getting into a comfortable position before replying.

Perhaps because of the wall between them, talking with Boss Won felt more comfortable than ever. Or to be more honest, it hadn’t been particularly uncomfortable from the beginning, but he might have been acting stiff all along to hide that fact.

[Looking at your business card, you really seem like a company president.]

[Huh? Then is our company not a real company? We pay our Chamber of Commerce fees punctually~ Want me to get you a corporate registration certificate? Our company, Hee-yeon Corporation, was established five years ago with the business purpose of real estate leasing.]

[Hee-yeon seems a bit much for a company name.]

[Why? Too pretty for a company name? My name is pretty. What can I do? Anyway, I’m the president, Hong-shik is the secretary. That’s how it is. That Hong-shik has a head full of emptiness. Doesn’t know a thing, but I have to take care of him. What choice do I have?]

Son Yeo-il thought of Hong-shik, who was always grumbling but extremely respectful of Boss Won’s words. Come to think of it, among the voices murmuring in the hallway today, Hong-shik’s voice had been heard last. Without any particular reason, Son Yeo-il probed casually.

[It’s you who can’t do anything without Hong-shik, isn’t it, Boss Won? Even making him run soup errands on weekends.]

[Huh? What are you saying? A wife should take care of his husband’s meals. Besides, that Hong-shik, maybe because he looks like he belongs to the pig family, absolutely hates the smell of blood sausage soup.]

So that soup must have been bought by Boss Won, who rushed out after Son Yeo-il said he didn’t want jajangmyeon. The corners of Son Yeo-il’s mouth turned up slightly at something that shouldn’t particularly make him feel good.

[But why is Hong-shik “Hong-shik-ssi”?]

[Pardon?]

[I’m “Boss Won” but why is that guy “Hong-shik-ssi”! You match bellies with me and dine with me, so you should call me by my name too. Huh?]

[Hee-yeon-ssi is a bit…]

In response to Son Yeo-il’s blunt reply, a phone call suddenly came in. Son Yeo-il, who had been smiling inadvertently, cleared his throat with “hmm-hmm” to remove any trace of laughter from his voice before answering.

“Why the sudden call…”

“Yeo-il-ah.”

At the sound of Boss Won’s deep voice calling his name, Son Yeo-il’s heart momentarily sank to the pit of his stomach. Flustered, he immediately pressed the end call button, but his heart continued to pound. Oblivious to his state, Boss Won sent a message in a whining tone.

[Why did you hang up? Don’t you know the saying “the husband calls, the wife answers”? When I say “Yeo-il-ah,” our husband should answer “Hee-yeon-ssi.” That’s how it works.]

Even as his cheeks reddened and he fanned himself, Son Yeo-il sent a message pretending to be aloof.

[If you keep saying strange things, I won’t reply.]

In truth, he could choose not to reply even if Boss Won didn’t say strange things. Since Boss Won wouldn’t hold his hand if told not to, and would leave food hanging on the doorknob if told he didn’t want to eat together, it was clear he would comply if asked to stop messaging.

[Oh, alright. Call me whatever you want, Attorney Son. You can even just say “Hey!” if you’d like.]

[Given your age, “Hey” seems a bit…]

Yet Son Yeo-il continued to grumble while still sending replies.

[Age? Huh? They say a ten-year difference doesn’t even need fortune-telling.]

[Isn’t it a four-year difference that doesn’t need fortune-telling?]

[Since I’m healthy, if I live six more years, it’s the same thing.]

Son Yeo-il could grumble all he wanted, but Boss Won steadfastly continued his nonsense, and Son Yeo-il kept responding with little chuckles. They continued their superficial conversation for quite some time. Truly, for a long time.

Gasp…!

The next day, Monday morning, Son Yeo-il jerked awake at the sound of his alarm. After exchanging messages back and forth, drowsiness had overwhelmed him, and it seemed he had fallen asleep while typing that he wouldn’t reply anymore as he nodded off.

What am I doing? Something I didn’t even do as a student…

He hadn’t overslept, but perhaps because he found his own behavior from the previous night ridiculous, his mind became anxious, his movements clumsy, and his preparations for work took unusually long. The law firm was a 12-minute walk. Son Yeo-il, who had left home with plenty of time, stumbled significantly when he reached the common entrance.

A hot pink convertible was parked in front of the studio apartment building. It was a gaudy, vivid pink that seemed blinding just to look at. And of course, sitting in the driver’s seat of that embarrassing car was Boss Won.

“Hey there, Attorney Son. Good morning.”

What is this now? Damn it.

To face such an outrageous sight first thing Monday morning. Son Yeo-il was too bewildered to say anything. With one arm resting on the driver’s door frame, Boss Won used his other hand to lift the sunglasses he was wearing and place them on top of his head as he spoke.

“Get in. I’ll take you to the office.”

The sound of him crunching on the lollipop in his mouth was cheerful. Today he was dressed in the standard gangster attire. However, his gleaming sunglasses, tropical fruit-patterned silk shirt, and even the tattoos on his rolled-up sleeves looked modest compared to the gleaming hot pink convertible parked on the street.