Chapter Text
Survival Guide for a Fake Marriage – Tip 1.
The next day after Kim Dokja accepted Yoo Sangah’s proposal, he woke up more lost than usual. The walls of his rented apartment felt distant.
/ (Yoo Sangah):
/ How did you sleep, Dokja-ssi? I hope you slept well. Remember, getting proper sleep is essential. I hope you didn’t stay up late last night.
/ Believe it or not, it’s pretty easy to tell the difference between your tired eyes. A Dokja-ssi with sleepiness looks different from a Dokja-ssi with laziness.
Dokja wasn’t sure how he ended up in this situation. No, scratch that. He knew exactly how he got here.
Dokja looked at his phone while sitting at his “dining table,” having a glass of orange juice from a carton and a piece of plain bread. He fiddled with the glass as he stared blankly at the messages. His eyes, as dark as coal, wandered over the sentences and paragraphs, while a drop of cold sweat slid down his neck.
He wasn’t sure how to respond.
He wasn’t sure what to press on his screen.
To begin with, he wasn’t sure if he should even respond. What do you say to your… fiancée?
“It feels weird to think of her that way,” Kim Dokja massaged the bridge of his nose. “It’s too unreal.”
For a moment, after getting up and getting ready, Dokja thought yesterday’s events had been a dream—one very strange dream. If it weren’t for the notifications in his personal chat, he would’ve stuck with that line of thought for the rest of his life.
There’s no way someone like Yoo Sangah could be Kim Dokja’s “fiancée.”
“Actually, is she my girlfriend?”
He never thought he would ask himself something like that. It was a question, one full of doubt, but still a reality. Dokja wasn’t someone who thought about romantic relationships. The closest experiences he had were during the regressions in TWSA.
He was alone in school.
He was alone in university.
He was alone in his work life.
At least, until today.
Well, until yesterday, technically.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed.”
Remembering the conversation from the day before, Dokja pondered that scenario.
He hadn’t agreed because of the money or out of pity… the real reason he had agreed was something else.
A reason that, when he thought about it…
“It doesn’t matter.” Dokja shook his head before standing up. He then went to wash his glass, dry it, put it away, and prepare to leave. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
That was the best way to handle things.
It doesn’t matter.
***
The day went by normally.
In the morning, Dokja’s only companions were paperwork and digital tables. The numbers were the only constant during the long workday.
There were also conversations with his coworkers, but he mostly ignored them. He put on his headphones, played his playlist titled “Yoo Joonghyuk: Fail and Error,” and let his eyes die for hours in front of the computer.
Dokja wasn’t an ideal worker, but considering he was about to leave the company, he might try to minimize the “buts” for his severance pay. Even though Yoo Sangah worked in human resources, he had heard that employees on probation received many issues when their time at Mino Soft came to an end.
How was her day going?
Outside of the occasional elevator encounters, Dokja never knew what Yoo Sangah did at the company or what kind of activities she was involved in.
His thoughts about Yoo Sangah’s well-being weren’t rooted in concern. Dokja felt a slight anxiety deep in his stomach, slowly rising to his throat, making it difficult to breathe and press the keys on his keyboard.
He took a deep breath, reached for the water bottle beside him, and took a long sip. The liquid slid down his throat like a remedy. The water was cold, which gave him a little shock, but it alleviated the anxiety somewhat.
…Wait a moment, when did he buy that bottle?
“Is anyone missing?”
Followed by a woman’s voice that Dokja didn’t bother to recognize, he returned to reality. Damn, he had gotten too immersed in the music and his work and had distanced himself from his surroundings.
Some members of human resources were delivering snacks to their coworkers. It was just a simple bottle of water and a bungeoppang, but most of them looked slightly surprised and happy. Dokja recognized the majority of them as the lower-paid workers.
His peers.
“Nobody is missing!” a woman spoke. Dokja recognized her as one of the coworkers who used to hang around Sangah. “Then we can start the team-building activity!”
Start? Kim Dokja barely bothered to remember it, and if that wasn’t annoying enough, why should he participate in this activity? Besides, his body was so weak he’d die within the first two steps they forced him to take.
He settled back into his chair, putting his headphones aside, and returned to his work, leaving the water bottle in the corner of his desk next to the food.
…At least the bottle made it there. Dokja stopped when he noticed a note on top of the bungeoppang.
At first, it wasn’t strange. It was just a simple pink note with his name and employee number written in black in the center.
What was peculiar, though, was the different ink he saw on the other side of the sheet.
‘Hello, Dokja-ssi. I hope your day is going well. I wanted to ask if you want to have lunch with me. I was going to send you a message, but since you sometimes forget your charger, and you drain your phone's battery frequently, I thought it would be better to send you this note. If you accept, I’ll wait for you at the corner of the building, fifteen minutes after lunch begins. I would’ve delivered this myself, but I was assigned to another section for today’s activity.
You don’t have to join me if you don’t want to, I just wanted to let you think about it.
With love, Yoo Sangah’.
If it weren’t for the fact that yesterday he felt like he was submerged in magma, Kim Dokja could’ve sworn he was about to turn a new shade of red. He stored the note in his notebook and stared at his computer screen.
His mobile phone was at half charge, but…
How does she know I forgot my charger?
In less important details, Kim Dokja was reprimanded by the human resources team for refusing to participate in their seemingly mandatory activity. That wasn’t in his contract.
***
Lunch hour was from 12:00 PM to 1:00 PM.
During that time, Kim Dokja usually stayed at the office. The days he went out for lunch were rare.
It wasn’t that he was strapped for cash, considering he was the only one who had to pay.
It wasn’t that Dokja owned anything. He didn’t have a car or any property.
It was simply that he wasn’t accustomed to eating.
Of course, he needed food to avoid starvation, but he didn’t indulge in a tray full of rice or soup or anything really nutritious. It wasn’t that he couldn’t, he simply didn’t see the need.
So, after politely declining the lunch invitation from one of his coworkers, he reclined his chair and decided to rest.
He would spend a whole hour doing absolutely nothing but listening to music.
He wouldn’t do anything, and he wouldn’t move from there.
Yes, that was the appropriate decision for the possible NPC who dies in an insignificant background story.
Then why did he feel this way?
‘You don’t have to accompany me if you don’t want to, just think about it.’
It wasn’t an easy feeling to describe. It was definitely not that he felt bad about not being able to join Sangah during this time, but the fact that he didn’t want to.
Dokja had already complied with her request.
Sangah didn’t demand that he be there; she just said that if he wanted to, she would be waiting.
It wasn’t like the image of Sangah waiting was giving him butterflies in his stomach.
In fact, it was the opposite.
“I guess it’s guilt.” He rested his arms on the table after straightening up. “Ugh.”
Yoo Sangah, the woman who, despite her strange request, had always been kind, or at least, fraternal.
She asked him to be her husband, because he was the only person she could ask.
…the only person who, in a long time, had stayed by his side without feeling absolutely uncomfortable by his presence.
He got up from his chair and looked at his wallet.
“I could pay for the food from yesterday.”
With that thought in mind, Dokja left.
***
Somehow, it was Kim Dokja who ended up waiting at the corner of the building.
Fortunately, the heat wasn’t as intense as it was yesterday. Even with his coat, he felt somewhat cool and light. Dokja leaned against the wall, fiddling with his tangled headphones. Sangah had written in the note that she would be here fifteen minutes after twelve, but eighteen minutes had already passed.
The shade of a tree, which he remembered had been planted under the pretext of an environmental care program, provided a comfortable shadow, letting only the warm air of the surroundings whisper in his ear. If he wasn’t mistaken, Yoo Sangah had been a participant in that project.
It wouldn’t be surprising for someone who, if the world were a story, would definitely be a heroine. Or at least, someone memorable.
Looking back, there were many projects she had participated in. How did Yoo Sangah find time for these things? Dokja felt exhausted just coming home after work and his usual subway ride.
“She’s taking too long…” Dokja checked the time on his phone. Twenty minutes had passed.
In a way, he felt relieved. If Sangah didn’t show up in the next five minutes, he could say he had waited for her, but since she didn’t come, he’d head back to his office. Unfortunately, he had already caught up with TWSA, so all he could do was reread his favorite chapters.
Chapters that, no matter how much time passed, he would keep reading page by page, over and over. There were some especially memorable ones where the author detailed the protagonist’s friendships and romance. It was quite amusing and entertaining to see him squirming when that woman treated him like a little kid.
Ah, even that moonfish had his weaknesses. Ironically, three of the most iconic ones were women.
His little sister. His strict teacher. And his... lover.
Even that bastard had quite a considerable romantic history. Dokja was the complete opposite of him.
Though, thinking about it, could it be said that with Yoo Sangah, he had taken his first steps? It wasn’t true, but it was still kind of romantic, right? Even with this little incident, it didn’t mean that their relationship had vanished.
What could have happened to Sangah? She wasn’t the type of person to leave others stranded or to mess up meetings. Considering she was the one who had suggested they go to lunch together, more questions arose.
How would the author describe Sangah-ssi?
It was a strange and sudden question. He didn’t know how it came to his mind; it just settled there. There was no special meaning behind the question, just soft sincerity. In everything he had read from TWSA, he had always appreciated the descriptions by its author.
She would probably be the type of person who would slap the protagonist twice.
Yoo Sangah is beautiful; her delicate features were divided and aligned in an almost eerie harmony, her brown hair always neatly styled and, at first glance, very soft, it stood out even in rainy or cold seasons when everyone had to cover most of their bodies to avoid catching a cold.
She was slender, and her impeccable uniform highlighted her figure. Despite the fact that Sangah was a reserved woman who wore comfortable clothing that left much to the imagination, it was impossible not to notice she had an enviable figure. Maybe she went to the gym? No, even for Yoo Sangah, that would have been too much. Perhaps she had a space in her own home to work out? It wasn’t out of the question.
Though the most plausible possibility was that genetics had blessed her in every way, he didn’t discard that option.
Nature is beautiful and knows how to do things without a doubt.
“What do you think, Dokja-ssi?”
Dokja froze. Every fiber, every bone, every organ, or any content of his body stopped all functions. Damn, he had gotten lost in his thoughts again. It was a bad habit, but it was hard to shake off.
After all, when you spend most of your time in long and dense solitude, the only constant company is yourself.
“Sangah-ssi?”
She smiled at him. “Who else? I don’t remember changing my name. Not yet, at least.”
Although it was a soft and sweet joke, Dokja caught the double meaning. He laughed awkwardly.
“I thought that was an old tradition.”
“It is. It’s just a little joke. I wouldn’t mind, but I’d like to keep my name.” Sangah paused for a moment, then the form of her smile changed in a strange way. “Or would Dokja-ssi like it?”
“… No. Definitely not. It would feel weird.”
“Oh. What a shame.” She didn’t look truly disappointed. “Sorry for the delay, there were some distribution problems, and it took more time than I thought. I was expecting to be the one waiting, not you.”
Dokja shrugged.
“No problem. I didn’t have anything to do anyway.”
“I somehow feel like you didn’t plan on having lunch…” she murmured, a little disappointed.
Dokja still wasn’t used to those comments. He glanced around the surroundings.
“But leaving that aside, I’m glad Dokja-ssi accepted my request. I know a place with very good food, a great atmosphere, and decent prices. You’ll love it.”
Before Dokja could say anything, Sangah wrapped her arm around his. The jet-black adult shuddered internally and made an extraordinary effort to not pull away instantly. Physical contact was strange, something he had almost forgotten.
At least, physical contact that wasn’t used to punch him like a punching bag.
“Where... are we going?”
“Jeong Sik.” Dokja raised an eyebrow. “It’s a strange name, but it’s a good spot! I discovered it two weeks ago, and I liked it. It’s not a place I usually go, but I think you’ll like it, Dokja-ssi.”
“Me?”
Did she want to go there for him? Wow, this woman was an angel in the skin of a human.
“Uhum. I know you don’t usually like loud or crowded places, I’m not sure if they’re your preference, but I didn’t want to bet blindly. I thought it would be a good place to have lunch since it’s a little secluded.” She gave a light tap on his arm. “Also, you can relax. I made sure no one from the company is coming in this direction. Or at least, none of the people we know.”
Although the issue must have concerned all Mino Soft employees, Dokja sighed.
'Is it that easy to read me? I thought I had a good poker face'.
“I was just worried.”
“What were you worried about?”
“That someone would see me with you, Sangah-ssi.”
“Oh? Why?”
“Doesn’t it matter?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Once we get married, I’ll have to update some personal information in the company. The news will spread like wildfire, and everyone will know. I don’t see why I should hide it. I’m just postponing the inevitable.”
“Han Myungoh would go crazy.” Dokja imagined it. “He would act like a rabid dog. I’m glad I won’t be around in the future to be the target of his anger.”
It was a simple joke, but Dokja’s back muscles tensed when Sangah suddenly stopped and opened her eyes. A trace of barely concealed surprise appeared on her face.
'Oh. Did I kill the mood?'
The doubt didn’t last long.
Sangah burst into loud laughter. She didn’t let go of him, but used the arm that was linked with his to wipe a tear from her eye as her body trembled. Dokja relaxed.
“Dokja-ssi has a good sense of humor.”
“I’m sure you’re the only one who finds it funny.”
She laughed again.
***
Jeong Sik is a simple restaurant. The walls are painted a dull green, and the furniture, like the reception, is made of wood and has a handcrafted design. The decorations are scarce; the most notable feature is a collection of newspapers from the last two decades pinned to the walls.
But it was pleasant. Sangah wasn’t wrong about that. They both sat at opposite sides of the table. There were few people; the most notable were a few university students eating in a corner and a group of adults in uniform eating at the other tables.
And that was only because they were the loudest. However, it’s worth noting that just because they were the loudest didn’t mean they were loud.
That says a lot about the atmosphere of the place. What a nice spot!
“What are you going to order, Dokja-ssi?”
“… Ramyeon?”
It was a relief to know it was the right choice to say that as a question, not a statement. Sangah looked up from her menu and gave him a heavy look.
That’s one way to describe the look; he couldn’t find a word between all the TWSA vocabulary and his own to qualify her eyes.
“We came here for lunch, not a snack.”
“But they look good and they’re reasonably priced.”
She sighed. “I’ll order the same for both of us.”
“But-”
“I’ll order the same for both of us,” she reaffirmed.
“… Okay.” Dokja said resignedly, watching as Sangah called the waiter and made the request.
Once he left, they were left in brief silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but Dokja didn’t know what to say.
Of course, Sangah knew how to handle it.
“How was your morning, Dokja-ssi? You didn’t reply to the message I sent earlier. Did you sleep?”
He scratched his neck. “Sorry about that… I was going to reply, but I forgot on the way to the subway. But I woke up well. I didn’t sleep late, so I felt refreshed.”
“What time did you go to sleep?”
Sangah didn’t look sad about the fact that she wasn’t excusing herself for not having responded.
“At eleven.”
“Oh. That’s good. I thought you’d be up until dawn.”
“Why would I do that?”
She waved her hand dismissively at the question. “What about the fraternity activity? Did you enjoy it?”
Dokja made a small, almost imperceptible grimace.
“… I expected that.” She sighed. “I apologize if any of my colleagues were too rough with you.”
“Not at all. Although I would have preferred to just stay in my cubicle, it wasn’t bad. My legs hurt a little, but the snack was fine.”
She intertwined her hands on the table. “I’m glad to hear that.”
What followed was a routine and fortunately smooth conversation. Despite Dokja’s awkwardness, Sangah easily brought up topics of conversation. They talked about insignificant things, but managed to stay entertained until the food arrived.
A regular lunch of rice with fried fish, accompanied by stewed vegetables and doenjangguk.
Sangah gave a brief thanks before getting ready to enjoy her meal. She took three bites of her food and stopped when she noticed Kim Dokja was staring intently at his own meal.
“Is something wrong?”
It seemed he had been daydreaming, as he blinked like an owl.
“No, I’m just not sure how I’ll eat all of this. Haha.”
“Just eat slowly, Dokja-ssi. We have plenty of time to eat without rush.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Though doubtful and nervous, Dokja nodded.
When was the last time he ate properly in the company of someone else? Those were such old memories that they were hard to recreate while his taste buds enjoyed the meal.
“… It tastes really good.”
“Right? I knew you’d like this place.”
Sangah is a strange woman.
Dokja has never believed that people can read each other.
It’s very difficult to do so. In reality, there is no such thing as ‘total vision.’ No one can know for sure what another person is thinking, no matter how much time passes.
Every human being is unique in existence, and the only way to know a little about those around you is with a lot of time and an accurate study of behaviors.
So, how did Sangah say things like this so casually? How did she seem to know him, even though their time together was practically nonexistent?
Dokja’s office and Sangah’s office are as far apart as the wall that separates them as people.
Dokja is an average worker, with an average life, and will soon have to make sure no one recognizes him during his job interviews.
Sangah is an ideal worker, with a unique life, and won’t have to worry about waking up every morning wondering if her bank account will keep plummeting.
She works hard and gives her all.
He only does what’s necessary.
However, even in small things, Sangah had been completely right about what she claimed for him.
Where did she learn how to treat someone like Kim Dokja? How could she have known how to treat the son of—
“The food was delicious.” Sangah’s sudden comment made him stop eating automatically.
“Yes.” Dokja continued with his meal.
Though what was left was just leftovers, he wasn’t going to leave a single grain of rice on the plate. Not because he was hungry, but because this cost hours of hard work, and Kim Dokja wasn’t someone who liked leaving just an eighth of a plate behind.
Though mediocre, if he had the chance and the conditions were right, he liked to do things well.
He rarely did, but if he could, it was a good opportunity to feel good.
“I won’t be long, I’m going to the bathroom.”
Sangah stood up and then disappeared from his field of vision. Dokja swallowed the last bit that was left, not with much appetite.
'When she comes back, she will try to pay. I’ll do it quickly and save myself the trouble.'
He stood up, checking his wallet.
And for the first time in a long time, he felt it was quite full.
It wasn’t that he was someone who spent on tiny things and accumulated these small expenses into ghost debts he’d suffer at the end of the month.
Dokja is someone who grew up with the need to save tiny amounts of money as if they were diamonds. It doesn’t mean he never faced contingencies. His first encounter with banks showed him what it meant to control his wallet, and it was an experience he would never forget.
“Here you go.”
Once the order was confirmed, he handed the money to the cashier and waited for the change.
“Hey, kid.” The man spoke to him, and Dokja looked at him.
He was an older man with gray hair, but abundant, a notable but well-trimmed beard, and a constitution that clearly showed a long path filled with human experiences.
He wasn’t extraordinary, but he gave off the impression of being wise. As wise as an ordinary human can be.
“You should be a bit more expressive with your girlfriend.”
Dokja raised an eyebrow. What did he mean?
“I don’t know how you treated your previous partners, but try to be good to her. It’s very noticeable that she cares about you.”
To say Dokja felt out of place was an understatement.
And this was the nail in the coffin.
“… I hadn’t noticed.”
“Ah. I know, kid. Men aren’t really attentive to that kind of thing, and I think it’s in our nature,” he said. “But improving is also part of that. So try to find topics to talk to her about.”
Dokja didn’t say anything as the cashier gave him his change.
He didn’t know how to respond to that.
The man pondered for a moment with his hand on his chin.
“Find a movie she’s interested in, watch it, and try to find something to talk about from there.”
A movie? What kind of movie could someone like Yoo Sangah like?
“Well, I’ll leave you now. Treat her well.”
Why did the world suddenly feel so strange? Where was the silence and indifference he was used to? Why now—
“Dokja-ssi…”
Definitely… this isn’t a love story.
Dokja always considered his life to be realistic, nothing more and nothing less.
And Yoo Sangah’s existence wouldn’t change that.
It wouldn’t, no matter how much the world seemed to want to make it so.
However, there’s something people usually confuse, and Dokja wondered if he had done it too.
Realism is not the same as loneliness.
Realism is not the same as pain.
Realism is not the same as anguish.
Realism is not the same… as his lifestyle.
Kim Dokja has always lived illuminated by a dim light that guides him step by step, but has never shown him a path. He stays alive simply because he does.
If his life weren’t realistic, but “fantastic,” perhaps he could be considered someone unique in the world.
Someone who fights against adversity…
It would be a good title for a story.
A story that would even fit the level of a protagonist like Yoo Joonghyuk.
But putting that aside.
“Did you pay for everything? Sorry, I’ll give you my part of the bill.”
Kim Dokja put the money in his wallet, a very old one he had gotten from a vending machine years ago.
“It’s no problem.” Dokja quickly walked to the exit. The breeze felt different on his skin.
“But—”
“Don’t worry. It’s my way of paying you back for yesterday’s lunch.”
“Really? I don’t want to be a bother.”
Dokja shook his head. “Not at all… By the way, have you seen the Lord of the Rings movie, Sangah-ssi?”
“The Lord of the Rings? Ah, yes. I went to the theater to see them when they came out, I don’t remember them entirely, but I really liked them. Why?”
For now, he would try to handle this situation correctly.
“Who’s your favorite character?”
.
.
.
.
Survival Guide for a Fake Marriage – Tip 2.
Inevitably, his dismissal was bound to come.
Kim Dokja left Mino Soft a few days later with his hands in the pockets of black pants he had bought on sale, wearing a plain white turtleneck and a jacket the same color as his pants.
To be specific, that day was Monday.
He stretched his arms.
"The money should be enough for this month and the next," he thought out loud. "Although I have time to look for a job, I need to do it quickly."
The landlord was very annoying when he wanted to be.
Although, that’s my responsibility. I signed the contract for a reason.
Ugh. Dokja decided it was better to put on his headphones and ignore the world for the rest of the day. He didn’t have plans to have lunch with Yoo Sangah either, so he might as well wander aimlessly and have a light snack until evening.
/ (Yoo Sangah):
/Today, I’m going to have a continuous workday.
/There's a place I want to check out, but they only open at night.
/I want to go as soon as possible because it’s a bit crowded.
/Do you want to come with me? I’m waiting for your reply!
Dokja read Sangah’s messages.
Since their agreement, Dokja had frequently had lunch with her except on Saturdays and Sundays. Although Yoo Sangah would still message him during those days, the responses from Dokja were a little dry, and the conversations lasted no longer than five minutes.
He realized that, when not hiding behind a fake name on a website, it was very difficult to express himself. Sangah had somehow been extroverted enough to get an introvert like him out of his comfort zone in person, but only a divine miracle would make him do the same online.
It’s not that Dokja is a jerk, he’s just… him. Okay?
He was making an extraordinary effort to talk to her. He searched for famous and entertaining movies that Yoo Sangah might like, and during their time together, he tried to encourage communication.
It was awkward, but Sangah seemed entertained by anything he said. And that was more than enough.
Maybe he should start looking for books and novels she likes. What kind of novels would someone like Yoo Sangah enjoy? Hmm.
But for now, what should he say? He didn’t have plans this afternoon. Well, he didn’t have plans any afternoon. Besides, the author of TWSA had updated earlier in the day, and Dokja had devoured every word like a hungry person on the subway on the way to Mino Soft, so he could accept her offer.
Also, considering that she knew well how little Dokja could tolerate anyone else, Sangah probably had planned from the start to go with him.
Sometimes, he thought Sangah moved too fast.
“Maybe it’s just the way she handles things.”
Yoo Sangah is naturally charismatic, someone who probably was part of the student council and adored by her teachers and everyone around her.
An idol.
Therefore, although Dokja wouldn’t claim that he felt completely comfortable with her presence at all times, it was rare that he could honestly say he wanted to distance himself from her. It was such a rare occasion that it never happened.
Normally, Dokja doesn’t feel comfortable with those around him. Not knowing what others think when they speak to him scares him in a way.
[Kim Dokja despises the unknown.]
A small voice echoed in his head.
But in a way, that comment was incorrect.
[Kim Dokja normally despises the unknown.]
Sangah is the rare exception to the rule. There are only two exceptions to that rule.
Certainly, it’s not something you could call attachment or affection. It’s something rare. Very rare.
To summarize, you could say that it’s the fact that Sangah has the aura of a protagonist that catches his attention. Her unusual, practically fictional presence, which feels absurd to him, is a curious aspect of this woman.
She is unique, the kind of person who stands at the center of the world, one of the few cases where the world would stop just for her to walk.
And it was a mix of everything she is.
A human being doesn’t just have one facet. Everyone has many facets.
And everything that Sangah is, is what makes her unique.
Regardless of whether it was a wealthy and well-known man like Han Myungoh or a solitary and marginalized one like Kim Dokja.
It’s easy to push her out of your mind, and it’s easy to remember her.
Because she’s that, a simple woman who shines for who she is.
A woman who, with that simplicity, becomes special.
Unlike Kim Dokja, who never tried to squeeze himself to shine.
All he did was stare at the store windows he passed by… imagining scenarios that would never happen unless he tried.
“… Just like now.” He sighed.
Although it’s a faint sound, Dokja can hear a creak coming from the store he’s looking at. There’s a long, polarized glass window. The glass is so opaque that he can only slightly see the inside when he squints his eyes.
But, what could he do? It’s not like someone like him could change overnight.
“I need a lot of time and dedication. And money,” he said, then reviewed his situation.
Oh, damn. He couldn’t make excuses either. Even if he had to eventually look for another job, at least for a month he could give himself a little freedom to try new things.
Could he… be a better person?
Could he become someone like Yoo Sangah?
Dokja was going to be her husband, wasn’t he? How could someone like him be a good husband?
Not that he cared about other people’s opinions; he had learned to live with it. In fact, the only person who could crucify Kim Dokja until he felt like a leech was Kim Dokja himself.
He took a few steps back, looking at the building’s name.
“… It won’t kill me to try.”
However, before anything else.
/ (Me:)
/Sure.
/Shall we meet at six?
.
.
.
.
.
Yoo Sangah is a woman who tries hard.
Yoo Sangah gives her best, and that’s why she’s considered a functional adult.
Being a functional adult shouldn’t be strange, but given how society is, it seems like it is.
She has challenges and goals, which she has faced and achieved. She’s someone who lives in a normal world, trying to have a good life.
The only thing she would like is for people to stop treating her like… an idol?
The attention has gotten to a point where it exhausts her.
Most people around her make her feel like she’s on a completely different level. And it shouldn’t be like that. If everyone had the same level of dedication they put into flattering her, they’d see how normal she is.
Mostly, the people who follow her are like this.
The exceptions are few.
Her family.
… And well, that’s it.
No. Actually, there was someone else.
Kim Dokja.
Kim Dokja is a man she met during the first days since she arrived at the company, by coincidence and nothing but pure chance. Their relationship isn’t special.
They’re two strangers.
And although they are two strangers, she feels more empathy for him than most of the workers at Mino Soft.
She’s found him in the elevator.
She’s found him in her office.
She’s found him in the cafeteria.
And Dokja always treats her the same.
Yoo Sangah is a beautiful and dedicated woman, with whom she doesn’t want to spend too much time. Sangah isn’t clueless; if people get the impression that her natural kindness makes her dumb, that’s a huge mistake.
She’s smart; it’s no coincidence she had an outstanding academic average. Her body was given to her by genetics, but her mind was forged with blood, sweat, and tears.
And many nights where her only companion was caffeine.
But setting that aside and returning to Kim Dokja, Sangah would describe him as a strange man.
He’s thin, painfully thin.
He’s pale, painfully pale.
He’s solitary, painfully solitary.
Humans are social mammals by nature. Humans need to connect with their environment, maybe not a lot, but they need to do so. Dokja, in some way, had survived his entire time at Mino Soft without talking to almost anyone.
He looked very comfortable staring for prolonged periods of time without exchanging a word. The only voices Kim Dokja heard were the ones through his headphones.
And no, it’s not that Yoo Sangah was stalking him. But his habits were so easy to see that only an idiot wouldn’t realize what kind of person he was.
Sangah hadn’t been to Dokja’s work area many times, and with the few times she had walked by, she had been able to get an idea of what kind of man he was.
With the brief greetings during casual encounters, she had come to a small conclusion:
He’s a lonely man.
Which isn’t healthy. It’s something she should be worried about. And until a specific day, she did worry about his mental health.
Also about his physical health, but that one was much easier to handle with a good diet. Even if Yoo Sangah skipped meals from time to time, that was rare for her.
With Kim Dokja, it was normal. The strange part was that Kim Dokja had a proper meal.
However… Sangah never felt so relieved that Dokja was somewhat sick.
It’s a disgusting and wicked thought, but for Sangah, it was a salvation.
A painful one, but a salvation, after all.
“Marry me, Dokja-ssi.”
Sangah remembers those words over and over, and although she didn’t reveal the reason for her request to Dokja right away, the only person she could ask something like that was him.
Not because she knew him for a long time or because he was an unforgettable friend. No, the reason she could ask Dokja to marry her was because it was him.
Because he’s the only man who seems grounded and treats people like people, even if he doesn’t like them.
She would dig her own grave before asking anyone from her work zone to do this.
She would throw herself into hot magma before asking a “higher-up.”
And she wasn’t wrong; the request, although uncomfortable, went well. Kim Dokja had accepted to be her husband.
She felt a little bad when the man rejected her money, as he wouldn’t gain anything from this arrangement, but she decided that, at least, she’d treat him so well that he wouldn’t regret his decision.
So far, she had only accumulated successes.
She managed to get him to agree to go eat with her, and unless he was on work hours, he responded to her messages quickly.
Her intention had been to pay for the meals, but Dokja would beat her to it, at least paying for his own.
Only when she told him that she didn’t feel comfortable when he paid for the entire bill, she convinced him to let each of them pay for their own.
That said, she rejected the money for their first meal by changing the topic.
She’d pay him one day; she’d figure out how.
Until the day Kim Dokja was fired, everything was fine. No, scratch that. Everything continued fine.
/(Dokja-ssi):
/Sure.
/Shall we meet at six?
Dokja had agreed. The message gave her a unique sense of relief.
She certainly didn’t love Kim Dokja. Sangah had only had one relationship in her life and knew for a fact that she didn’t love him.
It wasn’t like that romance had a good story, but those were details.
What she wouldn’t deny: his presence is refreshing. The fact that Dokja is so introverted and awkward helped Sangah know how to handle him. She was concerned that he didn’t seem accustomed to being treated with respect, but that was another matter.
“Why are you smiling so much, Sangah-ah?”
Sangah almost jumped out of her skin as she crushed her cell phone between her desk and her hand.
“Good morning, Minseo-ya.”
The woman looked at her with an arched eyebrow.
“You already greeted me.”
“Eh? Is that so?”
The woman grinned mischievously. Lee Minseo is the strangest exception to anything in Sangah’s life. Even the honorific she usually calls her with means nothing.
She calls her that because they met on her second day at the company, and with all the time they’ve worked together, it would be weird not to call her something else. Their ages only differ by a few months, making Minseo her senior, but not much else. In fact, Sangah seems more like the older one.
The woman looked over her at the screen of her phone.
“So, what’s going on? Is that your boyfriend?”
Technically, yes, but although Sangah didn’t mind if the whole company eventually found out, she didn’t want to rush things. If she became the most talked-about gossip for a month from the next hour because someone had taken a picture of her with Kim Dokja, great.
But if she could delay that headache for a while, that would be great too.
Besides, the woman in front of her was one of the most well-known gossipers in the entire company. Which Lee Minseo knew, and which the whole company would know in the next five minutes.
“He’s just an acquaintance. We’re meeting tonight.”
“Why did you hide it?”
“Regardless of whether I’m working, on the street, or in my apartment, I value my privacy. Thanks.”
“Oh. But Sangah-ah, I thought we had enough trust not to do that between us.”
Sangah turned off her phone and subtly tucked it into her bag while organizing some papers.
“I didn’t know it was you, Minseo-ya. It could’ve been someone else, and I wouldn’t want anyone to know about my private matters.”
“So, you wouldn’t mind telling me?”
Actually, no. If Minseo weren’t such a gossiper, Sangah would tell her all the details of her situation.
When she wanted to, Minseo could be surprisingly mature. And she had much more experience in this territory than Yoo Sangah.
“No, but considering we have a lot of work to do, it’s better to start quickly.”
“But Sangah-ah…”
“No, Minseo-ya. Also, you left a lot of paperwork piled up last week. We don’t want to be scolded again for an unjustified delay. I can’t think of a way to get out of another one.”
“It was a miracle you managed to convince that old man last time.” Minseo shuddered as she sat down at her cubicle. “Yeah, I think it’s best. But keep me posted when you get a partner. I’ll definitely make sure the gossip that gets to that bastard Myungoh is the worst of all. I’ll make him suffer.”
She laughed. “As you wish.”
Well, for now, regardless of the situation and her date with Dokja tonight, she would handle her duties.
Above all “marriage,” there are duties every individual must fulfill.