Three Eight

While they talked inside the back room, Hongju stayed in the empty hallway. Maybe it was because the place that used to be so noisy had gone quiet, but the wind felt especially cold. Hongju buried his face into his scarf up to his nose and silently stared down at the desk.

"Yeah, yeah. That’s right."

At the sound of the door opening, Hongju slowly turned his head. Yang Siljang passed in front of him, talking loudly on the phone. Instead of heading down the stairs, he loitered by the window. Hongju quietly blinked, his eyes fixed on the expensive shoes that didn’t suit Yang Siljang at all.

"Yeah. I’ll call you when we open, so we gotta pull off a big score."

With a coarse laugh, he ended the call. Yang Siljang didn’t go back inside right away. Instead, he half-sat on the edge of the desk.

"Hey. What happened to your phone?"

"I think it’s too old now. Even if I charge it, the battery dies fast."

Hongju pointed under the desk. Yang Siljang checked the phone plugged into the charger and clicked his tongue briefly. Normally, he would’ve thrown a full-blown tantrum. But with Mu-gyeong around, it seemed he couldn’t act out like that anymore.

"Has President Mu-gyeong asked you to do anything, by any chance?"

"No, nothing like that."

Because he could see Yang Siljang’s thigh when looking down, Hongju kept his chin up stiffly as he answered.

"Ah, fuck, what the hell then."