BRF Chapter 14

Kang Eunseong slowly and calmly sat up, running both hands through her hair. Her left arm, which she had slept on, tingled with pins and needles.

But a numb arm was the least of her worries. Reporters, once they got a hold of something, never let go. During her trainee days, one of the instructions from her desk editor had been:

‘Once you’ve got the yama¹, scrape together everything that could make a story.’

It was one of the phrases Eunseong despised. It meant that once the tone and direction of a story were determined, often in response to incidents or accidents, the reporters had to tailor the story to fit that narrative. Telling the reporters to create stories to support a theme determined by ideology or financial power – that was also the reason the media was rotten to the core.

From mawari² to yama… just how many bizarre Japanese expressions did they use?

Eunseong bit her lip, amused by the absurdity of her situation. Here she was, mumbling about some random “Young Master” in her sleep at the office, and now, out of embarrassment, she was contemplating the ills of the media.

Ah, the arduous life of a reporter.

“Hey, what kind of dream did you have?”

Ahh… she should also be grateful that Gong Taeyoon wasn’t shoving a camera in her face.

Glancing around, she saw Taeyoon leaning against a partition, Hong Sungchan organizing press materials, and Jeon Kyungseop, the medical reporter, editing the script for his medical segment on the morning news program. Their gazes were all fixed on her.

They were now ready to pounce, having found their yama in her dream.

The nerve of these people.

But now that she was awake, she couldn’t recall the details of her dream.

“I did have a dream, but…”

Eunseong frowned, diligently massaging her numb arm.

“Wow, look at her! Pretending she doesn’t remember!”

Taeyoon laughed in disbelief.

Seriously, why were they so interested in someone else’s dream?

She understood their desire for lighthearted conversation, considering they dealt with serious incidents and accidents every day. But what could she do? Even if she wanted to tell them, she couldn’t remember.

Her throat parched from sleep, Eunseong reached for the water bottle on her desk. Just as she was about to twist the cap off the half-empty plastic bottle—

“Ah!”

A scene flashed through her mind.

“I was scooping up this incredibly clear water! I was so surprised by how clear it was!”

Sungchan, who had started typing on his keyboard, spoke in a calm tone,

“Isn’t that a taemong³? I’ve heard from somewhere that dreaming of clear water is a taemong.”

“Hey, Hong Sungchan! Are you crazy? What taemong? She’s not even…”

Taeyoon burst out in anger, scolding Sungchan.

“Is there any need to get so mad just because I made a comment, sunbae?”

Sungchan retorted, sounding perplexed.

“Why are you suddenly shouting? You startled me.”

Kyungseop, the medical reporter, frowned and reprimanded Taeyoon.

“Oh! And I think I saved someone!”

Enseong vaguely remembered hearing something like being thanked for saving someone in her dream.

“Maybe you saved the Young Master.”

Sungchan quipped, undeterred by Taeyoon’s scolding.

“Young master?”

Eunseong feigned ignorance, shrugging her shoulders as if it were the most absurd thing she’d ever heard.

“Hey, if you dream about saving someone, that’s a good dream, isn’t it? Maybe something good is about to happen.”

Taeyoon tried to put a positive spin on it, proving the saying, “The interpretation is more important than the dream itself.”

“Freud said that dreams are the manifestation of desires. It seems like it’s a taemong reflecting Reporter Kang Eunseong’s desire to meet a man of noble birth, like a Young Master.”

Although Sungchan’s words were absurd, his interpretation was so funny that Eunseong burst out laughing.

“Hey, where do you even find Young Masters these days? And what’s this about noble birth? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Even though Eunseong was the one being teased, Taeyoon seemed more upset.

“Wouldn’t a great-grandson of a chaebol⁴ family be called a Young Master?”

“Her? With a chaebol heir?”

Taeyoon shook his head, dismissing the idea as preposterous.

Wait, that’s kind of offensive.

Eunseong challenged Taeyoon.

“What’s wrong with a chaebol heir? What do they have that I don’t? Aside from money, what makes me inferior to them?”

“Eunseong, you just excluded the most important thing.”

Taeyoon frowned seriously.

“Do you think money is the most important thing in the world, sunbae?”

Eunseong calmly retorted.

“Money isn’t the most important thing, but in a capitalist society, having more money gives you more freedom. The freedom to break free from labor, the freedom to indulge in impulse buying, and the freedom to enjoy more time than others, which you gain as a result.”

Eunseong found herself nodding unconsciously.

“You’re right, money is the most important thing.”

“See? It’s a taemong reflecting your desire to marry a chaebol Young Master.”

Eunseong glared at Sungchan, who had now spouted nonsense twice. Of course, Sungchan didn’t even flinch.

“While Freud’s idea that dreams are an extension of desire and has become widespread as established theory, modern neurophysiologists think differently. Some believe that dreams are just random compilations of memories, thoughts, and sensations stored in the brain. In other words, they’re meaningless.”

“So, dream interpretations are all useless?”

Kyungseop nodded at Sungchan’s words, who suddenly got up from his seat and asked in surprise.

“Well, whether it’s dreaming about water or a snake… those things don’t have inherent meaning, but they can be significant from a psychiatric perspective. There’s research suggesting that unresolved stress in daily life is released through dreams. It’s called Overnight therapy.”

Eunseong, Taeyoon, and Sungchan, who seemed somewhat dazed, turned their gazes toward Kyungseop.

“Is that based on actual research?”

Sungchan, who readily believed in the pseudoscience of dream interpretation, questioned the words of a former doctor turned reporter.

“We usually dream during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. There’s a stress hormone called noradrenaline. While we’re dreaming during REM sleep, this stress hormone significantly decreases. That’s why we feel physically and mentally restored after a good night’s sleep.”

At Kyungseop’s explanation, Eunsung and Taeyoon nodded as if they were genuinely impressed.

“Everyone here is just losing their minds from sleep deprivation. Look at you all, going crazy over one little sleep talk incident in the office.”

“And yet, you were the one explaining those the most enthusiastically.”

Sungchan grumbled.

“Exactly, which means I’m just as crazy. What the hell am I even doing with my life, quitting being a doctor for this?”

“You didn’t give up your medical license, so you could always open your own clinic.”

Taeyoon spoke as if it were a simple solution.

“You think it’s that easy? Running a private practice is tough these days. It’s not something just anyone can do.”

While Kyungseop and Taeyoon discussed the hardships of making a living, Sungchan was clutching his head in frustration.

“Hong Sungchan, what’s wrong?”

Eunseong, who had risen from her seat, looked down sympathetically at Sungchan as he slumped over his desk, burying his face in his hands.

“My mom told me my taemong was a dragon ascending to the heavens with jade-colored yeouiju⁵ in its mouth. I thought it meant I would eventually escape being a contract worker and ascend to Yeouido⁶.”

“Why Yeouido, of all places?”

Taeyoon asked, genuinely curious. Eunseong answered on Sungchan’s behalf.

“Because it’s jade-colored. Like the National Assembly dome.”

At Eunseong’s half-joking, half-serious explanation, Taeyoon nodded again, finding it oddly convincing.

“But hey, dreams come true sometimes, right?”

Sungchan sounded like he was arguing. Kyungseop’s words seemed to have been quite a shock to him, as he’d always believed in the prophetic nature of taemong. He could’ve just accepted it, but… as Kyungseop said, it was the sleep deprivation making them all crazy.

“Not all dreams come true all the time. It’s just a coincidence.”

At Kyungseop’s casual mention of the word, “coincidence,” Jung Woojin’s face flashed through her mind. Her heart began to race as his smooth face, deep gaze, straight nose, and red lips reappeared one after another.

“Ugh, I need to wash my face.”

Eunseong muttered to herself and left the office. Despite all the laughter and chatter, thinking about that man made her mind race again.

It was all because of lack of sleep.

Tonight, she’d definitely leave work early and get a good night’s rest.

Eunseong walked briskly down the hallway, pressing her hand against her chest as if to calm her pounding heart.

* * *

Why is this woman’s heart beating so fast since early in the morning?

At that moment, Woojin, who had been enjoying a peaceful sleep, was awakened by the loud thumping of Eunseong’s heart. The incessant, noisy beating was driving him to the brink of insanity from lack of sleep.

“Ah, why isn’t she sleeping?”

He checked the clock and it wasn’t even 5 a.m. yet. He was starting to resent the fact that Kang Eunseong was a reporter.

Woo-jin got out of bed. Once the thumping started, it was impossible to sleep. He decided to get a glass of cold water and fully wake up.

As he walked down to the kitchen on the first floor, he noticed a light coming from down the hallway. It was toward the living room.

He walked slowly, muffling his footsteps. The closer he got to the entrance of the living room, the louder the conversation became.

“Yes, that child is yours!”

A woman’s voice shrieked. Entering the living room, he saw the melancholic face of a male actor filling the large TV screen.

“Agh, yeah. If he’s not the kid’s father, then nothing makes sense.”

Ban Hyohyun was sprawled on the sofa, watching a drama.

“That’s impossible. I have azoospermia.”

With a dramatic blast of closing scene, the episode of the drama ended.

“What the—! Next episode, next episode!”

Hyohyun sat up abruptly, muttering to herself impatiently.

“What are you looking for? The remote?”

Woojin asked kindly.

“Yeah, the remote… Ahh! Damn, you scared me!”

Hyohyun, startled, looked up at Woojin, who was standing behind the sofa like a grim reaper.

“What time is it that you’re already up?”

“What time is it that you’re still doing this?”

“Oh, just wait until you get old and you’ll see. You lose your ability to sleep in.”

She seemed to have stayed up all night watching dramas, yet she was shamelessly making excuses.

“Well, I haven’t gotten old yet, so I wouldn’t know.”

Woojin shook his head and turned back toward the kitchen. But then, a deafening heartbeat, like the pounding of war drums signaling a battle, resonated throughout his body. A wave of ominous energy surged through him, making his vision momentarily go dark.

In an instant, he sprinted up to his bedroom on the second floor. Grabbing his phone from the bedside table, he dialed Kang Eunseong’s number.

Once, twice, three times… No matter how many times he called, Kang Eunseong didn’t answer.