“Oh.” He swallowed hard, feeling nervous. “That’s too bad. I was going to ask if you wanted to eat together.”
“I’m sorry. I really can’t …” She glanced at her screen. “Maybe next time?”
“When?”
“Um. I don’t know …”
“Tomorrow?”
She hesitated. “I suppose tomorrow would work.”
“Great. I’ll swing by around noon?”
“Alright.”
“Good luck with everything today. Call me if you run into any other issues with your computer. I’d be more than happy to come back to take a look.”
“Thanks again,” she said.
It took everything in his power not to skip out of her cubicle. He floated down to the basement, to his desk, where he sat for the rest of the day, dreamy and absentminded. If he knew his father’s number, he would have called him and bragged about his upcoming date.
At the end of the day, he watched Dahye leave through the lobby camera and felt a burning desire to be close to her. He waited until the building was almost empty and then made his way upstairs to her cubicle.
Running his fingers over her sticky notes, he felt the indents left behind from her pen and tore off the top sheet, shoving it deep into his pocket, next to the strands of hair he had stolen from her head. She had left a plastic water bottle behind, and the cap was off. Junyoung picked it up. Pressed his lips against the opening. Took a swig, swishing the lukewarm water around in his mouth. He’d read an article about backwash—specifically, that it was almost impossible for humans to drink without at least some backflow. He imagined the millions of particles in the liquid that had been in her mouth and were now in his.
Tomorrow, they would have lunch, and at the end of it, he would ask her to dinner. After that, who knows what could blossom between them? Feeling cheerful, he hummed as he made his way back downstairs to his desk.
The lights in the basement were dim, the timer having gone off. Everybody was gone. Junyoung passed the rows of empty desks, and when he reached his cubicle, he was startled to findsomeone sitting in his chair. They were using his computer, the glow of the screen illuminating their silhouette. Junyoung slowed to a stop, and the chair swiveled around. It was Kangmin.
“You forgot to log out,” Kangmin said, smirking.
“What?” Junyoung asked, scratching his head. “Why are you still here? I thought you went home. And what are you doing on my …?”
As Junyoung’s attention moved toward his monitor, he felt his heart drop.
The cameras. Kangmin was looking at the camera feeds. All forty boxes were loaded on the screen and clearly visible. The lobby, the bathrooms, the empty stalls.
“That—that’s not real,” Junyoung stammered, taking a step back. “It’s a program that simulates—”
“Oh, shut up,” Kangmin said. “I know what you’ve been doing. When I walked by earlier, I thought I saw something weird, so I spent the whole day trying to access your computer remotely. There were all these extra protections added in—not the usual stuff—and that’s when I knew you were up to no good.” He wagged his finger as though Junyoung were a naughty child. “I have to say, I didn’t expect this. This … this is crazy. What were you thinking?”
Kangmin grinned, baring his teeth. They were terrible teeth: sharp and pointed, animallike in their savagery. Junyoung imagined Kangmin leaping out of the chair and onto his chest, ripping his throat out, the blood gushing warm and wet onto the carpeted floor.
+
Long after Kangmin was gone, Junyoung sat, staring blankly at the wall. His first inclination had been to fight Kangmin, to try to beat him into submission. But despite all the push-ups hehad been doing, Junyoung was still weak, and even as he had grabbed Kangmin by the collar, he had known it was a fruitless endeavor. Kangmin had laughed until Junyoung, red-faced with desperation, let him go.
“What do you want?” Junyoung asked. His voice was hoarse. “Money? I have money—” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his scuffed wallet. “I only have fifty thousand won on me right now, but I can get more.” He pulled out the crumpled bill with shaking hands. “I can send you more. Just tell me how much, damn it …”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Then what do you want? I’ll do anything, Kangmin. Please don’t tell anybody.”
“I don’t plan on saying a word.” Kangmin’s face was very still. In the low light, his irises looked completely black. “I want what you have.”
“What?”
“I want what you have,” Kangmin repeated.