CRND Ch 2

The Taejang Electronics DL (Digital Lifestyle) division building stood tall midway between Gangnam Station and Yeoksam Station.

The head of the 7th-floor department was Gye Taesik, an unusual surname. In spoken form, “Gye” and “Gae” (meaning “dog” in Korean) were difficult to distinguish. So, he was probably unaware that he was more often called Gae Bujang (Dog Manager) than Gye Bujang (Manager Gye).

Today, the company started just like yesterday, the day before, and last week. Amidst the quiet sounds of typing and occasional phone calls flowing like ASMR, Yiho checked the issues that had arrived overnight.

“Team Leader Song, Team Leader Song!”

The call that shattered the peace was loud even before it reached Yiho’s desk, giving him time to save his work and stand up.

“Yes, Bujangnim (Manager)?”

“Did you properly check what I sent you?!”

The volume was loud enough to announce, “Team Leader Song Yiho got chewed out by Gae Bujang this morning,” all the way to the copier in the next office.

Anyone else would have retorted, “Is there a problem?”, but the development team leader first stated the facts regarding the question.

“Yes, I checked it.”

“Really?”

Yiho had thoroughly checked that all functions were working without issue. There were no errors.

“Yes.”

“Huh. Turn it on. We’ll see when you turn it on!”

Yiho opened the code as instructed and ran the compiler. It built without problems, and the screen he had checked earlier appeared.

“No, not that. The code!”

Hundreds of thousands of lines of code. The manager searched for the word “lunch.” The moment he saw the result, Yiho felt dizzy. Sigh….

main.js

if (!request) {return;}

//What’s for lunch today?

/*Brown rice, Soybean paste soup with Auck, Grilled Yangmiri, Rolled omelet, Seafood patties, Yogurt

OMG, Sheep’s head is on the menu? How do you eat that…?

It’s not sheep’s head, it’s Yangmiri, it’s a fish lol*/

The code was shared by the entire development team. Yiho knew that the team members sometimes joked around in the comments, but he didn’t expect this to still be there.

Since it was a memo function that had nothing to do with the actual functionality, it was understandable that Yiho, who only checked the final operation, would have missed it.

“Is company work some kind of child’s play? You try to take it easy, and that’s why your team members are like this too. What’s the point of doing your job if you’re going to fail because of things like this!”

“…I’m sorry.”

The current situation was like a finished product with a scribbled sticky note mistakenly attached. If there was one thing that felt slightly unfair, it was that it was more of a progress report than a finished product.

He had to bow his head; what else could he do? Amidst the increasingly nonsensical criticism, footsteps approached. The team leader of the next team, Cha Minkyu, looked at Yiho over Gye Bujang’s shoulder.

“….”

After assessing the situation, he moonwalked smoothly back to his chair.

“Ahem.”

‘This… crazy guy.’

Fortunately, it seemed like he was just trying to stifle a cough, as the manager only raised an eyebrow. However, Yiho’s crisis continued. He tensed his stomach, forcing down the laughter that threatened to erupt. Struggling with that, the manager’s voice didn’t reach his brain. It seemed like he was rambling about team management or something.

Perhaps noticing Yiho’s gaze occasionally drifting over his shoulder, the manager turned around. There was only Team Leader Cha Minkyu, pretending to be a perfectly normal office worker.

“Team Leader Cha, come here and look at this!”

“Yes?”

As Minkyu stood up and approached, the manager pointed to the problematic screen. The cafeteria menu from a day last week was now shared with Minkyu.

“Yangmiri… Sheep’s head…”

A sigh, inaudible to others, escaped Minkyu’s lips. The glance he directed at Yiho contained the question, “How did you get caught up in this mess this early in the morning?”

“Team Leader Song, this is too much. Why are you writing the menu here? With your years of experience, why can’t you separate work and personal matters? Aren’t you someone who barely even goes to the cafeteria?”

“No, Team Leader Cha…”

“Even so, it’s a bit embarrassing for an adult not to know the difference between Yangmiri and a sheep’s head. Whether it’s a lack of knowledge that prevented a simple search, or a narrow-mindedness that hindered such basic understanding.”

The face of one of the development team members, who had been looking down beyond the partition, flushed crimson.

“Team Leader Cha, the problem isn’t that Team Leader Song wrote it, but that it wasn’t deleted before it reached me. It’s not Team Leader Song’s fault, but the development team’s….”

“Ah, is that so?”

Minkyu feigned exaggerated surprise and patted Yiho’s back.

“I apologize. I’m a layman when it comes to coding, so I didn’t understand the situation. My apologies, Team Leader Song.”

“Not helpful. Go back to work.”

After Minkyu retreated, Gye Bujang tried to say something more to Yiho, but then inhaled sharply and raised his voice at Minkyu, who had returned to his seat.

“Don’t disrupt the atmosphere!”

“I’m sorry.”

Minkyu bowed his head with an insincere, apologetic expression. Gye Bujang muttered, “Oh, really,” and glanced at Yiho. Seeing Minkyu nitpick and criticize for no reason seemed to have made him feel awkward about his own behavior.

“Be careful. I have high expectations for you, Team Leader Song, that’s why I’m like this.”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Ahem, get back to work.”

The morning storm had passed. The development team’s usual gloom deepened.

“Yiho-nim, I should have checked it one last time…”

Kim, a senior developer and the junior developer’s mentor, peered over the partition.

“It’s alright.”

Yiho waved his hand dismissively. Apart from feeling utterly defeated, it was too embarrassing to scold anyone. It was a far cry from a critical error in the code.

“This isn’t even close to the official release… it’s not even a proper progress report… he just took a test version and… why is Gae Bujang acting like that…”

Quiet complaints arose from another direction.

‘…Tell me about it.’

Sometimes Yiho thought, ‘Isn’t it a bit much to call someone by their last name, especially at thirty-three…’, but at times like this, he couldn’t help but think of him as Gae Bujang.

“Everyone heard it, so let’s not joke around in the code anymore. …Understood, Taekyeong-nim?”

“Yes, yes…!”

The startled culprit, the very Yangmiri himself, straightened up. Yiho had spoken to him because he’d been keeping his head down, but it had backfired.

Actually, the topic of not chatting in comments had come up before. Back then, it was, of course, Yiho’s gentle suggestion. Since then, the jokes hadn’t decreased… they had just been neatly erased before reaching Yiho. So, Yiho had forgotten to check this time.

Thinking about it, it wasn’t even strange content, and the chatter was cute; why make such a fuss? As the situation calmed down, frustration at the unnecessary scolding arose. Why discourage the team members? They already lacked energy. Yiho closed his laptop in silence and stood up.

“Then, I’ll be off to a meeting.”

“Oh, Yiho-nim, did you have a schedule?”

“Yes. The development team leaders are meeting.”

There were still about 30 minutes left, but if he left early, the team members could relax and unwind by gossiping about the manager or comforting Taekyeong. It would only prolong the silence if the team leader, who had taken the brunt of the scolding, lingered.

As Yiho passed by the marketing team’s area, his eyes met Minkyu’s. Minkyu’s nose wrinkled slightly. Yiho narrowed his eyes in response before turning away.

The quiet murmur, “Look, the two team leaders are at it again…” didn’t reach Yiho’s ears as he left the office, but it did make Minkyu’s lips curve into a slight smile.

“Oh, Team Leader Song, you’re early.”

“Hello.”

Team Leader Kim sat down two seats away from Yiho.

As part of the company’s culture improvement initiative, DL division employees were encouraged to address each other by their names followed by “-nim” instead of using titles. This was to prevent the bright-eyed new employees from feeling intimidated by hierarchical titles.

However, while strictly enforced in the office, omitting titles in executive meetings resulted in disapproving glances. It was more accurate to say they couldn’t even attempt it. Thus, managers and below were protected by the company’s external image, executives were protected by their immense power, while middle management was protected by no one.

Consequently, a chaotic rule was established for team leaders: use titles for those at or above their level (those they attended executive meetings with), and “-nim” for everyone else.

During the awkward silence between the two, who weren’t particularly close, they just tapped on their phones. Team Leader Nam arrived about three minutes late.

“Hyung, you’re here?”

“Yeah, I’m a bit late.”

“Hello, Team Leader Nam.”

Team Leader Kim and Team Leader Nam, who joined the company at the same time, greeted each other casually. Then, noticing Yiho, Team Leader Nam gave a slight nod.

“Team Leader Song, I saw you struggling earlier. Why was Gae Bujang acting like that?”

It was clear that Gae Bujang’s voice had resonated throughout the entire building. Yiho rubbed his neck awkwardly and explained that his team members had been joking around in the comments.

“What did they write? …Was it by any chance gossip about the manager?”

“No. I overheard everything because Team Leader Cha joined in and made a fuss, but it was just chatter about the cafeteria menu, wondering what was for lunch today.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, over something like that… He could’ve just said it nicely. Why did Team Leader Cha have to butt in and make a fuss?”

“I think he’s definitely discriminating against Team Leader Song because he was specially recruited. He’s a pure-blooded regular hire, you see.”

“Ah, is that it? Ridiculous. Regular or special, we’re all the same corporate slaves. What’s with the internal ranking? Right, Team Leader Song?”

“Haha…”

Well… he couldn’t say such people were extremely rare.

“I don’t think that’s… the case.”

“Huh?”

When Yiho took his side, the two team leaders looked at him questioningly.

“Ah, well… he always seems busy, I doubt he has time for such things.”

The two team leaders exchanged glances and shrugged.

“True, he could just be picking a fight. He’s a very meticulous worker.”

“If the manager can read the code, it must be for the company’s online mall, right? He forced that task onto Team Leader Song. He really got the short end of the stick.”

Being a new division, the DL division had some haphazardly managed aspects. For instance, the software development team also handled server management for the company’s sales site… Gye Bujang had abruptly assigned it to Yiho, saying, “Oh, didn’t Team Leader Song participate in that when he was in the research division? Code is code, right?”

“Comments don’t affect the code at all. Does Gae Bujang not know that?”

“No way. He probably just got chewed out somewhere and took it out on Yiho.”

“He might not know. You’d be surprised how many people can’t read a single line of code…”

The three, now more familiar with Java than Korean, looked seriously puzzled. Yiho learned, through Minkyu, that there were indeed many people in this world who couldn’t read a single line of code. Most of his other acquaintances were similar to him.

“So, I guess this came down.”

Team Leader Kim pointed to an email in his inbox. The other two had received the same email on the same day.

Taejang Electronics provided various programs under the guise of employee welfare. The gym on the 15th floor of this building, support for in-house club activities, and in-house lectures were examples.

What the new employees, exclaiming “Wow, wow,” didn’t know as they looked around at the welfare benefits was… that someone’s peaceful work life was being chipped away, something they would also learn 10 years later.

FW: Regarding the “Coding Basics Class” Inbox

In this day and age, even non-majors could benefit from learning basic coding. The intent was very noble.

If only they hadn’t decided to choose the instructor from among the already overworked development team leaders.

Silence hung in the air between the three, lined up at the edge of a cliff. One of them had to be pushed down onto the arduous path below. Team Leader Kim cautiously asked Team Leader Nam,

“Isn’t Jinyeong-hyung’s team a bit free after finishing the project?”

“What are you talking about? They’ve been working on two projects simultaneously since they took that over. They’re still incredibly busy.”

Team Leader Nam retorted sternly. While a somewhat informal back-and-forth ensued between the two, Yiho silently sipped his Americano.

“But didn’t Team Leader Song do a lot of teaching assistant work during graduate school?”

Team Leader Nam had inadvertently tripped Yiho. As the gazes of Team Leader Kim and Team Leader Nam threatened to meet in an ominous direction, Yiho quickly spoke up.

“My advisor mainly taught junior and senior undergraduate courses, so it’s a bit far removed from the basics….”

“Oh, come on, what does that matter? A lecture by a PhD from Korea University. Wow, this is basically a free major course. I bet there will be tons of applicants.”

“And isn’t Team Leader Song exactly the executive’s type? They love young experts, innovation, and all that. This is a great chance for Team Leader Song to make an impression.”

“No…”

They were all dying of exhaustion in front of their monitors, this was too much.

However, strictly speaking, Yiho wasn’t in the same boat as the other two.

“Honestly, even if it’s just for show, it would be awkward to teach colleagues or seniors I met at the training center. Wouldn’t Team Leader Song, who came from outside, be the best fit? Frankly, I don’t know the details, but doesn’t Team Leader Song have a really high salary?”

“…”

Among the assembled team leaders, thirty-three-year-old Yiho was the youngest. The other two were in their late thirties.

Team Leader Song Yiho joined the company as a manager through special recruitment after completing his combined master’s and doctoral program at Korea University. Therefore, his salary table was slightly different from others. In short, he wasn’t a “purebred” who joined as a regular employee and started from the bottom. He had no training center colleagues or direct seniors or juniors at the company.

Of course, he also lacked someone like Team Leader Kim and Team Leader Nam to collaborate with and voice his opinions.

Being specially recruited was hard.

“Yes… I understand.”

Another dreadful task, utterly useless for performance reviews and consuming his after-work hours, was added to his plate.

From morning till now. Today seemed like a day where nothing would go right.

💼

Drained of energy throughout the day, even pressing the elevator button felt exhausting. Yiho slumped against the elevator wall and trudged out on the 18th floor. Arriving in front of 1802, one of the two apartments facing each other (the other being 1801), he entered the door code at a pace slower than a snail’s crawl.

Inside, the mess he’d left before leaving for work remained untouched. Yiho collected the receipts he’d emptied from his pockets that morning and tossed them in the trash. He flung his work clothes in front of the bathroom and emerged into the living room in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He collapsed onto the sofa.

“Sigh…”

He must be getting old. Being severely nitpicked and burdened with extra work over trivial matters had happened countless times, both in the lab and at the company. But now, the energy it took to deal with such situations had changed.

Of course, instead of crying or fuming…

“Gotta do it, what choice do I have…”

…he had honed the skill of minimizing mental exhaustion.

He was hungry, but even thinking about what to eat felt like a chore. Yiho clung to the sofa like a phone on a wireless charger, recharging his depleted energy. Even so, it felt like he was plugged into the wrong outlet, the charging painfully slow.

The quiet solitude of his apartment absorbed all the sounds from the hallway outside the steel door. For example, the sound of the elevator stopping on his floor, and the ding-dong of the doorbell from the apartment across the hall.

The subsequent rustling of plastic bags was also audible. Judging by the crisp sound of the plastic, it was definitely food delivery.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

The person lingered in the hallway for a while, perhaps checking the receipt to ensure the delivery was correct. Yiho opened his eyes and bolted upright.

If he didn’t have the energy to order anything and was too lazy to choose a menu, he could just steal someone else’s!

Yiho strode to the front door and flung it open.

“Hey, order something else you want with my phone and let’s share…”

…If another delivery comes, let’s eat that together too… Yiho’s intended offer died in his throat. Cha Minkyu, the resident of 1801, the apartment across the hall, stopped crumpling the empty plastic bag, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Come over quickly, SongYi SongYi.”

He’d been completely played.

“Sigh…”

Yiho crossed the hallway, less than five steps to the elevator, and reached the apartment opposite his. He slipped off his worn-out slippers at the entrance and stepped inside with an air of familiarity rather than awkwardness.

Minkyu, grinning in a way he never did at work, showcased even smoother moonwalking skills on the living room floor.

“Ow, ow!”

This wasn’t the office, and they weren’t Team Leader Song and Team Leader Cha. Therefore, a straightforward punch was aimed at Cha Minkyu’s back without hesitation. The energy he thought was depleted was fueled by indignation. Unfazed, Minkyu dodged, displaying moonwalking skills worthy of a music show performance.

“Knowing Gae Bujang’s temper, you should stop messing around at work… Wait, what’s this?”

Following the fleeing Minkyu into the kitchen, Yiho found a meal already laid out on the table. And two sets of chopsticks placed at opposite sides.

“Sit down. Let’s eat.”

“…”

Minkyu’s hands gently guided Yiho towards the table, placing them on his lower back. Feeling the warmth of his large hands through his t-shirt, Yiho bit his lip.

‘Cha Minkyu, you bastard. I’m only putting up with this because it’s you…’

“…”

‘If it were anyone else, you’d have been packed into a container and shipped off to the Netherlands to get married…’

A fiery-red spicy chicken stew dominated the center of the table, a sight guaranteed to melt away the day’s stress. Having known each other for 15 years, Yiho knew Minkyu preferred sweet braised chicken to spicy chicken stew. This dish was chosen entirely for Yiho’s palate.

Before sitting down, Minkyu retrieved two cans of beer from the beer fridge he kept in his apartment. Yiho looked at him across the table.

The sigh he’d swallowed thousands of times over 15 years was pushed down again. It was hotter than usual today.

He wasn’t resentful of his unrequited love. That was the case for those who fell in love in a single moment, those who would have avoided that moment if they could rewind time.

But Yiho’s unrequited love was like a speed bump. Even if he avoided one, another would inevitably appear. Even if Minkyu hadn’t subtly shielded him from the manager today, he would have fallen for the comforting meal laid out at home, and even if not for this, he would have fallen for some other aspect of Minkyu tomorrow. So there was no room for resentment.

Cha Minkyu was an unavoidable kindness. Today, it was a little warmer than usual, and so his heart fluttered a little more intensely.

“Cha Minkyu.”

“Yeah?”

Yiho mumbled as he picked up a piece of spicy chicken.

“…If you don’t have any outside appointments tomorrow, I’ll buy you dinner…”

“I’m going to order something expensive.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Ooh. Now I’m really curious about your salary.”

“Ha… It’s not that much. The rumors are exaggerated.”

“Hmm? What did someone say?”

Minkyu asked casually, chewing with his sleek cheeks. Yiho slowly recounted the day’s events. As he listened, Minkyu kept his gaze fixed on Yiho, while Yiho’s eyes wandered over the side dishes and rice.

“So, does that mean my team won’t be working with your team next time?”

“Yeah… for now.”

With the added coding class or whatever it was, he was already at full capacity. There was no room for new projects.

“Hmm, good. I’ve been holding back on making empty promises, worried about overworking SongYi, but now I can freely make them.”

“…What?”

“The marketing team gets praised if they sell something, and the development team takes the hit if they can’t deliver. If it’s not SongYi, I couldn’t care less.”

“Team Leader Nam and Team Leader Kim are going to say something.”

“Let them. I’ll avenge SongYi’s frustrated silence.”

Minkyu interlocked his fingers and rested his chin on them.

“Do you think someone whose job is talking can out-talk an engineer? Just watch. You’ll see how much I go easy on you, SongYi.”

…No. He probably wouldn’t lose to anyone. One of the knots in Yiho’s stomach unraveled along with the beer’s carbonation.

Trivial conversations, comfortably familiar topics.

Several more of these exchanges occurred during their meal.

“Oh, SongYi, have you heard from the landlady?”

“No. Why?”

“Our lease is up for renewal this winter. I’ve been thinking about what to do.”

“…It’s a bit early to decide with almost a year left.”

“Better than scrambling at the last minute.”

The two apartments facing each other on the 18th floor of Building 104, a 15-minute drive from Taejang Electronics, belonged to a wealthy elderly woman. When Yiho was looking for a place near the company, Minkyu tagged along and they happened to meet the landlady.

‘Are you two friends?’

‘Ah, yes.’

‘You don’t have any pets, do you?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll give you a big discount if you move in together.’

Minkyu and Yiho readily accepted the terms offered by the landlady. Thus, they had been neighbors, a mere three steps apart, for four years now.

After 15 years of friendship, relationships tend to fade as people enter society and form new connections. However, attending the same high school, university, and now working at the same company, coupled with the peculiar cohabitation-like arrangement of the past four years, their bond had endured without a hitch.

If there was any change, it would be that the way they spoke to each other had softened. During their teens and twenties, there seemed to be some pride or something entangled in their teasing banter. Now, it wasn’t that they had lost their pride, but rather, they knew each other so well that it became unnecessary.

By the same token, denying the unrequited love that he had started alone had become meaningless.

With comfortable banter, they joked around, complained about their annoying boss, and chatted about trivial matters.

“SongYi SongYi, what are you doing this weekend?”

They also shared a significant portion of their free time.

“I’m going to Team Leader Yang’s wedding on Saturday and resting on Sunday.”

“Ah, right. You know there’s an after-party, right?”

“An after-party at a wedding?”

“They’ve apparently booked a place for the single friends of the bride and groom to mingle after the ceremony. You don’t like that sort of thing, do you?”

“What’s that about? Do people do that these days?”

“The couple enjoys going out, and it’s trendy, I hear.”

Minkyu played a YouTube video between them. The setting looked like an ordinary wine bar, but with flashy lighting, it had a club-like atmosphere. The bride and groom each pulled the hand of one of their single friends, bringing them close. The man and woman danced to the loud music. As they danced, they got close enough to touch, drawing cheers from the crowd. Then, another couple was paired up…

This was a bit… a bit…

Now that he understood, he wished Minkyu would turn off the video. Cha Minkyu had been his friend since they were in school uniforms. This felt like watching a pornographic video with his brother. He had never thought of Minkyu, the object of his affection, in a sexual way. He’d always had a low libido, so he’d figured his unrequited love was platonic… probably?

Yiho’s gaze drifted from the screen to the prominent wrist bone of the hand holding the phone, then up the arm to the thin fabric of Minkyu’s indoor t-shirt. The well-defined shoulders filling out the seams, the curve of his collarbone visible beneath the neckline, his chest and waist.

Or was it? Had he thought about it… before?

“See? I told you it wasn’t your thing.”

Minkyu put the phone away. Yiho pretended to scoop some rice, lowering his gaze. He hadn’t realized this kind of desire had developed. He had only thought he liked him…

“…Cha Minkyu, are you going?”

“Team Leader Yang’s fiancee worked at an agency for a long time. It wouldn’t hurt to network.”

Minkyu seemed unfazed by the same video. Even if he said so, could networking at such a place really be that innocent?

“…Maybe I should go too…”

Yiho mumbled. Minkyu rested his chin on the table, looking at him. It was a small gesture, but because of his large frame, he seemed to loom over Yiho.

“Yeah, with everyone from work there, it won’t be as wild as the video. If you go, try meeting different people. What’s with being so shy after watching a dancing video, at thirty-three?”

“I’m not shy.”

“I’ll be a bit bored if you start dating, though.”

“…”

The spicy and sweet chicken stew suddenly tasted a little bitter.

“…What about you, Cha Minkyu?”

“I’m not in a position to date.”

“Minjeong is starting school now, what’s the big deal?”

“You make it sound like I’m some old widower getting remarried. SongYi, who do you think I should date?”

Of course, I don’t want you to date anyone, you idiot. You’re throwing rocks at your admirer’s heart.

Even though Yiho had resigned himself to never confessing his feelings, the thought of Minkyu with someone else made him want to burrow underground.

“…It’s up to you.”

That was all he could say as a friend.

“…”

Yiho felt Minkyu’s knowing gaze. Cha Minkyu was completely oblivious to Song Yiho’s feelings. If he knew, he wouldn’t invite him in so casually, serve him a home-cooked meal, or offer his full attention like this.

Yiho was the one who lost the staring contest. He reached out and collected Minkyu’s empty plate and his own.

“I’ll do the dishes.”

Minkyu didn’t stop him. When eating at each other’s apartments, the guest did the dishes. This was one of the rules that had naturally established itself during their four years as neighbors.

He watched Yiho’s movements, then followed him into the kitchen. He subtly moved the large pot of leftover chicken stew onto the induction cooker, so it wouldn’t be added to the dishwashing pile. Yiho, pulling on the rubber gloves, asked,

“What’s that for?”

“There’s some left. For tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Yiho squeezed dish soap onto the sponge and started scrubbing a cup. Minkyu, still in the kitchen, came up behind Yiho and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“You’re heavy, you punk.”

“The height is perfect. SongYi, my personal dishwashing stand. Your turtle shell is a bit hard, though.”

“Get off.”

With his hands trapped in the rubber gloves, Yiho tried to shrug Minkyu off. But instead of shaking him off, their cheeks drew closer, and Minkyu wrapped his arms around his waist, telling him to stay still. Yiho inhaled sharply, his chest rising.

“SongYi, you and I weren’t that different in height back in high school, so why did you shrink so much? Does your computer emit height-reducing electromagnetic waves or something?”

The whispered words, accompanied by warm breath, brushed against his ear. Even though it was spoken right next to him, Yiho couldn’t understand half of what was said.

“I, I’m above average. You’re the one who suddenly shot up after going to the military….”

“What, are you ticklish? Why are you trembling so much?”

Only then did Minkyu release Yiho, and the tension melted from his stiff body. The lingering tremor in his hands was concealed by the oversized rubber gloves and the thick lather on the dishes.

Song Yiho was in love with his friend of 15 years, Cha Minkyu.

It’s natural to want to get closer and touch the person you have a crush on. But Yiho didn’t have to try; Minkyu dragged him home, cooked for him, clung to him, and acted like they were a couple.

If others struggling with long-term unrequited love saw Song Yiho, they’d call him a fraud and writhe in agony.

‘…Yeah, having the object of your affection act like this is an industry award. Enjoy it, enjoy it. Cha Minkyu, you sinful bastard.’

Unrequited love is an unprintable variable.

Calculating meaningless values is a waste of memory. Therefore, it’s more efficient to quietly cherish the feeling rather than overthink it.

And might as well enjoy this time to the fullest…

This was Song Yiho’s approach to unrequited love.

Instead of moving away, Minkyu stood close. Their arms brushed against each other through their thin clothes. Amidst the clinking dishes, Yiho’s sigh, followed by Minkyu’s inexplicable chuckle, passed by once more.

💼

It was unclear when he started feeling this way about his “friend” Cha Minkyu. It wasn’t immediately after they met as students, but it was definitely before they started working together.

He had ample time to verify that this feeling was indeed love. Fifteen years was enough time for realization, denial, and acceptance. Instead of a dramatic, movie-like moment of falling in love, one day Yiho simply realized that the feelings and actions he’d directed towards Cha Minkyu were those of someone in love.

The day Yiho acknowledged his unrequited love, he gave up on it becoming reciprocated. The bond they had built over a long period, beyond friendship, had become a sturdy bridge supported by both of them. If it were to be twisted by Song Yiho’s changed feelings, too much would crumble.

Fortunately, their 15-year friendship served as a formidable smokescreen, and as long as he played his cards right, his feelings would remain undetected.

“Are you saying you can’t do it?”

The questioner’s tone wasn’t condescending, but rather like a student asking about a subject they didn’t understand. A “How could such a thing happen?” kind of tone. This effectively grated on the other person’s nerves. The questioner, Cha Minkyu, was undoubtedly well aware of this effect.

Team Leader Kim, who had come to Minkyu’s desk, gripped the partition and forced a smile.

“It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s just so sudden. This is a bit different from our usual area of expertise. I need ample time to research, consult with the designer, discuss any unreasonable aspects of the plan, and make adjustments.”

“Aha…”

The drawn-out sound trailed off like a sigh. Minkyu rested his chin on his hand and stared intently at the monitor before turning back to Team Leader Kim.

“This won’t do. Putting aside discussions between you and me, the manager has high expectations for this project, so it’s best to finish it as quickly as possible.”

At the mention of Manager Gye, whose hobby was wandering around the office, Team Leader Kim lowered his voice.

“Isn’t it the marketing team’s job to… mediate things like this?”

“Then the team name would be the Development Team Secretary Team. Don’t you know the scope of collaborating departments? Should I recite the marketing team’s job description for you?”

“…”

“You might not have known, but my job is to package and sell what the company makes, to earn money. But there’s nothing to sell right now.”

So, go and make the solutions I requested. Minkyu was still smiling as brightly as a spring picnic, but Team Leader Kim ruffled his hair, muttering, “Come on,” and “Seriously.” Of course, Minkyu didn’t bat an eye.

“It’s a bit disconcerting because the development team used to accommodate these requests, but now you’re coming to me like this. Is it because the collaborating team has changed?”

Everyone knew that until recently, the marketing team had been working closely with Yiho’s development team, which sat right next to them. Team Leader Kim glanced at the development team, where the team leader was absent. To be precise, he had stopped in his tracks far away while returning from the restroom, having sensed a fight brewing next door.

“Team Leader Song is from a research background, so he’s quite strong on projects…”

“Is there such a difference even within the same development team? I didn’t know.”

“Anyway, let’s remove a few features. I’ll make sure it runs at least on the front-end by the deadline…”

“That’s not acceptable.”

“Then what are you going to do? I can’t do it even if you kill me!”

Team Leader Kim slammed his hand on the partition. Manager Kwon, who shared the partition with Minkyu, flinched in surprise. A long sigh, clearly meant for Kim to hear, escaped Minkyu’s lips, and he rose from his seat. As his nearly 190cm frame stood tall, Team Leader Kim’s gaze traveled upwards. Looking down at Team Leader Kim, the amusement had vanished from Minkyu’s shadowed face.

“Working leisurely with ample time and manageable difficulty…”

“…”

“Even computer science students wouldn’t get a C+ on their graduation projects if they worked like that these days. No salesman, no matter how good, could sell that. You should have prepared for hardship from the moment you snatched up all the potentially successful tasks.”

“Team Leader Cha, that’s a bit harsh…!”

This time, Minkyu leaned towards Team Leader Kim, gripping the partition. Team Leader Kim flinched and stopped mid-sentence. After a moment of chilling silence, Minkyu flashed an even brighter smile.

“But who would dare compare our veteran Team Leader Kim to fledgling students? Team Leader Kim will ultimately deliver excellent results. What does a research background matter? Practical experience is key. Isn’t that right?”

Minkyu put his arm around Team Leader Kim’s shoulders and patted his back. Standing close, he struck a fighting pose reminiscent of a group photo from a hiking club.

“I entrusted this to you because I have that much faith in you, considering all these factors. You know how I feel, right? Let’s both do our best, the development team and the marketing team!”

In the suddenly shifted atmosphere, Team Leader Kim, completely defeated, mumbled a weak, “Uh, yeah…” and retreated from the marketing team’s area.

Only after he was gone did Yiho hesitantly return and sit at his desk. Glancing to the side, Minkyu briefly checked on Manager Kwon if he was alright, and was already back to work.

‘Did he really avenge me?’

…This could be self-centered thinking, and maybe Cha Minkyu was simply behaving according to his work style with the new team. But recalling their conversation from just a few days ago made Yiho’s heart flutter.

The cheeks of the severely lovesick patient flushed, and he couldn’t focus on the code. Honestly, he wanted to look at the desk next to him, not the screen.

In the midst of this, Minkyu’s voice, conversing with his team members, kept invading the development team’s space. Three or four marketing team members, including Minkyu, had gathered behind one employee’s monitor, and it didn’t look like their discussion would end soon. Yiho opened his drawer, grabbed a handful of coffee capsules, and stood up.

After Yiho’s brisk footsteps faded, Deputy Manager Kang whispered softly,

“Oh my, we must have been a bit loud. He’s giving us the stink eye.”

“Team Leader Song giving the stink eye?”

A puff of air escaped Minkyu’s lips. What he really meant was, “That softie?”, but it sounded to others like, “That jerk?”

“My apologies. Let’s all sit down and work now.”

The gathered members dispersed back to their desks. The team’s morale was a bit higher than usual, having witnessed their team leader put another team leader in his place that morning.

It was then that Yiho opened the pantry door.

“Oh.”

“Ah.”

Two short exclamations greeted him. Then, a stiffly frozen man and woman faced Yiho.

Yiho recalled a certain taunt he’d heard countless times at work:

‘So you two were dating, even though you said you weren’t.’

“Ahem, ahem.”

The woman smiled and nodded at Yiho before exiting the pantry. Watching her go, the man wore a lovestruck expression, then, suddenly aware of Yiho, bowed repeatedly before hurrying out.

Rubbing his cheeks, Yiho thought, I hope I didn’t have the same expression as that guy just now. The reason that couple’s office romance was exposed was because of the man’s smitten face.

If there was one thing he’d unintentionally gained while working with the person he had a crush on, it was a heightened sensitivity to the romantic vibes of others. There were more people in the world than he thought who couldn’t hide their affection. This sometimes reassured him, sometimes evoked envy. Because those feelings could be expressed openly.

Even in the place he’d escaped to avoid Cha Minkyu, he was still thinking about him. Yiho glanced around the pantry as he approached the coffee machine. There was a new type of cookie on the shelf. People seemed to be interested, as only one was left.

Having grown up eating more rice cakes than rice, Yiho had developed an aversion to sweets since middle school. On the other hand, there was someone very close to him, well over thirty, who loved sweets, cafe drinks, and such. That last cookie would be gone if just one more person came into the pantry… And several shadows were already approaching the translucent pantry door. Just as Yiho quickly grabbed the cookie, the door opened.

No way, have my senses really become this sharp?

It was Cha Minkyu, the very person he’d been thinking about, who entered the pantry. Two marketing team members followed behind him.

Minkyu, at the front, walked past Yiho.

“I heard they had something delicious, but I guess it’s all gone.”

No, it’s not. I have the last one, and it’s yours. You can eat it later, you punk. Suppressing his unspoken words, Yiho shoved the cookie deep into his pocket. Minkyu strode in and grabbed six or seven other cookies, handing them to his team members.

“Team Leader Song.”

“…Yes?”

“We have another meeting, and I’m trying to book a meeting room so we don’t disturb the next team.”

Huh, why bother?

“It wasn’t that noisy…”

His inability to focus due to Minkyu’s voice was his personal problem. Minkyu looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Of course, SongYi, notoriously oblivious, wouldn’t notice. You’ve grown so much.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. Jiyeon-nim, could you go ahead and take drink orders for the team? Please send me a message with a list of what everyone wants.”

“Yes!”

The two team members left with their sugary meeting fuel. Only Minkyu and Yiho remained in the pantry.

“You’re going to get cavities.”

Minkyu gestured at Yiho’s hand, which clutched five coffee capsules as if they might explode.

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. I’m pretty sure I saw you being taken away in an ambulance.”

Yiho, filling his tumbler with ice at the company’s greatest amenity, the ice-cold water dispenser, turned to Minkyu. Square ice cubes clinked against the stainless steel interior.

“How long are you going to keep bringing up my graduation project? It wasn’t the coffee, it was all the energy drinks I chugged.”

Yiho had been the workhorse of that graduation project. It wasn’t that his team members were lazy or irresponsible, but in Yiho’s eyes, nothing they did met his standards. So, he took on all the revisions and improvements himself.

This hadn’t changed even now, as a team leader distributing tasks among his subordinates. The difference was that back then, he would pull all-nighters to perfect the project, but now he had learned to compromise on collaborative work.

Otherwise, he couldn’t survive in a corporate environment. He had to become numb to having his best efforts downgraded by a single word from higher-ups, or taking the blame for errors outside his team’s responsibility.

Even without being a workaholic, the development team leader faced a rush of overtime with every project.

As he moved with his ice-filled tumbler, his path to the coffee machine was blocked. Yiho frowned and tried to move around, but the obstruction kept shifting, blocking his way.

“What are you doing?”

“Pay the toll.”

Minkyu held out his large palm.

“The fee is two capsules.”

“What kind of thuggish tollbooth is this?”

“Prices are high in Gangnam.”

Seeing no sign of Minkyu backing down, Yiho reluctantly handed over two capsules. Yiho, who consumed several cups of coffee a day, bought and kept his own coffee capsules. Thus, the two capsules now in Minkyu’s hand were entirely Yiho’s personal property. In other words, it was appropriate to call this extortion. Minkyu stepped aside with a satisfied look, allowing Yiho access to the coffee machine. The capsule went in, and coffee dripped onto the ice.

Minkyu stood to the side, fidgeting. A dimple appeared on one cheek. Seeing this, Yiho’s tongue pressed against the back of his teeth.

Hey, Cha Minkyu. I saw what you did to Team Leader Kim earlier. He wanted to say those words, but the problem was that he lacked the eloquence to hide the implication, “Did you do that for me?” He also wasn’t confident he could handle the teasing that would inevitably follow.

The used coffee capsule was ejected, and Yiho inserted a new one. The second cup of coffee began to flow into the tumbler.

“SongYi, you’re going to have black blood. Get a health checkup before spring is over.”

“The doctor said it’s better than smoking and drinking.”

“Did he also say, ‘And cut down on coffee’?”

“…”

He was a bit annoyed by the nagging, especially after being robbed of two capsules and having to make weaker coffee.

As the machine continued to dispense coffee, the pantry door opened again.

“Oops.”

“Ah…”

The man and woman who had tried to enter stopped upon seeing them, looking flustered, and left without a word after a quick greeting.

“Hmm…”

‘They’re dating too.’

Perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed if they hadn’t run away. Staring at the closed door, Yiho didn’t notice someone approaching.

“Honey, we’re in trouble. I think everyone at the company knows about us.”

A sweet voice whispered right next to his ear. Yiho’s hand, holding the tumbler, jerked. The overflowing coffee splashed onto his hand.

“You crazy bastard. What are you talking about?”

“We’re also having a secret relationship, unknown to anyone.”

“…”

Yiho snatched the tissue Minkyu offered and wiped his stained hand.

‘That’s true, but if you phrase it in a way that leads to misunderstandings, I might just make those misunderstandings a reality.’

And without any consideration for the feelings of the person who’s secretly in love with you, how thoughtful. Sigh.

The coffee stain was gone, but his ear felt hot as if residual heat remained. Then, Minkyu held out his hand again. He’d already taken his toll and assaulted his cardiovascular health, so Yiho glared, wondering what he wanted now. Minkyu chuckled and took the used tissue from Yiho’s hand, throwing it away for him. The brief touch of their fingertips felt like a spark.

“It’s spring, so lots of people are dating.”

“I guess so…”

His own solitary romantic feelings were also running wild lately.

But seeing the two couples earlier, Yiho realized something. He’d become quite good at hiding his expressions. Even now, he was pretending to be nonchalant as he inserted a third capsule next to the object of his affection.

“…They’ll all realize after working here a bit longer. How obvious they are about being head over heels.”

“Pfft.”

Cha Minkyu suddenly burst out laughing.

“…Why are you laughing?”

“No… it’s just that hearing SongYi SongYi, notoriously oblivious, say something like that makes me feel like you’ve grown up.”

“What? I’m thirty-three.”

“You’ve only aged on your yellowed ID. The face in front of me hasn’t changed a bit, so I can’t agree.”

“…I’m much more perceptive now, and I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve like I used to. I hide my thoughts well.”

Minkyu’s hand landed on the counter next to the coffee machine. His dark eyes, reflecting the pantry lights as white circles, stared at Yiho. Unable to withstand the pounding of his heart, Yiho looked away first.

“Why?”

“SongYi, are you secretly seeing someone?”

‘As if, you idiot.’

“…Why would you think that?”

“Because you said you’re good at hiding things. If even I, who’s practically attached to your side 24/7, haven’t noticed, maybe it’s someone you secretly like?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Cha Minkyu’s obliviousness to Yiho’s feelings was less due to Yiho’s poor acting and more due to the pervasive social prejudice. Same-sex closeness was just friendship, while even a brush of clothing between opposite sexes signaled romantic interest.

As if on cue, the third cup of coffee finished brewing. Yiho tightly screwed the lid onto his tumbler.

“You said you had a meeting. Aren’t you going?”

“Why is Prickly SongYi back?”

“Hurry up and come out.”

Minkyu agreed and followed Yiho out of the pantry, a step behind.

“Ouch!”

Yiho jumped as he was suddenly poked in the side. Minkyu grinned and slipped the two capsules he’d taken earlier into Yiho’s pants pocket. The eye closer to Yiho crinkled further, his eyelid thickening.

“Don’t space out.”

“…?”

“Show even half the prickliness you show me to other people.”

Huh, what?

Yiho put his hand into the pocket where Minkyu’s hand had just been. Inside the pocket, which still seemed to hold the lingering warmth of the touch, the cookie he had meant to give Minkyu and the two extorted capsules were jumbled together.

💼

Yiho set his alarm 30 minutes before his departure time. He skipped breakfast anyway, and given the nature of his developer job, he could wear any t-shirt and jeans, so the extra time was purely to prevent him from dozing off in the shower.

The most infuriating thing for a salaryman with a set routine was anything that disturbed the precious last moments of sleep before the alarm went off. Like a phone call ringing loudly beside his head.

Even if it was the person he had a crush on, this transgression sparked anger. As the persistent vibrations continued, Yiho finally buried his face in his pillow and fumbled for his phone.

“… …Yeah.”

His sleepy voice barely emerged.

— SongYi, two eggs, please.

“Just take them… without talking…”

— How can I take them when the owner is sleeping? That’s called stealing.

“You know the passcode, you idiot…”

— SongYi SongYi, are you falling asleep again?

“…”

— SongYi?

Yiho hung up. He intended to make the most of the remaining 20 minutes before his alarm went off. By being deeply asleep. Hearing the faint beeps of the door code outside, Yiho closed his eyes again.

Until his bedroom door was flung open.

“SongYi SongYi.”

The voice that had been on the phone was now right in front of him. In the hazy space between dream and reality, Yiho curled up, clutching his pillow and blanket.

“Team Leader Song Yiho, time to wake up and go to work.”

“Ugh…”

“Team Leader, I can’t log in to the site. What? What’s DDoS? I’ll click it.”

Damn it.

Even though he knew he was being teased, the nonsense jolted him awake. Cha Minkyu, already dressed in a shirt and suit pants, stood before him. Yiho covered his face with his hands.

“Team Leader Cha Minkyu, what the hell are you doing in my apartment so early in the morning…”

“I told you not to leave your clothes on the bed. Did you wear these on public transport, or not?”

“I don’t know…”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Clean them up quickly.”

Minkyu tugged at the sleeve protruding from under Yiho’s body, but the clothes wouldn’t budge. Yiho’s curled-up form showed no sign of moving.

His white waist, exposed beneath the rolled-up t-shirt, and the curve of his buttocks under his shorts were turned away from Minkyu. Minkyu gazed down at Yiho, fast asleep and clinging to the bundled blanket like a lifeline. Then, Minkyu’s hand smacked Yiho’s bottom. Smack!

“!”

Yiho shot up like a champagne cork popping, scrambling to the corner of the bed with a yell, “Waaargh!”

“You, crazy, what, what, what…”

“Hey, what did you just say? Is that a new SongYi impression?”

As Yiho remained disoriented, Minkyu collapsed onto the bed, laughing. He rolled around on the spot where Yiho had been lying, his shirt wrinkling, his laughter echoing in the room. Yiho, still trembling and rubbing his stinging backside, glared at him.

“SongYi, can you do it again? I’ll spank you one more time.”

“I won’t let you get away with this.”

Despite the threatening tone, Minkyu just chuckled, telling him to stop being so dramatic.

Minkyu’s laughter was low and rapid. His neatly styled hair was disheveled from his unrestrained laughter.

A hot feeling, similar to anger, surged within him. The difference was that anger rushed to his head, while this settled in his lower abdomen.

“SongYi, are you awake now? Let’s go have breakfast.”

“I’m not eating… Don’t make anything for me.”

“I’m having soup and grilled fish, so I just need to set another place. You’re wasting away like this because you skip meals and only drink coffee.”

Minkyu, his voice softening as if coaxing a child, crawled towards Yiho and tugged at his arm.

“Come on, get up.”

Yiho, about to comply, suddenly widened his eyes and plopped back onto the bed. His hands quickly pulled the fallen blanket over his thighs.

His trembling gaze landed on Minkyu. He didn’t notice… did he?

“Ah, SongYi’s little SongYi has also woken up.”

Yiho’s face instantly turned crimson. This time, even Minkyu looked abashed, retreating with an “Uh…”

“I was just kidding…”

“Get out, you crazy bastard!”

“Well, ahem, Mr. Song Yiho, listen. At our age, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just proof that not only your face but also your body is still young and vigorous.”

Thwack!

A pillow struck Minkyu and fell to the floor. Seeing Yiho’s fuming face, Minkyu raised his hands in surrender, got off the bed, and retreated to the door. Just as Yiho thought he was finally gone, Minkyu poked his head back in.

“SongYi SongYi, will you come have breakfast after you calm down? Should I prepare two bowls of rice?”

He disappeared before Yiho could retort, leaving him alone to nurse his burning face, feeling as though he might collapse from a fever.

“Damn it, my heart hurts. Ha…”

His heart, jolted awake from a peaceful slumber, was now racing as if it might burst from his chest. It was way too much stimulation for his body this early in the morning.