Chapter 3: An Unusual Commute

“If you don’t want to pay cash on the spot, I can file an insurance claim and a personal-injury claim as well. Which would you prefer?”

Cool.

Those were the sort of words one would expect to come from a tough-looking man who knew his way around a car, yet here they were coming from a woman who looked so innocent and refined. For a moment, I found that interesting, but I kept my mouth shut about anything unnecessary.

I was the head of a household, and I loved my wife.

Still, one million won… That’s an awkward amount.

I didn’t want to ruin my accident-free driving record. Compared to the hassle of dealing with insurance and everything else, I figured it would be better to settle things quickly with money. Besides, if I called the insurance company and went through all the procedures, I might be late for the morning meeting. So I had no objections.

“Fine. Give me your account number, and I’ll transfer it right away. And…”

I handed her my business card.

“Oh? Freud Accounting Firm? So you’re an accountant at one of the Big Four. Should I ask for a little more?”

She said it with a refreshing smile. Even after seeing her again, she was an exceptionally beautiful woman.

“How much more are you planning to ask for?”

I replied in my usual dry tone, and she burst out laughing as though she found something amusing.

“I’m kidding. My account number is xxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx. Please transfer it there.”

I checked the account, and her name was Kim Minhee.

Coincidentally, she had the same name as my daughter.

Will my daughter grow up to become a confident beauty like that someday?

Apparently, the thought of my daughter made a smile slip onto my face without me realizing it.

“You must think one million won is nothing at your level. What’s so funny?”

“Ah, no. It’s because you have the same name as my daughter.”

“Hm… Really? Is your daughter as pretty as me?”

“She’ll be even prettier than you, Ms. Minhee.”

“I’m jealous of your daughter. She’s still innocent and has such a good father…”

She mixed some strange meaning into her words while fiddling with her smartphone and checking the transfer.

Then she smiled again.

“I’ve confirmed it. Consider the accident a way of getting rid of bad luck, and I hope nothing but good things come your way.”

“Thank you. Take care on your way home. And if anything happens, give me a call.”

“I’m not a fake insurance claimant. Nothing like that will happen, so sleep peacefully tonight.”

Leaving behind that refreshing smile, the older Minhee drove away.

I didn’t feel too bad about it.

“Yeah. One million won is pretty cheap for keeping my accident-free record intact.”

I glanced at my watch.

I hadn’t lost too much time. I could still make it to work without rushing.

Looking back, quite a lot had happened since what should have been an ordinary, familiar start to the day.

“I really do think of all sorts of ridiculous things.”

I gave a bitter little laugh to myself.

Right. That one million won wasn’t the price of maintaining my accident-free record.

It was punishment for suspecting my lovely wife.

Why would I have suspected my wife in the first place?

I figured it was all because of the dramas that were constantly being churned out for the sake of momentary excitement and stimulation.

“My Wife’s World… Was that the title?”

In that drama, the husband was shown to be having an affair.

I remembered my wife sitting in front of the television, completely emotionally invested in it.

After watching a few episodes, even I had gotten hooked.

But a drama was a drama, and reality was reality.

“Tongue rolling, of all things. Jeez…”

How many married couples must have fought because of that misinformation?

With a bitter smile, I continued toward work.

“Minhee! Never stick your tongue out in front of your father. Got it?”

Lee Jin-ho’s wife once again reminded her daughter as she helped her get dressed.

The child answered as though she couldn’t understand why her mother was bringing up the same thing again.

“Geez. Okay, Mom. I already said I wouldn’t do it. Why are you saying it again…?”

There was a hint of sulkiness in her voice, mixed with the beginnings of tears.

The child couldn’t understand whether she had really done something so terribly wrong.

Her lips trembled with hurt, and her mother gently embraced her.

“Minhee, Mommy wants you to grow up to be a polite and well-mannered girl. That’s why I’m telling you this, so don’t cry.”

When you thought about it, sticking your tongue out at your parents wasn’t exactly proper behavior.

In the old days, if you had been born into a strict household, you might have received a few smacks on the backside and been thrown outside the door.

“Aren’t you a good girl?”

In any case, children were blindly devoted to their parents.

At her mother’s soothing touch, the child quickly put aside her hurt feelings and nodded.

“Okay, Mom…”

“Good. I’m sorry for saying the same thing again. Mommy just wants you to be careful. You understand, right? My good girl.”

“Yeah…”

She stroked her daughter’s hair and once again straightened her clothes.

“Pretty. My beautiful daughter.”

Nothing the child wore was cheap.

Every piece was from a luxury children’s line, and each item alone looked as though it cost more than an average person’s monthly living expenses.

Then she left the house with her daughter, holding her hand tightly.

“Mom, can you roll your tongue too, like me?”

Park Na-young hesitated slightly before answering.

“…That’s what you’re curious about?”

“Yeah. I found out some kids can’t do it.”

“Minhee. Adults don’t play around like that.”

And then she seemed to fall into thought for a moment.

Perhaps she was remembering her own memories with Lee Jin-ho.

The two of them had once looked at each other foolishly and laughed.

Had that day, when Jin-ho made up his mind, been a fateful day for her as well?

“Mom, what are you thinking about?”

“Hm? Nothing. Come on, let’s go. You’ll be late for school.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Holding hands as they walked away, their figures were unmistakably those of a mother and daughter.

Yeouido.

The mecca of finance overlooking the Han River.

And, in the broader sense, a holy ground for office workers, encompassing not only finance but countless other industries.

Unlike yesterday, when the weather had been gloomy, sunlight was beginning to stream through gaps in the clouds.

The achromatic scenery of Yeouido gradually began to take on color beneath that sunlight.

And the expressions of the office workers walking beneath the towering buildings were grim.

At least, that was how they looked to me.

Some people say that simply working in Yeouido is one of the benefits bestowed upon the corporate serfs who belong to an organization.

But I didn’t particularly agree.

Benefits. In other words, a happy life.

Could that really be found here?

A happy life was something you had to grasp tightly before it could truly become yours.

In the end, the benefits were complete only when you put the crown on your head.

Simply working here was not enough to talk about happiness.

“Those who wish to wear the crown… must first fight and win.”

Whether you could endure its weight or not was a separate matter.

First, you had to seize it.

By fighting for it.

Survival of the fittest.

There was no sound of gunfire, but this place was unquestionably a battlefield.

Rows upon rows of skyscrapers. Countless securities firms and financial companies.

Instead of bullets flying through the air, money rained down between them.

Instead of blood being spilled, people’s burning emotions overflowed.

Someone would laugh today.

Someone else would cry.

And among them, perhaps some had already become mad.

That was why the expressions of office workers in Yeouido seemed so grim.

And that was why I wanted to describe Yeouido as a blazing hot earthenware pot.

A boiling cauldron where the joys and sorrows of countless people were mixed together and simmered endlessly.

That was Yeouido.

“Yeah… I think I’ll have sundae-guk for lunch today… In a nice, hot earthenware pot…”

Judging by my appetite, I must still be in the prime of my life.

Thinking about a steaming bowl of soup, I turned the steering wheel toward a building with a particularly prominent front courtyard.

It was the headquarters of Amofree, one of Korea’s leading beauty companies.

The building had been newly constructed several years ago and, naturally, stood out considerably compared to the surrounding buildings.

Rather than height, they had focused on spaciousness and beautiful landscaping.

Every corner of the building radiated sophistication.

And our firm rented office space in this newly constructed building.

The first reason was probably the conservative nature of foreign firms. There was little reason for them to go out of their way to own a building in Korea, a country where they perceived various risks.

The second was probably that they wanted to be able to withdraw quickly in the event of an emergency.

The same was likely true of any foreign accounting firm.

Among foreign countries, perhaps only China was particularly eager to invest heavily in Korean real estate.

Then how much would it cost our firm to rent the upper floors of a building owned by such a massive corporation?

Renting this building cost more than ten billion won a year.

I heard the lease was for ten years.

If so, that meant we were already talking about more than one hundred billion won.

One hundred billion won… That’s not exactly pocket change.

I clicked my tongue as I remembered the rental fee I’d once heard from someone in the General Affairs Department.

And because of that, it was only natural for rumors to circulate openly.

Rumors that our firm had an enormous amount of money.

Whenever I heard things like that, they felt so far removed from my own life that I could hardly believe them.

Compared to that, the tangled whale sculpture in the front courtyard was hardly even worth mentioning.

I headed toward the underground parking lot beneath the building.

As expected, a barrier blocked my way.

“Figures. A major corporation’s headquarters really is different.”

The barrier here moved briskly.

It was completely different from the sluggish caterpillar-like barrier at my house.

This one had energy.

[224 후 XXXX-]

[Welcome.]

I parked in a suitable spot.

There was no need to worry about not finding a space.

Outside parking was prohibited, of course, and quite a few employees used public transportation.

I closed the car door and, despite the inconvenience, deliberately headed toward the front courtyard on the upper level.

I had my own little ritual.

“I should say hello again today.”

There, in accordance with Article 3, Paragraph 9 of the Culture and Arts Promotion Act, stood a huge sculpture.

As I approached, the shadow of the enormous thing fell over me.

Art really was an enigmatic thing.

That tangled mass of metal was art?

“Who made this law, anyway?”

It was difficult to believe the answer was for the livelihood of hungry artists, because the range of beneficiaries was far too narrow.

The answer was simple.

It didn’t matter who made it.

“What matters is who gets to make money off it.”

Under the Arts Promotion Act, the amount could be up to one hundredth of the construction cost.

It might be phrased as “up to one percent,” but that was enough money to fill someone’s belly to bursting.

They might actually burst.

“And it’s useful in all sorts of ways on the books, too…”

Still, I liked that whale.

It was something that required a little imagination before you could recognize it as a whale, but for some reason, it gave me strength.

It felt as though blue fragments might suddenly come flying in from somewhere and stick all over it, transforming the sky into an ocean where it could swim freely.

“All right. Please let everything go smoothly today, too.”

I didn’t particularly believe in superstitions.

But it gave me something to lean my heart against.

After completing my little ritual, I headed toward the building’s revolving doors.

Then I was swept along with the crowd of employees from the conglomerate downstairs.

The force of people pushing one another carried us along as though we were floating in seawater.

And eventually, we were swept into the spacious lobby.

The revolving doors silently continued their work, tirelessly spitting out wave after wave of people.

“Guess there are a lot of people since I’m a little late…”

After being deposited into the lobby with a whoosh, I brushed off my collar.

After what my wife had told me that morning, I had started paying attention to my routine without even realizing it.

The first-floor lobby was as neatly organized as my clothes.

If I were to raise my shoulders a little and say it proudly, we people belonging to an accounting firm weren’t mass-produced goods.

Every single one of us held an accounting qualification.

In other words, we were premium-grade products.

It meant that even though we lived as tenants in a rented building, we weren’t ordinary tenants.

Perhaps that was why, when all of us passed through the lobby together and went through the security gates, we inevitably attracted a certain amount of attention.

I held my employee ID against the security gate.

The access gate opened.

Beep—

Whoosh—

The beginning of another familiar day.

Except for the accident on my way to work.