"Three businesses in one day? Jesus Christ, San, leave some for the others."
San hardly looked up from his whiskey as Hongjoong sank into the leather seat next to him. While in the VIP area the private room at Eclipse pulsed with bass from the club below, it was only them and the weight of yet another victory nobody appeared to care about.
"You look like shit for someone who just made two billion before lunch," Mingi said, dropping in from across from them. His designer jacket was wrinkled, tie loosened—obviously coming straight from his own office where he had been following Sans updates on the financial news.
Jongho murmured, summoning the waitress for another bottle. He always looks like shit these days. Whens the last time you got laid? And I dont mean those corporate events where you charm investors' daughters and sons.
San's mouth stiffened. "I'm OK."
"Correct. And I am the Pope." Hongjoong grabbed San's glass and emptied the rest of his whiskey. "Your problem is you're too fucking good at everything."
" Maybe he needs a pastime, Mingi said. Pottery. Yoga. Serial killing— "
"Really funny, Song Mingi."
Jongho bent forward and turned instantly solemn. "Not really, but yes. What is troubling you? You have money, power, respect—everything. Hell, you might purchase a tiny nation tomorrow if you desired. So why do you look like someone pissed in your cornflakes?"
San looked at his friends, those who had stuck with him throughout his ascent from nothing to everything, who still called him out on his lies even if he could practically purchase their businesses without thinking.
He said finally, perhaps that is still the problem." Maybe from having everything."
Apart from the faraway thrum of music beneath, the table fell silent. Three accomplished guys in expensive suits, fighting their various levels of emptiness with old whiskey and each other's company.
"Fuck," Mingi took a breath. "That's most quite depressing what I have heard."
San's phone stirred against the table. His grandma appeared, her contact shot filled the screen,sitting in her garden, smiling as though she held all the secrets to happiness.
"I have to take this."
"Jesus, hyung, your grandmother even has a better social life than you."Jongho remarked looking at him as he got up.
San opened the city-viewing balcony door. Gangnam stretched under him like a circuit board, all lights and links he couldn't quite understand any more.
"San-ah." I already know what you would say starting now. That is because I was going to inquire whether you have utterly lost your mind. That was not what he had hoped for.
"Three purchases in one day, the news is portraying you as ruthless. Before most people had their morning coffee, they said you murdered three family legacies. Her voice had an edge he seldom detected."
"Do you wish to have that legacy? "
"That should make you proud, those businesses were failing."
" Those businesses had individuals, San-ah. People with families, with mortgages, with dreams you just shattered since you were bored on a Tuesday."
The phrases struck him like ice water." I eliminated bad ownership and leaderships. I reorganized the companies, paid their debts and they should be grateful even."
"So you had to feel something, anything, even if it was merely the exhilaration of winning."
She stopped and then spoke again in a quieter tone." Maybe I pushed you too much, you are not the kid I raised."
" I am precisely who you trained me to be. "
" Not anymore. I instructed you to be resilient. You became cold and emphatic. I trained you to be intelligent. "
She sighed," I taught you to succeed and you became... You became everything I worried you might."
San gripped the rail of the balcony until his knuckles turned white.
People moved through their lives here laughing, fighting, loving, failing. Actual people with real issues that money or influence couldn't address.
"What do you want from me?"
" I want you to remember what it is to be human."
She sighed gently and let her voice drop. "I plan to help at Seoul National Hospital. Some program matches individuals assist patients without anyone else." You wish to volunteer? I met someone yesterday. A young guy. He...," She struggled to find words. Lost. Like he had forgotten other people existed, he had been carrying the world alone for so long. "
San's chest turned something he could not fathom."Granny....."
"He really reminded me of you. The real you, noy the one who buys companies for fun. The one who once paid attention to important issues."
Hongjoong opened the balcony door and looked out. "Everything all right?"
San signaled him back inside." I have to leave."
"It's Tuesday and midnight. Where might you have to go....."
" I'll go see Grandma because she said about volunteer programs, patient support and actual issues that neither market manipulation nor hostile takeovers could solve.
His friends were engrossed in discussing Mingi's most recent boyfriend crisis as he returned inside." I am leaving," San declared.
Jongho objected, " Aww...already but we just started. I have something to work with."
"At midnight?"
San glanced at his friends—successful, content, living their lives instead of simply amassing successes. When had winning become more crucial than living? When had he ceased to be like them?
"Yes," he commented. "At midnight."
He left the three bewildered faces with their mouths hanging open, then he walked out into the Seoul night feeling like he was entering something completely unfamiliar. That sensation did not horrify him for the first time in years. It made him ecstatic.
---
"You look like shit."
Wooyoung never looked up from his cereal. "Good morning to you too, Hwa hyung. "
Seonghwa dropped into the chair opposite him, wedding planning materials like vibrant confetti strewn across their little kitchen table.
Though he was still in his pajamas at eight AM, his hair was still looked perfect. He looked fantastic. Wooyoung occasionally pondered how they had become roommates given their total oppositional nature.
"I mean business. " When did you last go to sleep? Really slept, not whatever that thing you do where you stare at the ceiling all night is."
"I get sleep sometimes."
"Bullshit." Seonghwa grabbed the antibiotic bottle from next to Wooyoung's bowl and read the label. "What's this for?"
"Nothing important, Wooyoung mumbled, pushing it back into his hoodie pocket. Just for safety reasons.
Seonghwa's gaze narrowed. He had always been too keen, too skilled at reading between the lines. Anticipating difficulties before they occurred, reading what customers actually wanted against what they stated they wanted, is what enabled him to be superb at event planning.
"Preventive of what?"
"Hwa, let it go."
"No." Seonghwa crossed his arms and leaned back. "You've been odd for a week. Something is wrong if you are jumping every time your phone buzzes, hardly eating, and staying away from work."
Wooyoung's phone suddenly lit up with a text just then. Mrs. Choi once more was seeing whether he was taking his medication and reminded him to have breakfast. Every time her messages were kind, his chest tightened.
"Who keeps texting you?" Seonghwa questioned, trying to glance at the screen.
"Nobody."
" Somebody". You smile every time they call. Seonghwa's face softened a little. Are you seeing someone?"
Wooyoung let out a harsh giggle. Witnessing someone. Would it were that easy!
"It's difficult."
"Everything's difficult with you." Seonghwa gathered his wedding supplies and crammed them into his designer luggage. "Look, one week before the wedding I have a bride who wants to alter the whole reception menu. We're talking, though, when I come home tonight. Actually speaking."
Wooyoung stared at his phone in the abrupt quiet after Seonghwa left, waiting for Mrs. Choi's message: Good morning, darlings. Don't forget to eat a good lunch and take your medicine. Later if you want to come by, I will be cooking kimchi jjigae.
Though the invitation was simple, even sweet, Wooyoung's stomach twisted at the idea of sitting in her kitchen acting as the sort of person worthy of homemade soup and motherly care. She would think what if she knew what he really was? How did he earn cash? The actions he took only to live?
He responded back: Thanks but I'm busy today.
He typed back regarding the things he had done just to survive.
Her reply came right away: Too busy to eat? That's simply unacceptable. I'll put some in containers. Tell me your address.
Wooyoung's chest panicked. Their Hongdae third-floor walkup had flimsy walls and the neighbors kept to themselves as everyone had secrets. Mrs. Choi belonged not in his world of late-night work and tough decisions.
You are not obligated to do that.
I most certainly do, you seem to be a really bright and promising young man. Allow me to assist you.
Wooyoung watched the message till the phrases warped. When had anyone ever wanted to assist him without anticipating anything in return?
His other phone, the work phone, buzzed with yet another kind of message. One customer hoping to hire him for this evening. Enough good money to last two weeks of food and rent. He has to accept it. Back to normalcy, back to the life that made sense even if it left him empty.
He found himself pulling out the business card Dr. Park had given him rather than the notes. Professional and unemotional, the social worker's number was printed in neat black letters. Dr. Park, however, had regarded him as though he counted, as though other possibilities existed.
"Other alternatives." Wooyoung said the words out loud, trying out how they sounded in his empty flat.
He dialled before he lost his nerve.
"This is Dr. Yunho from Seoul Social Services."
"Um." Wooyoung's voice broke a little. "Dr. Park from Seoul National gave me your number. He said you might be able to help with some things."
"Certainly. Are you free to stop in at two PM today? I had a cancellation then."
Two PM. That provided him six hours to decide this was ridiculous, six hours to persuade himself he had to change his mind. Six hours to remind himself that people like him never had fresh starts.
"I will come there."
Wooyoung sat gazing at his image in the black TV screen after he hung up. He appeared pale, hollow faced. Though he felt better physically than he had in months, the antibiotics were effective; everything else felt delicate, as though he were walking on ice that might at any moment crack.
His phone beeped once again.
Whether you like it or not, Mrs. Choi will bring lunch soup at noon. Growing lads need good nourishment.
Wooyoung grinned nonetheless. Mrs. Choi had no idea she was raising someone who had given up on being rescued. But perhaps that was just why it held significance.
Perhaps that's why he was bold enough to try for the first time in years.