Off Leash
She had applied one bandage before getting on the subway, then another when she transferred lines, and even the two layered together had done nothing. Worse, the pain had spread from her heel to her pinky toe, which felt like it might drop clean off. When she peeled the bandages back, the skin beneath was angry and scarlet, as if frostbitten.
"Oh, great. None left."
Hae-soo rummaged through her bag, then collapsed hopelessly onto the table. She was out of bandages entirely. Which meant gritting her teeth and enduring it, then. An hour and a half to go—if she rested well, it would be fine. Trying to buoy her sinking spirits, she pulled out her list of past interview questions.
Do your friends have any nicknames for you? If so, why?
She was checking the back section she hadn't gotten to yet—the list was enormous—and every question imaginable was there. They seemed designed to gauge the image or personality traits others saw in the applicant. Hae-soo rolled her pen in circles, lost in thought.
"A nickname, huh…"
Nothing came to mind. She decided to reach out to Da-mi for the first time in a while. Da-mi, who had left for Toronto this year as an exchange student, was the only person Hae-soo could truly call a friend.
Back in Korea, Da-mi had loved hamburgers and pasta and pizza so passionately, and now she couldn't even stand the sight of them. Hae-soo had no idea how she was going to survive the remaining six months like this.
She could almost hear the aegyo lilt in Da-mi's voice. Smiling faintly, Hae-soo typed back a short reply: Miss you too.
Da-mi sent back a rabbit emoji popping fireworks, as if such technicalities didn't matter one bit. Hae-soo's thumbs flew across the screen.
After sending her reply, Hae-soo scribbled Kind Hae-soo next to the question. Her whole body shuddered instantly. She could practically feel goosebumps prickling up her arms. If merely writing it did this, saying it out loud… absolutely impossible.
"Is this an interview or a scam."
Just then, someone dragged the chair beside her back with a screech. She flinched and lost her grip on the pen. It rolled off the table and clattered to the floor—and the man who bent down to retrieve it was none other than Seo Moon-yeol.
"You—what are you doing here…"
"What's wrong with your feet? What happened?"
He paused mid-reach for the pen, brow furrowing.
Oh. I'm barefoot right now.
Embarrassment flickered across Hae-soo's face. She hastily reached under the chair for her shoes, but he abruptly crouched down and seized her ankle.
"Wh—hey, what do you think you're doing."
She tensed her leg and tried to shake him off, but a man's strength was not so easily overcome. Moon-yeol effortlessly held her foot in place in front of him, examining it from every angle.
"Well, this is a disaster."
A perfectly accurate assessment.
Hae-soo felt blood rushing to her face and hurriedly shoved at his shoulder—then jerked her hand back less than a second later, startled by her own reaction. The hard plane of his body, the heat of his skin, had transmitted itself straight through her palm.
"You really plastered these things on, huh."
"…I was going to put on more, but I ran out."
"Then wrap them in bandages. Why not."
"Believe me, that wouldn't be overkill? Anyway, let go. People can see."
"See? Who's looking."
Tsk. Clicking his tongue, Moon-yeol loosened his grip. Then he picked up the shoes Hae-soo had kicked off carelessly beside the chair. Pressing his fingertips into the culprit heel and toe box, he muttered with the air of a man who understood everything.
"You wear shoes like this, no wonder your feet look like that."
Her face, already flushed, now felt like it might actually combust. The shoes had cost 19,900 won at an underground shopping arcade. She'd been so pleased with herself for snagging a bargain—slightly humiliating, in retrospect. Not that he had any idea what they'd cost.
"Hand them here."
"What's your size? 235?"
"What does size have to do with any—"
"Yes, Manager. It's Moon-yeol."
She was tilting her head at the baffling question when he suddenly placed a call to somewhere. Still holding one of her shoes, he rose to his feet, and utterly absurd words came out of his mouth.
"I'd like you to prepare a single pair of women's shoes. Yes. I'll take a photo and send it over, so please find something with a similar design. Size 235, and it absolutely must be something comfortable. If you're busy, I'll come pick it up myself. Ah, you will? Much appreciated. I'm currently at…"
Who on earth is he calling—and more importantly, what is he even saying…
Hae-soo's eyes went round as saucers. While she stood there helplessly opening and closing her mouth, he finished the call and snapped a photo of her shoe. Click.
"What did you just do…?"
"Wait. They say they'll bring it within thirty-five minutes."
Moon-yeol answered with complete composure and settled into the seat beside her. Then, swoosh—he leaned in toward her. Hae-soo, who had been about to protest, reflexively scrambled away to the far side of her chair.
"Kind Hae-soo."
All that tension for nothing—his attention was on her question sheet. Hae-soo flustered, slapped the paper over, and hugged it to her chest. She caught Moon-yeol biting his lower lip, visibly fighting a laugh.
"…Don't laugh. I just don't have a nickname, so I was brainstorming."
"I'm not laughing."
"You're about to. Right now."
"That's just my resting face."
Unbelievable. An exasperated sigh escaped Hae-soo's lips.
Seo Moon-yeol, from every angle, at one meter or a hundred—there was no disputing the fact that his face was cold. In Si-yeon's words, he had "the certifiably chilly-handsome look." Hae-soo wholeheartedly agreed with that opinion.
With his mouth pressed shut and his expression blank, no human being could look quite so frigid and aloof. To put it more precisely, he looked a little rude. The kind of face that seemed ready to scoff at whatever came out of your mouth.
"…Okay, fair. You do have a resting face."
But since she couldn't air her true feelings, Hae-soo simply conceded the point with the graciousness of someone handing over a loss. She whipped her head away and shoved the question sheet into her bag. Thanks to this uninvited gatecrasher who'd materialized out of nowhere, reviewing anything else in the time remaining was a lost cause.
"Guess I should stop looking, then?"
"Yep. Thanks to you."
"Don't stop. Keep going. I'll help."
"No thanks?"
"Want me to make you a nickname?"
What is he even saying. Hae-soo scrunched her brows and turned to face him.
"How about Iron Wall."
"…What?"
"Iron Wall Cha Hae-soo."
"…"
"Say it like that and it's got a real title to it, doesn't it? Like a warship number."
The man's cool eyes curved gently. She was still gaping at the sheer absurdity of it when her earlobes began to glow pink.
Oh, blast this traitorous skin.
The wisest course was not to look, so she turned away and grabbed her phone. Da-mi's reply had come in while she wasn't watching.
Still. Kind Hae-soo was a bridge too far, no matter what.
Pfft. As she laughed, Moon-yeol's gaze landed on her profile.
"Who are you texting?"
"A friend."
"You have friends?"
"…What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing by it. You're just always out and about alone."
He shrugged lightly, as if merely stating the facts as he saw them. It was enough to make her feel foolish for being so touchy.
"I have one. She's in Canada right now on exchange, though."
"Which part? The States?"
"No, Canada."
"Vancouver?"
"No, Toron… Wait, shouldn't you be going? Why did you even come here?"
She realized she'd been volunteering pointless details. Hae-soo awkwardly changed the subject and stole a glance at him.
He was slouching back against the armrest, toying with her shoe. His thumb and forefinger gripped the flimsy heel, rocking it this way, then that. His hands must have been strikingly large, because the shoe looked no bigger than half its actual size.
Why is he still holding that.
The Kind Hae-soo fiasco had flustered her so badly she'd clean forgotten about it. But in the split second before she could ask for it back, he beat her to the punch.
"So you're finally curious about me, I see."
When was I ever? Oh… don't tell me—when I asked why you came here?
That had been a polite way of saying please leave. And he'd actually interpreted it as a genuine question.
Paying no mind to her slack-jawed expression, Moon-yeol tipped his chin toward the building across from the café—the place where Seomoon Department Store and Seomoon Hotel stood shoulder to shoulder.
"I spotted you on my way to see my mother."
His… mother?