CI 1.7

What am I thinking?! As he shook his head vigorously as if swatting away flies to clear his mind, his phone, which had been silent for nearly a month, rang with a message notification sound.

He remembered Boss Won’s words about calling if he missed him. It would feel strange if there was a message from him right at the moment he was thinking about him.

Son Yeo-il checked his phone screen with a feeling somewhere between excitement and concern. His face then froze coldly. As it turned out, the message wasn’t from Boss Won.

[Yeo-il. How have you been?]

Koo Dae-hyun. It was Son Yeo-il’s ex-boyfriend, no, it was that bastard, who ended up texting him.

A rush of complicated emotions swept through him right then and there. He had thought he could ignore whatever the other man said now, that he had already forgotten everything that happened, yet Son Yeo-il hadn’t even forgotten his number.

He had deleted his contact because seeing his photo in the Messenger app’s friend recommendations tab was irritating, but he had forgotten to block him. No, to be more honest, he had half-intentionally left it unblocked because he thought blocking him would seem like making a huge fuss over nothing. He had wanted to pretend it didn’t bother him at all.

What the hell?

But Son Yeo-il was far from unbothered. His composure crumbled at just one text, and he felt his blood boiling. While he gritted his teeth tightly and stared at his phone screen, a series of long messages arrived one after another.

He was saying things like, today I had wine with a close senior colleague from the advisory team who’s going to study abroad in August, and that senior is also a corporate law major like you blah blah. He’s going to Stanford’s LLM program, and I remembered how we used to talk about studying abroad together wah wah. The team leader was disappointed that you didn’t join the firm blah blah blah.

Ah, really, what is this crazy guy even saying?

By the time he got to the middle of his speech, there was content that made him exhale with a loud “ha” sound.

[I heard you went to a small former-judge law office in the countryside? How could someone as talented as you end up in such a place…If you were uncomfortable at Koo & Chang, I could have connected you to another firm.]

Just until a moment ago, Son Yeo-il’s office had felt small but capable of handling various cases, and this neighborhood had felt shabby but cozy. With one arrogant message, he had become ‘a pitiful lawyer who had somehow tumbled down to such a place.’

Koo Dae-hyun was always like this. As the son of the managing partner of Koo & Chang Law Firm, he had been the center of attention from the first day of law school.

Despite having a background that would guarantee 100% acceptance if he made it to the interview stage, rumors gradually grew rampant that he had failed the law school entrance exam three times because he couldn’t pass the written test cutoff. Yet he acted as if he were of a different status than other law school students.

While some classmates envied and idolized him, most probably found him annoying. Even more people likely hated Son Yeo-il, a poor boy who hung to the edges of his group.

I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with such a guy in the first place.

It was the same now. He could just delete such trashy messages immediately and erase them from his life. Yet Son Yeo-il read the message all the way to the end. Until these final words showed up on his phone screen.

[I heard about your mother. Even though we broke up, you should have told me about such things. My heart aches too. I sincerely want to help. Contact me.]

Son Yeo-il’s hand holding the phone trembled slightly. He couldn’t stand him talking about his mother. He wanted to throw the phone away, but Son Yeo-il wasn’t in a position to carelessly damage a phone with an unfinished contract.

Far from having the financial means to break his phone in anger, he was in a situation where he was distressed over a single piece of T-shirt he had left behind at a one-night stand’s house.

Fine. I’ll just drink. Not because I’m upset about that bastard, but because it’s Friday.

Son Yeo-il turned and headed to a convenience store near his home. He bought whatever snacks, soju, and beer that caught his eye and was about to go home, but instead sat down at a table in front of the convenience store.

The man living in the next room at his studio apartment always bothered him. Last Friday, when he had bought alcohol and was entering his home, he happened to run into him, and he immediately confronted him about why he was drinking in a shared housing complex. He was irritable, saying he couldn’t concentrate on his “studies” when someone was drinking in the next room, and the other man didn’t seem like the type who would listen to reason.

Usually, that man would make noises as if eavesdropping while pressed against the wall adjoining Son Yeo-il’s room, and whenever he passed by in the hallway, he would act as if he were monitoring him and behave unpleasantly. Since the place had poor soundproofing, he had been especially quiet, so there hadn’t been any major issues yet, but if he ran into him again today while carrying alcohol, it would likely be another troublesome encounter.

No, beyond that, Son Yeo-il didn’t want to enter his room in this mood. He was afraid of that small, dark room where there was no one to respond even if he said “I’m home.”

Son Yeo-il hurriedly opened the soju. After pouring a shot into a small paper cup and drinking it, his insides felt a bit cooler. As he immediately drank another shot in succession, he couldn’t help but laugh at himself.

I’m really a mess.

No different from an alcoholic. While rationalizing that anyone who experienced what he had would have some part of their mind broken as well, he was also afraid that his weak self might collapse like this.

But the weekend is too long…and alcohol helps me sleep. My home is right there. If I feel drunk, I can go to my room right away and sleep it off. There won’t be time to do anything strange like last time.

After reassuring himself, he felt a little relieved and began drinking in earnest, opening the beer bottle as well. Having hastily drunk alcohol before even opening the snack bag he bought as a side dish, intoxication came over him at once.

His vision blurred as he grew more and more tipsy. How long had he been drinking like this? As he blinked his eyes, memories that had been erased from his mind popped up.

<Excuse me, why do you keep giving me dirty looks?>

<What’s your problem? With a face like a pimp’s.>

Ah, this must be from when he first came to that place. That day, Son Yeo-il had drunk alone at a pub until he was completely intoxicated. His stomach was already queasy, and it was distressing to listen to two rough-looking men at the next table pounding on the table, laughing, and causing a commotion while spitting phlegm on the pub floor, so he had glanced over at them.

When their eyes unexpectedly met, they pounced on Son Yeo-il like hyenas discovering prey. Son Yeo-il had always been told that his eyes looked prim. Furthermore, men of that type would very likely call him a “pimp” and pick fights with him.

Since both they and Son Yeo-il were drunk, he thought they would back off after a while, so he bowed his head low and continued drinking his beer. Those men, as if finding his behavior even more offensive, stood up from their seats.

<Hey, this one’s openly ignoring us. What kind of guy is this?>

<Don’t you know us? You’re not from around here, are you? Damn, I’ve lived all my life only to have some random hustler who rolled in from somewhere pick a fight with me. Seok-man’s crew’s reputation is dead.>

The swaggering men approached Son Yeo-il’s table, rolling up their sleeves. Their robust forearms were covered in illegible Chinese character tattoos. Even in his drunken state, he thought he had gotten into serious trouble. When Son Yeo-il didn’t respond, they became even more agitated.

<Is this bastard deaf? If you started the trouble, you should at least apologize.>

<Don’t want to speak? Huh? It seems like you need to get hit to come to your senses.>

One man took Son Yeo-il’s beer glass and made him put it down on the table, while another tried to rush at Son Yeo-il from inside the table as if to grab him by the collar. What to do? What to do? Son Yeo-il was busy racking his alcohol-soaked brain for ways to get himself out of this situation.

<Damn nuisances. Seok-man’s gang? What kind of dog bone is that.>

A low, heavy voice cut in. The man who had been bothering Son Yeo-il clicked his tongue as if in disbelief.

<Mister, just go on your way. Why are you getting involved in someone else’s business…hmm, hup, ahem.>

As he turned around boldly, he started coughing nervously after checking behind them. He hurriedly moved away from Son Yeo-il’s table, placed both hands neatly in front of his body, and even offered an apology in a respectful manner.

<I’m sorry, big brother. I was worried about the discipline in Yongju City.>

<Huh? Are you filming a movie? When did we meet for you to call me big brother? And why are you two maintaining neighborhood discipline when there are perfectly good police officers?> 

<…>

<Ah, stop making a racket and go home quietly if you’ve had your drink. Go on!>

At someone’s sudden sharp remark, the men who had been threatening Son Yeo-il hastily left. Whatever was happening, the situation seemed to be resolving itself right then.

Relieved, Son Yeo-il lowered his head and reached for his beer glass again. But this time, the hand of the newly appeared man gently pulled the beer glass away from Son Yeo-il.

<My, you’re completely plastered. Get a grip. Do you think it’s okay to be like this here?>

Feeling irritated, Son Yeo-il looked up and glared daggers at the man in front of him. As if to say, ‘I thought you were on my side, but you’re going to stop me from drinking?’ And that was when he first locked eyes with Boss Won.

Was this what they call an alcohol filter? The image of Boss Won in his memory was unusually fresh. Maybe it was because of his hair that flowed naturally, unlike his usual style with pomade, or because he was wearing a white tee with a hooded zip-up instead of his gangster shirt.

Under Son Yeo-il’s intent gaze, Boss Won blinked slowly. He raised his pot lid-like hands to roughly rub his face and mumbled barely audibly.

<What? I’m embarrassed when you’re this pretty.>

His words were similar then and now. Recalling forgotten memories, Son Yeo-il unconsciously broke into a faint smile. Then suddenly, a deep voice was heard.

“I’m going crazy. Are you plastered drunk again?”

Drunk Son Yeo-il couldn’t distinguish whether those words were dialogue from his memory or sounds he was actually hearing now. He only felt a sense of drowsiness as the tension eased at the sweet voice. Then a large hand grabbed Son Yeo-il’s swaying body.

“What did I tell you, huh? You need to keep your wits about you in this troubled world.”

‘That’s right. I got scolded badly by Boss Won the last time I was this drunk.’ He wanted to respond like that, but maybe because of the alcohol, only chuckling sounds escaped from his lips.

“Good grief, laughing and all. Makes my heart flutter.”

And then he started rambling on with nagging that was somewhat irritating but not too unpleasant. The body heat that came flooding when he leaned fully against him, and the sound of clicking his tongue as if in disbelief, both gave a sense of reassurance.

He wanted to retort something too, no, rather, he had something he wanted to say to that person. After struggling for a while, Son Yeo-il finally found the words that had been pooling in his heart.

“Hey youuu.”

Despite the slurred speech and the burst of alcohol smell, it didn’t matter. This was all a dream anyway, so anything he said would be fine.

‘What does our Attorney Son do on weekends?’ When he first asked that, Son Yeo-il’s lips kept fidgeting. If Son Yeo-il had been a little more honest, he would have answered like this a long time ago.

“I…get really lonely…on weekends…”

With those words, Son Yeo-il’s dense eyelashes gently lowered.

***

Saturday passed in an instant with a terrible hangover. Despite suffering from otherworldly headaches and stomachaches, Son Yeo-il managed to get up around four in the afternoon, go to the dry cleaner’s, and eat half an instant porridge.

After falling asleep again as if passing out, when he woke up, it was Sunday lunchtime. His body was still stiff, but unlike the usual ‘day after drinking,’ his mood was unusually light today. He couldn’t even remember why he had gotten depressed in the first place.

I think I was pretty drunk, but my memory is hazy. I don’t even know how I got home on Friday night…

What had started as just a couple of drinks in front of the convenience store seemed to have ended with him nearly getting blackout drunk. It probably wasn’t difficult to find his way home since it was so close, but he had an uneasy feeling like he had forgotten something important.

The only certainty was that while intoxicated, he had vaguely recalled the day he first met Boss Won. There was a strange feeling of reality, dreams, and memories being mixed together, but that was usually how it was inside the head of someone who had been drinking.