NFS 3.21

Chicken on the second day, pork hocks on the third. On the fourth day, Joo Seung-ha deliberately ate a hearty dinner, planning to refuse whatever Seo Ahn-jae brought. But as it turned out, he brought dumplings and stir-fried udon. Udon. Among all the noodles, udon was Joo Seung-ha’s absolute favorite. Joo Seung-ha realized for the first time in his life that he was such a weak being who easily crumbled in the face of food.

It was problematic enough that amazing smells wafted in as soon as Seo Ahn-jae walked into the room, but the fact that all the foods he brought dangling in plastic bags were casual everyday foods made them even easier to accept. Of course, he was shocked when he later searched and found out that the wine they drank with yesterday’s stir-fried udon cost several million won. Ironically, Seo Ahn-jae himself didn’t even know how expensive the wine he’d opened was.

“Is it expensive? Don’t know, someone gave it to me.”

When Joo Seung-ha mentioned it while leaving for the shelter in the morning, that was Seo Ahn-jae’s only indifferent response. Then, standing next to Cookie who had come to greet them, he blurted out, Come back soon.”

Joo Seung-ha stopped mid-way through putting on his shoes and turned to look at him. Seo Ahn-jae seemed to work until dawn, and perhaps because of that, his face was slightly puffy from oversleeping and his hair was disheveled. He stared at Joo Seung-ha blankly with eyes still heavy with sleep. Joo Seung-ha was dumbfounded and looked back and forth between him and Cookie, who was gazing up at them longingly.

“Don’t you have plans today?”

“I do.”

“What time is your appointment?”

“What time are you free?”

Now his flirts came out as naturally as breathing. Though impressed, Joo Seung-ha absolutely refused to fall for it.

“Maybe thirty minutes in fifty years?”

Seo Ahn-jae chuckled and ran his hand through his hair.

“Come early. Let’s have dinner together.”

“We’ll see,” Joo Seung-ha answered and left his house, but while getting in his car, he thought about leaving the shelter early today. So as soon as he arrived at the shelter, he rolled up his sleeves and rushed to do the physical work first, and before he knew it, several hours had gone by in a flash.

“Sunny, unless you have a death wish while working, why don’t you take a break?”

Jjang Nuna, whom he hadn’t seen in a while, approached Joo Seung-ha with water in hand. Joo Seung-ha, who had been crouching to cut the weeds that had grown considerably in a week after finishing the blanket laundry in the morning, finally straightened his back at those words. His whole body was so stiff that he barely held back a groan.

“We give them deworming medicine, but the weeds behind the kennels have grown so much, we should probably catch and check the dogs in that line one by one for ticks.”

“Yeah, I was planning to do that when it cools down after sunset. Weren’t you leaving early today? Something up?”

Joo Seung-ha stopped drinking the water mid-swallow. Though there wasn’t anything particularly strange about his afternoon plans, for some reason he found it difficult to answer, as if he’d done something wrong.

“Just, someone’s waiting.”

Cookie would be waiting. Joo Seung-ha justified his excuse by creating a plausible reason. Then, wanting to change the subject, he asked worriedly, “Are you okay, noona?”

When he asked about the person who had criticized the shelter, Jjang Nuna gave an ambiguous smile.

“Well…I haven’t done anything right, but now that criticism is coming openly from within, I’m not so sure anymore.”

“What do you mean by internal criticism?”

When Joo Seung-ha frowned, Jjang Nuna pulled out her smartphone and showed him the staff board, as if surprised he didn’t know about it. As she said, someone had left a long criticism about the shelter’s operations last night. Joo Seung-ha quickly scanned the post and cursed inside. Though it must not have been easy to post criticism under their own name, it was to the point of being excessive.

“How are we supposed to monitor every single adopted animal? This makes no sense. And they’re saying we can take in more urgent cases if we expand the kennels? Shit, are they going to manage all of that?”

When the harsh curse left Joo Seung-ha’s mouth, Jjang Nuna awkwardly snatched back her smartphone.

“They’re probably worried about another incident like Cookie’s happening.”

“Still, how are we supposed to monitor all the adopted animals? They’re talking nonsense.”

Joo Seung-ha held back more harsh words as he looked at Jjang Nuna’s gloomy expression. It’s always true that a knife from an ally hurts more than bullets from an enemy. While pointing out problems and making changes was necessary everywhere, criticism that didn’t consider the situation could only create antipathy. What made this criticism anger Joo Seung-ha more was that Jjang Nuna was someone who felt guilt rather than antipathy in situations like this.

“We should have set stricter adoption conditions and taken stronger action when problems arise in the future. And we probably could expand the kennels if the landowner allows it.”

Jjang Nuna glanced at Joo Seung-ha as she said this. Joo Seung-ha was busy swallowing curses while checking the critical post again on his phone, not noticing her glance. When he belatedly realized Jjang Nuna had fallen silent, he looked up and softened his expression.

Jjang Nuna looked particularly exhausted today. He suddenly remembered Darae’s worry from their previous meeting—What if she just gives up and leaves? But most people who worried about this feared who would take her place if she left. Nobody wanted to take on that responsibility.

While Joo Seung-ha could take her place if things got too difficult for her, unfortunately, his job held him back. Even now, because he worked at a pet food company, some people misunderstood his volunteer work as promotion, so Joo Seung-ha avoided social media to prevent giving them ammunition.

“I’ll come on weekdays too when we’re short on volunteers this month, so you should rest, noona.”

“No, you already took a long vacation before.”

“That was my annual leave. I still have more vacation days left.”

“Then save those vacation days for when you really want to rest. This situation will pass somehow.”

“The problem is it passes painfully.”

Jjang Nuna narrowed her eyes, feeling called out.

“Are you dissing me for gaining weight?”

“I’ll even download a beat and make it into a song for you.”

Jjang Nuna burst into surprised laughter at Joo Seung-ha’s playful response, when normally he would have seriously insisted she was slim.

“Hey, put my name in the copyright.”

Joo Seung-ha chuckled and joked more about profit sharing. Jjang Nuna, looking better than before, asked him, “Did something good happen? Your usual stiff atmosphere is completely gone.”

Since this was the second time he’d heard this after his company colleague, Joo Seung-ha couldn’t brush it off easily this time. He gave Jjang Nuna a casual “nothing much” response but pondered this question while eating kimbap that some volunteer had brought. But there really wasn’t anything particularly good. He was set to film a shopping broadcast, but he didn’t know how that would turn out, and anyway, that excitement had only lasted half a day.

So it had to be something else. But what came to mind was too obvious and honestly something he didn’t want to acknowledge. So Joo Seung-ha had to examine the cause of his good mood more coldly. It was too ridiculous in this type of situation to say Seo Ahn-jae was the only reason.

Joo Seung-ha still didn’t think he liked him. But this awkward and bewildering situation wasn’t bad. Silent meals together, occasional pointless small talk, a satisfying fullness that almost gave him a guilt trip. He thought the real reason was the comfort these ordinary daily moments brought. Just like how Cookie had brightened up as if having a place to stay and food was the greatest happiness in the world.

Along with the comfortable home, the reassurance that came from getting used to another person’s presence was quite significant. When you can finally rest after spending all day tense with vigilance, curled up in a ball, perhaps it’s an instinct imprinted in us to feel reassured having a companion you can turn your back to. For a moment, Joo Seung-ha felt like a stray dog in temporary foster care, awkward but experiencing what a home felt like.

But he would soon have to return to his cramped gosiwon room, like a kennel. That was reality, so he shouldn’t be disappointed. Not all stray animals find families. Remembering this fact, Joo Seung-ha tried to forget about Seo Ahn-jae and his house for now. But his surroundings weren’t helping.

***

“Even his name is perfect, Seo Ahn-jae.”

The volunteers gathered under the tent to escape the hot afternoon sun and were talking about Seo Ahn-jae. Especially with news circulating that Million would soon become the shelter’s official sponsor, everyone’s fondness for Seo Ahn-jae was already sky-high, and with the preview that came out the day before, it was about to pierce the galaxy. Joo Seung-ha tried to quickly finish his remaining kimbap so that he could leave early, stuffing another piece in his mouth while still chewing.

“Honestly, I think he might be a new race that couldn’t exist in Korea. These genes need to be spread far and wide. He needs to have at least twelve children.”

Well, he probably won’t have any his whole life…Joo Seung-ha started to object internally but stopped himself. No, someday Seo Ahn-jae would abandon his love for him and find another love, another person. Maybe it would be a woman, and as everyone hoped, he would have blessed children and pass on his superior genes. Though he had thought this was natural, just the thought made Joo Seung-ha’s mood sink to all-new lows.

Joo Seung-ha concluded while stuffing the remaining kimbap in his mouth, I stayed away from late-night snacks for too long. I fell too easily for the late-night snacks Seo Ahn-jae provides. I should eat well on my own from now on. As if sensing Joo Seung-ha’s firm resolution from afar, his smartphone buzzed with a message from Seo Ahn-jae.

[Buy beer on your way back. We’re eating this.]

There was one photo attached. Charcoal-grilled barbecue and spicy sea snail noodles. Joo Seung-ha closed his eyes tightly in frustration. Somyeon was his favorite among thin noodles. No, he shouldn’t fall for somyeon. I could just buy and cook it myself. As he firmly decided not to fall for this temptation, another message came.

[He’s been like this since you left.]

Another photo followed. It was Cookie, lying like a squatting frog on the marble tiles of the entrance. His head was facing the front door, as if waiting for someone who would eventually open it and come in. Joo Seung-ha stared at the photo for a long time before finally turning off his phone screen. I should go home early.

***

“Is there something bothering the CEO?”

After a brief meeting, one of the directors caught Secretary Choi as he was leaving Seo Ahn-jae’s office. Secretary Choi had received similar questions several times this week, so he answered habitually without much thought, “No, I think something good happened.”

“No, I’m asking if something bad happened.”

When the director corrected him, Secretary Choi turned back with a “Pardon?” The director lowered his voice further, looking at the closed office door.

“He seemed to be in such a good mood lately, but today he seems down. No, he’s like his old self.”

Was he? Secretary Choi hadn’t noticed because he’d been distracted with personal matters during the meeting and hadn’t properly observed Seo Ahn-jae. But if the director, who only saw him two or three times a week at most, could feel this way, it might be true.

The past week had been a nightmare for Secretary Choi, having to reschedule everything after Seo Ahn-jae demanded all his evening appointments and weekend schedules be cleared. While he struggled with that, Seo Ahn-jae had been noticeably happy and increased his personal time—it was obvious he was dating someone. But to return to his old self after just a week?

Surely he hadn’t been rejected after just a week? …Had he been rejected? Secretary Choi entered Seo Ahn-jae’s office with suspicion. After briefly reporting his post-meeting schedule, he was about to turn away when Seo Ahn-jae who had been half-listening while looking at his monitor, suddenly asked, “Have you ever felt anxious even when things are going well?”

Every day was like that. And the biggest source of anxiety was his boss. Secretary Choi hid his true thoughts and answered diplomatically, “Yes, sometimes.”

“Really? I’ve never felt that way before.”

What is this, some new kind of boasting? Secretary Choi hesitated, unsure how to respond. Then Seo Ahn-jae muttered quietly, “But now I’m feeling anxious.”

Secretary Choi instantly became alert. Had something happened to the company? What major crisis could make this man, who usually remained unfazed by everything, feel anxious? Secretary Choi, who still had a long way to go on his car payments and had grand dreams of becoming independent this year, felt chills run up and down his spine at his words.

“Is there bad news about the company…?”

“No. It’s not about work.”

Ah, what a relief. Secretary Choi sighed in relief, once again realizing that his boss was indeed the number one source of his anxiety.

“It’s personal. I think I’m doing well, and everything should be fine if I proceed slowly, but I’m anxious.”

Secretary Choi was first surprised to realize he was talking about his unrequited love, and second, surprised that he loved someone enough to feel anxious. But what surprised him most was that he was sharing his personal life with him.

“How do you usually get rid of anxiety?”

“Usually, we just live with it.”

Secretary Choi shrugged and deliberately gave a light answer. Being too serious here and treating it like a counseling session could backfire. Just as Seo Ahn-jae didn’t interfere in others’ personal lives, he strictly drew the line with his own. If he tried to learn too much about his personal life, he might face pushback later. Like a tyrant who swiftly cuts down his closest confidant who knows his secrets. So Secretary Choi only said what he could without asking about his personal matters.

“If it were anxiety that could be eliminated, we would have removed the cause already. Most cases require us to move forward while bearing the anxiety. If you’re lucky and there’s a reward for it, then you should just focus on that.”

For example, waiting for payday, enduring the month just for payday. At Secretary Choi’s words, Seo Ahn-jae’s gaze lowered. As he stared at his desk, seemingly lost in thought, it looked like he was considering what reward he could get for enduring this anxiety. He barely held back from adding one more thing: if that anxiety came from love, the reward was incredibly fortunate. That was how feelings of liking someone work. Love was something you could never quit once you tasted its terribly sweet reward.

“You can go now.”

Seo Ahn-jae ordered offhandedly, turning back to his monitor. As Secretary Choi left his office, he marveled anew. So even that man could fall in love. Then he sighed. I hope that that love works out smoothly. That would make my job easier. Mr. Joo Seung-ha, please fall for him.