In a land filled with rows and rows of apartment complexes, there is a constant need among the majority to rise.
And Kwon Hyo Rin is no different.
When she first came to Seoul at twenty-four, she rented a banjiha for three months. That was all her savings could afford at that time. And then, luck struck; she found a job that enabled her to rent a small studio apartment near Sinchon Station where she lived for three years until she transferred to a two-bedroom unit in a villa somewhere downtown.
Now, at thirty-one, she is having coffee and toast while sitting on the couch facing the big picture windows of the living room. And in solitude, she gathers her first thoughts of the day while enjoying the view of the Han River from the 19th floor of The Gamssada.
A yawn escapes her despite the initial dose of caffeine. So she stretches her limbs to shake off the residual drowsiness that burdens her head. She stayed up late as usual, cramming all night to finish yet another chapter in the project she is currently working on. To be honest, she could use a few more hours of sleep—and it does not help knowing that she is still in her pajamas and that her bedroom is not too far from where she is.
Although sadly, she could not afford to give in.
It’s Saturday. And there’s a long list of things to be done on Saturdays. Do some vacuuming, clean the bathroom, go grocery-shopping for fresh produce, prepare lunch…
But first, she has to give someone a call.
While waiting for her mother to pick up, Hyo Rin switches to speaker phone and prepares herself for the chores scheduled for the day by pulling her hair up in a bun. No one answers the first time, so she tries contacting home again.
“Yes, Hyo Rin-ah?” her mom greets her at her third attempt. “What’s wrong?”
“Seriously, why do you always assume that something bad happened whenever I call you?” Hyo Rin mumbles while washing the plate she used earlier.
“Hyo Rin-ah?” her mother calls out, sounding a little anxious. “Hello? Kwon Hyo Rin?”
Hyo Rin stifles a chuckle, then says aloud, “I’m here, eomma. How are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m having breakfast at the moment. What about you? Have you eaten?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. How’s work?”
“Same old, same old. I haven’t covered half the target yet.”
“Aigoo…”
“Don’t worry—I’m actually not behind schedule.”
“Well, listen… don’t forget to take a break every five minutes and walk around. I’ve read somewhere that people who are working from home are getting back pains from sitting for hours.”
Hyo Rin turns off the faucet, then wipes her hands with the kitchen towel hanging nearby.
“I should be the one reminding you that,” she tells her mother as she surveys the kitchen, mentally taking note of what needs to be bought at the store later. “Hyo Jung-ie sent me a message last night, telling me that you were complaining about your back after making kimchi.”
“It’s kimjang season. And it’s an old tradition in the neighborhood to take part in it,” her mother was sounding defensive already. “All the ahjummas helped out—even those who were old and gray with bones which are way more ancient than mine.”
“I know. Still, you should take it easy today.”
“Tsss… As if the gimbaps are going to magically roll up and sell themselves.”
“Aish—what did we hire a helper for, then?” Hyo Rin argues while crouching down to check the supplies in the sink cabinet. “Besides, Hyo Jung-ie does not have anything to do today. Let her be in charge of the store just this once.”
“I’d rather close up shop than allow your sister to drive away the customers with her temper,” she hears her mom grumble. “Anyway, speaking of kimchi… I packed plenty for you and Ha Nee. If you are not going out this afternoon, I can bring it—”
“No!” Hyo Rin blurts out in panic, bumping her head against a hard edge in the process.
“No?”
“Ah—I mean… yes! Yes, I will be going out later to run some errands. Maybe I can—uhhh—meet you at the bus station instead so you don’t have to travel all the way here. Less hassle, you know.”
“I guess you’re right,” her mother murmurs to herself before continuing. “Can you be there at 3:00 pm?”
Hyo Rin lets out a muted breath, then says, “Sounds good.”
“Alright,” her mom eventually concedes. “You know, I almost thought that you were trying to keep me from visiting you.”
A nervous chuckle gets caught in Hyo Rin’s throat.
“What!? Eomma, that’s”—she winces—“not true.”
“It’s surely not because you’re having problems with your roommate, is it?” her mother probes—only to backpedal right away. “Oh, of course not! Ha Nee is a sweet kid.”
Hyo Rin rubs the spot on her head that hit the sink while muttering to herself, “She is… yeah.”
But the thing is, Yoon Ha Nee isn’t the one she is sharing the apartment with.
Not anymore.
•••
“It’s Min Chang Hoon seonsaeng.”
The rest of the third year residents who are huddled in one corner of the quarters nod in agreement as Dr. Jung casts his vote.
“Definitely. You’ll only waste your breath asking Heo Ha Kyeon seonsaeng,” Dr. Shim concurs, then sticks his fingers out towards the direction of Dr. Yoo—the one who asked the group a while ago who among the other ER residents would most likely be his savior for today—to enumerate his reasons. “First: the guy very, very seldom asks for favors. Second: he starts turning into this grumpy ogre once he reaches his 36th hour on duty.”
“And third: he just got back with his ex-girlfriend,” Dr. Jung adds. “Do you really expect him to give up babe time to cover for you so you can have your own babe time, huh?”
He clucks his tongue in disapproval, then chides his colleague, “You know the rules, Yoo Tae Oh.”
“Strictly emergencies,” Dr. Kim butts in.
“Na Eun-ie took a leave and came home from Japan to surprise me on our 100th day,” Dr. Yoo tells them for the third time this morning.
“Nope. Still doesn’t sound like an emergency to me.”
“Oh, come on, you guys! I can’t just ask her to wait at the hotel until I pick her up on Monday when she’s leaving at 4:00 pm on the same day.”
Dr. Shim shrugs, “Try your luck with Heo Ha Kyeon seonsaeng, then.”
“Nevermind,” Dr. Yoo sighs. “I know Chang Hoon-ie would be the safe choice—my only choice, to be honest. But I heard that they just finished wrapping up the craniotomy procedure he was assisting in. And his first 24 hours on-duty wasn’t a walk in the park either.”
“Yeah. Come to think of it, you shouldn’t even dare plead with him,” Dr. Jung mumbles as he leans back on the wall with his arms on his chest. “Imagine—six resuscitations in one day.”
“Six resuscitations,” Dr. Kim echoes. “That’s insane.”
“What’s insane?”
The question interrupts the conversation, spurring the doctors to turn to the door at once.
They see the man of the hour entering the room—still dressed in his scrubs with slightly-disheveled hair and tired eyes. And through his rectangular spectacles, he squints as he regards his chatty batchmates who—by then—look as though they were caught red-handed by the Chief Resident.
“Six resuscitations?” Dr. Kim stammers while holding the newcomer’s questioning stare.
“Oh. That?” the person-in-question—the one they call Min Chang Hoon, a fellow junior ER resident—groans inwardly, dragging his feet forward until his knees hit an empty bed to crash into. “What are the odds, right? It’s like a never-ending sequence of asystoles kept ringing in my ears.”
To that, Dr. Shim casually comments, “It’s one of those days again.”
He then nudges the ribs of a reluctant Dr. Yoo with his elbow, causing the latter to be startled—and therefore initiating a coughing fit. That prompts Chang Hoon to roll and lie on his side facing them.
With one scrutinizing eye open, he assesses the situation which seems ridiculously familiar to him. After all, the five of them—six, including Ha Kyeon, the other ER doctor in the same year as them—have been together since medical school.
At the back of his head, he is thinking that he has seen this movie before and didn’t like the ending.
“No way!” he states with conviction as he comes to his senses. “I can’t, Tae Oh-yah. I’m already done with my endorsements.”
“Please, Chang Hoon-ssi! I am begging you,” Dr. Yoo implores him, his hands clasped tightly together while watching his potential redeemer walk away. “It’s a personal emergency.”
“No offense—but your definition of ‘personal emergency’ has always been questionable, Yoo seonsaeng.”
“No, really! This is important!”
Except for them two, the group erupts in laughter. And that reaction is enough proof that Chang Hoon’s hunch is true.
Regardless, he stops on his tracks and says, “Okay. Let’s hear it then.”
“Well, you see”—Dr. Yoo twiddles his thumbs as he begins to explain—“Na Eun-ie is arriving today…”
The look on Chang Hoon’s face is priceless; he doesn’t even have to say a word for Dr. Yoo to know that his request has been declined.
Nevertheless, the former gives in after a while.
“Fine,” Chang Hoon exhales, scowling. “You owe me one, Yoo Tae Oh.”
In spite of his palpable resignation, Dr. Yoo shamelessly whoops with delight. And as Chang Hoon heads towards the door, the other guys who are watching the bargaining unfold quietly snicker on the side.
“Alright! Time to make a reservation at her favorite restaurant,” Dr. Yoo talks to himself excitedly after firing up his phone. “7:00 pm. Saturday. November 13—”
Suddenly, Chang Hoon pivots on his heel and asks, “What day is it again?”
“November 13,” Dr. Shim replies on Dr. Yoo’s behalf.
“Oh, shoot!” Chang Hoon gasps, his palm flying straight upwards to slap his forehead.
His panic alerts everyone and halts Dr. Yoo’s little celebration.
“I’m so sorry, Tae Oh-yah. I have to go,” Chang Hoon offers.
And before anyone can ask him, he bolts out of the room to change.
His hasty departure leaves the rest baffled—and Tae Oh, specifically, utterly stupefied. And it is only when he passes by the quarters again to quickly bid them goodbye that the group starts to make sense of what just happened.
Dragging out a loud exhale, Dr. Jung pats Dr. Yoo’s shoulder in an effort to console him.
“Heo Ha Kyeon seonsaeng is probably in the locker room,” he says ruefully to his dumbstricken friend. “Good luck.”
•••
It’s fortunate that someone else is waiting for her turn at the elevator when Hyo Rin arrives at the lobby.
Seeing how both of her hands are filled with grocery bags, her incidental companion—an elegantly-dressed woman who is probably in her early sixties—is considerate enough to press the button going up and allow her to go first.
However, as soon as the doors close, the air around them becomes tense. Hyo Rin catches the calculating once-over the madam gives her—the kind that one frequently sees in those depressing makjangs. Their eyes meet in due course, and her knee-jerk response is to put up a smile—albeit an awkward one.
“What floor?” the woman has one manicured finger hovering over the panel as she asks.
“Oh—the 19th, please,” Hyo Rin answers immediately. “Thank you.”
The elevator then begins to move upward. As it goes, Hyo Rin diverts her attention to the screen above, quietly watching the floor numbers change. Beside her, the ahjumma busies herself by fixing the silk scarf adorning her neck.
The journey is mercifully short—thank goodness! The second the shiny steel doors open, Hyo Rin gives a grateful bow to the madam and hobbles out of the elevator without waiting for her gesture to be acknowledged.
She reaches unit 1904 soon enough, and she crouches a little so she could carefully place some of the shopping bags on the floor with one free hand and punch the security code on the touch pad of the electronic lock with the other. Upon hearing the beep, she pulls the door open—wide enough to slip inside—then goes straight to the kitchen to deposit everything she is carrying on the counter.
It’s only when she traces her steps back to the foyer that she discovers that she has left the front door ajar by accident—and that the woman she met minutes ago has already entered the apartment uninvited.
“Uhhh—excuse me, madam,” Hyo Rin says as she approaches her unlikely guest with measured steps. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
The woman’s face twists into a skeptical frown.
“I should be the one asking you that, agassi,” she murmurs, and her words are distinctly seething with unappeasable suspicion.
Between fight, flight, and freeze, Hyo Rin’s instinct is to launch into a sprint towards the elevator. And yet, apparently, her body had other plans.
Instead of doing that, she remains motionless, her wide, disbelieving eyes staring back at the poised ahjumma standing before her, who then interrogates her further with a question that puts her on the spot.
“Who are you—and what the heck are you doing in my apartment?”
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