Heart pounding from a dream he couldn't recall, Sunoo woke at some point after midnight. Too dark, too silent was the apartment. For a while he merely sat there, gazing at the ceiling and reliving the dinner in his thoughtsMr. Park's scorn, Sunghoon's furious expression, how the wine had soaked through the pricey suit jacket.
His stomach twisted with an empty anguish. He had barely consumed a few mouthfuls of rice at the restaurant. He set down his chopsticks every time he raised them because of the strain at the table. The emptiness in his stomach was now impossible to ignore.
He flicked on the overhead light and kicked off the blanket to go into the kitchen. Like it had when he moved in, the place was as barrenjust a kettle, one saucepan, and the stack of instant ramen bags he had been too exhausted to unpack completely. Tearing one open, he set the noodles to simmer so as to concentrate on the minute, daily actions rather than the shame still seething within him.
Steam wrapped around his face as he moved.
As he had been yelled at and driven out by Sunghoon ,he considered his voice, low and vicious. Are you aware of what you have done? The remembrance caused his throat to constrict. The CEO would be distant, he had anticipated, but he had not anticipated to feel so...petite.
Once the ramen was prepared, he poured it into a bowl and headed it to the low table close to the window. Sitting cross-legged and eating silently, he reminded himself with every morsel he was still here, still living, even if his prospects for S. k Group were already slipping out of his grasp.
The street was deserted outside save for the flutter of a neon sign at the corner store across the road. Feeling like he was suspended in some bizarre limbo between failure and whatever came next, he watched it blinks on and off as he ate the last of the broth.
And even as he placed the bowl in the sink, he could not stop recalling Sunghoon's expression when he first came, before all went bad. The kind of guy no one could ever accidentally get close to even by mistake.
Sunoo had not, however, come here by chance. That idea, however, was the most hazardous of all.
He stood by the counter wondering whether he should attempt to gain a few more hours of sleep or just remain awake until dawn. Walking back into the office tomorrow and confronting Sunghoon's icy gaze churned his stomach all over once more.
His phone trembled against the tabletop, the abrupt movement so strong he startled. He grabbed it and noted Mr. Han, the caller ID.
He hesitated just a split second before tapping to reply. Sir?
Mr. Han's voice came through slowly and unhurriedly, as it always did when he was not in any hurry to let Sunoo off the hook. "I gathered you went for dinner with Kang Sunghoon regarding business tonight.
"Yes",Sunoo choked, steadying himself against the counter with his hand. "I was called upon to help with arrangements and then—
"I couldn't care what you were instructed to do, Mr. Han broke in, his tone getting cold. "Tell me everything said word for word. Every word that went between you."
"You'll have to go big," Mr. Han said, as though it were the most apparent thing in the universe. Put on some tight clothes. A thing that exhibits your body. Look him in the eye and behave as though he does not frighten you. Men such Kang Sunghoon think they are too disciplined to be tempted, but it only takes the right push.
Sunoo felt a sour, chilly turn in his abdomen. What then if he fails to reply?
Then you try more strongly, flatly said Mr. Han. Have him look at you and ponder anything beyond labor. That is your only advantage. Or have you forgotten what results from failure?
Sunoo said no, his voice roughing out of his throat.
Good. Mr. Han hung up the call with a light click and no other comment.
With fingers that wouldn't stop shaking, Sunoo dropped the phone. Willing the terror to subside, he squeezed his knuckles to his lips and inhaled unevenly.
He had never loathed himself as much as he did then.
In the end, though, he knew he would obey his instructions. Tomorrow he would come back into that company and pretend he wasn't already losing bits of himself he might never get back.
Staring at his phone, Sunoo stood there for a time hoping it would illuminate once more with good news. But nothing came to light. Simply the intense stillness of the apartment weighing on his shoulders.
Wear something fitted.
Make him love you.
He nearly laughed, but it resembled too close to a cry.
He was still hungry and now had a faint dread twisted inside him as well. Feeling like he was living through someone else's life, he grabbed the bowl he had left by the sink. This was not what he had envisioned when he said to assist Mr. Han. He believed he would be collecting data not... this.
He told himself, rinsing the last bit of soup away, only one blunder. And it is all passed.
He turned to drop the bowl, but his elbow struck the kettle. The kettle flipped over before he could stop it. Hot water spilled all over his wrist and ran down his arms making him yelp in pain.
"Ah—!" He inhaled fast, then reeled back, the bowl falling from his hands. It went under the counter with a terrible crack and slammed the floor. Hot and cold all at once, water poured over his clothing.
Though his eyes stung, he couldn't say if it was from the burn or from all piling up. Trying to halt the throb, he pressed his wrist against his chest.
He felt foolish and powerless, wondering if you could even control boiling water. How are you going to woo a guy like Kang Sunghoon?
Knees drawn to his chest, he descended onto the floor. Around him, the little kitchen felt cavernous and hollow. Shaking, he wished he could just vanish; he had no idea how long he sat there.
All he could do was hope the suffering would pass and pretend he had the strength for what was coming. The burn changed from a searing fire to a profound, thumping agony after some time.
With the sleeve of his shirt, he cleaned his eyes. He understood he could not simply stay put. Should he now let himself crumble, he might never get himself back together.
He rose slowly and discovered the little first-aid kit he stored in the toilet. As he bandaged his wrist, his hands were clumsy. In the dim room, the white gauze seemed too vivid against his skin, far too clean.
He breathed deeply over the sink once he was done. His reflection stared back at him— pale face, worn-out eyes, hair sticking up at weird angles. He resembled a youngster trying to be courageous.
On the counter his phone vibrated. The noise startled him. He briefly considered it to be Mr. Han once more with further instructions, but it was just a reminder for his morning alarm. Dread and relief spun around in his chest. Tomorrow he would have to confront Sunghoon once more. He wondered if Sunghoon would even bother to glance at him following tonight's catastrophe.
Sunoo returned to the kitchen, grabbed the shattered bowl, and deposited the shards in the garbage. His motions were sluggish and erratic as he cleaned the floor of the water. He switched off the lamp and stood in the doorway, listening to the quiet once he was at last finished.
Going to bed, he tugged the blanket up to his chin. But sleep eluded him even as he closed his eyes. He kept thinking about Sunghoon's icy gaze, Mr. Han's hungry tone, and the weight his heart felt too heavy to raise.
He vowed to himself somewhere between fatigue and anxiety that he would not quit. He would see this job to completion regardless of how unsightly it got. For should he fail, there would be nobody else to save him from Mr. Han and his corporation .
And as he finally drifted off, he couldn't help questioning if, by the time this was over, there would still be anything of the person he used to be.
Tonight, though, he was too exhausted to bother. He let the dark pull him under and wished someone might hold him and remark he had done enough.