From that day on, my week became a perfect cycle of a double life.
In the mornings, I was the coldest rational investor in the world.
Every day, I headed to the library.
The newly moved-in officetel was flawless in every way, but it still felt less like a home and more like an unfamiliar space.
For some reason, my mind felt restless there, and it was hard to focus on the kind of cold analysis investment study required.
So I sat in a corner of the library, spreading newspapers across a book stand like an exam-taker, underlining each line as I read.
The wall filled with newspaper clippings and data was my personal war map.
"Subprime."
"Lehman Brothers."
"Crash."
Those cold words cooled the excitement that had kept my heart fluttering through the night.
Again and again—dozens, hundreds of times—I drafted scenarios of how to survive the massive wave of collapse that was coming… and how to devour everything in its wake.
I combed through U.S. news, digging into unfamiliar terms like CDOs (Collateralized Debt Obligations) and MBSs (Mortgage-Backed Securities), concepts that hadn't yet properly entered the Korean mainstream.
Like an archaeologist, I excavated clues to the future from forgotten articles of the past.
Sentences that had meant nothing eighteen years ago now looked like golden signposts pointing toward fortune.
Which stocks would collapse first?
What countermeasures would the government and the Bank of Korea announce—and how effective would they really be?
How high would the dollar exchange rate soar?
From a god's-eye view, like a commander observing a massive war, I coldly calculated every variable.
There was no excitement there.
No passion.
Only icy rationality, burning greed for money, and the arrogant sense of superiority that came from being the only one who knew the future.
But when afternoon came, I became a completely different person.
In the afternoons, I was a rookie dancer with the hottest passion in the world.
I returned to my officetel, changed into sweat-soaked practice clothes, and pulled up swing dance videos on my newly bought PDP TV.
Then I started stepping like a madman.
Rock step.
Triple step.
Send out.
My clumsy, creaking movements belonged to someone entirely different from the cool analyst of the morning.
My forty-nine-year-old mind remembered perfect steps, but my thirty-one-year-old body couldn't keep up.
I missed beats.
Lost my balance.
Twisted around awkwardly.
But instead of frustration, stubborn determination kicked in.
Watching my ridiculous reflection in the mirror, I let out a small laugh.
There was no contempt in that laughter—only enjoyment.
A pure passion born from wanting to look good to just one person.
For the first time in eighteen years, I was running toward a goal that wasn't money.
Cold reason and hot passion.
Icy logic and burning emotion.
My second life had begun rolling forward—precariously, yet powerfully—along that razor-thin boundary.
And finally, the Friday evening I'd promised Sunny arrived.
I started fussing around a full hour before our meeting time.
I put on a clean pique shirt and cotton pants I'd splurged on a few days earlier.
I never wanted to hear the word "ajeossi" again.
The meeting place was Boogie Woogie.
We'd agreed to meet an hour before class and practice on the empty floor.
With a pounding heart, I headed underground.
When I opened the door, the space was still quiet—and she was already there, warming up.
She wore comfortable practice clothes, but the toned silhouette shaped by dance couldn't be hidden.
Somehow, she looked even more radiant than she had at last week's party.
"Oh, Cheolmin-ssi. You're early?"
She smiled brightly when she spotted me.
"Yes… I was a little nervous."
"No need to be. Alright, let's start with stretching."
We stood side by side, awkward but thorough as we warmed up.
A little later, we faced each other in the center of the floor.
The fact that it was just the two of us standing in the empty space made my heart beat even faster.
She connected a small MP3 player to the speakers and played a slow-tempo jazz track.
"Alright, shall we begin?"
She held out her hand.
Swallowing dryly, I took it with a trembling grip.
All week long, this was the moment I'd imagined while practicing.
I closed my eyes and listened to the music.
Then I stepped forward—toward her—with the moves I'd repeated hundreds, thousands of times.
Rock step.
Triple step.
And… send out.
To my clumsy lead, she responded as smoothly as if it were a lie.
Like water, like wind, she wrapped around every stiff, awkward movement of mine and danced with me.
Her guidance didn't drag me forward—it was like a lighthouse, illuminating the path I needed to take.
"Wow…"
When the song ended, she spoke with genuine admiration.
"Sseok-hopil—no, Cheolmin-ssi. What happened in just one week? You're like a completely different person."
At that praise, I grinned like an idiot, feeling as if I owned the world.
"I just… practiced a little."
"A little? This is way beyond that. At this rate, you'll be called the ace in today's lesson."
Her compliment wasn't just encouragement.
It was the sweetest reward in the world—recognition of a lonely week of effort.
A pure joy wrapped around my body, completely different from the thrill of making money.
I felt like I might float up into the sky, smiling foolishly.
We ended up dancing far beyond the one hour we'd promised, sweating buckets together.
She taught me a few more simple moves, and I absorbed them at an incredible speed.
During that time, I thought about nothing—
not money,
not the future,
not eighteen lost years.
Only her in front of me, the music surrounding us, and the subtle tremors passing through our joined hands.
It was a moment of perfect liberation, where eighteen years melted away.
"Alright! That's it for today's lesson! Great job, everyone!"
Charlie's booming voice marked the end of week three.
Today, we learned a new move: the Follower Turn.
A technique where the follower gracefully spins once in response to the leader's lead.
Maybe it was thanks to Sunny's secret tutoring.
I picked up the move at a startling speed.
I still misjudged my strength slightly whenever partners changed, but I wasn't flailing like last week anymore.
In fact, I was even adjusting my lead subtly to match each partner's characteristics.
"Whoa, Sseok-hopil-hyung! You're seriously an ace now!"
Ryan came over the moment class ended, giving me a thumbs-up.
"You're a totally different person from last week. You sure you're not secretly getting private lessons?"
Suji teased.
I shrugged casually, pretending nothing was going on.
"Private lessons, my ass. I just watched some videos at home."
At that, Jinwoo clicked his tongue.
"This guy, seriously. Hey—don't you have something going on? Stocks, dancing—why did you suddenly change so much?"
I laughed it off, avoiding his suspicious stare.
Then—
The lights in Boogie Woogie dimmed, and lively jazz music burst out.
Social time.
The same time that had filled me with fear and excitement last week had returned.
Without realizing it, I searched for Sunny across the floor.
She was already dancing with another senior.
For some reason, I felt a twinge of disappointment.
"Hyung, you not dancing?"
Ryan asked.
I hesitated.
Last week, I hadn't mustered even a shred of courage.
But today, I was different.
"No. I'm dancing."
I stood up and walked toward a woman sitting alone at a table, still without a partner.
It was Haetsal from our 26th class.
"Haetsal-nim, would you like to dance with me?"
At my sudden invitation, she jolted and stared at me.
"Huh? M-me?"
"Yes. If you're okay with it."
"Wow… yes! I'd love to!"
She happily took my hand.
We stepped onto the floor.
The music was fairly fast, but I didn't panic.
I tried the Follower Turn we'd learned today.
Following my lead, she spun once—awkward, but pretty.
"Wow! It worked!"
She shouted happily, like a child.
Watching her, I smiled with pride.
This—this was the joy of being a leader.
After dancing with Haetsal, my confidence grew.
I immediately asked Suji—my first-ever partner from last week—to dance as well.
"Suji-nim, would you entrust your feet to me once again?"
At my joke, she burst out laughing and took my hand.
"Alright, let's see how much you've improved."
Dancing with Suji felt far more comfortable than with Haetsal.
With fairly decent chemistry, we finished the song without incident.
After that, I danced with a few more classmates.
The floor was no longer a place of fear.
It had become a new stage where I could feel joy and achievement.
After dancing for a while, I returned to our table to catch my breath.
That's when someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned around to see Sunny standing there, smiling.
"You've improved a lot, our Sseok-hopil-oppa."
"Ah… S-Sunny-ssi."
The casual way she called me oppa made me flustered.
"You saw?"
"Of course. I've been watching the whole time. You really look like a swing dancer now. Guess the secret lessons worked."
She winked playfully.
At her praise, my heart started racing again.
"Uh… then maybe—"
I was just about to summon the courage to ask her to dance.
"Sunny! You've gotta dance with me!"
A deep voice cut in.
The club's top dancer, Jerry, appeared and grabbed her hand as if snatching it away.
"Ah, Jerry-oppa. I was just talking with Cheolmin-ssi—"
"Talk later! Come on!"
Without sparing me even a glance, Jerry led her to the center of the floor.
I could only stare at their backs.
Damn it.
I clenched my fist without realizing it.
Jinwoo clicked his tongue beside me.
"Told you—you gotta line up."
"..."
"It's fine, man. There's always next time."
Listening to Jinwoo's consolation, I watched Sunny and Jerry dancing brilliantly across the floor.
They flew like a single bird.
What I knew of swing dance was limited to rock step, triple step, send out, and follower turn.
But they flowed through flashy moves I couldn't even name.
Jerry's lead was flawless.
Without a hint of hesitation, he guided the next move—and Sunny responded perfectly.
Watching them, I felt a crushing sense of defeat.
Like an elementary student who'd just mastered multiplication watching a college student solve calculus.
There is no next time.
I swore to myself.
Next week, I'll be standing there.
My new goal burned hotter and clearer than ever.
After the party ended, we noisily left Boogie Woogie together.
The cool night air felt refreshing after the underground heat.
But inside me, jealousy and stubborn resolve were still boiling.
"Hey, isn't it a shame to just split like this?"
Jinwoo slung an arm around my shoulder.
"Let's grab another drink at a street stall. Judging by your face, you need it."
This time, I didn't refuse.
Alcohol was exactly what I needed.
We settled back into the same shabby pojangmacha as before.
"Auntie! Two servings of gopchang and a bottle of soju!"
Jinwoo shouted easily.
We emptied our first glasses in silence.
"Hey, don't take it so hard."
Jinwoo spoke first.
"About what."
"Sunny-ssi. Popular people can't help it. No place for low-level scrubs like us."
"Who asked."
I snapped back irritably, stuffing gopchang into my mouth.
"Tsk, you idiot. It's written all over your face—'I'm dying of jealousy.'"
I didn't respond.
Because he'd hit the mark.
And so we sat there for a long while, drinking in silence.