[ys] To Find You (9/10)
A/N: I'm sorry again for vanishing - work and life have been overwhelming, to say the least.
+++
The next few days pass in some kind of haze for Joo-hyun. She must work, must eat with her friends at the lunch table, must rest and wake the next day to start it all over again - but she has no real recollection of any of it.
It feels like there’s a bee stuck somewhere in her head; her thoughts are bouncing wildly around, trying to find some real semblance of direction, what steps to take next, how can she get Yong-hwa his job back, she needs to talk to him - and the list goes on until her thoughts disintegrate into an unwieldy mess.
It’s no wonder why she’s been exhausted.
Thankfully, since that day, Manager Kim has given her a wide berth, which Joo-hyun is more than grateful for. She guesses that their friends know what happen as well - but they never bring it up, at least not to her face. When Tae-yeon and Mi-young aren’t sticking to her like a pair of shadows, she always manages to spot either Jong-hyun or Jung-shin hovering on the periphery of her sight, talking to someone else, or ostensibly heading somewhere. But just knowing that they’re around, watching out for her - makes her feel a whole lot safer at work.
Still, she thinks of Yong-hwa oppa - because there really isn’t anyone like him and she misses him, plain and simple.
She’s digging listlessly into the porridge which Tae-yeon brought today, when Jong-hyun, a few seats down from her, clears his throat.
He seems to struggle internally, but he looks right at Joo-hyun and his following words are delivered with a blinding force for all their quietness. “Yong-hwa told me he’s going home next week.”
The spoon in Joo-hyun’s hand clatters back into the bowl with a wet splash.
Of course, Yong-hwa oppa would go home, Joo-hyun thinks in a daze. He came to Su-won to work here after all, and now that he doesn’t have a job here, why would he stay?
She stands abruptly, even as Tae-yeon murmurs, “Maknae yah.” But they let her go and Joo-hyun finds herself back outside the factory, back in that spot where she and Yong-hwa last spoke, back to the last time she saw him.
Joo-hyun sits down, pulling her legs up to her chest. Her mind is going at a million miles per hour, her thoughts everywhere and she clamps two hands over her ears as if that will help silence the chaos in her head.
No, she thinks fiercely. This has gone on long enough.
Come on, Seo Joo-hyun. Think about how you can help Yong-hwa oppa get his job back. You’re not going to just let him leave like this!
Joo-hyun exhales deeply, pushing both hands through her hair.
So, going to the police won’t help. Ha-yeon did that, and it didn’t get her anywhere. No one’s going to take my word over his.
What I need to do is to go to someone with power over him, but this person can’t be the police.
Manager Kim’s boss, Joo-hyun thinks suddenly, but the sudden flare of triumph in her chest deflates in the next second. But he’s likely in the Seoul headquarters. I can’t… I couldn’t go all the way to Seoul. I’ve never even been there myself.
Plus, what would I tell him? It might be the same thing with the police all over again - no one’s going to take my word over Manager Kim’s.
Joo-hyun scrubs a hand over her face, closing her eyes. Think, Joo-hyun, she commands herself. What do I have to make them believe me?
And then, it comes to Joo-hyun out of nowhere - a name. Something that didn’t quite add up, that snags on her memory; and a small spark of excitement flares to life.
It might be nothing in the end, Joo-hyun tells herself, trying to tamper the hope rising in her chest. It might just be a dead end and then I’d be back to square one.
But it’s worth a try. Anything’s worth a try to get Yong-hwa his job back.
I’ve to be determined to go the whole way though, Joo-hyun thinks somberly. I don’t have much time; I’m not sure where to start, it might not even work, but - but I have to do it.
She gets up off the ground, dusting her hands off. It occurs to Joo-hyun that this is the first time in weeks that she’s felt remotely like herself again; purposeful, determined, and most of all - hopeful.
+++
It’s ironic, Joo-hyun thinks to herself, that in spite of everything she’s been through the past few days, getting on a bus to Seoul is the thing that feels the most terrifying.
Her fingers tighten around the paper stub, and she makes herself take another step, and then another and until she boards the bus, stretching out her ticket for the conductor to punch it in.
Luckily for her, it’s the 10 am bus, which means that a bulk of the morning rush crowd has already left Su-won, and so Joo-hyun finds an empty seat along in the aisle. She presses a hand against the glass of the window, watching as the bus pulls out of the station, drawing away until it is a tiny indistinct shape.
Joo-hyun’s breath fogs the glass. I’m actually doing it, the part of her that isn’t paralyzed with nerves thinks. I’m going to Seoul for the first time.
She has never left her hometown before; only heard stories, more bad than good of the nation’s rising capital. She’s heard stories from her mother about girls who got robbed, who ventured into the city, only to vanish mysteriously, seeming to meet some dark and dangerous ends. But there are also Tae-yeon and Mi-young’s stories of Seoul to balance out her mother’s foreboding tales - a bustling city, packed with people, with shops as far as the eye can see, roadside stalls selling steaming bowls of noodles and rice cakes…
Joo-hyun’s fingers close tightly around the single purse that she’s brought for today’s expedition, strapped tightly to her body. Calm down, Joo-hyun, she tells herself, taking another deep breath. Go through your plan again. You need a clear head if this is going to work.
She is running over her speech again in her mind for the 12th time when the bus rumbles to a stop, and Joo-hyun’s eyes fly open.
Without the purr of the bus engine, Joo-hyun feels every thump of her heart - strong and frantic - picking up speed with every second.
The Seoul bus station is much, much bigger than Su-won’s; and Joo-hyun is dazed by the sheer number of people and faces she’s confronted with when she walks into the main hall. It is by sheer muscle memory that she keeps up with the tide of people exiting the buses, all seeming to know where they’re going, all walking with quick strides and throwing her frowns if she dares as much to slow down.
Joo-hyun feels a bubble of anxiety swelling in her throat, threatening to burst in a gasp.
She wends her way out of the stream of human traffic, finding a mercifully quiet corner against a window as she presses a hand against her clammy forehead. I don’t think I can do this, some frightened part of Joo-hyun thinks.
She bites her lip so hard that she’s surprised she doesn’t taste blood, but she closes her eyes all the same, just for a few minutes, to regather her wits.
Yong-hwa wouldn’t be afraid though.
She imagines him briefly in her mind’s eye - eyes dancing, pushing himself off the wall and tugging her along with him. “They’re just people, Hyun,” he’d say easily, squinting at the signs, comfortable in his skin, whether alone or surrounded by people. “People just like us.”
Oppa would think this was an adventure, Joo-hyun thinks suddenly. She realizes that her heartbeat has slowed somewhat, and her breathing is coming easier.
He’d want to be here in Seoul; would want to see everything.
And so Joo-hyun looks at Seoul with new eyes; looks at it the way she imagines Yong-hwa oppa would look at everything.
She reads the plethora of signs in the bus station, marveling that the bus interchange can house a sauna, a bookstore and even people to polish shoes for customers. When she finds herself on the street, the sheer volume of it all still overwhelms her - traffic, the sound of people yelling, the brush of pedestrians against her on the sidewalk - but that original bite of fear is now diminished. She pays a boy hawking papers on the sidewalk, whose headline screams PARK PLEDGES SUPPORT FOR WORKERS. She breathes in deeply, and the familiar spicy tang of toppokki fills her nostrils from a nearby road stall.
Welcome to Seoul, Joo-hyun, she tells herself, a faint smile tracing her lips. Yong-hwa oppa was right - this is an adventure.
But Joo-hyun is more importantly, here on a mission. With her nerves assuaged, she pulls out a piece of paper with an address on it and seeks out the nearest policeman, directing traffic at a junction, who pauses enough to point her in the right direction.
After 10 minutes of walking, Joo-hyun is there.
There is a squat building, a few storeys high, which isn’t new to Joo-hyun. But the building is obviously new; sharp and sleek with a bold signage that declares “SAMSUNG”.
Joo-hyun swallows, involuntarily.
She tugs the edges of Tae-yeon’s best blouse down, aware that even in her best clothes, she still looks like a country bumpkin next to the tall, elegant ladies striding in through the main door - young, under-dressed and out of place.
Nothing else I can do about that now.
At the main counter, she asks for Mr Ahn of Production, in charge of the Gyeong-gi province.
Joo-hyun barely has time to run over the speech in her head, to feel anxious or afraid, as she’s taken up to the 3rd storey and ushered into a tiny cubicle, spilling over with so many papers and files that she has to step over a toppled stack to get into the cubicle.
Mr Ahn is skinny, long fellow, with a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth, even as he scribbles furiously at an opened file in front of him. “Not meeting quota,” He says, through his teeth, not seeming to notice or register Joo-hyun standing before his desk. “Seon-mi!”
This is a shout, which makes Joo-hyun jump. As if by magic, another thin, nervous lady who can’t be much older than her, appears at the mouth of the cubicle. “Yes, Mr Ahn?”
Mr Ahn, not even bothering to look up, throws the file at his secretary - Joo-hyun barely manages to dodge the oncoming missile, but Seon-mi catches the file with the practiced air of someone who has done this many times before. “Get that son of a bitch on the line. We need to talk.”
Seon-mi doesn’t seem at all disturbed by the bad language, but she does cast a curious look at Joo-hyun. “Sorry, you are…?”
The question, though softly delivered, is cause enough for Mr Ahn to look up and he takes a quick pull of his cigarette. “You. What do you want?”
Seon-mi scuttles away, obviously glad to no longer be in the line of fire, while Joo-hyun feels the familiar stirrings of anxiety within her. Mr Ahn is obviously a busy, impatient man. Will he take my story seriously?
“Well?” Mr Ahn says, tapping his cigarette in the ashtray, as if echoing Joo-hyun’s thoughts. “Speak up.”
It’s now or never. I came all this way.
Be brave, Joo-hyun. You can do this.
Joo-hyun gestures to the chair - also stacked precariously high with files and papers - in front of Mr Ahn’s desk, and the manager seems to get it, flapping a hand at her. “Just dump that shit on the floor.”
When Joo-hyun has finally managed to clear the chair enough to take a seat, Mr Ahn has gone back to a new file laid out in front of him. His brow is creased, obviously deep in concentration, and Joo-hyun hesitates, not sure if she should speak.
“Well, what is it? I don’t have all day.” Mr Ahn spits, not looking up at her.
Momentarily, Joo-hyun is overwhelmed by a sense of defeat - this sense of fear that it’s all over before she’s even had a chance to speak.
But along with it, comes a spark of something different entirely. Something that sears through Joo-hyun’s heart - a hot, desperate anger that will not allow itself to be smothered any longer.
“I’ve come,” She says, soft but sure, “to report your manager in the Su-won factory, who has molested the female factory workers.”
Mr Ahn’s hand pauses in mid-scribble.
Joo-hyun takes a deep breath and the story falls out of her. About Manager Kim, and how he has touched and harassed the factory girls. About Ha-yeon, whom he assaulted. About going to the police, who wouldn’t believe them, and how Manager Kim got to walk around scot-free. And now her - and how Manager Kim forced himself on her one night after work.
She knows that Manager Ahn is listening - he’s reclined back in his chair, has lit a new cigarette during the course of her story, but there is nothing about his posture to suggest that he is particularly moved to do anything.
Joo-hyun pulls out a paper from her purse - a handwritten document with names of girls. “These are the girls he molested.” She says quietly. “They’d be happy to testify that he did abuse them.”
Her name is on that list too.
Manager Ahn plucks the paper from her hand, scanning it carelessly, before he lays it down on the table.
“A list of names, a few stories…” He says casually, and a terrible sense of foreboding crawls over Joo-hyun. “Is this enough for me to fire Wang-geon?”
Joo-hyun holds her breath, waiting.
“To be honest, I’m not so sure about that.” Manager Ahn says. He shrugs his shoulders, spans his hands, like what can you do about that? Like what Joo-hyun has just said is just a story; like these aren’t lives and feelings and girls that matter.
Luckily, Joo-hyun came prepared, and so she tamps down the rising anger and fear within her. I’ll need everything within me to do this right.
She pulls out thicker stack of papers from her bag this time, folded once in the middle.
She pushes aside the files separating her and Manager Ahn, not caring that she knocks some of them to the floor. I’m going to make him listen, if it’s the last thing I do.
Joo-hyun lays out the papers carefully, separating them into 3 stacks. The last document, with a stapled name card, she puts in front of Manager Ahn, who leans forward to squint at them.
“I guessed you might not be so keen to take my word for it.” Joo-hyun says, clearly and concisely. “After all, who’s going to believe a young factory girl?”
“But maybe you’ll believe this.”
She points to the documents. “We changed our security company to KJS Enterprise this year. But the sums paid to them have been increasing rapidly over the course of 5 months. These are 3 months where the jump per month was highest - 500,0000 won in May, 1 million won in July and 3 million won this month, October.”
Manager Ahn is now bent over the desk, eyes flying over the documents, following Joo-hyun’s finger.
It is now Joo-hyun’s turn to lean back into her chair. “You’ve paid more than 10 million won to a new security company in less than a year. Or did you not notice?”
Manager Ahn doesn’t reply, but he is picking up the papers now and even from her vantage point, Joo-hyun sees the faintest crease appear between his brows. Bingo.
Joo-hyun points to the last paper in front of him. “The bank account for KJS Enterprise is with Woori Bank. Manager Kim meets with the executive who handles the account every few weeks. This is his name card.”
The name card stapled to the documents reads clearly - Kim Jeong-Sun. KJS.
A face presents itself in the foremost of Joo-hyun’s mind; a memory from a visit to the bank just a few days ago. A short, plump man, pushing up his black glasses, his smile no longer nervous as on the day that she saw him in Manager Kim’s office, but relaxed and confident as he asked her, so how may I assist you today, Miss… Miss Seo, is it?
“I think,” Joo-hyun says carefully, because this is the part where she has no real evidence, but there are too many coincidences for it to be anything but. “I think they might be working together.”
She watches Manager’s Ahn’s face like a hawk.
For someone who’s just been told that his employee has been embezzling money from the company, Manager Ahn is strangely calm, nonchalant even as he studies the last paper, leaning back in his chair.
But when he speaks, his voice is tight, shattering any illusions about his forced calm. It’s a good sign to Joo-hyun - that he might actually believe her. “How did you get these documents?”
Under the cover of Manager Ahn’s desk, Joo-hyun’s left hand slips over her right one, stilling their trembling. My last ace, Joo-hyun thinks faintly.
“I stole them.”
Manager Ahn looks up at her, the papers in his hand forgotten.
Joo-hyun will never forget that.
She had all the pieces in place - all she needed was the evidence. But there was no way she was going to convince Manager Kim’s boss without any actual proof. And since there was physically no way to bring Manager Kim’s boss to the Su-won factory - she would have to bring the evidence to him.
She can’t lie; it’s not something she wanted to do, or is proud of doing - Seo Joo-hyun, stealing. And it was hard, going back into Manager Kim’s office after everything that had happened there.
But Joo-hyun couldn’t see another way around it; couldn’t think of any other solution except this.
But this time, it was different too, because she wasn’t alone.
Tae-yeon had stood outside the office, keeping watch, ready to stall their manager, should he make a surprise appearance. More importantly, she’d told someone other than Tae-yeon and Yong-hwa - someone she didn’t expect to tell, but someone whose help she needed in order to pull this off.
Joo-hyun would never forget the look in Teuk’s eyes when she’d shared the whole story with him - the way his eyes had grown stormy at first, and then worried. The solidness of his hand on her shoulder, as he’d promised to help her, even though this could cost him his job.
It was Teuk who let them into Manager Kim’s office; Teuk who promised that he would help to return the papers after, Teuk who promised her that it would be okay - all Joo-hyun needed to do was to tell the truth.
Manager Ahn is now studying Joo-hyun over his table, seeming to find her as fascinating as the papers she’s just given him. “You know,” He says finally. “You could be fired for this. I could fire you right now, for breaking and entering into your boss’s office, for stealing official company paperwork.”
Joo-hyun presses her hands down into her lap firmly, as if physically pushing down all the fear and anxiety she feels.
All the while, she will not let herself break Manager Ahn’s gaze.
“I know.” Joo-hyun admits quietly. “And that’s why I hope you’ll believe that I’m telling the truth - because I’m staking my own job on this; to come all this way, to tell you this.”
Even as she says it, Joo-hyun can feel herself deflate - not out of a sense of defeat, but with a sense of finality; as if she has finally done everything that she could in her power to make things right.
She hopes its enough.
Manager Ahn’s eyes flit from her, to the papers on his desk.
For a long while, there is a heavy silence between the pair of them, punctuated by the sounds of people working and talking, phones ringing and keyboards clattering.
And all of a sudden, as if on some imaginary, silent cue, Manager Ahn gathers up the papers briskly, collapsing them into a neat stack. “I’ll hold on to these for a while,” He says, with a hint of the usual busy manner Joo-hyun glimpsed at the beginning. Joo-hyun recognizes that as her dismissal.
She gets up in a daze; her thoughts running in a somewhat panicked fashion, he’s taking the papers, what if Manager Kim discovers if they’re gone, I’m going to lose my job…
“You.”
She looks back at Manager Ahn. The expression on his face is softer now, more open, and there is something almost sorry in his eyes as Joo-hyun stares at him.
“Thank you. For telling me.”
He believes me. He believes me.
Joo-hyun bows in a daze, but in the time it takes her to come back up, Manager Ahn’s face has crumpled itself back into a displeased, impatient expression and he puffs on his cigarette one last time before yelling, “SEON-MI, WHERE’S THE GWANGJU FACTORY PHONE CALL?”
Seon-mi scurries in past her, and Joo-hyun takes that as her opportunity to beat a hasty retreat; stepping over the mounds of paper to exit. It’s only when she’s out on the street, back in the fog of traffic and noise; that she buries her head in her hands and breathes in and out and in and out.
I did it, Joo-hyun thinks, I actually did it.
+++
+++
The next few days pass in some kind of haze for Joo-hyun. She must work, must eat with her friends at the lunch table, must rest and wake the next day to start it all over again - but she has no real recollection of any of it.
It feels like there’s a bee stuck somewhere in her head; her thoughts are bouncing wildly around, trying to find some real semblance of direction, what steps to take next, how can she get Yong-hwa his job back, she needs to talk to him - and the list goes on until her thoughts disintegrate into an unwieldy mess.
It’s no wonder why she’s been exhausted.
Thankfully, since that day, Manager Kim has given her a wide berth, which Joo-hyun is more than grateful for. She guesses that their friends know what happen as well - but they never bring it up, at least not to her face. When Tae-yeon and Mi-young aren’t sticking to her like a pair of shadows, she always manages to spot either Jong-hyun or Jung-shin hovering on the periphery of her sight, talking to someone else, or ostensibly heading somewhere. But just knowing that they’re around, watching out for her - makes her feel a whole lot safer at work.
Still, she thinks of Yong-hwa oppa - because there really isn’t anyone like him and she misses him, plain and simple.
She’s digging listlessly into the porridge which Tae-yeon brought today, when Jong-hyun, a few seats down from her, clears his throat.
He seems to struggle internally, but he looks right at Joo-hyun and his following words are delivered with a blinding force for all their quietness. “Yong-hwa told me he’s going home next week.”
The spoon in Joo-hyun’s hand clatters back into the bowl with a wet splash.
Of course, Yong-hwa oppa would go home, Joo-hyun thinks in a daze. He came to Su-won to work here after all, and now that he doesn’t have a job here, why would he stay?
She stands abruptly, even as Tae-yeon murmurs, “Maknae yah.” But they let her go and Joo-hyun finds herself back outside the factory, back in that spot where she and Yong-hwa last spoke, back to the last time she saw him.
Joo-hyun sits down, pulling her legs up to her chest. Her mind is going at a million miles per hour, her thoughts everywhere and she clamps two hands over her ears as if that will help silence the chaos in her head.
No, she thinks fiercely. This has gone on long enough.
Come on, Seo Joo-hyun. Think about how you can help Yong-hwa oppa get his job back. You’re not going to just let him leave like this!
Joo-hyun exhales deeply, pushing both hands through her hair.
So, going to the police won’t help. Ha-yeon did that, and it didn’t get her anywhere. No one’s going to take my word over his.
What I need to do is to go to someone with power over him, but this person can’t be the police.
Manager Kim’s boss, Joo-hyun thinks suddenly, but the sudden flare of triumph in her chest deflates in the next second. But he’s likely in the Seoul headquarters. I can’t… I couldn’t go all the way to Seoul. I’ve never even been there myself.
Plus, what would I tell him? It might be the same thing with the police all over again - no one’s going to take my word over Manager Kim’s.
Joo-hyun scrubs a hand over her face, closing her eyes. Think, Joo-hyun, she commands herself. What do I have to make them believe me?
And then, it comes to Joo-hyun out of nowhere - a name. Something that didn’t quite add up, that snags on her memory; and a small spark of excitement flares to life.
It might be nothing in the end, Joo-hyun tells herself, trying to tamper the hope rising in her chest. It might just be a dead end and then I’d be back to square one.
But it’s worth a try. Anything’s worth a try to get Yong-hwa his job back.
I’ve to be determined to go the whole way though, Joo-hyun thinks somberly. I don’t have much time; I’m not sure where to start, it might not even work, but - but I have to do it.
She gets up off the ground, dusting her hands off. It occurs to Joo-hyun that this is the first time in weeks that she’s felt remotely like herself again; purposeful, determined, and most of all - hopeful.
+++
It’s ironic, Joo-hyun thinks to herself, that in spite of everything she’s been through the past few days, getting on a bus to Seoul is the thing that feels the most terrifying.
Her fingers tighten around the paper stub, and she makes herself take another step, and then another and until she boards the bus, stretching out her ticket for the conductor to punch it in.
Luckily for her, it’s the 10 am bus, which means that a bulk of the morning rush crowd has already left Su-won, and so Joo-hyun finds an empty seat along in the aisle. She presses a hand against the glass of the window, watching as the bus pulls out of the station, drawing away until it is a tiny indistinct shape.
Joo-hyun’s breath fogs the glass. I’m actually doing it, the part of her that isn’t paralyzed with nerves thinks. I’m going to Seoul for the first time.
She has never left her hometown before; only heard stories, more bad than good of the nation’s rising capital. She’s heard stories from her mother about girls who got robbed, who ventured into the city, only to vanish mysteriously, seeming to meet some dark and dangerous ends. But there are also Tae-yeon and Mi-young’s stories of Seoul to balance out her mother’s foreboding tales - a bustling city, packed with people, with shops as far as the eye can see, roadside stalls selling steaming bowls of noodles and rice cakes…
Joo-hyun’s fingers close tightly around the single purse that she’s brought for today’s expedition, strapped tightly to her body. Calm down, Joo-hyun, she tells herself, taking another deep breath. Go through your plan again. You need a clear head if this is going to work.
She is running over her speech again in her mind for the 12th time when the bus rumbles to a stop, and Joo-hyun’s eyes fly open.
Without the purr of the bus engine, Joo-hyun feels every thump of her heart - strong and frantic - picking up speed with every second.
The Seoul bus station is much, much bigger than Su-won’s; and Joo-hyun is dazed by the sheer number of people and faces she’s confronted with when she walks into the main hall. It is by sheer muscle memory that she keeps up with the tide of people exiting the buses, all seeming to know where they’re going, all walking with quick strides and throwing her frowns if she dares as much to slow down.
Joo-hyun feels a bubble of anxiety swelling in her throat, threatening to burst in a gasp.
She wends her way out of the stream of human traffic, finding a mercifully quiet corner against a window as she presses a hand against her clammy forehead. I don’t think I can do this, some frightened part of Joo-hyun thinks.
She bites her lip so hard that she’s surprised she doesn’t taste blood, but she closes her eyes all the same, just for a few minutes, to regather her wits.
Yong-hwa wouldn’t be afraid though.
She imagines him briefly in her mind’s eye - eyes dancing, pushing himself off the wall and tugging her along with him. “They’re just people, Hyun,” he’d say easily, squinting at the signs, comfortable in his skin, whether alone or surrounded by people. “People just like us.”
Oppa would think this was an adventure, Joo-hyun thinks suddenly. She realizes that her heartbeat has slowed somewhat, and her breathing is coming easier.
He’d want to be here in Seoul; would want to see everything.
And so Joo-hyun looks at Seoul with new eyes; looks at it the way she imagines Yong-hwa oppa would look at everything.
She reads the plethora of signs in the bus station, marveling that the bus interchange can house a sauna, a bookstore and even people to polish shoes for customers. When she finds herself on the street, the sheer volume of it all still overwhelms her - traffic, the sound of people yelling, the brush of pedestrians against her on the sidewalk - but that original bite of fear is now diminished. She pays a boy hawking papers on the sidewalk, whose headline screams PARK PLEDGES SUPPORT FOR WORKERS. She breathes in deeply, and the familiar spicy tang of toppokki fills her nostrils from a nearby road stall.
Welcome to Seoul, Joo-hyun, she tells herself, a faint smile tracing her lips. Yong-hwa oppa was right - this is an adventure.
But Joo-hyun is more importantly, here on a mission. With her nerves assuaged, she pulls out a piece of paper with an address on it and seeks out the nearest policeman, directing traffic at a junction, who pauses enough to point her in the right direction.
After 10 minutes of walking, Joo-hyun is there.
There is a squat building, a few storeys high, which isn’t new to Joo-hyun. But the building is obviously new; sharp and sleek with a bold signage that declares “SAMSUNG”.
Joo-hyun swallows, involuntarily.
She tugs the edges of Tae-yeon’s best blouse down, aware that even in her best clothes, she still looks like a country bumpkin next to the tall, elegant ladies striding in through the main door - young, under-dressed and out of place.
Nothing else I can do about that now.
At the main counter, she asks for Mr Ahn of Production, in charge of the Gyeong-gi province.
Joo-hyun barely has time to run over the speech in her head, to feel anxious or afraid, as she’s taken up to the 3rd storey and ushered into a tiny cubicle, spilling over with so many papers and files that she has to step over a toppled stack to get into the cubicle.
Mr Ahn is skinny, long fellow, with a cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth, even as he scribbles furiously at an opened file in front of him. “Not meeting quota,” He says, through his teeth, not seeming to notice or register Joo-hyun standing before his desk. “Seon-mi!”
This is a shout, which makes Joo-hyun jump. As if by magic, another thin, nervous lady who can’t be much older than her, appears at the mouth of the cubicle. “Yes, Mr Ahn?”
Mr Ahn, not even bothering to look up, throws the file at his secretary - Joo-hyun barely manages to dodge the oncoming missile, but Seon-mi catches the file with the practiced air of someone who has done this many times before. “Get that son of a bitch on the line. We need to talk.”
Seon-mi doesn’t seem at all disturbed by the bad language, but she does cast a curious look at Joo-hyun. “Sorry, you are…?”
The question, though softly delivered, is cause enough for Mr Ahn to look up and he takes a quick pull of his cigarette. “You. What do you want?”
Seon-mi scuttles away, obviously glad to no longer be in the line of fire, while Joo-hyun feels the familiar stirrings of anxiety within her. Mr Ahn is obviously a busy, impatient man. Will he take my story seriously?
“Well?” Mr Ahn says, tapping his cigarette in the ashtray, as if echoing Joo-hyun’s thoughts. “Speak up.”
It’s now or never. I came all this way.
Be brave, Joo-hyun. You can do this.
Joo-hyun gestures to the chair - also stacked precariously high with files and papers - in front of Mr Ahn’s desk, and the manager seems to get it, flapping a hand at her. “Just dump that shit on the floor.”
When Joo-hyun has finally managed to clear the chair enough to take a seat, Mr Ahn has gone back to a new file laid out in front of him. His brow is creased, obviously deep in concentration, and Joo-hyun hesitates, not sure if she should speak.
“Well, what is it? I don’t have all day.” Mr Ahn spits, not looking up at her.
Momentarily, Joo-hyun is overwhelmed by a sense of defeat - this sense of fear that it’s all over before she’s even had a chance to speak.
But along with it, comes a spark of something different entirely. Something that sears through Joo-hyun’s heart - a hot, desperate anger that will not allow itself to be smothered any longer.
“I’ve come,” She says, soft but sure, “to report your manager in the Su-won factory, who has molested the female factory workers.”
Mr Ahn’s hand pauses in mid-scribble.
Joo-hyun takes a deep breath and the story falls out of her. About Manager Kim, and how he has touched and harassed the factory girls. About Ha-yeon, whom he assaulted. About going to the police, who wouldn’t believe them, and how Manager Kim got to walk around scot-free. And now her - and how Manager Kim forced himself on her one night after work.
She knows that Manager Ahn is listening - he’s reclined back in his chair, has lit a new cigarette during the course of her story, but there is nothing about his posture to suggest that he is particularly moved to do anything.
Joo-hyun pulls out a paper from her purse - a handwritten document with names of girls. “These are the girls he molested.” She says quietly. “They’d be happy to testify that he did abuse them.”
Her name is on that list too.
Manager Ahn plucks the paper from her hand, scanning it carelessly, before he lays it down on the table.
“A list of names, a few stories…” He says casually, and a terrible sense of foreboding crawls over Joo-hyun. “Is this enough for me to fire Wang-geon?”
Joo-hyun holds her breath, waiting.
“To be honest, I’m not so sure about that.” Manager Ahn says. He shrugs his shoulders, spans his hands, like what can you do about that? Like what Joo-hyun has just said is just a story; like these aren’t lives and feelings and girls that matter.
Luckily, Joo-hyun came prepared, and so she tamps down the rising anger and fear within her. I’ll need everything within me to do this right.
She pulls out thicker stack of papers from her bag this time, folded once in the middle.
She pushes aside the files separating her and Manager Ahn, not caring that she knocks some of them to the floor. I’m going to make him listen, if it’s the last thing I do.
Joo-hyun lays out the papers carefully, separating them into 3 stacks. The last document, with a stapled name card, she puts in front of Manager Ahn, who leans forward to squint at them.
“I guessed you might not be so keen to take my word for it.” Joo-hyun says, clearly and concisely. “After all, who’s going to believe a young factory girl?”
“But maybe you’ll believe this.”
She points to the documents. “We changed our security company to KJS Enterprise this year. But the sums paid to them have been increasing rapidly over the course of 5 months. These are 3 months where the jump per month was highest - 500,0000 won in May, 1 million won in July and 3 million won this month, October.”
Manager Ahn is now bent over the desk, eyes flying over the documents, following Joo-hyun’s finger.
It is now Joo-hyun’s turn to lean back into her chair. “You’ve paid more than 10 million won to a new security company in less than a year. Or did you not notice?”
Manager Ahn doesn’t reply, but he is picking up the papers now and even from her vantage point, Joo-hyun sees the faintest crease appear between his brows. Bingo.
Joo-hyun points to the last paper in front of him. “The bank account for KJS Enterprise is with Woori Bank. Manager Kim meets with the executive who handles the account every few weeks. This is his name card.”
The name card stapled to the documents reads clearly - Kim Jeong-Sun. KJS.
A face presents itself in the foremost of Joo-hyun’s mind; a memory from a visit to the bank just a few days ago. A short, plump man, pushing up his black glasses, his smile no longer nervous as on the day that she saw him in Manager Kim’s office, but relaxed and confident as he asked her, so how may I assist you today, Miss… Miss Seo, is it?
“I think,” Joo-hyun says carefully, because this is the part where she has no real evidence, but there are too many coincidences for it to be anything but. “I think they might be working together.”
She watches Manager’s Ahn’s face like a hawk.
For someone who’s just been told that his employee has been embezzling money from the company, Manager Ahn is strangely calm, nonchalant even as he studies the last paper, leaning back in his chair.
But when he speaks, his voice is tight, shattering any illusions about his forced calm. It’s a good sign to Joo-hyun - that he might actually believe her. “How did you get these documents?”
Under the cover of Manager Ahn’s desk, Joo-hyun’s left hand slips over her right one, stilling their trembling. My last ace, Joo-hyun thinks faintly.
“I stole them.”
Manager Ahn looks up at her, the papers in his hand forgotten.
Joo-hyun will never forget that.
She had all the pieces in place - all she needed was the evidence. But there was no way she was going to convince Manager Kim’s boss without any actual proof. And since there was physically no way to bring Manager Kim’s boss to the Su-won factory - she would have to bring the evidence to him.
She can’t lie; it’s not something she wanted to do, or is proud of doing - Seo Joo-hyun, stealing. And it was hard, going back into Manager Kim’s office after everything that had happened there.
But Joo-hyun couldn’t see another way around it; couldn’t think of any other solution except this.
But this time, it was different too, because she wasn’t alone.
Tae-yeon had stood outside the office, keeping watch, ready to stall their manager, should he make a surprise appearance. More importantly, she’d told someone other than Tae-yeon and Yong-hwa - someone she didn’t expect to tell, but someone whose help she needed in order to pull this off.
Joo-hyun would never forget the look in Teuk’s eyes when she’d shared the whole story with him - the way his eyes had grown stormy at first, and then worried. The solidness of his hand on her shoulder, as he’d promised to help her, even though this could cost him his job.
It was Teuk who let them into Manager Kim’s office; Teuk who promised that he would help to return the papers after, Teuk who promised her that it would be okay - all Joo-hyun needed to do was to tell the truth.
Manager Ahn is now studying Joo-hyun over his table, seeming to find her as fascinating as the papers she’s just given him. “You know,” He says finally. “You could be fired for this. I could fire you right now, for breaking and entering into your boss’s office, for stealing official company paperwork.”
Joo-hyun presses her hands down into her lap firmly, as if physically pushing down all the fear and anxiety she feels.
All the while, she will not let herself break Manager Ahn’s gaze.
“I know.” Joo-hyun admits quietly. “And that’s why I hope you’ll believe that I’m telling the truth - because I’m staking my own job on this; to come all this way, to tell you this.”
Even as she says it, Joo-hyun can feel herself deflate - not out of a sense of defeat, but with a sense of finality; as if she has finally done everything that she could in her power to make things right.
She hopes its enough.
Manager Ahn’s eyes flit from her, to the papers on his desk.
For a long while, there is a heavy silence between the pair of them, punctuated by the sounds of people working and talking, phones ringing and keyboards clattering.
And all of a sudden, as if on some imaginary, silent cue, Manager Ahn gathers up the papers briskly, collapsing them into a neat stack. “I’ll hold on to these for a while,” He says, with a hint of the usual busy manner Joo-hyun glimpsed at the beginning. Joo-hyun recognizes that as her dismissal.
She gets up in a daze; her thoughts running in a somewhat panicked fashion, he’s taking the papers, what if Manager Kim discovers if they’re gone, I’m going to lose my job…
“You.”
She looks back at Manager Ahn. The expression on his face is softer now, more open, and there is something almost sorry in his eyes as Joo-hyun stares at him.
“Thank you. For telling me.”
He believes me. He believes me.
Joo-hyun bows in a daze, but in the time it takes her to come back up, Manager Ahn’s face has crumpled itself back into a displeased, impatient expression and he puffs on his cigarette one last time before yelling, “SEON-MI, WHERE’S THE GWANGJU FACTORY PHONE CALL?”
Seon-mi scurries in past her, and Joo-hyun takes that as her opportunity to beat a hasty retreat; stepping over the mounds of paper to exit. It’s only when she’s out on the street, back in the fog of traffic and noise; that she buries her head in her hands and breathes in and out and in and out.
I did it, Joo-hyun thinks, I actually did it.
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