“Welcome back, Lim-ssi!”

Yejun waved as Woojin greeted him, setting his bag down in his office. All of the other editors also turned to wave and Yejun couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t happy to be back. It helped that Jieun would still be gone for another week, and that gave him more time to prepare himself to see her. He slid into his seat with a feeling of relief, quickly logging into his computer. 

He knew that he had a lot to do; even if the other editors could work on books without him, he was still required to check their work. He doubted anyone had finished their projects, especially without Yejun to pressure them. Jieun had pushed more work his way than actually doing any of her own, but Yejun had expected it. Even before everything fell apart, Jieun liked to edit, but she never did any of her extra work.

Yejun took a deep breath, finally managing to settle into the familiar rhythm of his desk. The chair creaked softly when he leaned back, the same old sound it had made for years now, and for a moment it anchored him. The low hum of conversation drifted over the partitions, punctuated by the click of keyboards and the muted whirr of the printer down the hall. Someone laughed quietly near the copy machine, quickly shushed by another editor. It was comfortable. Predictable.

He opened the first manuscript file, skimming the opening paragraph. The prose was clumsy in places, the rhythm uneven, and his editor’s instincts kicked in automatically. He highlighted a sentence, leaving a comment about register and tone. As he worked, the restless edge inside him dulled, replaced by focus. This was the part of himself he trusted most. He could read in between the lines, find the meaning hidden in prose and determine whether the translator or his fellow editors were taking liberties or faithfully preserving a work.

An hour passed almost without him noticing.

It wasn’t until someone tapped lightly on the edge of his desk that he looked up. Woojin was standing in his office, leaning casually. 

“So, how was America?”

“It was… different. Managed to eat at a Korean place.”

“Oo, how different was it?” Woojin started to lean in and Yejun couldn’t help his smile. Woojin was from a poor family and never got to travel, so he always enjoyed living through Yejun. Even way back in primary school, before Yejun really understood the class difference, Woojin had listened with bright-eyed focus whenever Yejun talked. Whether about airports or foreign food, about hotels that smelled like soap or unfamiliar streets that looked the same no matter where you went. Back then, it had felt harmless, but now Yejun was starting to see the problem.

“It wasn’t that different,” he said again, softer this time. “Just… bigger. Everything’s louder there.”

Woojin laughed quietly. “That’s America, right? Big voices, big cars, big portions.”

“Big coffee,” Yejun added, and that earned him another grin. “So the mud festival?”

“Oh yeah! It’s late this year, so I figured you might be able to talk your mom into letting you have a true vacation. Just two or three days,” Woojin leaned in enthusiastically. “And no, don't you even think of paying! I want to do something for you for once and I’ve been saving all year to take the two of us.”

Yejun nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to believe Woojin; every part of him wanted to believe that he was simply misunderstanding the recording. This couldn’t be the same person: the friend who had saved all year to go to a silly festival couldn’t be the same person who was meeting his fiancee behind his back. But Yejun couldn’t get the recording out of his head. 

“Alright, alright, I won’t,” Yejun agreed, feeling his heart twist in his chest. Hopefully, at the festival, he could talk to Woojin plainly. If his friend was betraying him, he wanted to hear it from Woojin himself. “Btw, I got my own place.”

“Your mother finally let you!” Woojin looked delighted and Yejun struggled not to laugh. “About time! Oh man, you gotta invite me over. I have so many things I wanna show you!”

“My mother didn’t but we can’t right now,” Yejun nodded to the camera in his office and Woojin rolled his eyes, standing as he straightened his shirt. “Don’t need her checking. I’ll tell you more later.”

“You know where to find me,” Woojin agreed, finally leaving Yejun alone in his office. Once he was alone, he leaned forward, elbows braced on the desk, and pressed his hands over his face.

The strain he’d been holding at bay since stepping into the office suddenly crept up his spine, coiling at the base of his neck. His fingers curled against his forehead, dragging slowly down his cheeks. Woojin’s voice still echoed in his ears; so open, so familiar, so… wrong.

It was the same laugh. The same rhythm in his speech, the same glint in his eyes when he talked about traveling together like it was something special. Yejun clenched his jaw. If this was all a misunderstanding, he’d be the happiest person in the world. But that recording…

Yejun straightened, rolling his shoulders once before turning back to his screen. The cursor blinked at him patiently. He picked up where he left off, marking up another few paragraphs, typing a note into the margin about shifting narrative perspective, but the focus was already gone. After a beat, he opened another tab and began quietly drafting a schedule update.

He didn't need to change much, just adding a few review meetings and light copy reads for the other editors. He would frontload his next few weeks, lighten his load around the planned weekend. If Woojin was serious about going to the festival, that might be the only safe space they’d have to speak freely. He finished the internal memo, scheduled it for automatic send, then leaned back once more. His mother would have to approve it, but she always did. 

His phone buzzed against the table and Yejun picked it up.

Jieun 🟢: Welcome back! I got your gift, thank you so much!

Yejun: I’m glad you like it, I felt it suited you.

Yejun couldn’t help his laugh. He wasn’t certain if Jieun would get the meaning of his gifts, but it was so much better than she didn’t. Of course, it was a gift he got because he knew it would help him and Minjae get their proof. After all, only in America could he get a discreet little device like that without anyone asking too many questions at customs. He’d bought it online, packed it himself, and wrapped it carefully in one of those overpriced gift bags they sold at the airport. Something cute. Something she would never bat an eye at, but everyone else would. 

Yejun noticed he had another message and switched over to the new conversation. 

Minjae 🪵: If you can make it down to Aqusitions, I need your help fixing the contract we came up with for the new series. Tried to fix it myself, but your mother said the corrections were to go through you this time.

Yejun did his best to hide his relief as he stood. He needed a reason to clear his head and he closed the door to his office as he stepped out. Woojin noticed and shot him a questioning look.

“Gotta head down to Acquisitions, some issues with the contract.” Yejun explained, shrugging as non-chalantly as he could. “I hoped I had gotten it right but apparently not.”

“You’ll get there. Go on, Sunbae!” Woojin whispered, and Yejun made his way over to the elevator. Acquisitions was only three floors down and handled all of Baekwon’s books for the three imprints. Gye’s office was next to the elevator, which always made Yejun feel a bit more comfortable. It was nice he didn’t have to walk through the entire floor to get where he needed to go. 

Soon the elevator dinged and Yejun stepped on.