In the end, there was no information to be had. Could a graduate student’s phone number under my father even count as information?
Kim Seo-an
- xxxx. xxxx
I crumpled the contact the president had given me in my hand. Childhood details, this body’s hobbies and talents, whether I have any allergies—none of it could be learned.
I almost wish I hadn’t received this world’s knowledge from the reaper.
If I’d had no expectations, I wouldn’t be this disappointed. My stomach burned, as if I’d been thrown back to the very first day I fell into this place.
Leaving the manager who would be waiting in the lobby behind, I simply walked out.
Perhaps because of the hour, the street was quiet. In the shaded spots, clumps of unmelted snow still lay here and there. It was a completely different sight from the clean, pure white snow I’d seen at the palace. I had never seen snow like this before, stuck in shadow where sunlight couldn’t reach, mixed with dirt.
“Not pretty at all.”
As if I bore a grudge against the snow, I glared at it for a long time, then snapped my head away and headed forward at random.
But not even five minutes after setting out, a jolt of fear hit me. I didn’t even know the streets well. Maybe I should have brought the manager along.
But if I had, I felt like I might have ended up venting at the one person who, at least, was good at soothing me.
Suddenly I felt miserable. It seemed like tears would bubble up, so I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked.
If I looked ahead, I thought I might be too scared to go on. And rather than let them run messily down my face, if tears fell, I’d just let them drop straight to the ground.
The neatly laid paving stones filling my view only made me more uneasy. They overlapped with that time I’d shoved my head under the drawing-room chair to avoid my older brother and held my breath. Back then, too, the drawing-room floor had been neatly ordered in a grid pattern.
Privately, I’d had confidence. What’s so hard about living, no matter the world?
But I never imagined I would be this lonely. Only upon coming here did I realize that my position as a member of the imperial family had been what kept me going.
The few who recognized and cherished Cheonghyeon were not my people. So I couldn’t easily whine without reserve to the manager or the president.
When I thought of the times I’d been upset and sniffling, I remembered the attendant Henry, who had at least been good at finding Isaac and comforting him. To have no one to comfort you when you’re about to cry, who knew that could hurt this much?
After walking with my head down for a long while, my shoulders ached; I lifted my head a little and rolled my neck lightly. My eyes, accustomed only to the pattern of the paving stones, took in the bleak street at a glance.
I stood for a moment, raised my head straight, looked around for a long time, then went into a café I saw ahead. It had warm, bright lighting that contrasted with the bare branches and the cold weather.
Ding-a-ling.
‘So this is the smell of coffee’
Another piece of knowledge settled naturally into my body. The staff rustled for a moment, then smiled and asked,
“Would you like to order?”
“Ah, mm. One Americano, please. Hot.”
“Yes, that’ll be 4,600 won. Do you have any discount or rewards card?”
“No. Just charge it, please.”
Once I took a seat by a sunny window, my heart thudded.
Just now, the moment I found myself thinking I had to pay, I’d pulled out my phone, used my thumb for fingerprint recognition, and tapped the phone to the card reader.
It amazed me every time. Even without thinking deeply, I instinctively knew what to do. The way to use machines I’d never seen before rose up naturally.
Holding the warm cup in my hands for a long time soothed my gloom a little, and my racing heart gradually found its proper rhythm.
But when I took a sip of the fragrant coffee, my heart pounded all over again.
Why does this taste so bad?
As I stared at the coffee with aggrieved eyes, I thought I heard someone snickering somewhere.
‘Did I hear that wrong?’
I glanced around, and the laughter cut off. The staff were still working hard, and the customers were busy chatting with their companions. Unlike my noisy insides, everyday life was peaceful.
Ding-a-ling.
Hearing the door open, I instinctively looked toward it—and saw a familiar face. The manager, spotting me, opened his eyes wide and rushed over, panting.
“Cheonghyeon—hah, huff…. Geez, where did you go? The president said you’d already left, and you weren’t in the lobby either. I searched everywhere thinking you might have gotten lost.”
“…Just out.”
My lips jutted out of their own accord. As the manager gently began to coax me, I felt glum again and on the verge of tears.
Staring straight at me, the manager suddenly clasped my hand tight.
“Cheonghyeon, I’m someone who helps you and gets paid to do it.”
When I glanced up at the manager from under eyes that had unknowingly pooled with tears, he met my gaze and smiled kindly.
“I really messed up. You’ve lost your memory and must feel frustrated, and all I did was book meetings and tell you nothing….”
“…Yeah. You messed up.”
I pushed the blame onto the manager with a sulky face, and he smiled even wider and agreed with me.
“Yeah. I messed up.”
Changsik recalled when the president first brought Cheonghyeon in. Nervous like a puppy adopted into a new home, but full of expectation as he greeted them.
He’d been a manager since thirty: two years on the road, eight as a dedicated manager. From a trainee’s eyes alone, he could roughly tell their prospects.
With Sikyung, he felt he’d become a great artist.
Hando was a born celebrity; his very aura was different, and as soon as he debuted, he got love calls from several CFs.
Yunwoo had such innate flair that Changsik couldn’t imagine a future where he’d go to college like ordinary people and become an office worker. Even without idol looks, he’d have entered show business as a comedian or something.
Every member of East was a rough gem the industry craved.
But Cheonghyeon whom the president brought in, calling him the finishing touch was, frankly, puzzling. They said he was the “visual” member, and his face was a work of art.
If you gathered every trainee in the country and had to pick just one, anyone would choose Gi Cheonghyeon. Nineteen-year-old Cheonghyeon, poised between boy and young man, was a jackpot lottery ticket.
And yet, strangely, he never stuck in the memory. Even looking back now, they’d been with Cheonghyeon for over six years, and every moment with the kid felt blocked off by fog. He simply couldn’t recall it.
He couldn’t remember the days spent with Cheonghyeon well, but he remembered Cheonghyeon’s parents all too clearly.
After talking with trainees’ parents, you could see how those kids had lived and how they would fare. Until he met Cheonghyeon’s parents, he’d ranked as the worst those who, before anything else, brought up settlement money and demanded it be paid into their own accounts.
But after meeting Cheonghyeon’s parents, he changed his mind. Parents indifferent to their child… they were the worst.
Before signing with Cheonghyeon, a flustered newcomer to working life came to the company claiming to be his guardian, and the president and Changsik were startled.
When they asked if he was the boy’s brother, he said no and hemmed and hawed. He said he’d come as a proxy for the guardian.
“Proxy for the guardian? What’s that supposed to mean. The kid’s a minor so you brought a proxy, and you’re a proxy too? What’s your relationship to the guardian, exactly?”
“Uh, Professor Gi Cheonghyeon’s father is my adviser….”
At those words, the president frowned and sent the graduate student away on the spot. He then contacted them again to say the father himself had to come. After signing the contract that day in place of the then-minor Cheonghyeon, neither President Hyungwang nor Changsik ever saw the father again.
Cheonghyeon’s mother was the president of a famous clothing brand, and his father a full professor at Korea University, the country’s top university. Both, by nature, were ambitious for their careers and not devoted to the home. On top of that, their son had so little presence. Even without hearing the details, his past came to mind on its own.
A dog dressed in pretty clothes and groomed, but that had never once been taken for a walk by its owner. That was where the manager felt Gi Cheonghyeon stood in his family.
He’d thought the memory-lost Cheonghyeon was a bit different now, but seeing that sorrowful expression made the nineteen-year-old Cheonghyeon overlap with him.
Looking at those parents, he’d always thought he had to treat Cheonghyeon really well—but when it came down to it, even he couldn’t recall the days he’d spent with him.
Still, the creeping guilt was something to deal with later. First, he had to soothe this kid, who looked like an abandoned puppy, just as he had six years ago.
xxx
Facing the manager, who soothed me like a small child, and the sunlight streaming through the wide window, my chest gradually settled.
When I unconsciously sipped my coffee and let out a small “ack,” the manager hurried off and came back with a tray piled high with every kind of fresh-fruit juice.
“Hyung, who’s going to drink all this?”
Despite the scolding tone, the corners of my mouth, which had been drooping, slowly climbed back into place. Tasting the sweet drinks one by one, my mood softened and warmed.
Then, suddenly, I looked around.
People in this world paid more attention to others than I’d thought and also less. Even while walking, they focused only on what was before them: eating something, watching something on their phones.
Even now, everyone was busy chatting with their own companions, working on laptops, scrolling through their phones. Was I the only one who kept watching others because everything was new?
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