SWP Ch 5

The workshop door was locked. A faint light flickered inside, suggesting someone had left it on and gone somewhere. This wasn’t unusual, so Yeonsoo tried calling. The phone just rang and rang; no one picked up.

Asleep already? It seemed early for the workshop owner, but late enough that public transport had stopped running.

After finishing her conversation with Junhyuk and leaving work, Yeonsoo had rushed straight to the subway. She’d timed it just right to catch the last train. But, lost in thought staring at the floor, she hadn’t noticed the train arrive and depart with her still on the platform.

By the time she snapped out of it, the last train was disappearing into the distance. She hurried outside to the bus stop, hoping to catch a bus, but the digital displays for all the buses going her way flashed “Out of Service.”

It was a ridiculous mistake. Feeling deflated, Yeonsoo sat down at the bus stop. Since she was already late, there was no point in rushing anymore.

A taxi was her only option. She took out her phone and opened the ride-hailing app. After entering her address, the estimated fare appeared. The surge pricing made it much more expensive than she’d anticipated, giving her pause.

When unavoidable circumstances like this made her work late, she used to go to his place. His officetel, a mere five-minute walk from work, had felt like her own. Back then, she hadn’t considered the inconvenience or the wasted money this would cause her now. The price of a breakup wasn’t a one-sided loss.

In some ways, he’d been right. They’d started their relationship because she’d said she was okay with the arrangement. Ending it now, after conveniently using him and using her misery as an excuse, was equally selfish. Had she really wanted to play the victim? Yeonsoo still struggled to define and understand her own feelings.

“Sigh…”

This was her first real breakup, so perhaps it was natural. Her mind was a tangled mess; she just wanted to stop thinking. Instead of heading home, Yeonsoo changed her destination.

She regretted not calling until she arrived in front of her friend’s workshop. Today seemed to be a day where nothing went her way. Letting out a long sigh, she turned the corner and saw a familiar figure.

Chungah, holding a convenience store bag, was in a standoff with a stray cat. She didn’t seem to feel the cold, wearing slippers and even eating ice cream. Just seeing her friend like this made Yeonsoo’s eyes well up with tears and brought a sense of comfort.

“Park Chungah.”

Chungah turned her head in surprise at the sound of her name. Startled by the voice, the cat ran away. Chungah’s eyes widened as she approached Yeonsoo.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I came to see you, but I was about to give up and go home.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“You didn’t answer.”

“Oh! I left my phone at the workshop.”

Chungah smacked her forehead, realizing her mistake. She probably left it behind when she went out to buy snacks. Yeonsoo naturally peeked into the bag Chungah was holding. It was full of junk food. So much for nothing going her way.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Just… I’m stuck on a project my master asked me to do.”

Chungah, who had abruptly quit her stable corporate job, had suddenly become an apprentice to a potter in the countryside. When Yeonsoo first heard about it, she thought it was a joke. Chungah had always been good with her hands and enjoyed playing with clay since she was young, but Yeonsoo thought it was just a wishful dream. She never imagined Chungah would actually pursue it.

After spending a few years immersed in clay, Chungah returned to Seoul and opened a small workshop. Her unique classes quickly gained popularity. She’d always been a great presenter, so it suited her well.

“What about you? Anything wrong?”

Chungah asked Yeonsoo as she unlocked the workshop door. What should she say? Yeonsoo hesitated.

“Nothing much. Just wanted to breathe in the air here.”

Yeonsoo entered the workshop before Chungah. Lately, she found the place comforting. Perhaps it was the natural atmosphere, so rare in the city. Chungah’s workshop, filled with the scent of clay and meticulously crafted ceramics, often felt like a secret hideout to Yeonsoo.

“What’s different? I don’t feel anything special.”

Chungah shook her head. It wasn’t just the environment of the workshop. It was the time spent there, chatting with her friend about mundane gossip and shared memories, that made her forget her troubles.

Perhaps it had become a pattern. Now, whenever Yeonsoo appeared, Chungah would worry. She would immediately go into battle mode, asking who dared to upset her friend. Sometimes it was work-related; other times, it was about relationships. Recently, Chungah’s anger had been directed towards the mysterious man in Yeonsoo’s life.

“You’re not seeing that jerk again, are you?”

Chungah’s gaze sharpened on Yeonsoo, as if she’d sensed something ominous.

“No, I’m not.”

Yeonsoo averted her gaze and examined the newly made pottery. Even in the same class, no two pieces were alike. Each carried its own unique character. The clumsy shapes and rough paintings all seemed imbued with care, and Yeonsoo smiled involuntarily.

“I told you we broke up.”

“I know, I know.”

“Then why the long face?”

“…You got me.”

Yeonsoo didn’t bother pretending. She felt guilty for only seeking out her friend during difficult times, but she had no one else to confide in. Her parents, both firefighters, had died in a car accident on the same day. She’d been raised by her grandparents since she was seven.

Back then, she was too young to fully understand life and death. She’d simply believed that her parents had gone to heaven for doing good deeds. Her grandparents cherished her more than their own children and provided for her without want, but this only instilled in her a sense of responsibility and the need to avoid being a burden. She lived in her grandfather, a calligrapher, ‘s hometown until high school, then moved to Seoul for university and lived on her own.

From then on, she learned to manage her loneliness and developed the self-reliance to handle most things on her own. She accepted the occasional pangs of emptiness and let them pass.

After graduating, she went on a few blind dates and had some flings. She’d fallen in love and dated seriously, only to part ways amicably when things didn’t work out. Love hadn’t been painful, more like a novel source of dopamine.

Had that flippant attitude been her mistake? After recklessly letting Junhyuk into her heart, Yeonsoo felt like she was going through another bout of growing pains.

This, too, was a burden she had to bear alone. So she decided to allow herself this one day of weakness.

“Can I sleep over?”

“Really?”

Chungah’s face lit up, welcoming the idea.

❖　❖　❖

Grey smoke curled into the sky above the old five-story apartment building. Several cigarette butts lay scattered at Junhyuk’s feet as he looked up at the darkened windows. He gathered them and tossed them in a nearby trash can before heading towards his car.

It seemed the resident wasn’t planning on showing up today. He’d rung the doorbell, but there was no answer. He didn’t visit often enough for her to recognize him and intentionally ignore him, so she must genuinely be out.

He’d come to her place when his external schedule suddenly changed, or when he couldn’t contain his emotions after visiting his family. Yeonsoo never greeted him with open arms when he showed up unannounced. But she never turned him away either.

This is unfair, he’d thought.

He’d pull her into his arms and collapse onto the bed, ignoring her disapproving glare. Other thoughts didn’t enter his mind. It was more accurate to say that he didn’t see the sleepy face, the messy room. He did that to show her that they weren’t the type to care about such things, hadn’t he?

That the lust she satisfied was enough, a value he never verbalized, but something she must have sensed at some point. An isolated relationship like an island, where fulfilling needs and leaving was the norm. He’d assumed she was comfortable with that abyss of emotion. He hadn’t had the time nor the interest to delve into those deeper feelings.

Honestly, he was surprised himself. He thought it would be a fleeting interest, a few times at most. She wasn’t some random woman; she was an employee, someone who worked under him. He hadn’t intended to maintain a personal relationship with a subordinate for long.

Why had it happened? One time naturally led to two, then a month, two months, six months. And before he knew it, a year had passed. A year-long relationship with one person was a novel shock, even for him.

If he had to pinpoint a reason, it was that she wasn’t cunning, but neither was she frustrating. She skillfully separated work and personal life and never bothered him with emotional needs or feelings of neglect. Perhaps that’s what allowed her to become the only person he let into his space for a whole year.

Junhyuk got into his car and started the engine. This was it. It was time to stop wasting his time on something that would never be. He’d made it clear from the start that he couldn’t give her what she wanted.

He took out his phone and pressed the call button. The other end picked up almost immediately.

“Sorry to bother you so late.”

― Not at all, Director. What is it?

Manager Yang’s voice was tense.

“I need you to revise the personnel transfer list.”

Manager Yang was understandably flustered by the request to change something that was to be posted on the company bulletin board the next morning.

― Who are you referring to?

“Remove Assistant Manager Min Yeonsoo.”

― …Oh, yes. I’ll take care of it.

Hearing the belated relief in Manager Yang’s voice, Junhyuk hung up. He drove off, leaving the apartment complex behind. In his rearview mirror, he saw a taxi pull up and a familiar figure emerge, but he ignored it.