If there had been something like an emotional examination, similar to an ECG(Electrocardiogram), Dongha would probably have been declared emotionally dead the day the sow died. From that point on, no matter what happened, his emotions did not move.
But when he first saw ten-year-old Han Yoojin dancing, the emotions that had hardened and frozen began to shift, just slightly.
At fifteen, after Yoojin left, street dance he encountered by chance awakened another sense within him.
And at twenty-one, when he met Yoojin again, his heart began to beat for her.
Now that Yoojin had left Korea, he found himself strangely anxious and irritable.
Ever since he spiraled after failing to reach her, the prickly sensitivity that followed felt unfamiliar to him.
Dongha scrolled through his message history with Yoojin, replaying the past days in his mind.
Thursday night, he had been far too excited. From dancing the dougie to dancing bachata, smiles kept spilling from his lips, and he felt as if he were floating midair.
If he hadn't been holding onto Yoojin, he might truly have lifted off the ground.
And when he felt the brush of her body passing between his legs, a shock tore through his head and entire body.
He had known it would happen—but it was the first time Yoojin had become an object of desire, of want.
I went in too deep, didn't I?
Her trembling voice echoed in his ears again.
And then he realized—someday, perhaps soon, those would be the words he wanted to say to her.
I went in too deep. Are you okay?
Just imagining himself saying it to her made heat rise through him, until his eyes felt dry and strained.
He placed his phone down on the table and pressed both palms over his shadowed eyes.
On Friday, the business trip schedule had suddenly been moved up, and Yoojin accepted it without complaint.
None of it sat right with him. Using errands as an excuse, Dongha avoided the office and wandered aimlessly around the building.
Even while sulking, part of him kept searching for excuses to spend time with Yoojin over the weekend.
Working together at the office, grabbing a meal near her place, or going to the studio—even if others were around, he would have gone gladly.
Then an urgent call came from the entertainment company.
All choreography for debut had been completed, but investors and agency heads had suddenly decided to change the main song.
For both INOX and UNIX.
The entire weekend vanished into rewriting choreography with the crew and a famous overseas choreographer named Henry.
By the time he came to his senses, it was always late at night, and he couldn't bring himself to contact Yoojin.
If it hadn't been a full team operation, he might have gone to see her, even briefly.
No—he should have ignored everything and gone anyway.
It was all his fault.
Frustration built from circumstances beyond his control, and regret over lost time gnawed at him.
Yoojin had gone to Vietnam.
And he was sitting with his coworkers at the Coffee One Liter cafe in front of the Samho Apparel headquarters, swallowing bitter coffee.
If not for Yoojin, he would never have looked twice at this place or these people.
Dongha's face and emotions dried up rapidly.
When he lowered his hands from his eyes, they were hollow and faded.
Then, as if to soothe him, the number "1" beside the message he had sent disappeared.
His phone vibrated, and he snatched it up from the table.
On the screen, the caller ID showed only a single heart.
The assistant manager seated beside him, Gu Ji-hoon, glanced sideways.
"Oh? Yoon Dongha, is that your girlfriend?"
Gu spoke loudly, and everyone's attention turned toward Dongha.
"So you really did have a girlfriend,"
Lee Hyuk muttered, and murmurs of agreement followed.
The gloom that had sunk him vanished instantly. Dongha smiled awkwardly, grabbed his phone, and hurried outside the cafe.
Yoojin answered the call, and the ringtone cut off immediately as Dongha spoke.
"Yoojin, did you arrive safely?"
"Yeah, I'm in Vietnam. Is something wrong?"
Dongha hesitated.
"Wrong? No… nothing. I haven't started work yet."
"Then why did you send so many messages and calls?"
At her gentle scolding, Dongha replied sheepishly.
"I was worried when I couldn't reach you. Sorry—I didn't even realize I was doing it."
"It's a business trip. Don't worry too much."
Somehow, Yoojin found herself soothing him.
As she walked down the stairs, a spacious living room and dining area came into view.
The white-tiled floor sent a cool chill through her socks.
An eight-seat wooden dining table was set with steamed rice, bean sprout soup, fried eggs, and simple side dishes—Korean food.
"Yeah, I'm okay. This is apparently the company dorm in Vietnam."
Something felt strange.
Two men were eating at the table. When she turned her head, she saw three young men in the garden practicing golf swings on green grass.
"Ma'am, please have breakfast."
The young Vietnamese woman who had entered her room earlier spoke as she cleared dishes.
Nearby men turned their heads toward Yoojin.
Her clear, striking appearance froze them in place.
One man even stood holding a golf club midair.
"Hello," Yoojin said.
They nodded awkwardly.
Momentarily forgetting she was still on the phone with Dongha, she asked,
"Why are there only men here? Where are the female employees?"
One man hesitated before answering.
"This is a men's dormitory."
"What? A men's dormitory?"
On the other end of the line, Dongha's startled voice rang out.
"What?"
Startled, Yoojin hurriedly ended the call.
"I'm going to eat and head to work. Call me later. Message me right away if there's a problem."
"W–Wait, Yu—"
She hung up.
A men's dormitory?Is this really how company life works?
Confused, Yoojin began eating the breakfast laid out before her.
Soon, five men gathered around the table near her, each holding a cup of instant coffee.
Only then did she realize she hadn't introduced herself.
Flustered, she quickly stood, bowed, and spoke clearly.
"Hello, I'm Han Yoojin, an intern at Samho Apparel. I handle overseas fabric purchasing in the foreign trade division."
The five men flushed slightly, embarrassed, but none introduced themselves.
After a pause, Yoojin added,
"I came to handle a defective fabric claim for Manager Joo Myung-gon at the Vietnam Plant No. 3."
"Oh—yes. I'm Assistant Manager Kim Sang-il from the materials team."
A man in his early thirties spoke, thinning hair visible.
When Yoojin met his gaze, he quickly looked away, as if keeping distance.
Trying to remain professional, she said,
"Then you're familiar with the defect issue."
Kim nodded.
"Please meet Manager Joo first, then I'll have one of the staff below deliver the defect report to you."
"Yes, thank you."
At that, the other men hurriedly began introducing themselves one after another.
*
Yoojin rode for about an hour in a domestic SUV with five male employees along an unpaved dirt road.
They spoke little.
She watched cows grazing across wide plains, tropical trees, and scattered small houses.
The factory complex was vast.
After stopping at Plant No. 1, Plant No. 2, and the materials warehouse, Yoojin was left alone in the car.
The vehicle drove another ten minutes and stopped before a square building in the center of an industrial zone.
"Vina three. Vina three," the Vietnamese driver said, mixing Vietnamese and Korean numbers.
Working with Koreans, their speech naturally blended Vietnamese, Korean, and English.