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Cha-eon reached for her buzzing phone, which lay in the corner of the floor, and slowly straightened her back.
She hadn’t slept well. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was still a bit early for lunch. At this golden hour, the only people likely to call were either her coworkers from the salon or the neighborhood women who frequented it—one of the two.
It didn’t take long to recognize Ae-ran’s number. She had completely forgotten about their plans. The events of the early morning had swept through her mind like a tidal wave, leaving everything else behind.
Should she just say she couldn’t make it today? Suggest they reschedule lunch for tomorrow? Her deliberation was brief. Ae-ran lived upstairs—she might come knocking on her door at any moment.
She didn’t want to stir up more trouble. Though she wasn’t sure why, she felt uneasy about Ae-ran coming into her apartment. Traces of last night might still linger.
Cha-eon quickly changed clothes and grabbed her phone. Her eyes fell on the red skirt she’d tossed onto the bed. He was right—it was tacky. She admitted it.
According to Yeong-rim, who had gifted her the skirt, it was an H-line design currently in vogue. Cha-eon knew Yeong-rim’s idea of “trendy” often came from women in the nightlife scene, but how could she refuse a gift?
Yeong-rim was someone Cha-eon both pitied and respected—a complicated mix of guilt and gratitude. Perhaps that was why she didn’t feel too bothered by the unflattering skirt, even though it wasn’t her style. Folding it neatly, she hung it on a hanger before heading out.
She hadn’t touched alcohol, yet her head throbbed as if it might split open. Was it because she barely slept? After leaving the alley, she stopped by a pharmacy, swallowed a migraine pill, and finally regained enough composure to check her phone.
“Hey, Unni. I was just about to call you. Where are you?”
• “I was planning to meet up with you. I’m already outside the salon. Hurry up.”
“What’s got you so excited? Did something good happen?”
• “You’ll see when you get here.”
Just days ago, Ae-ran had been drowning her sorrows over credit card debt, guzzling box after box of soju.
Clearly, something had shifted in her mood. Ae-ran sounded ecstatic now.
“I’m almost there, Unni. I can see the shop.”
Ae-ran stood in front of the salon’s colorful signboard, wearing an off-the-shoulder blouse paired with jeans. Spotting Cha-eon, she waved enthusiastically, spilling her iced coffee without noticing.
“Unni, did something happen?”
“There was someone I wanted to introduce you to, but they couldn’t make it. Let’s have a girls’ day instead.”
“Who is it? Did you meet a guy?”
“Later. It’ll ruin the surprise if I tell you now.”
Whatever it was, it was clear something significant had happened in Ae-ran’s life.
“Wow, you really did meet someone. Who is he?”
“You’ll find out. You love pork cutlets, right? I’ll treat you to steak today. Why are you laughing?”
“Are we going to that bathhouse place across the street again?”
“Hey, don’t you know how good Auntie Kim’s cooking is?”
What they called “steak” was really just a neighborhood pork cutlet joint that served kimchi fried rice and spicy noodles on the side—an odd fusion of Western and Korean cuisine. More accurately, it was a snack bar. Still, Ae-ran seemed unusually cheerful throughout the meal.
“Cha-eon, I think I might finally be able to leave this life behind.”
“For real? Are you quitting your job?”
“Not immediately, but maybe soon.”
Ae-ran, who usually spent mornings nursing hangovers after late nights entertaining clients, looked radiant today as she picked up her fork.
Cha-eon wondered what could have brought such a change to her monotonous routine, but she hesitated to ask further. After years of working alongside Ae-ran in this neighborhood, seeing her beam like this was a first.
“Hey, you know I have three younger siblings under my care, right? Do you think my older brother has the temperament to look after them? But neither can I wipe their asses with newspaper. I’ve been scraping by to fill the bottomless pit, but if I can end this chapter of my life, I’ll stop worrying about them. Their lives are theirs now, and mine is mine.”
The women in this area favored bright, flashy clothing. Ae-ran, especially, loved loud patterns—even in her pajamas. For Cha-eon, whose life was mostly devoid of color, clothes might have been her sole outlet for self-expression.
“You should go back to school too. How long are you going to stay under Yeong-rim’s wing? Su-ji at least graduated college and landed a decent job.”
“I want to, but circumstances haven’t been kind.”
“That’s just an excuse. Ever since Su-ji left, you’ve been stuck in limbo. Isn’t the ‘circumstances’ you talk about really just in your head?”
Perhaps she should have spoken up. Said, “I’m sick of this steak place; let’s eat somewhere else.” But she always ended up following Ae-ran’s lead, unable to voice her preferences.
She didn’t want to hurt anyone. These women all carried their own burdens—why add to their pain unnecessarily? Yet not everyone shared her cautious approach.
Cha-eon silently stared at the cold, sauce-soaked meat on her plate.
“Sorry, I went too far. I just don’t want you to drift through life like me, chasing degrees and certificates, only to regret it later. You used to want to study, didn’t you?”
“What’s wrong with being like you, Unni?”
“You little brat.”
Ae-ran chuckled softly, then paused mid-cut, furrowing her brow.
“Oh, and watch out.”
“For what?”
“For Kim Seok-won. His antics lately—he’s trying to rope you into selling yourself. He wants to parade you in front of customers and force you into prostitution. That’s his game, boosting sales no matter what. Don’t act like you don’t know.”
At the mention of Seok-won’s name, Ae-ran seethed silently.
“Kim Seok-won.” Just hearing it made Cha-eon feel as though all the blood drained from her body. She tried to conceal her trembling hands by gripping her water glass tightly.
Whether Seok-won’s intentions had been sincere or not no longer mattered. She didn’t know whether he was alive or dead. She assumed the worst but hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.
Yet the image of him being dragged away, limp and battered, remained vivid…
“That scumbag. You think chaining girls’ ankles together and locking them up is some new trick? Bastard. You know exactly what I mean.”
Cha-eon chewed mechanically, tasting nothing. She gulped down her drink, unaware of its flavor. Her chest tightened. The sharp smell that had invaded her nostrils, the fading breaths, and the glimpse of death—all things she couldn’t speak of.
“It’s best you keep quiet. With student loans breathing down your neck, you need to hold onto this place.”
The fiery glow of the lighter beneath her chin flashed in her memory.
But… student loans? How had he known she was burdened by them?
Maybe most students her age carried similar debts. Or perhaps the textbooks in her room hinted at her university status. Still, his tone had been eerily certain.
“By the way, I haven’t seen Kim Seok-won since yesterday. Madam’s furious—she’s been rounding up the girls since morning. Honestly, this job is unbearable. Hey, are you okay?”
“Huh?”
Clang. Cha-eon picked up the knife she’d dropped. Covered in wine sauce, it gleamed messily. The soaked steak, the blade stained with juices—it all reminded her of the man’s cologne that had filled her room.
“Unni, let’s go. Let’s grab coffee. My treat.”
“Of course you’re paying! Did you think I’d let you freeload?”
As Cha-eon watched Ae-ran’s carefree laughter and retreating back, she forced herself to stand. Coming out today had been a mistake—regret hit her belatedly, but she couldn’t show it in front of Ae-ran’s radiant smile.
“You’re free tonight, right? After work, let’s... Oh my, look how pale your face is. Are you feeling sick?”
Cha-eon waved off Ae-ran’s concern and hurried into the café. She needed something cold to soothe her suffocating chest. As soon as she received her iced Americano, she tore off the straw and gulped it down in large swallows.
“It’s raining again.”
Ae-ran’s words spread like sticky humidity, heavy with exhaustion.
The rainstorm that had seemed to be tapering off had returned with a vengeance.
Just as relentless as the downpour, customers flooded into the salon.
After wrestling through the rush alongside Yeong-rim, Cha-eon finally began tidying up the shop late in the evening.
“Cha-eon, Ae-ran told me to wait for you instead of going home.”
“Why?”
“How would I know?”
Hee-ah, who worked at the salon with Cha-eon, paused mid-sweep and rested her hand on her waist.
“Are you doing okay these days?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve looked kind of dazed all day.”
“I’m fine. Just tired from the heat.”
“Want to grab a drink?”
“Living in this neighborhood where everyone sells drinks, do you think alcohol still does anything for me?”
“It’s the plight of the working class, isn’t it?”
Hee-ah wasn’t wrong. They were all just trying to scrape by, one way or another.
“Do you want a haircut?”
Hee-ah gestured toward Cha-eon’s long, wavy hair.
“Why all of a sudden?”
“Never mind. Updos suit you better anyway. Long hair looks good on you. Come here, I’ll fix it nicely.”
“I’m going home anyway.”
“What’s the point of living if you don’t enjoy yourself?”
“What’s gotten into you?”
“A bright college student like you suddenly takes a leave of absence and ends up here. What are you even doing? Don’t tell me you don’t have a man in your prime.”
“Lots of people take breaks. I just wanted to rest while I was down.”
“Look at you. This isn’t resting.”
Hee-ah approached with quick steps and effortlessly styled Cha-eon’s hair into an elegant updo. Known for having many loyal customers after Yeong-rim, Hee-ah’s skills were impressive. Cha-eon absentmindedly played with the loose strands framing her face.
What did it matter anyway? She was just going home. Pretty hairstyles and outfits held little meaning for her now. Hee-ah clicked her tongue at Cha-eon’s indifferent smile.
“What will you do when you get home? Stare at your boobs? Go out, meet some guys. With your figure and face, why waste it? If you won’t use them, give them to me. Let me live vicariously.”
Hee-ah pointed at Cha-eon’s chest and laughed heartily. Even under a loose t-shirt, her prominent bust had always been both a complex and a source of teasing since childhood.
“If I had your face and body, I’d be a magazine model—lingerie, swimsuits, you name it.”
She hadn’t avoided trying different things in the past. When she first entered university, she was full of ambition. She took on every part-time job she could find, determined to live differently from how she had before.
She even tried dating for the first time, but perhaps relationships weren’t meant for her life—it didn’t last long.
Returning to this neighborhood and giving up everything happened because of her sister Su-ji’s death.
Her apathy likely started then too. She lost interest in new relationships and felt no motivation for anything.
Ae-ran had called it a mental or emotional illness. Maybe she was right.
She didn’t want to do anything. Perhaps living according to fate, as Grandma Seong-ho often said, was the correct path. No struggling, no running away—just accepting the life given to her.
Like her sister, who had dreamed of working at a hotel, proudly wearing her new uniform, only to meet a tragic end.
“Cha-eon, shall I introduce you to someone? Wait, didn’t you have a boyfriend once? Back in school? You definitely did. Tell me, how was it? Aren’t young ones sweeter?”
“Oh, Unni. You’re so crass.”
“There are plenty of decent-looking men around, even if they’re not young. Just say the word. My network’s pretty solid.”
“No thanks.”
“Still playing hard to get, huh? It’s better to date while you’re young. Later, you’ll be busy with work, your face will sag, and your body will age faster than you think. Then you’ll want to, but you won’t be able to.”
Soon after, the salon door closed. The women bid each other farewell and dispersed into the alleyways.
Despite telling her not to go straight home, Ae-ran was later than usual. The streetlights stayed lit, the rain-cooled breeze drifted lazily, and some shops remained dark.
Everything seemed normal, yet strangely, it didn’t feel bad.
Waiting for Ae-ran, Cha-eon noticed a luxury sedan parked across from the salon. Who in this neighborhood drove a car like that?
Glancing idly, she saw Ae-ran walking down the alley. Before Cha-eon could greet her, Ae-ran scurried toward the sedan.
“Did you come?”
Ae-ran bowed politely through the car window, but something about the interaction didn’t feel like a typical customer. Her instincts, honed by years of observing the neighborhood, whispered unease.
“Hey, Cha-eon! Over here!”
Waving enthusiastically, Cha-eon approached. With each step, an inexplicable tension gripped her. A subconscious warning urged her not to get closer. As she neared Ae-ran, a familiar scent wafted through the air.
“Hello…”
It was him. His eyes, his cologne—the same man who had calmly smoked a cigarette beside the dying Seok-won.
Definitely the man from that morning. As composed as ever in his immaculate shirt, he greeted her casually:
“Hello.”
“Ah, didn’t I mention I wanted to introduce someone to you? It’s him. The person I’ve been seeing lately.”
The words hit Cha-eon like a series of blows to the back of her head—hard to believe, yet impossible to dismiss.
Could he have come here because he thought she might expose what she had witnessed at dawn? Or maybe this really was just Ae-ran’s boyfriend, and she was overthinking things. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for women in this line of work to have sponsors—it wouldn’t be surprising if Ae-ran did too.
But Ae-ran would never openly introduce a sponsor to her—not unless she wanted to keep it hidden. The women in this neighborhood didn’t talk about their sponsors openly; it was more of an open secret that everyone quietly acknowledged.
Which meant it was more plausible that these two were lovers.
“Hop in. Let’s go home together.”
“Uh, no. I’ll walk. It’s easier for me.”
“We live in the same building anyway. Just get in.”
True. What could this man possibly do to Ae-ran?
Before she could fully process her hesitation, Ae-ran grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the car.
Even as they climbed into the backseat, the man remained silent. His gaze, calm and indifferent, felt almost languid—as though he either knew everything or nothing at all about what had happened that morning.
As the car slowly entered the alley, he stared straight ahead without so much as glancing at her. Strangely, his lack of attention made her feel a small sense of relief—foolishly, she found comfort in the fact that he hadn’t come to monitor her.
The air inside the slowly moving car grew heavy with awkwardness. Perhaps only she felt this way, but the tension gnawed at her nonetheless.
If this man and Ae-ran genuinely liked each other, that alone was terrifying enough.
It wasn’t unusual for gangsters to track down people who borrowed money and went into hiding. But judging by the conversation she’d overheard that morning, this man didn’t seem like the type who merely dabbled in loan-sharking or ran local room salons.
If he were one of those neighborhood thugs, she would know. She’d seen them come and go for twenty years, watched countless drifters pass through. No, this man wasn’t one of them.
Then what exactly was he? Could he really treat Ae-ran the way Seok-won had treated others? She prayed her fears were unfounded paranoia.
“Thank you. Unni, then…”
Should she really let Ae-ran leave with him alone? The two of them together.
She didn’t want to intrude on a budding romance between mutual admirers, but neither could she simply ignore what had happened the previous night. Pretending none of it mattered wasn’t an option.
It was different because it was Ae-ran—the closest friend Su-ji ever had, practically family.
“Um, Unni.”
“You’re not leaving already, are you? Where would you even go? I’ve been waiting to formally introduce you to him. Hurry up and come inside.”
Ae-ran leaned out from upstairs, her voice bubbling with excitement.
“Hurry up!”
Her feet refused to move. She felt uneasy leaving Ae-ran alone with him, yet being near him filled her with dread.
Still leaning casually against the car, smoking silently, his eyes unnerved her. He closed his eyes lazily, then opened them again, his gaze drifting toward her. Startled, Cha-eon quickly followed after Ae-ran.
________________________________________
“Coffee okay? Or should I make something else?”
The small table creaked under the weight of the metal chairs. Though she sat in her usual spot, discomfort prickled at her skin—it wasn’t the chair, but the man sitting across from her.
Ae-ran naturally headed to the kitchen to prepare coffee. But the cramped studio apartment left little privacy; Ae-ran’s movements were visible from the living room, their eyes meeting repeatedly.
Floral-patterned mugs, stained with watermarks, sat awkwardly on mismatched coasters. Ae-ran hesitated, clearly self-conscious as she placed one before the man. Another mug came to her—a silent exchange of glances passed between them as Ae-ran winked discreetly.
“I really wanted to introduce you properly.”
“Ah…”
The man hadn’t touched his coffee, lounging indifferently while staring at her. Her heart, which had been beating irregularly but quietly, now thrashed like a freshly caught fish.
His expression remained dispassionate, as if last night’s events were nothing more than routine. Yet there was a cold sharpness in his eyes, piercing through her unease.
“Hello. My name is Jung Cha-eon. Nice… to meet you.”
Her blatant lie hung in the air, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smirk. Mockery, plain and simple.
“Why so tense, Cha-eon? It’s fine.”
Though his words reassured, Ae-ran glanced cautiously at him. Their relationship seemed new, still tinged with wariness. Perhaps they hadn’t been dating long—but there was something off about the dynamic.
They didn’t seem like equals. Instead, their interaction resembled a hierarchical relationship, employer and employee rather than lovers.
“There are plenty of girls around here trying to snag a rich man to change their fate.”
Seok-won’s taunts echoed in her mind, and she shook her head. Still, it was Ae-ran’s choice, her decision to make. It wasn’t her place to interfere—or so she told herself. Except this man… this man was the problem.
“Remember that red skirt you wore yesterday? It looked great on you. Red suits you.”
Ae-ran whispered conspiratorially, but Cha-eon couldn’t muster a smile. Her gaze wandered aimlessly until it settled on the man’s fingers resting on the table. A golden cigarette case rolled idly in his palm.
Tap. His fingertip rapped lightly against the table, startling her. She looked up to find his ambiguous expression—smirking or not, she couldn’t tell—fixed on her.
He toyed absently with the cigarette case, flipping it open. A small, sharp-edged card slid out.
Crisply folded, he held it out between his middle and index fingers—a business card.
“Ah…”
This was his response to her introduction.
Cha-eon stared dumbly at the offered card before gingerly accepting it. Without a card of her own to exchange, she clutched his tightly in trembling hands.
She knew it was impolite not to glance at the card before tucking it away—but fear rooted her in place. Something about it radiated an oppressive aura, warning her not to look too closely.
Summoning her courage, she lowered her eyes to read it.
[Cha Kwon-seok, Executive Director, Mun-seong Group]
The card bore only the company name, his title, and his name—no phone number, nothing else. Flipping it over revealed the same stark simplicity.
Mun-seong. Cha-eon’s chest tightened. She recognized the name immediately. Su-ji had worked at one of Mun-seong’s hotels. Though Su-ji had been just another employee among many, the connection struck hard.
Her trembling hands gripped the card tighter, rereading its contents.
In that moment, everything clicked into place.
Of course, he wasn’t some petty gangster running seedy bars or managing room salons. His affiliation and title confirmed that.
She had known, of course, about Mun-seong Construction. The company that had recently completed a high-profile hotel in the heart of Gangnam’s most coveted real estate. With ten hotels under operation nationwide and investments sprawling across various industries, Mun-seong was more than just a construction firm—it was an empire built on vast capital, intertwined with organized crime.
Even in the lower neighborhoods where redevelopment had started early, many buildings bore the mark of Mun-seong Construction.
But how did Ae-ran come to know this man? And how did he know Seok-won? Why had Seok-won ended up in such a wretched state? Everything was shrouded in mystery—and it wasn’t something she could voice aloud.
The sharp edge of the business card felt like it might cut her trembling fingers. Perhaps it was her unease that made sitting here feel like being on pins and needles.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ae-ran’s childhood friend…”
“Not really, though.”
“What?”
His sudden words startled her, causing her to gulp down the coffee in her mouth. It went down the wrong pipe, triggering a coughing fit. Tears welled up as she struggled to catch her breath, pounding her chest. She barely noticed Ae-ran passing her a glass of water. As she composed herself, her face flushed red, and the man spoke softly, almost mockingly:
“Never mind. Drink up before you choke.”
He gestured lazily for her to continue drinking, his movements devoid of sincerity or care.
Was this guy insane?
All Cha-eon wanted was to escape his piercing gaze, which seemed laced with mockery. Her head throbbed from lack of sleep after last night’s ordeal, and she desperately wished to leave. But instead, she quietly sipped her coffee, avoiding eye contact.
The man remained silent while Ae-ran dominated the conversation, babbling cheerfully. Cha-eon contributed only the bare minimum—short answers when prompted. As her cup emptied, she absentmindedly scratched at the edges of the business card.
“I should get going now. Unni, is it okay if I leave first...?”
A low chuckle slipped through the man’s lips.
Truthfully, that last question was directed more at herself than at Ae-ran.
Her unease lingered. Could the man’s shadow extend to Ae-ran too? Though fear gnawed at her, she couldn’t shake the thought that interfering between these two might be unwarranted meddling.
Most women in this neighborhood had gangsters or local thugs as sponsors. At best, they were minor politicians or mid-level mob bosses. Perhaps this man was one of them.
Surely even a gangster wouldn’t harm someone Ae-ran loved—or so she hoped, naively perhaps. What mattered was that Ae-ran knew who this man was. If she willingly chose to see him, maybe she understood his darker side too.
Though her mind tried to rationalize, her heart hesitated. Could she simply walk away and leave Ae-ran alone with him? In the end, Ae-ran gently nudged her toward the door.
“You go rest. Do you have something else to say?”
“…No. Goodnight, Unni.”
With lingering discomfort, Cha-eon opened the door.
“Unni, call me—or shout—if anything happens or you need me, okay?”
Through the closing gap of the door, she caught a glimpse of the man silently laughing. Should she stay outside and keep watch? For a moment, she debated.
After all, she’d encountered gangsters countless times in this neighborhood. Maybe she was overreacting. Even Ae-ran’s workplace had its share of thugs.
“…”
Suddenly, clarity struck.
She knew what men and women did together late at night. The memory of Ae-ran urging her to leave earlier brought heat rushing to her cheeks. Hurrying downstairs, she reached for her doorknob and entered her password. An error tone beeped.
“Ah.”
Yesterday, after the men left, she had changed the code. What had she set it to?
Her head ached. She remembered choosing something simple, but exhaustion scrambled her thoughts. Fingers hovering over the keypad, she squeezed her temples, trying to recall. Then, a low voice interrupted her.
“0918.”
Startled, she spun around. The man leaned casually against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, watching her with an inscrutable gaze. His presence burned like the scorching sun, yet whether it was pain or heat she couldn’t tell.
How did he know 0918—a code she hadn’t even entered yet?
Panic surged. That was the new code she’d set yesterday. And it was Su-ji’s birthday.
“How do you know that? Were you spying on me?”
Pfft. He laughed openly, tilting his head.
“Why are you laughing? I’m serious. I won’t talk about last night. But this—”
Even if she could stay silent about last night, this was different. It terrified her.
She swallowed hard repeatedly, ready to confront him, but his calm demeanor unnerved her further. His eyes mocked her: Do you think you’re worth surveilling?
“Unfortunately, no. I saw it written fifteen times in your little notepad.”
Notepad?
She realized he meant her ledger—the one sitting on her desk. Alongside it, the handkerchief she’d crumpled on the floor came to mind. Among the scribbles in her ledger, he must have spotted her sister’s birthday.
“…I won’t mention last night. Just promise me you’ll protect Ae-ran. Don’t hurt her.”
Despite trembling, her voice carried surprising boldness.
“Hurt her?”
“…Ae-ran’s a good person.”
“And how am I supposed to avoid hurting her while handling sponsorship matters?”
His words dripped with innuendo, and the smirk tugging at his lips deepened. Was he mocking her or genuinely asking? She faltered, unsure how to respond. Sensing her hesitation, he tilted his chin slightly, prompting her again.
“…I mean, don’t do anything bad to Ae-ran.”
“Don’t? Is that what you’re saying, friend?”
He pointed out her unfinished sentence, leaving her flustered.
“No, I mean… don’t let her get hurt. Whatever happened to Kim Seok-won must’ve had a reason, but Ae-ran’s different. Please.”
She trailed off, expecting some reaction, but the man remained silent. Avoiding his gaze, she turned her head—but she could still feel his sharp, cutting stare pinning her in place. It felt like a blade slicing into her skin.
With trembling hands, Cha-eon punched in 0918, the number he’d reminded her of, and stepped inside.
Once, she had asked her sister why such overwhelming hardships always seemed to rain down on them.
“One day,” Su-ji had replied, “the good things others can only dream of will pour down on you instead. You’ll see.”
At fifteen, scrubbing the salon floor with a mop in hand, Cha-eon had believed Su-ji’s words like gospel.
She should have asked back then. What about you, Unni? Why only me? Why is it so unfair?
Even if she had gotten an answer, it wouldn’t change anything now. But that day still haunted her with regret. Maybe Su-ji had known what lay ahead for her younger sister. Knowing Su-ji, it was entirely possible.
For a long time, Cha-eon stood frozen by the door. She needed to change the code again.
Her birthday, Su-ji’s birthday—neither could be used anymore. What else could she choose? She didn’t know her parents’ birthdays. All she had were numbers from her phone, her ID card, the salon’s landline—a collection of meaningless digits.
Her world was small and narrow. Perhaps everything that defined her tiny existence had been shaped entirely by Su-ji. Losing the one thing that had filled her life left her adrift in an endless, suffocating darkness.
“It’s just an excuse, isn’t it? Ever since Su-ji passed, you’ve been stuck like this. Isn’t it all in your head?”
Ae-ran’s words echoed painfully true. It was an excuse. A self-imposed shield because she lacked the courage to step out of the shadows.
After waiting for the man to leave, Cha-eon finally stepped outside.
His faint cologne lingered in the empty space he’d occupied. She changed the passcode, closed the door behind her, and exhaled deeply.
“…”
Two days ago, how had that man entered her home? Had Seok-won hidden inside?
If so, how did Seok-won know the code? And since when? Occasionally, she’d felt someone watching her while she slept. She’d dismissed it as a trick of her subconscious. The scent of alcohol she thought she’d imagined—was it him… all along?
Trembling, she hugged herself tightly.
________________________________________
“Is that even real?”
“What kind of nonsense are you spouting? Why would Mun-seong’s vice president meet Ae-ran? Did someone hit you on the head?”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t fall for her. Maybe he called her for business and they hit it off. This area’s redevelopment was handled by his company, after all.”
“So what? Are you saying Mun-seong’s VP went crazy and picked up some girl from a local bar? There are plenty of rich, beautiful women around.”
“You’re so naive—or pretending to be. Do men care about a woman’s background when they cheat? They take whoever they want as their mistress.”
“Cheating? I heard Mun-seong’s VP isn’t even married.”
The rumor of Ae-ran meeting Mun-seong Construction’s vice president spread quickly. By morning, it was dismissed as absurd gossip. By lunchtime, whispers claimed they’d already moved in together.
Today, Ae-ran’s absence only fueled the salon women’s curiosity.
“In the end, it’s just sponsorship. What else could it be?”
“But still, Ae-ran’s something, isn’t she? She always talked about changing her fate, and now look at her.”
“Are you actually buying that? Sure, maybe if he were just some rich guy. But this is like saying a multi-billionaire tycoon decided to shack up in a tiny rented room here. Basically, Na Ae-ran’s blowing smoke.”
“But someone claims they saw them.”
“They must’ve seen wrong. Who believes that?”
An old fan rattled noisily. Cha-eon gave it a frustrated tap as it sputtered to a stop. Its head drooped toward the floor.
Replacing the decrepit fan was overdue; running the salon with just two fans in this heat bordered on ridiculous. Knowing Yeong-rim wouldn’t listen anyway, Cha-eon irritably propped the fan back up.
“Cha-eon, don’t you know anything? You two are always together.”
“I don’t know much. Can’t we just turn on the air conditioner? Or at least replace these fans.”
“Tomorrow. For today, we’ll stick with the fans. We need to air out the smell of gimbap.”
“Is the AC on shift work too? Will autumn come before we use it?”
“Stop deflecting. Don’t you really know anything? Didn’t Ae-ran say something? Is it true about the sponsor? Wait, seriously—is he really Mun-seong’s VP?”
Yeong-rim fired questions between bites of gimbap. Another minute, and Cha-eon might’ve been buried under the interrogation. Soon enough, not just the salon but the entire neighborhood would know about the man—but it wasn’t her place to comment.
“If you’re so curious, ask her yourself. Why are you pestering me?”
“Honestly, you girls never answer properly. Ugh, open the door wider.”
Cha-eon pushed the half-open window fully ajar and stepped outside. The blazing sunlight stung her skin. Droplets of lukewarm water dripped from her hands, still damp from wringing out the mop. In the oppressive heat following the end of the rainy season, her body sagged like seaweed soaked in water.
Wiping sweat from her chin with the back of her hand, she turned—and froze. Across the street, under the eaves of a coffee shop, stood Ae-ran. Their eyes met. Though faint, Cha-eon caught the slight upward curve of Ae-ran’s lips.
Dragging her poorly tied shoes, Cha-eon approached her.
“Unni, what are you doing here?”
“Smoking.”
Sure enough, a cigarette glowed red between Ae-ran’s fingers.
“Want one?”
When Cha-eon reached out, Ae-ran frowned slightly.
“You smoke?”
“I quit.”
Though Ae-ran handed over the cigarette without further comment, Cha-eon hesitated before accepting. Ae-ran took a deep drag, staring straight ahead. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Cha-eon lit her own cigarette. She’d often wondered why anyone bothered with such a foul-tasting habit. It wasn’t intentional, but growing up surrounded by smokers in this neighborhood made picking up the habit almost inevitable.
It had started with Hee-ah, one of the salon staff. That night, after sending Su-ji off, she choked on the acrid smoke, tears mixing with coughs.
“Unni, listen…”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Ae-ran broke the silence unexpectedly. Not about the man—though Cha-eon expected that—but with words she hadn’t anticipated.
“He’s a sponsor. I wish I could call him my boyfriend, but…”
Her tone carried a bitter self-deprecation.
“To be precise, it’s a sponsorship with the possibility of becoming more. If things progress, he’s my boyfriend. If not, he’s just a sponsor.”
Without being asked, Ae-ran spilled her thoughts, laughing awkwardly as she rambled—a rarity for her.
“Cha-eon, if things go well, I think I might finally escape this life. Not immediately, but maybe someday.”
Her earlier excitement resurfaced in Cha-eon’s mind. After years of knowing Ae-ran, she’d never seen her look so radiant. Perhaps, for Ae-ran, this man represented a last chance—a final shot at something better.
She wanted to say, “Whether you charge ahead or take the long way, it doesn’t matter as long as you get what you want.” But today, Ae-ran looked unusually bitter.
“Is he treating you well?”
“Hmm… maybe. But why aren’t you asking anything? You must be curious.”
“Well, it’s your private life. You don’t have to tell me.”
No one in this neighborhood was without secrets or stories.
The fact that Ae-ran, who always spilled every detail to her, was now silent spoke volumes. It meant there were things she didn’t want to share—things too complicated or painful to put into words.
“I really want to leave this life behind, Cha-eon. I’m so sick of it.”
Ae-ran had worked at tea houses before moving to massage parlors, fleeing her workplace multiple times only to return when desperate for money. Each time, she mocked herself: What else can a woman who’s sold drinks do?
Cha-eon understood all too well why Ae-ran couldn’t easily break free from this hellish cycle. It was like a prisoner who’d spent their entire life behind bars—freedom on the outside might feel foreign and terrifying after years of confinement. Oppression had become second nature.
“Do what you want, Unni. That’s how you avoid regret. I haven’t lived long, but I’ve learned something: if you’re going to regret, regret doing something rather than not doing it at all.”
“You talk like you’ve lived a lifetime. What do you know? I’m sorry for dragging you into this…”
“For what? Why are you apologizing to me?”
Ae-ran fell silent again. The cicadas’ relentless chirping buzzed in Cha-eon’s ears.
“Why are you so kind? Foolishly so.”
“Is that praise or an insult?”
“Don’t end up like me. Find someone you care about, fall in love, and live differently.”
Ae-ran, who had been spouting cryptic remarks all day, lit another cigarette. Only after finishing it did she finally face Cha-eon with a bright smile, as though nothing had happened.
“It’s Wednesday today, right? You’re done early. I’ll treat you to real steak—not Auntie Kim’s—and we can go shopping.”
“No thanks. I’m tired of Auntie Kim’s steak.”
“I mean it this time. Not her place.”
“I’ll pretend I ate it.”
“I’m taking the day off. Wait for me later—I’ll come by the shop.”
“But I said no…”
Ae-ran waved cheerfully, her mood seemingly lifted. The clacking of her heels faded into the distance.
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