"Hey, Jjimse. Two coffees!"
"Yes, Mr. Joo."
At Joo Myung-gon's words, a female employee with darker skin than the others stood up and left the office to prepare coffee.
The large office was chilled to the bone by the powerful air conditioning.
Joo Myung-gon, the head of Vietnam Plant No. 3, sat at a desk positioned deep inside the spacious office. Eight female office workers sat in two long rows facing away from him, allowing him to see all their computer monitors at a glance.
He was known for the oppressive atmosphere he carried whenever he was on the phone. So when Yoojin faced him in person for the first time, she was extremely tense.
But instead of saying anything to her, Joo Myung-gon simply told her to sit and ordered coffee.
"Hey, An. Where's Hai-kong-thang-kong?"
"Yes, right here."
The employee seated directly across from Joo Myung-gon stood up and brought something over.
Defective fabric.
The striped print was visibly warped, rising sharply in one direction.
"The real problem is this," Joo Myung-gon said. "If all the defects were the same, that'd be one thing. But some bend in the middle, some to the right, some to the left. It's all over the place."
Feeling apologetic on behalf of the Chinese supplier, Yoojin bowed deeply and said in practiced Chinese, "I'm sorry."
Joo Myung-gon glanced at her.
She was a subordinate of Assistant Manager Lee, someone he didn't particularly want to get close to. But at the same time, he felt more pity—sending an intern all the way out here to handle a defect claim.
"So, Ms. Han Yoojin," he said. "How did a Samho Group open-recruitment intern end up cleaning up this rag-fabric mess?"
Yoojin's eyes widened at the degrading remark.
"Rags?"
"Of course. You slap a brand logo on cheap fabric like this and mass-produce it—what else is it but a rag business?"
A crooked smile tugged at Joo Myung-gon's lips as he belittled his own industry.
"Samho Group started as Samho Apparel," Yoojin said firmly. "I applied because I wanted to learn the company's founding spirit."
"Tsk."
Joo Myung-gon squinted at her, as if finding it a pity.
"That's admirable, but Samho was founded in the 1950s. Times have changed. Why apparel? You should've gone into electronics, chemicals, finance—something like that."
Yoojin's eyes trembled.
So this was the legendary ultimate old-school boss.
Only then did she understand the pitying looks people had given her when she said she was joining apparel.
"Yoojin," Joo Myung-gon continued, "I'm a production guy. I've got my stubborn ways. And I've got a daughter about your age, so maybe that's why. I'm always telling her to only see good things, stay in good places."
Ah—.
At his words, Yoojin suddenly thought of her father, who had passed away when she was fifteen.
Including her previous life, it had been over twenty years now. Her throat tightened as she answered quietly, "Yes."
Joo Myung-gon narrowed his eyes and studied her. She looked about the same age as his daughter, yet there was something solid and composed about her beyond her years.
The female employee called Jjimse returned with coffee in a tall glass. Thick white condensed milk pooled at the bottom.
People really did start their days with coffee everywhere in the world.
"Vietnamese coffee's good. Try it."
At his urging, Yoojin took a sip. The rich sweetness of condensed milk and the bitterness of coffee filled her mouth.
"It's really good."
"Vietnamese coffee's famous."
Satisfied with her reaction, Joo Myung-gon smiled.
"Defect claims aside, since you're here, you should look around Ho Chi Minh City tonight. So—what hotel are you staying at?"
Relaxing at his friendly tone, Yoojin smiled lightly as she answered.
"Ah… I'm not at a hotel. I'm staying in a dormitory."
Joo Myung-gon frowned.
"There's a women's dorm here? The female employees all have their own places."
That was true. The three female employees at the Vietnam branch all lived in high-end apartments in Phu My Hung, a neighborhood popular with foreigners and wealthy residents.
At his reaction, Yoojin hesitated, then said quietly, "It's… a men's dorm."
"What?"
Joo Myung-gon exploded.
"You save money where you shouldn't! You cut lodging costs for a business trip? I knew it—when they insisted on sending you on a Monday night flight! Damn it! How do you put a grown woman in a men's dorm?"
He shouted so loudly that the eight female employees flinched—but none reacted otherwise. They were clearly used to his outbursts.
"It's okay," Yoojin said quickly. "I'm just an intern, and the place was clean and nice."
That only made Joo Myung-gon clench his jaw harder. A vein bulged on his forehead.
Trying to ease the tension, Yoojin asked, "Director Joo, what does 'Hai-kong-thang-kong' mean?"
He looked at her in surprise.
"You caught that already? It's 2080. The garment number for the defective fabric."
Right. Ocean Bay Kids style number OBSK2080.
"Oh."
Yoojin nodded in understanding.
"You've got a good ear for languages," Joo Myung-gon said. "Why don't you just work in Vietnam? Seoul's tough. Learn production management here. If you become an expat, the pay's good."
"What?"
"Isn't life in Korea suffocating? Working abroad is more relaxed."
Yoojin's lips parted slightly.
She had never even considered it—living overseas, working abroad. Wouldn't that put even more distance between her and Choi Hyun-oh?
But then Dongha's smiling face flashed vividly through her mind.
The guilt of having forgotten him, even briefly, hit her hard.
She quickly tucked her hair behind her ear and said, "Director Joo, I need to handle some head office work. May I check my email?"
Joo Myung-gon chuckled and called out, "Hey, Jjimse! Give Yoojin the Wi-Fi password."
The dark-skinned woman with glasses approached and handed Yoojin a memo.
"Thank you, Jjimse," Yoojin said.
Suddenly, loud laughter burst from the female employees.
The woman standing in front of Yoojin flushed bright red.
Confused, Yoojin asked, "Director Joo, did I say something wrong?"
Joo Myung-gon laughed loudly as well.
"That's her nickname. Like 'sparrow.' Her real name's Lin."
Yoojin's face turned red too.
"I'm sorry—sorry, Lin."
Yoojin opened the company messenger and texted Dongha.
[I arrived safely at the factory. Everything okay there?]
He read it immediately, but there was no reply. After a moment, a short message came.
[Nothing going on here.]
[We're going to the materials warehouse this afternoon to check the defective fabric.]
[Okay.]
The white chat window felt uncomfortably businesslike.
It felt like something invisible had formed between them.
His messages used to be full of concern for her. Now the awkward distance made her miss the Dongha who had smiled at her in the studio last Thursday.
Was he still upset she hadn't answered the phone?
The wall between them felt fragile—like it would shatter if she tapped it lightly.
But she decided not to break it now. She had just arrived on this trip.
Yoojin closed the chat window and opened her inbox.
Company emails filled her Outlook account.
Still, the defect claim came first.
Joo Myung-gon, in his domineering tone, said there was no need to pick up the supplier representative and instructed Yoojin to have them come directly to the factory early the next morning.
Before she knew it, his harsh tone had seeped into the email she sent to the supplier.
Work that had flowed quickly in Korea suddenly stalled at the Vietnam factory.
Strange. Maybe it was the tropical climate. The heat and humidity felt like they were weighing down even her thoughts.
Vietnamese music played over speakers in the sewing factory, mixing with the roar of hundreds of sewing machines. The white rectangular building was filled with noise.
At ten o'clock, thunder cracked outside, followed by a torrential downpour.
The rain added to the factory's noise—a sudden tropical squall.
After pouring for an hour, it stopped just as abruptly. The sky cleared, as if the rain had never happened.
Though the air conditioning on the production line was weaker than in the office, Joo Myung-gon moved tirelessly between the line and the office, overseeing production.
Team leaders approached him constantly with questions, bringing even the smallest suspicious parts for his approval.
Everything in the factory revolved around Joo Myung-gon.
With nothing left to do for the moment, Yoojin glanced at him through the wide glass window.
They needed to check the defective fabric, but he looked too busy to approach.
After examining a sewing component for a long time, Joo Myung-gon suddenly issued instructions, stepped off the line, and entered the office.
"Yoojin, if you're free now, let's go to the materials warehouse."
"Yes!"
Yoojin's clear voice rang out.