Substitute-Chapter 17

When he came to his senses, three hours had passed.

Fucking lunatic.

He’d passed out clutching his jacket and handbag, still wearing his backpack. His back ached, his fingers were stiff and numb. And yet, he laughed. Every time he did, a wheezing sound escaped his throat. He rolled around on the bed, giggling over nothing.

A moment later, a gnawing hunger hit him. First, he shoved the handbag into his backpack and covered it with the blanket.

Practically crawling, he dragged himself to the kitchen. Too exhausted to scoop out rice, he ate straight from the rice cooker, standing. After cramming in three or four mouthfuls, he finally felt alive again. His appetite surged like a madman’s.

He boiled two packets of ramyeon. Didn't even think about cracking in an egg—just devoured it like he was possessed. He slurped down every last drop of the broth, and only then did his head feel clear again.

It felt like he was alive for the first time in ages. Smiling wide, he went back to his room and pulled the handbag out of the backpack.

He counted every bill in each bundle.

Exactly 100 bills of 50,000 won. Two bundles. Ten million won.

It wasn’t like he had anything specific in mind to do with the money, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. It wasn’t even really about the cash—it was the sense of accomplishment. Still, it felt good. No one else knew about this money anyway, so there was no danger in just spending it however he wanted.

Jiwon divided the ten million won into four smaller stacks of fifty bills each, then set aside just one stack and put the rest back in the handbag. Then he changed into sweats. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but it felt wrong to dump a used pad in the bathroom of a goshiwon shared by men, so he left it stuck to his underwear.

His sweat-soaked dress pants and shirt he tossed into a corner, planning to send them to the dry cleaner. He wrapped the wrinkled jacket—creased from being gripped so tightly—around the handbag.

Most of his clothes were in the under-bed storage drawers, so he hid the jacket among his old clothes. Even if someone searched the room, it wouldn’t stand out. Still, this was too much money to leave in a place like a goshiwon. He’d need to split it up later.

Feeling lighthearted, Jiwon laid down on the bed. He thought of the cold storage warehouse, but since work had already started long ago, he decided to just skip today.

Should I call in? Whatever. I’ll do it later.

Not like anyone would answer anyway—everyone’s busy right now.

Then the thought of that fucking bastard hit him. He jolted upright.

Where was his phone?

No matter how much he searched, he couldn’t find it.

Did I leave it at the interview site?

No. He was sure he got all his belongings back. Even his resident registration card from security.

As he retraced his steps, he remembered the moment he set his phone down on the convenience store counter. He’d been distracted by the water and spaced out. Normally, he would’ve cursed himself for being so careless, but today, he let it slide. While he was out picking up his phone, he figured he’d grab a good dinner too.

He stashed forty 50,000-won bills into the zippered pocket of his sling bag and put the rest into his wallet. Then he left the goshiwon.

First thing he did when he arrived at Gangnam Station was hit the bathroom. Inside a vacant stall, he checked the sanitary pad. The blood had completely dried, so he peeled it off and threw it away. The pad was gone, but the raw, alien feeling in his torn anus was still there.

Afterward, he went to the convenience store and recovered his phone. Then he checked his messages and missed calls, and quickly texted the fucking bastard. As if waiting for it, replies flooded in instantly.

[Do you want to see me die or something?]

[So when can you get me the money?]

[You can give it to me today, right?]

He must’ve been seriously shitting himself.

[Not today]

The reply came after a brief pause:

[Tomorrow morning. 8:30. Gangnam Station Exit 7.]

Asshole. The curse slipped out on its own.

Eight-thirty in the morning was when Jiwon was finally slipping into deep sleep. And of course, it had to be during the most sensitive time. Even so, he insisted on meeting then, despite the risk.

Could’ve just met like always—as a designated driver and client.

Sure, if someone knew Jiwon's schedule, there might be a reason for choosing that time. But that didn’t make it any less infuriating.

Fucking bastard.

He needed something to calm his frayed nerves. Jiwon wasn’t one for cravings, but today, he needed beef. No question. He punched in the address of a beef restaurant he’d been eyeing before and walked there. It was closed for break time, but he waited.

Eventually, he became their first customer. He ordered three portions of beef and a bowl of naengmyeon. He scarfed it down so fast he was done in just thirty minutes.

Gangnam Station was already buzzing with rush hour traffic and crowds.

Where should I go?

He didn’t feel like working. But he didn’t want to go back to the goshiwon either.

After some thought, he decided to head to a nearby amusement park. He wanted to feel the thrill of a ride again. To disappear into the chatter and laughter of strangers. More than anything, he wanted to feel like a normal young man, just for a while.

Without hesitation, he boarded a bus heading toward Jamsil.

The amusement park, after pushing through traffic, was relatively empty—it was a weekday. There didn’t seem to be many people who came alone, but he spotted one or two kindred spirits riding solo.

Jiwon played like crazy for the first time in a long while. He screamed, cheered. At first, he was aware of people staring, but soon he was too busy enjoying himself to care.

He followed the kids when buying snacks—popcorn chicken in a cup, candied tanghulu, twisted potatoes. He bought everything he saw. He was already full from earlier, so he threw most of it away, but it didn’t matter. When he got thirsty, he bought slushies and watermelon juice, even had a mango bingsu. He barely sipped the drinks and desserts before dumping them straight into the trash.

Whatever he did, it was fun. He walked around laughing like a maniac.

Then, out of nowhere, he started to quietly sob.

“Wanna go to the amusement park?”

“Amusement park? You can’t even ride anything.”

“Still. Just watching other people have fun is entertaining enough.”

“Forget it, man. Why pay expensive admission if you’re not even going to ride anything? Let’s use that money to eat something good. Wanna go to a ball game instead?”

He’d said it wasn’t rational, that if they were going to spend money, they should go somewhere they could both enjoy.

Was he disappointed? Probably.

And yet, he respected my opinion anyway.

Looking back, I was wrong. A cute, charming place like this—it would've been fine even if he didn't go on any rides. While I rode roller coasters, he could’ve snacked on junk food, taken selfies in front of cute mascots, and waited for me without getting bored.

Now, all Jiwon could do was long for a past he couldn’t return to, ashamed that he couldn’t even grant that one small request. He hurriedly wiped his tears.

Before he knew it, it was closing time.

As the park’s closing announcement played, he walked toward the exit. A new text came in—it was a loan ad this time. A real one. He chuckled, realizing how close he came to confusing it with that kind of message again. He deleted it immediately and headed up to the street.

Then he got on a bus going back to the goshiwon.

It was time to return to the hamster wheel of Kim Jiwon’s life.

****

The MT had been postponed by a week.

Just as he was about to head into the cold storage facility for work, the manager texted him. It was a same-day cancellation, but since Jiwon had planned to join after work anyway, it didn’t affect his schedule at all.

Honestly, he was a little relieved. His torn anus still stung from the interview yesterday, and the idea of showing up like that in front of Han and the room salon crew was kind of embarrassing.

The last time he saw Han was that Friday. For some reason, Han had been unusually quiet. Because of the contract penalties, Jiwon hadn’t planned to bring up the final interview anyway, but even so, Han’s silence seemed excessive.

It was the day after the interview, and he’d just heard that Han had personally canceled the MT without warning. Naturally, it made Jiwon wonder—had something happened during his own interview? But Han’s face had been so dark, he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

On Saturday and Sunday, Han skipped work without notice.

I should’ve asked him yesterday.

He regretted it too late.

“That fucker’s always like that. He only shows up on days when you’re working, ajusshi. On weekdays, he disappears for two or three days without saying anything.”

Unlike Jiwon, who had been worried, Kim and Choi didn’t think much of it.

Jiwon had no idea it was a pattern. Only after Kim said it did he feel a bit relieved.

Yeah. If I made it through the interview, no way Han didn’t.

He laughed, scolding himself for worrying over nothing.

For the first time since becoming a designated driver, Jiwon spent a weekend without Han.

Han’s absence didn’t change anything. Jiwon’s days were still the same: swamped in frozen logistics, dragging himself through each shift. He didn’t even realize a whole week had passed. If not for the manager’s text, he would’ve forgotten it was the day of the MT.

That day, there was so much cargo that he had to stay late. It was past 9 p.m. when he finally got out. He changed in the locker room and checked his phone.

[Driver Kim, the MT's canceled. Just come to the shop.]

It was from the manager.

Not postponed—canceled. And instead of ending the message there, the manager added that Jiwon should come to the shop. It wasn’t his normal workday—Wednesdays were off—but since he wasn’t doing night driving either, he replied that he would.

As soon as he arrived at the room salon, the manager handed him the van keys with a face like he’d bitten into shit.

“Pick up the girls, would you? The madam says she’ll count today’s work as a special bonus.”

The atmosphere was tense, so Jiwon just did as he was told.

“Fucking bastard. Where the hell is he, shacking up with someone again?”

Kim, waiting in the parking lot for the girls Jiwon was picking up, cursed bitterly.

Normally, by now, they’d be grilling meat at a pension after a full day of water sports. No wonder he was pissed. freewёbnoνel.com

Because the MT had been canceled that day, the cost of the lodging and the pre-booked water ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) leisure facilities were completely wasted. Still, the madam refused to change her mind. It was solely because Han didn’t show up.

Naturally, all the resentment shifted—not toward the madam, but toward Han.

“Maybe he’s sick? He ended up in the ER last time from heatstroke, remember?”

Jiwon cautiously tried to defend Han.

“You really believe that? That heatstroke crap was a lie.”

Choi sneered.

“Shit, that guy’s insane. I was worried, but he really bailed on us today.”

Kim ground his teeth.

Illness aside, Han had been getting chewed out by the madam and the manager for his frequent absences. According to Kim, he didn’t even apologize when he showed up yesterday. Then, on the day of the MT, he no-shows without a word. Of course the madam was furious.

“You try calling him, ajusshi. You’re close with Seoho, right?”

They urged him to try.

Jiwon did as they asked, but Han’s phone was still off.

“Still? Fuck. This is insane. The madam’s gonna go off. Ugh, I’m sick of this shit.”

Kim scowled and drove off from the parking lot.