Chapter Text
Gi Hun couldn't stop reading the resignation letter he had been handed. Sitting in front of his boss (well, former boss now), he held the sheet as if it were a death sentence written in Comic Sans. Fired? Him? For being “rude” to a customer! Please. He'd just been defending his dignity against a rich jerk.
“This is ridiculous! This is a joke, right?!” He exclaimed, rising from the seat, like an ill-adjusted spring. The sheet of paper, now crumpled, seemed to share his frustration.
“No, Gi Hun. This is no joke. You reacted unacceptably to one of our most frequent customers. Insulting him and throwing his keys in his face is not something we can ignore.”
“He deserved it! He called me incompetent because I mistook the brake for the accelerator - it happens to anyone!”
“You crashed his car inside the garage, Gi Hun.”
Gi Hun exhaled in such frustration that the office floor shook. He couldn't believe it... Well, actually he could. Truth be told, now that he thought about it, his “little” reaction might have been a bit much. But how could he not get upset when that stuffy old man had spent 20 minutes yelling at him that his car smelled like “human waste”?
“So what am I supposed to do now?” he growled, crumpling the letter tighter.
“Well, start by getting out of here.” Said the boss, pointing to the exit door.
“And that's what I'm going to do! But not because you say so.” Gi Hun grabbed the letter and walked out of the office, slamming the door so hard that even the paintings shook.
He walked angrily home still, tearing up the resignation letter and throwing it in the first trash can he could find.
Arriving home, Gi Hun did not feel better. He felt worse. Now, in addition to the echo of the empty refrigerator door, there was the echo of his brain trying to answer the million-dollar question: How the fuck was he going to get money?
He had 51 years of experience existing, and the only skill he had perfected was fixing car engines...badly. The fucking capitalist system had left him with no options, except maybe to sell organs, but who would want a liver that had been on instant and cheap soju for decades?
He looked around. Pictures of his daughter stuck with magnets on the (ironically empty) fridge, beads over the dining room that seemed to reproduce by spores, and on the kitchen counter, a silly magazine for teenage girls. It had probably arrived there in a desperate attempt to connect with his daughter on something...or maybe he had bought it in confusion thinking it was a porn magazine.
“Well, that's how men who insult rich old men in machine shops end up” He muttered as he plopped down on the couch, calculating how many days he had left before he was found dead from starvation on the floor, hugging his lost pride.
He got up with a sigh and picked up the magazine. He didn't feel like worrying about the job; the problem was for the Gi Hun of the future, that guy always carried the worst of it. He opened the magazine with the enthusiasm of someone who knows he is wasting his life and began to flip through. First, gossip about celebrities he didn't know. Then, beauty tips that claimed that eight hours of sleep takes away wrinkles. And then, there it was: a recommendation for a dating app specializing in older adults with zero social skills... And money to spend!
Gi Hun read the article with more attention than he'd ever paid to any client. “An app where you get paid just to escort a rich lonely guy to dinner or the theater? That's a real job?” He thought. In his head he was already seeing piles of bills falling from the sky, accompanied by a soundtrack of hope. Of course, there was one small detail that soured his golden dream: he wasn't a 20-year-old pretty girl with mile-long eyelashes. He was a 51-year-old man with a face that looked like the ground where a war was fought.
He looked at himself in the reflection of the microwave. “Who in their right mind would pay to spend time with me?” He muttered, touching his cheeks. “Unless they're a fan of men who look like life has been trying to kill them.” He looked back down at the magazine, as if he expected it to magically say, “Easy, Gi Hun, this is for you too!” But nothing of the sort happened. However, as he closed the magazine, an absurd idea planted itself in his head. Maybe...just maybe...someone, in some corner of the world, would prefer him to a young, pretty girl. After all, weren't there odd customers for everything?
He smiled resignedly, tossing the magazine on the bar.
He thought about it for five long minutes, the most productive of his week, until he finally grabbed his cell phone, looked up the app and downloaded it. Registration was easy; basically, anyone with thumbs could do it. But when it came to the photo uploading part, the real odyssey began.
“Pictures of me? Really?” he grunted, looking at his cell phone camera, which had probably been manufactured in prehistoric times. He spent twenty minutes rifling through his photos, discarding all the ones where he looked like a hobo, a criminal, or worse, a middle-aged man in crisis. Finally, he selected a couple of half-decent images and took another two in front of the window, believing the night lighting would work magic. It didn't.
“Well, this should be enough to attract someone desperate enough to search this app” He muttered, uploading the photos. He hoped some rich old geezer would like that average man with a broken soul vibe.
The next step was to write a description. Gi Hun rubbed his hands together. This had to be brilliant, something that screamed “hire me” without sounding like a LinkedIn ad. He wanted to be honest, but not SO honest as to scare off potential clients. After all, the goal was to have someone pay for his time, not to have them call 911 because he seemed on the verge of emotional bankruptcy.
Finally, he wrote: Mature man with years of experience...in life. I know how to listen, I know how to make people laugh, and I have basic knowledge of engines and appliance repair. Make your day unique with Seong Gi Hun!
He leaned back in the chair, admiring his handiwork. “Perfect. Professional, reliable, and with a touch of mystery. No one will be able to resist.” Now all that remained was to wait. Maybe someone would choose him that very night. Maybe never. Or maybe he'd end up being one of those phantom profiles people use for laughs on sleepless nights. But he had faith. Somewhere in the world there had to be someone with questionable tastes who said: This guy is just what I need to make sense of my existence.
To his surprise, only thirty minutes later the notification arrived. He had made a match with a certain... Oh Young Il? Gi Hun opened the profile, a little nervous. The guy was attractive. Too attractive. A guy who looked like he had stepped straight out of a perfume commercial. Gi Hun blinked several times, feeling vaguely confused and, honestly, a little gay. But what struck him most was that the man was a millionaire and worked for a large company.
“This is...a miracle. God is making it up to me for all those years of bad luck.” He said aloud, unaware that the only thing miraculous had been that he wasn't rejected right away.
The first message came quickly.
Oh Young Il: Tomorrow. 8 PM. Chez Luxe restaurant. Don't be late.
Gi Hun read the message with a frown. Was this guy a CEO or a potential kidnapper? And what kind of handsome man sends such a cold message? Suddenly, doubts began to bloom in his head: is this safe? What if this man ends up being a madman? Or worse, one of those guys who traffic organs? Is he going to wake up in a bathtub full of ice with a note that says 'thanks for your kidney'? Would he end up in some kind of childish game that would give him a lot of money in exchange for his life and a lot of trauma? He decided to ignore his paranoia. After all, the man was handsome. If he was going to die, at least he would die in front of someone with a jaw sculpted by angels.