♩♬♪―.
At 7 a.m., my phone rang. I thought it was my alarm, but it was Han-woo. Annoyed, I declined the call, but he kept calling, so I reluctantly picked up.
“…Yeah. What.”
[You’re still asleep? Get up!]
“Where are you that you’re so damn lively?”
[I came hiking with my company.]
Going hiking was his business, but why wake someone who was perfectly fine sleeping? On days when I dreamed, my body always felt even more sluggish and exhausted.
Last night, I had a dream where I was feeding cats. But instead of fish, these cats were eating bungeoppang (fish-shaped pastries filled with red bean paste), so I had to keep baking them nonstop.
Just when I thought I’d finally sold them all, Jun showed up at the very end and asked me to pack up a million won worth of bungeoppang. If it’s three for 1,000 won, then for a million won, that’s 3,000 of them? How many batches would I have to run? I was in the middle of calculating that when the ringtone woke me up. I was grateful it saved me from bungeoppang hell, but listening to him complain was a pain.
“Just pretend you’re climbing and sneak off down a side trail.”
[I have to upload proof photos. One from the summit.]
“Wow… that place is seriously brutal.”
Apparently all the coworkers he’d made plans with had arrived, because Han-woo said he had to start and hung up. After the call ended, I checked my phone—there were no other messages. It was completely empty.
Was I feeling bothered about how I sent Jun off yesterday?
Maybe that was why I had that bungeoppang nightmare.
There was still some time left, and I considered going back to sleep, but I just got up instead. Since I was up, I went to the veranda and started the washing machine, and that’s when I saw Roban outside in his blue tracksuit.
“Does he only own that one outfit? He drives such a nice car.”
He was holding a small bag. He went over near the flower bed, squatted down, and came back out after a while. It was obvious he’d been feeding the cats. Pretty devoted for first thing in the morning.
Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember where I’d put that Aneros or whatever it was that he’d given me yesterday. Well, it’s a tiny place anyway—sooner or later it’ll turn up, I thought as I poured detergent into the washer.
After running the vacuum lightly and drinking a cup of coffee, it was past 8. I was about to get up to shower when a message came in. It was from Hyesun.
[You didn’t forget about today, right? See you later]
When we made plans last week, I’d actually been looking forward to today. But somehow, now I didn’t feel particularly excited. Maybe it was just because I’m a homebody and didn’t feel like going out.
I threw on something comfortable and headed out. It was better to take the subway to Samseong Station, so I was walking toward the station.
Huh?
There was a black car parked at the apartment entrance. For a second, my heart nearly stopped—I thought it might be Jun’s car. I didn’t have his license plate memorized, so I wasn’t sure, and I walked past it slowly. Even after I’d gone quite a distance, there was no honk.
Guess it’s not him.
I tore my gaze away from the car and went into the subway station. As I walked down the stairs, I remembered Jun saying he’d come pick me up at Samseong Station. If I called him today, I had no idea what he’d ask for as compensation.
Strangely, the memories of him licking my hand, biting my back, and masturbating in front of me seemed to grow faint as time passed. But the hug—only that—felt like it was getting more vivid. Like how your first sexual experience becomes hazy, but the first time you held hands with the kid you liked in middle school still feels crystal clear. They say a single hug can cure depression. It really felt that way.
Lost in those thoughts, I realized there were only two stops left. I arrived a little earlier than our 10 a.m. meeting time. Since it was the weekend, there were so many people that it took quite a while just to get through the ticket gates.
Scanning the countless exits, I searched for the place Hyesun had mentioned. Judging by the various posters for expos and exhibitions, I figured she was planning to see one of them.
“Du-seon.”
I was leisurely looking around when I heard my name from behind and turned my head. She approached with a bright smile, dressed comfortably.
“You came after all. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. By the way, what are we going to see?”
“Come on. I’ll guide you.”
She walked confidently through the complex, maze-like space. As I followed behind her, it didn’t even feel like something resembling a date. I looked more like a first-time visitor trailing behind a guide.
“It’s pretty complicated in here. You’re good at finding your way.”
“I come here often. We’re almost there.”
We passed several event halls and seemed to be nearing the very end of the building. The farther we walked, the fewer people there were. All that massive crowd from before had vanished; the corridor we were walking down now was nearly empty.
We came out into a passageway and stepped onto an escalator going up. I’d thought “We’re almost there, just a little further” was something you only heard while hiking, but I was hearing it now too. Imagining Han-woo probably hearing the same thing on his hike made me chuckle a little.
“It’s here.”
After walking for who knew how long, Hyesun pointed ahead as she spoke. At the end of her gesture was a wide-open auditorium door. In front of it, a long line of people was filing inside. And it was a little—no, very—strange.
The age range of the people going in skewed well past middle-aged, with many elderly. Instead of young couples, there were women who looked like members of neighborhood associations and men who looked like they belonged to hiking clubs. A small table was set up at the entrance, and they were handing something out to each person going in.
“Here, take this.”
What Hyesun handed me was a small name tag. More precisely, a blank name tag with nothing written on it.
“There should be a marker at the table. Write your name with that.”
“…What? What is this place?”
Even at my bewildered question, the people sitting at the desk simply repeated the same action and words to the next person without answering. Hyesun grabbed one of my arms and led me inside.
Inside, round tables were arranged in neat rows. At a glance, it looked like a banquet hall, but the people seated there told a different story. Some were dressed in hiking gear, others in suits. There weren’t many young people like Hyesun and me. As we sat at the nearest round table, she picked up the marker from the center.
“Want me to write it for you?”
“No, I mean, what is this…? What do they do here?”
“Relax. We’re just looking around.”
While I was still dumbfounded, Hyesun wrote my name on the tag for me. Except my name is ‘Yoo Du-seon,’ and apparently not knowing my last name, she wrote ‘Kim Du-seon.’ I didn’t bother asking her to fix it.
We’d written name tags—but what exactly were we supposed to be watching? Thinking that if it felt wrong I’d just leave, I glanced toward the entrance we’d come through. But the doors were already firmly shut, as if admission had ended.
At that moment, the lights inside dimmed, and the stage at the front lit up brightly. The crowd erupted in cheers for the person walking out. Hyesun beside me was clapping enthusiastically as well.
What the hell? This place is weird.
Amid the thunderous applause, a young man stood at the center of the stage. He wore a neat suit, and on his hand was a large gold ring. In one hand, he held a remote control—along with the key to a luxury sedan.
The moment he grabbed the microphone and spoke, I realized exactly what this was.
“Everyone! Get rich!”
It was a pyramid scheme.
I tried to get up and leave, but private security in suits approached and stopped me, saying no one could leave in the middle.
“Du-seon, it’ll be over soon.”
Hyesun smiled with her eyes, as if asking for understanding. The small bit of goodwill I’d had toward her shattered into pieces. I told myself I’d just zone out and let time pass. As I stared at some random spot on the round table, I couldn’t help but still hear everything even if I didn’t look.
The man on stage pretended to press the remote for his presentation but deliberately hit his car key instead, launching into a boast disguised as a joke.
“I’m like this sometimes. Even a scatterbrain like me can drive a luxury car like this. Don’t you all need to upgrade your cars too?”
When the camera zoomed in on his car key, the crowd burst into excited cheers.
He showed photos of his childhood, his parents, bragged that his older brother graduated from S University, and paraded his family background. Then he listed all the businesses he’d done so far, lamented how hard it was to make a living these days, said he’d thought his life was over—until he found this business. He spoke as if he’d discovered enlightenment. It was a textbook story.
The most ridiculous part was when he put up photos of the first people who’d signed contracts under him… No matter that the audience was mostly middle-aged and elderly with failing eyesight, the Photoshop job was painfully obvious. Where had they even pasted those faces from? It looked like a clear violation of portrait rights. Could they really get away with that?
During the business presentation, they even included a foreigner to make it look like some global enterprise. Then a man dressed like the head of an overseas branch came out and greeted the audience in a foreign language. What impressed me was how carefully staged it was—one of their staff members stood there reading from a prepared script as if translating his words.
I looked around, thinking there were still so many people who fell for pyramid schemes like this. They were someone’s mother, someone’s father. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them.
And Hyesun, sitting beside me, looked truly detestable.
