Murphy's Law, Wearing Golf Wear

“Whewww….”

A long breath left her lungs. The white smoke that slipped past her lips rose toward the sky like a gathering cloud.

Watching it blur and drift, she found herself going blank, as if she'd dissolved into it.

“Ju-ri, are you free this weekend?”

“…….”

“Ju-ri?”

Joo-won tilted his head at her silence. His body heat closing in snapped Ju-ri out of it, and she scowled.

“What.”

“What are you thinking about that you can't even hear me calling you?”

“Smoke somewhere else. There's a smoking room, remember?”

“I hate it. Too many people.”

“Then I will.”

“Fine, fine. I'll smoke there from now on.”

He's really getting on my nerves.

Scratching her brow with a sour expression, Ju-ri put a cigarette between her lips. She inhaled slowly through the filter and stared at her phone screen.

And below that:

I don't know his account number, so I can't even send it directly.

Should I just send it again anyway? Joo-won had been sneaking glances at her phone. Click — Ju-ri turned the screen off, and when she looked up at him, he averted his eyes with exaggerated nonchalance.

Forget it. He's the one refusing.

Even as she slid her phone into her pocket, the whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth.

Not once in all the time the glasses refund was being processed had she run into that man.

Maybe it's fine if it just quietly fizzles out like it never happened?

Creeeak.

At the sound of the rooftop door opening, Ju-ri turned her head slightly. People who came up to the rooftop garden were usually there to smoke over coffee, so she assumed it was the same as always — until she saw Geon-joo and flinched.

The only thing different from the last time she'd seen him was the color of his checkered shirt. He stopped dead when their eyes met.

Startled as she was by the sudden appearance of the man who'd been turning her brain to mush lately, an entirely different question popped into her head.

Don't tell me he owns several pairs of those pants in the same color?

He can't seriously be wearing the same thing over and over….

“Who's that? Oh, that guy from the Development Team.”

His frozen gaze shifted to Joo-won. It was remarkable how clearly she could track the movement of eyes that his lenses made look so small.

His expression darkened.

BANG!

“What was that? Why'd he leave again?”

Ju-ri sighed.

“Where are you going, Ju-ri?”

“Smoking room.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I'm tired.”

After days without so much as a glimpse of him, the moment the elevator doors slid open to reveal Geon-joo's face, Ju-ri began to wonder whether this, too, fell under Murphy's Law.

“Not coming in?”

One look at Geon-joo's expressionless face, and she stepped into the elevator. They had passed the peak hours when most people clocked out, and the office was quiet, so the two of them had the car to themselves. Ju-ri's personal policy was to avoid overtime whenever possible, and she clicked her tongue at herself for having chosen today — of all days — to work late.

Floor by floor, the elevator's numbers counted down.

“How would you like me to pay you back for the glasses?”

The silence broke.

“You don't need to.”

“I broke them because of my mistake.”

“I was going to replace them anyway. And I have no reason to accept an expensive item from you, Ms. Shin Ju-ri.”

They were talking to the elevator doors instead of each other. Wasn't the very refusal to look at one another proof of how much they were both aware of each other? Conscious of exactly that, Ju-ri spoke again.

“Then at least let me cover the old pair.”

“I'm fine. I have no reason to take it.”

“If you keep this up, my conscience is going to weigh on me…. Are you deliberately refusing on purpose, by any chance?”

That last part, she'd poked at a little on purpose. If he got riled up and just took the money, that alone might lift the weight off her chest.

Ding! First floor.

But Geon-joo walked out without a word of reply. Stepping off a beat behind him, Ju-ri shrugged at his quickly retreating back.

I've more than done my part here, haven't I?

Sunlight broke over Ju-ri as she stood in her white golf cap and matching snug golf wear, top and bottom. Beneath her hair, pulled back into a single tight ponytail, stretched a pale, long neck.

The mornings and evenings carried a slight chill, but the sun was fierce enough that it would turn hot by two in the afternoon. Her short-sleeved, tennis-skirt-style golf outfit suited the season, and beneath it her slender arms and legs reached long and lean.

White sneakers, white socks rising just past her ankles — everything she wore came together with effortless restraint, right down to the tiny logo earrings from a famous designer hugging her earlobes.

“Weather like this makes you want to swing all day.”

Ju-ri murmured, squinting against the sun. Ga-hee stared at her for a long moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Ju-ri, you are seriously pretty.”

“Where's this coming from all of a sudden? So random.”

When Ju-ri grinned, Ga-hee rolled her eyes but said it again anyway. “Really.”

“You're pretty in a new way every time I see you. Cool tones suit you to perfection.”

Without even being asked, Ga-hee pulled out her phone and snapped photos of Ju-ri from every angle.

“If I were a man, I'd have fallen for you.”

“Is today Compliment Day? Should I return the favor?”

“So — are you seeing anyone? Are you still with that securities guy you mentioned before?”

“No, we broke up.”

“When?”

“About a month ago?”

“So no one right now?”

“Nope.”

Though there was one person she'd nearly fallen head over heels for.

“Then if I introduce you to a guy, would you take him?”

“Hmm….”

“Is this because of that guy last time?”

That had played a part, sure. The blind date partner who'd kept contacting her even after she turned him down, until she'd finally had to block him — a thoroughly unpleasant experience. All arranged by Ga-hee.

“I ran into him recently, and he was still talking about you. It gave me chills. It must have been awful for you back then. I'm sorry — I had no idea he was like that.”

“It's fine. You can know ten fathoms of water, but not a person's depths, right? Even people you've known a while can surprise you like that.”

“Next time, I'll really introduce you to someone good.”

“Okay.”

“Ugh, there are so many men out there, and yet it's so hard to find one worth introducing to you. Especially if we're talking marriage — a younger guy wouldn't really do, would he? Older is better, no?”

“Older is fine, but I'm not big on marriage.”

“Oh, come on. You can't just date forever?”

“What's wrong with that?”

“But dating has an ending, eventually.”

Ga-hee, recently married, had always been a firm believer in marriage. Ju-ri remembered her beaming in her bouquet at that lavish hotel wedding, and tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“That's true, I guess.”

Marriage….

One of life's many gates — pitched as more important than college entrance exams or landing a job, even. Like a fresh wind pushing a ship bound for who knows where.

Whenever Ju-ri contemplated that kind of practical question, she felt like a boat adrift on an endless open sea. Did an island called marriage even exist in this ocean? Or did it exist, and she just couldn't find it? Would it appear if she simply drifted along? Or was she flowing down some other current, never knowing it was right there…? Nothing was certain.

That was why it gave her a headache. Because for a woman who wanted to enjoy the life right in front of her, marriage was far, far too practical a problem.

She didn't absolutely refuse to do it, but she didn't desperately want it either. An ambiguous in-between.

And frankly, wouldn't it be difficult practically speaking?

Someone like her, living paycheck to paycheck with nothing saved — even with a decent job, she'd most likely get passed over as marriage material.

Whatever. I'll just live alone.

The sky is this pretty, after all.

When they stepped out onto the course, the people already there raised their hands toward Ga-hee in greeting. About eight of them, all somewhere in their thirties or forties.

Ga-hee scanned the group.

“Looks like Representative Woo isn't here yet?”

“Right. He's the only one we're waiting on.”

“Did he say he was coming alone?”

“No, he said he was bringing someone this time.”

“Who's the acquaintance? A friend?”

“Not a friend — a younger acquaintance, apparently. Oh, there he is now.”

Unlike Ga-hee, chatting away comfortably, Ju-ri felt a little awkward and turned her gaze to the course. She'd played the occasional round with Ga-hee's circle of friends before, but this was her first time joining one of Ga-hee's proper golf gatherings.

She'd only come because the promise of a laid-back get-together with familiar faces had tempted her.

Ju-ri scuffed the grass with her shoe tip. As expected of a premium course — the grass was gorgeous. Beautifully maintained fairways.

Are they going to play for money?

Betting on golf at a place like this would sting like crazy.

“Hello, Representative Woo.”

“Ah, am I the last one here?”

“We just got here ourselves.”

Everyone's attention converged on one spot. Ju-ri, who'd been taking in the course, shifted her gaze as well.

Representative Woo was a man who looked to be in his early fifties — apparently the oldest of everyone gathered here. His clothes, his shoes, even the watch on his wrist: every piece screamed top-shelf price, and Ju-ri clocked it in a single glance.

She enjoyed window shopping as much as the real thing, and on any ordinary day she'd have studied the items with genuine interest….

“We should split into groups for the game, but how about introductions first?”

“Yes, yes, good call.”

Amid the warm, lively buzz of awkwardness and pleasure coexisting, Ju-ri stood apart, alone.

Why is that man here?

“Is that an acquaintance next to you?”

“This is a kid I'm fond of. Han Geon-joo — software developer. Ah, and he's good. Really good.”

“First time I've ever heard you praise someone like that, Representative. Nice to meet you — I'm Jung Seok-ho, an attorney. I'm about to open my own practice. Do you handle website work as well?”

“It depends on the server, but for something simple, outsourcing it would be more than sufficient.”

“You won't do it yourself, Mr. Han?”

“My rates are a bit steep. For that kind of work, outsourcing is the better call.”

“Oh? Haha, this one's funny.”

Weren't you supposed to be a shy introvert?

Soon, Ga-hee and the rest of the group were introducing their respective guests. Ju-ri, too, broke the ice with everyone wearing a smile — but something still nagged at her.

And here I am, running into this man again.

Everything kept bending toward the wrong direction, over and over.

Han Geon-joo's own personal Murphy's Law, you could call it.

There come moments in life when you suspect that some invisible wave is swaying your every step. That the frequency of your own brain whispering I don't want this acts as some kind of magnet in the world's magnetic field — pulling events toward itself like iron filings and producing outcomes you never asked for.

The more conscious you are of something, the deeper the footprints it leaves inside you.

And if you're not conscious of it at all, even the lightest trace soon fades to nothing.