Chapter 1
I’m hungry. I’m used to being hungry, so it doesn’t bother me.
But I can’t stand being sleepy. Because I was a man who didn’t hold back. A real man who’d raid the fridge at night even if I skipped dinner, and who’d take a nap during class if I was sleepy.
And what I can’t stand the most is…
“Han Dae-ri, you f*cking a*shole!”
Swoosh!
The bundle of papers scattering in front of me like a thousand cherry blossoms looks like the paper poppers I set off on my first birthday.
“You call this work, you piece of s*it? After getting promoted to Assistant Manager? You want me to get chewed out by the Department Head?!”
“I just followed the manual.”
“This f*cking b*stard is starting again.”
The perpetually stuck Section Chief, who ate when he was hungry and slept when he was sleepy despite not doing his job properly, while still collecting his paycheck on time, abruptly stood up.
“I told you to be flexible with that d*mn work, when did I tell you to be a motherless b*stard?”
“…”
“You son of a b*tch, if it weren’t for your meddling, that project wouldn’t have gone down the drain! What the h*ll does a useless Assistant Manager think he’s doing, sending reports directly to the Department Head?!”
“It was a problematic project from the beginning. The source of the client’s funds was unclear, and the financial statements…”
“Han Dae-ri. Don’t you know how many months our team wasted trying to get that project going? Or do motherless bastards all lack common sense?”
“…”
“Thanks to our brilliant Assistant Manager Han, the Team Leader collapsed from stress. It was a done deal, just needing the Department Head’s review and final approval from the higher-ups, but you messed it up and made him collapse!!!”
“If we had proceeded, it wouldn’t have been just the project, but the entire team that would have gone down the drain.”
“Oh, look who’s talking back with that smart mouth of yours. So, who actually collapsed? The project? Our team?”
“We can start the project from scratch and prepare thoroughly.”
“And our team, who has to waste time and money on it again, doesn’t matter to you? Wow, since when did Assistant Manager Han become such a leader? We can just trust Han Dae-ri and everything will be fine! Let’s go Han Dae-ri coin! You son of a b*tch!!!!”
I almost got hit in the forehead by the ashtray the Section Chief hurled at me, but I dodged it by slightly tilting my head.
The ashtray, narrowly missing my temple, crashed into the office wall with a loud shatter. The scattered cigarette ashes and butts made the office messy, but the Section Chief didn’t seem to care.
“Because of you! If it weren’t for you! Ugh, f*ck… This is exactly why I told the HR team that we need to weed out these useless bastards from the start!”
“It’s a good thing we weeded out a useless project, isn’t it?”
I felt something boiling up inside me, so I casually threw out a remark to prevent myself from getting unnecessarily angry.
I’m a person who has to endure everything. But even though I know I have to endure it when such situations arise, there’s a reason why I ultimately can’t.
And that is.
“Hey, are you crazy? Don’t you understand the situation? I told you last time. Please stop acting like you have no home training. If you haven’t learned the simple common sense that you shouldn’t talk back to your elders, then just shut your mouth! Why can’t you learn even when I teach you? Am I your f*cking tutor? Should I teach you how to wipe your a*s after taking a s*it?!”
“I’m the one who cleaned up someone else’s s*it, why are you getting angry, Section Chief?”
“…Oh my, oh my, my head!”
It’s frustrating to see him overreacting, clutching the back of his neck as if he’s about to faint, when he can’t even bend over properly because of his belly that’s swollen like a mountain.
This is why I can’t hold back even if I want to. It’s always like this.
“Han Dae-ri. If you don’t want to work, just quit. Nobody’s stopping you. In fact, there’s a truckload of people out there who want to crack your skull open in a dark alley.”
“I think the Department Head will try to stop me.”
“The CEO is not going to stop you. I’ll take care of your resignation, so just write it up roughly according to the format. Even if you’re uneducated, you can do that much on your own, right?”
“Are you forcing me to resign?”
“Don’t you even know the word ‘voluntary resignation,’ you ignorant b*stard! Even if the Department Head covers for you, the CEO won’t!”
Only after hearing those words did I grasp the situation.
The minority faction trying to save this godforsaken company, which had split off from a famous Korean conglomerate, and the majority faction trying to just scrape by and get carried along, were in a head-on collision.
Of course, the guy who was recently kicked out as the CEO of this subsidiary after losing the succession battle wouldn’t be able to manage the company properly.
The Department Head, with his years of experience in this industry, wouldn’t even dream of getting fired or laid off, but it was a tactic that worked well on a mere Assistant Manager like me.
It was obvious that pushing for a voluntary resignation instead of a unilateral dismissal was to prevent me from reporting unfair dismissal to the labor office.
‘I’ve endured enough.’
Ever since my parents went missing when I was young, I spent my adolescence moving from one relative’s house to another, as they devoured my parents’ assets like piranhas. Once I became a university student, I became independent and earned my diploma while receiving scholarships.
Three years after completing my military service, I was lucky enough to get a job at my first company and get promoted to Assistant Manager. It was a pretty fast promotion, but it also came with a lot of unwarranted scrutiny.
Especially people like the perpetually stuck Section Chief in front of me, whose promotions were blocked because they were disliked by their superiors, often envied and belittled me.
I endured three years in this godforsaken workplace, so I did well.
Even though I’m turning thirty soon.
Even though I have no particular strengths other than being a little good at my job.
And even though I have a personality that can’t hold back in the end.
Anyway, it’s not my fault that things turned out this way. It’s G*d’s fault for creating such a s*itty world.
“Alright. I feel like I’m being forced to bow down and accept this voluntary resignation after cleaning up someone else’s s*it, but what can I do?”
“Sigh, seriously, watch your mouth even when you’re out there. I’m saying this out of concern, but you’ll really get burned if you keep acting like that.”
“You should be the one watching your mouth if we ever run into each other outside. Why are you worried about me?”
“…”
“I hope we never cross paths again. Deposit this month’s salary and severance pay on time. You don’t want to get a call from the labor office, do you?”
I threw the resignation letter I had prepared in front of him.
It was a resignation letter that I, a useless Assistant Manager, always carried in my pocket, just as someone had said.
“You’re acting all high and mighty for an orphan.”
I clenched my fist so hard it felt like it would shatter at the Section Chief’s parting shot as I left the office with my belongings, but I didn’t throw a punch.
I wasn’t holding back because I was worried about having to pay for assault or going to jail.
I desperately held back because I was afraid I would keep punching until he stopped breathing, afraid I would lose my mind and end up with someone’s blood on my hands.
It was the same in school and in the military, so I shouldn’t at least leave such a stain on my work life.
Now that I don’t have a job anymore, does it even matter?
‘I want to rest.’
I was hungry, tired, and had been verbally abused on an empty stomach.
Usually, I would finish my overtime work and go to the gukbap restaurant near the company to soothe my stomach with a hot bowl of kongnamul gukbap before going home.
But today, for some reason, I didn’t even crave Mrs. Kim Mal-ja’s kind-hearted kongnamul gukbap. I just wanted to go home and sleep like the dead. Like I could really d*e.
Perhaps because I had been working overtime like usual and had just gotten chewed out by that perpetually stuck Section Chief since the crack of dawn, the sun was still shining brightly.
The exhaust fumes spewed out by the cars crossing the heart of the city were eating away at my lungs as always, and the fine dust from China was stinging my already dry eyes.
Come to think of it, this city has always been like this.
During the day, it presents a well-ordered facade like an educational program trying to show only the good side, but at night, it has a duality that is messy and vulgar.
I was just witnessing the scene of this city transforming from night to day. Nothing had actually changed.
In the corners where people’s eyes don’t reach, there are always dirty, sticky, and shabby bottom-feeders rolling around.
They are the kings of the night. Unlike me, who was a slave to the night, they were a group of romantics who enjoyed the darkness of the night, doing whatever they pleased.
Suddenly, a strong desire to be like them surged within me.
But I distinguish well between desire and impulse.
Desire is a primal, physiological phenomenon, but impulse is nothing more than a drug that torments me for no reason.
There is a clear difference between simply desiring to hold a woman and emptying my wallet for illegal prostitution when I’m already struggling financially.
I’ve endured well so far, making sure that the precarious gap between them doesn’t overlap as much as possible.
When I ran at the school bully who threw insults at my parents and smashed his face in until my body ached, and when I finally swung the b*tt of my rifle at the senior in the military who kept insulting my parents, knocking out all his teeth.
It was the result of not being able to overcome the simple impulse to k*ll the bastards who insulted my parents, beyond the desire to see my parents again.
So, I thoroughly distinguish between desire and impulse. If I don’t, either I d*e or the other person dies.
“Peace like a river… Peace like a river… overflowing.”
The hymn, which I had become familiar with since childhood because of my mother, and which I would sing whenever I was angry until blood dripped from my clenched fists, reflexively came out of my mouth.
I can’t help but laugh at the selfishness of G*d, who always wants to be praised and worshipped, without giving me peace like a river or joy that springs up.
Because I always dozed off during worship? Because I pretended to lipsync when we sang hymns? Because I scribbled carelessly when I had to write Bible verses as punishment?
Is that why you’re getting back at me like this?
Did you just throw me into this s*itty world, take away my parents as guardians, and wonder how an eight-year-old kid would manage to eke out a s*itty life?
Maybe Santa Claus, who stopped visiting after I turned eight, and my parents, who haven’t contacted me once, also wanted me to crash and burn like those lowlifes sprawled in the back alleys.
“Sigh.”
I rummaged through my pocket, roughly tore open the pill packet, and swallowed the pill with a gulp of metallic-tasting blood.
It’s the medicine I’ve been taking for the past few years to suppress my bad habit, no, my bad illness of not being able to control my anger.
The fact that the perpetually stuck Section Chief’s face wasn’t smashed today proves how effective it is.
I’m getting better. I’m getting okay. I’m becoming something to be proud of.
I’m ready to reunite with my parents now.
Beep!
As I opened the door to my youth rental housing and stepped inside, I was greeted by a heavy, stagnant air.
All that was in this bachelor pad was a work desk, a PC, and basic appliances provided as options for the rental housing.
I tossed my clothes into the washing machine and collapsed onto the mattress. Lying on the mattress and looking ahead, I saw the small crucifix hanging on the wall.
I no longer go to church or write Bible verses as punishment, but for some reason, I’ve always carried a crucifix with me since I became independent.
It wasn’t that I needed something to lean on emotionally. Rather, I needed someone to resent and vent my anger on, so I placed such an object in a place where I could see it clearly.
Jesus Christ, sculpted with a groaning face, nailed to the cross.
How much pain must he have been in? Did he, like me, bleed from his palms, resent his father, and lament his s*itty life?
“But you eventually returned to your Father’s arms.”
I glared at the crucifix hanging on the wall until the moment I closed my eyes from exhaustion.
Jesus, you’re just a deceiver.
