Episode 1. 2002 — Na Geonshin
“Mr. Geonshin? Mr. Geonshin!”
Morning already? Ugh. Falling asleep in a mess like this… damn it.
“How can you be sleeping right now?”
A woman’s voice. Song-yi?
Song-ah, I’m sorry. Everything’s ruined. I’m too ashamed to lift my head.
No, hold on. Was the blackout my fault?
“The director’s coming any minute. We have to get to the conference room!”
A meeting now? What’s the point? It’s all over.
“You’re really giving up now!?”
Give up? Yeah, I quit.
So what?
Wait. Look at the way she’s talking to her supervisor.
“Tsk, this…!”
Frowning, Geonshin raised his head and glared at the person in front of him.
But…
Huh?
It wasn’t Song-yi at all. A young woman with long straight hair and tired eyes stared down at him, startled by his attitude.
Who is she? I’ve seen her somewhere… A client?
Something’s wrong.
A rough foam-board model sat before him, and in his own hand was a beat-up model knife with a sharp 30-degree blade. The unfamiliar-yet-familiar woman stared at him in disbelief.
Is this a dream? Did I drink that much last night? This definitely looks like an architecture firm… Wait, could it be…?
Behind him, study models were stacked neatly; wide desks were lined up; people bustled about. Drawings lay everywhere.
This place was Yeongjo Architects, the legendary practice founded by the late master Kim Su-in.
He knew it because, in the summer break of his junior-college sophomore year, he’d worked here as a model-making temp. It was a fiercely competitive spot among architecture students. A professor who had come from Yeongjo had pulled strings to win him that precious month.
“So hard as it is, hang on until tomorrow’s design pool, Mr. Geonshin. You can rest right after.”
That’s it! Assistant Manager Lee Su-min! She was kind to me back then… It’s all coming back.
A bulky CRT monitor, a folder phone, and his own reflection in a wall mirror… the clues clicked into place.
When was that Yeongjo temp job? August 2002, summer break of second year, so I’m 23? 24?
“Mr. Geonshin, I have to run to the third floor for the printouts. Bring the model down carefully, okay? If we’re late, the team leader will…”
Right. Section 7 was on the second floor; the color printer on the third. He used to shuttle up and down all day.
What is going on?
I blink, and it’s summer 2002.
Is this still a dream?
Or… like in a novel, have I actually gone back in time?
Maybe because his brain was young again, everything felt vivid like yesterday’s memories and even the events to come.
Just sitting here wouldn’t return him to the future. Su-min had said, “Design pool is tomorrow.” There was no time to dawdle.
Tomorrow is the design pool? Of all times…
Design Pool was the weekly presentation where major projects were grilled by all the top brass. More public flogging than meeting, and Yeongjo’s was infamous as the toughest in the field.
Su-min re-entered the hall with a sigh, printouts in hand. Carrying the model toward the basement conference room, Geonshin figured there’d be no going home tonight—fitting, since he’d been living alone anyway.
“Honestly, I’m jealous you’ll just head back to school when summer ends, Mr. Geonshin. Every project turns into this madness.”
He remembered her saying that. Despite their pride in Yeongjo, staff grumbled like this although they’d glare if anyone asked them to free up a seat.
Yeongjo occupied a remodeled hospital in Anguk-dong, linked from basement to fourth floor by a wheelchair-friendly ramp instead of stairs. He’d loved spiraling down that long ramp; the memory now filled him with excitement rather than dread.
Back then he’d even worn his access card home, feeling it was like an Olympic medal. Shopkeepers in Anguk-dong recognized it and greeted Yeongjo employees warmly.
“Let’s hurry and set up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Su-min straightened the scattered chairs; everything had to be ready before the director and team leader arrived. Geonshin placed the model on the big table and arranged the prints neatly.
“Deputy Team Leader Yoo In-gu just had to be dispatched right before design pool.”
Oh, the deputy I only ever heard about, but I rarely saw him.
Section 7 was never fully staffed. People were constantly pulled away, and no new hires filled the gaps, so they begrudgingly used vacation temps like him.
“It’s always people getting yanked away right when things settle. The director isn’t going to draft, the team leader won’t fetch printouts, so I do everything…”
Her complaint was only natural: Section 7 had a director who seldom showed, one team leader, one deputy, and one assistant manager—and one was always offsite, replaced by a temp.
“Even with all this, you still want to stay in architecture, Mr. Geonshin? You once said you wanted to win the Pritzker Prize.”
“Eh? Ah, well…”
Embarrassing… I was spouting that even then. Ugh!
If forty-three-year-old Geonshin were here, he’d rant about quitting. But at twenty-three, the embarrassment faded, leaving a thrill: he’d actually come back to Yeongjo.
Bang!
Just then the door flew open.
A chill swept in: cropped hair, piercing eyes, a cyborg-like blank face.
Team Leader Mo Seung-jin.
A Korea-University elite and the only “true-born” in Section 7. This was a term for those who passed Yeongjo’s brutal entry exam straight out of school. With solid connections, promotions came fast; he often helmed key projects. Career hires were “commoners” by comparison, an unspoken caste Geonshin knew well.
“The director got summoned by the president and won’t be at the meeting. We’ll handle it ourselves.”
“If it’s the president, he’s off drinking again,” Su-min muttered in resignation making Geonshin bristle. Right, the director was a real freeloader.
“I’m presenting anyway, so focus. You two should be used to it by now.”
Two? What about me? But Seung-jin ignored him and glared at the site model.
Back then, Geonshin had been awful at model-making; with twenty years’ experience now, he could see why he’d been chewed out.
“You’re not seriously taking that into the design pool tomorrow, are you?”
“Th-this is just a study model! We’ll rebuild it once the concept’s set. Right, Mr. Geonshin?”
Seeing Su-min fluster, he grasped how much trouble he’d been. Yet he heard himself say:
“By tomorrow… I’ll rebuild it so well it’ll astonish you.”
“What? I watched you struggle all month. How will you craft a decent model overnight? Are you kidding? Su-min, tell HR to hire a competent temp next time.”
Anger surged, but with that model he couldn’t argue. He’d just have to show them.
“No time. Let’s run through the briefing.”
Nervous, Su-min flipped the prints and took a deep breath. All this tension was just for a briefing. How often had the team leader blown up?
His younger brain recalled Mo Seung-jin’s foul temper all too clearly.
And so began Geonshin’s first project after regression:
[Project] KIST Connecting Bridge
Site : Cheongnyangri-dong, Dongdaemun-gu, Seoul
Goal : Design a bridge linking Buildings 7 and 8 within the site.
Leave a Reply