My footsteps echoed through the hallway of the old apartment I lived in.
Clack… clack…
The sound of my shoes bounced off the dull concrete walls, a reminder of how empty tonight was. The light at the end of the stairwell flickered, like a silent witness mocking me.
I drew in a deep breath. My shoulders felt heavy, not just from the workbag stuffed with documents, but from the weight I had carried with me all day.
"Today… is just the same," I muttered under my breath.
I'd grown used to talking to myself. Ever since I was a kid, no one ever really wanted to listen. So I learned to have conversations with my own mind—sometimes to comfort myself, sometimes to torment myself.
Am I really destined to be nothing but a loser?
I pushed open the door to my rented room. The damp stench greeted me, mixed with the sour smell of leftover instant noodles I'd forgotten to throw out.
Creak…
The door groaned as it opened. I stepped inside and switched on the light. The cramped space was nothing more than a cube. A work desk buried under piles of papers, a shaky bookshelf, and a thin mattress in the corner. The computer screen on the desk still glowed faintly, displaying the empty spreadsheet I had abandoned that morning.
I slipped the bag from my shoulder.
Thud!
It hit the floor. I rubbed my aching shoulders, the soreness sinking deep into the bone. My left hand trembled slightly—whether from too many cigarettes or from a body growing weaker by the day, I couldn't tell.
I sank into the chair. My reflection stared back faintly from the dark monitor—sunken eyes, pale skin, messy black hair. Not ugly, but nothing remarkable. Nothing worth remembering.
"Tomorrow will be the same…" I whispered.
My days at the office were no different from prison. I was nobody.
Coworkers walked past without even a glance. They only remembered me when they needed an extra report, a file copied, or just someone to blame.
"Hey, Joon-ki! You messed up the order of yesterday's documents, didn't you?!" The harsh voice still rang in my ears—the senior manager, Choi Do-gun.
I bowed my head back then, holding my breath.
"Sorry, sir…"
A stapler flew across the desk.
Thud!
It slammed down hard in front of me. I jolted, nearly spilling my coffee.
Quiet laughter drifted from the next cubicle. They pretended to be busy staring at their screens, but I could feel their mocking eyes digging into me.
Why am I always the target? Why won't anyone stand up for me?
I already knew the answer. Because I never fought back. Every insult, every order, I swallowed whole. And people like me were the easiest to trample.
I let out a long sigh and lit a cigarette.
Click… Ssshh…
The flame caught, the cigarette burned, and thin smoke curled upward.
My eyes drifted to the calendar on the wall. Red marks filled almost every date—deadlines, evaluations, meetings, presentations. They looked like chains tightening around my neck.
If I disappeared tomorrow… maybe no one would care.
My head grew heavy. I collapsed onto the thin mattress.
Creak…
The worn springs groaned beneath me. I shut my eyes, praying for sleep, but the voices in my head refused to be silent.
You're nothing but trash, Joon-ki…
No one will ever remember you.
How long will you keep staying silent?
I clawed at my hair, trying to drown them out, but the voices only grew louder.
I coughed, my chest tightening.
Hack! Cough!
The smoke clawed at my throat, stinging my eyes. I crushed the cigarette into an ashtray already overflowing with ash.
My gaze wandered to the window. The thin curtain swayed with the night breeze.
Swosh…
I stared at it for a long time. The wind seemed to whisper to me.
"Welcome… to your new life."
I shut my eyes and let the darkness consume me.
I didn't know… that tomorrow, everything would change.
I didn't know… that I would be trapped in a filthy game of lust, manipulation, and violence.
The only thing I knew was this: the world had never been on my side.
And for the first time… I felt it baring its sharp teeth at me, ready to swallow me whole.