What kind of person was she, to make plans and not honor them? Shouldn’t she at least have had the decency to send him an email? Notify him that she couldn’t make it? Reschedule?
“Women,” Junyoung mumbled.
He clung onto a dying spark of hope, hardly working, escaping to the restroom every few minutes to check his phone. When Kangmin disappeared to the bathroom to take his usual hour-long mid-morning shit, Junyoung gathered the courage to go to the company’s intranet, where he navigated to the private employee directory.
If he got caught now, he surmised, Kangmin’s face looming in his mind, it wouldn’t matter. He was already in a world of trouble. A pop-up message appeared on his monitor.
ATTENTION: MANAGER ACCESS ONLY. You are accessing confidential employee information. This data is to be used for legitimate work purposes only. Misuse of employee information could result in disciplinary action, including termination.
Blah blah blah, Junyoung thought, ignoring the rest of the message and entering his administrative credentials at the prompt. He quickly scrolled through the list. It was separatedby department, and after a brief search, he found Dahye’s name toward the bottom. He opened her contact card. The photograph from her employee identification was lovely. She was smiling demurely at the camera, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Junyoung snapped a picture with his phone, stowing it quickly back in his pocket.
Footsteps echoed in the distance, accompanied by cheerful whistling. Kangmin was done. Junyoung quickly hit theprintbutton and hastily exited out of the directory. He jogged out of his cubicle, grabbing the papers from the tray just as they slid out. They were still warm. None of the other men paid him any attention.
“Still behaving, Junyoung?” Kangmin whispered from across the hallway, his eyebrows raised.
Junyoung shrugged, his fists sweating.
“I’m coming to collect very soon,” Kangmin said. “You can’t hide from me.”
“I’m not trying to,” Junyoung muttered. He scurried past Kangmin and sat at his desk, smoothing the papers out on his lap.
For a woman, Dahye had an impressive resume. She had graduated from Hanyang-dae, a top-ten university in Korea, majoring in finance. Her GPA had been decent, too. He was surprised at how thorough her file was, especially compared to his own. When he had first started, he had looked himself up. All he’d found under his name was his picture, his cellphone number, and his home address.
On the second page, Dahye’s file listed her marital status (“Unmarried, not pregnant”), her cellphone number, and her address. She lived in Sillim. The third page contained notes from her hiring interview.
Candidate Name:Park Dahye
Position:Financial Analyst
Interview Date:2018 March 6
Notes:Candidate showed hesitation when asked about conflict resolution. Young and unmarried, but likely to leave for family planning soon. Long-term prospects are unlikely.
It was almost two now. The afternoon torpor had settled in, and everybody was quiet in their cubicles. For the last hour, Junyoung had stared at Dahye’s number, reciting it in a loop in his head and trying to muster his courage. Only when he was sure he could call her did he log out of his computer, walking toward the conference rooms. He ducked into the first empty one he saw. His palms were drenched with sweat. Was he really going to call her? What would he say? He imagined how their conversation would go:
Dahye: Hello?
Junyoung: Hi, Dahye, it’s Junyoung. From work. We were supposed to get lunch today?
Dahye: Oh, yes! How silly of me. My mistake. I’m so sorry to inconvenience you. Do you want to come to my apartment? I’ll have something special for you when you get here.
Junyoung: Yes. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
Satisfied with how this played out in his head, Junyoung dialed *23 to hide his caller ID before dialing her number. Dahye answered on the fourth ring, her voice jagged and uneven. Before he could say anything, she started blubbering.
“Hyukjoon—is that you?” she sobbed. Junyoung held his breath. “Oppa,” she gasped, and Junyoung hung up. He set the phone face down in his lap and stared at the table in the middle of the room.
Who the fuck is Hyukjoon?
Junyoung hurried back to his computer, logged back in, and typed the name into the Naver search engine. Results appeared almost instantaneously, though he was quite sure none of them was the Hyukjoon he was searching for. As it turned out, there were quite a few people named Hyukjoon—a singer, several actors, one famous chemistry professor with a significant YouTube following. There were also several recent articles about a worthless chaebol playboy named Jang Hyukjoon who had gotten caught up in a molka scandal.
“Idiot,” Junyoung mumbled. How could someone that rich let himself get caught on camera? He leaned back in his chair and thought about the call. Maybe he had misunderstood her. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him at all. Then he shook his head, remembering the way Dahye had smiled at him.
“No way,” he muttered. “She’s totally into me.”
+
Just before the workday ended, Junyoung went to the fifth floor and peeked into Dahye’s cubicle. Empty. Her water bottle, which he had drank from the night before, was still sitting on the desk. He was reaching for it when the woman in the adjoining cubicle poked her head out, startling him.