The Past, Seoul

The day passed quickly as I carted Yun Seo from appointment to appointment, each one in the same part of town, but the traffic and tangled streets of the city always complicated travel by car. Yun Seo would tap away on his laptop or take calls in between meetings, conducting business from the back seat to maximize his time. 

I still didn’t fully understand what he did even though he’d explained it a few times to me. All I knew was that his company was called Liminal and that they were working to launch an app that would revolutionize the social media landscape. I had no idea what that meant and I honestly doubted even Yun Seo knew the meaning of the marketing pitch. The substance of the pitch itself wasn’t what mattered. The key was finding partners and investors interested enough to help get the app launched and running so that it could take on a life of its own. Yun Seo’s sister was the real brains of the operation. She was the one who had developed the app and the infrastructure. He didn’t need to understand how it all worked to sell it, although I suspected he understood more than he shared with anyone. 

I had texted my father that I’d be picking him up at the airport after all but I think he probably expected me to be driving his car because he looked right past me when I pulled up to the curb. I had to step out of the car and give him a wave and a shout before he finally noticed me standing there, his eyes wide as he took in the svelte lines of the BMW. 

“What have you been up to while I’ve been gone?” he asked, rubbing at his glasses to clean them as I took his luggage and tucked it into the trunk. Blinking owlishly behind the lenses when he was finished, he shook his head.

“The car belongs to my boss,” I explained, gesturing impatiently for him to get in the car so we could get out of the way of the vehicles piling up behind us. 

“He lets you drive it around when you’re not with him?” my father asked incredulously as he settled in the plush leather seat uncomfortably as if afraid he would somehow damage it simply by sitting wrong.

Yun Seo had never explicitly given me permission to drive his car around on personal errands, but I’d stopped asking for permission for such things because he snapped impatiently at me every time I tried. I doubted he would mind anyway. Even though appearances were important to him, he seemed less attached to his wealth than any rich person I’d ever met. He acted as if the act of appearing wealthy was the important part. Owning expensive things mattered less to him than using that wealth to get what he wanted from those who did care about it. 

“How was your trip?” I asked as I pulled onto the highway and began the intricate dance of weaving through traffic on our way back to the city.

“Good,” dad said with a chirp, adjusting his glasses on his nose. I glanced at him and smiled at how stereotypical professor he looked at the moment with his sweater vest and satchel. “I learned a lot about Spanish folklore and I even managed to confirm a few theories I’ve had for many years. It’s too bad that this compendium is for private collectors. The knowledge I’m gathering should be shared with the public!”

I nodded, my smile softening at how passionate he could be about such esoteric nonsense. He had been studying folklore traditions around the world since his undergraduate degree, but I’d never understood why he cared so much about fantasy stories. The fact that he could make a living from such a thing was astounding to me and I thought he should be grateful for that more than anything rather than complaining that the only people willing to invest money in his research were private funders.

Dad rambled for a while longer about his research while I drove, and I realized that I actually had missed him. Not just while he’d been on his trip, but for much longer. He hadn’t been himself for a long time, not since mom’s diagnosis to be honest, but this grant project seemed to have returned him to himself in a way I hadn’t experienced for many years. 

“Who did you say is funding this grant again?” I asked, realizing that the question was borne from worry more than curiosity. 

Squinting at me in confusion, dad waved a hand through the air dismissively. “Some collection of rich people with too much money. But I can’t complain since they actually value this important work. They understand that there’s no better way to understand a culture than through the stories they use to explain the world around them. They know that beliefs have power, and they can bring things into existence that you couldn’t even imagine, Sang Kyu. The things I’ve seen…” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe.”

He’d said things like this before, but it had been a long time since he’d said them with such confidence. Shaking my head, I decided to let the topic drop. 

Chan Wook had dinner on the table by the time we got home, a spread of traditional side dishes of the like that I hadn’t seen on our dining room table since mom was healthy. How he had managed to make all of it during the hours I’d been gone was unbelievable to me and I wondered if he’d started earlier in the week and I’d not noticed. I have been floating through the days a lot lately, Yun Seo’s schedule kept me so busy that I had even less time some days than I’d had when I worked multiple jobs. 

I let dad and Chan Wook do most of the talking while we ate, simply enjoying the flavor of the food and trying not to dwell in the memories it inspired, doing my best to remain present in the moment and the reality of our family as it existed today. I found out that Chan Wook had passed his most recent entrance exam with an impressive score. With this latest success, he would have his pick of elite universities to attend. This was a mixed blessing. Getting a degree from a prestigious institution would guarantee him a great job, but attending any school other than the one where dad worked would increase our debt exponentially. 

I could tell that dad and Chan Wook felt nothing but joy about his future, however, so I kept this reality to myself. As long as I kept this job with Yun Seo, I had a feeling everything would work out. Yun Seo’s wealth would only grow if Liminal’s app took off, and that meant my own earnings would likely increase as well. I wouldn’t expect as much working for anyone else, but Yun Seo shared his money almost carelessly as if it meant nothing to him, and he’d already been far more generous with me than I’d ever expected. I just had to stay on his good side.

I changed into my nicest sweater and slacks before picking Yun Seo up for the fundraiser, taking extra care in shaping my hair and getting a clean shave so that I would look as presentable as possible for the evening. Yun Seo gave me a critical look as he walked up to the car, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at my feet. 

“Next time, polish your shoes,” he said with a faint smile as he brushed past me on his way to the door I had held open for him.

Sighing, I closed the door more firmly than usual and caught a glimpse of his expression as I walked around the car, a flash of a smile that made me grind my teeth. 

The benefit was being held in the courtyard of an art museum, so there was plenty of parking and no need for a valet. Pulling into the line of fancy cars, I watched the procession of glittering dilettantes make their way up the red carpet to the museum entrance on the arms of dignified men in tuxedos, all of them beautiful and fake in a way that made me feel slightly nauseated.

“Keep your phone close,” Yun Seo said as we inched toward the drop off point and there was a tension in his voice I had rarely heard before. “I might need to make a quick exit.”

I glanced at him in the mirror. “Are you expecting trouble?”

A sour smile crossed his lips. “This place is crawling with friends of my father.” He didn’t need to elaborate for me to understand. Even though he’d shared very little about his family, I knew his father was an invalid and that his current state was a relief to Yun Seo. They’d never gotten along, and his father’s friends were by default his enemies.

I made a soft sound of acknowledgement, and somehow Yun Seo seemed to know what I was thinking and not saying.

Chuckling softly, Yun Seo shook his head. “Making an appearance is a requirement, but I will leave as soon as I can escape without causing a scene.”

“I’ll be on standby,” I said.

Yun Seo drew a breath and released it slowly, leaning forward to grip my shoulder as I pulled up to the curb and put the car into park. “Walk slowly,” he said before releasing me and I did as he asked, taking my time getting out of the car and walking around it to open the door for him. He straightened his jacket when he stood up and nodded at me before stepping onto the red carpet. I was amazed by how his demeanor changed between one step and the next, all trepidation and hesitation disappearing from his expression as he turned toward the crowd and the flashing cameras with a manufactured smile. 

I found myself once again wanting to follow him, to stand between him and his enemies and shield him with my own body even though the thought was ridiculous. He wasn’t in any physical danger at the moment and I was his driver, not his bodyguard, but I felt protective of him in a way I knew I had no right to feel. Not after only three months working for him. I barely knew him, really, and yet I felt attached to him in a way I only felt about my family otherwise. 

It would take months before I realized that Yun Seo actually was in physical danger from his enemies, but by then I also understood that there was nothing I could do to protect him.