Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Big Dick Wants to Be Valuable
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Big Dick wanted to be valuable.
Bzzz-, bzzzzz
The shrill alarm blared alongside the vibrations.
Thud. He grabbed his phone haphazardly to silence it and got out of bed.
"Yaaawn.... First appointment's at nine, right."
Before opening the door, he tidied up the thing that was still standing tall despite all the milking it got last night.
Pulling up his spandex briefs and pressing his dick flat against his stomach as much as possible. Otherwise, that little bitch of a sister would throw a fit about how gross it was.
He opened the door.
"Sleep well?"
A flat voice. There was no warmth in Mother's tone. Just a perfunctory greeting born of obligation, the kind families exchange in the morning.
"Yes. Did you sleep well too, Mom?"
"Yeah. I bought some side dishes, so eat something before you go."
"Sure."
As always, the moment he opened the door, he headed straight for the bathroom across the hall. Head bowed low. A quick glance sideways revealed the familiar sight.
Outdated Sprite clothes past their prime, a body neglected amid a hectic schedule, hunched back and shoulders.
A back bowed by exhaustion. A painful sight to behold. Proof that they weren't close enough to exchange words of comfort.
After the incident that day—the first time Mother, who never visited school due to work, showed up—they'd had nothing to say to each other.
The conversations that were already scarce had vanished entirely.
Even this obligatory morning check-in had only started about a year ago.
And somehow, that lightened his shoulders a little.
"Hey, I've got an interview today, so hurry up and shower."
His little sister, mouth reeking of booze like she'd been drinking at home again. It was ridiculous how that flat-chested twig whined to Mom about where her bra was.
His own situation was laughable too.
The pathetic big brother ignored by his sister, nitpicking her flaws just to salvage his pride.
Creeeak—
Bangs damp and hanging over his eyes.
For a fleeting moment, loneliness washed over him.
Even inside his own home.
"Look, I clearly said three o'clock, didn't I? You were late last time too, tsk."
He'd said three-thirty, for sure.
He even had the call recording.
They'd initially aimed for two, but she said she'd arrive home at three. Factoring in drive time, it became three-thirty.
Same as last time.
He'd asked if Wednesday worked, but her schedule was packed, so they switched to Thursday—only for this weird auntie to remember just the first thing he said and forget the rest.
"I'm managing over eighty accounts, so there must've been a mix-up. Sorry about that, ma'am."
"Jeez, fine, whatever. Just clean properly. Oh, and vacuum under and around the bed too."
"Uh, ma'am, we handle mattress care, not general cleaning..."
"No, you do what the customer asks!
Mister, how can you be so clueless? You should be grateful I'm not filing a satisfaction complaint for being late. No sense at all, no sense."
He swallowed a sigh that threatened to burst out and barely managed a "Yes."
Then she crossed her arms and stood in the doorway, watching to make sure he did it right.
Fuck.
They say physiognomy is a science.
Glasses on a round face, stubby nose.
Eyes narrowed viciously, mere slits.
How come all these ugly aunties turn out to be such karens?
He grunted as he lifted the massive La-Z-Boy mattress. Then he spotted the mirror under the bed and let out a sigh.
Who was he to talk about physiognomy?
Anyone could see he looked gloomy and off-putting.
There was one coworker in his sector.
A senior who sold 7-8 moon mats a month, raking in five million won. Neat-looking, tall, handsome guy.
He'd asked him once.
'Man, working this job really shows you how many crazies are out there, huh?'
The senior had chuckled.
Yeah? I've been lucky, I guess? Haven't met any like that yet—everyone's been great to me.
When the guy clutched his side, laughing about how customers kept feeding him snacks and he'd keep gaining weight, he couldn't say another word.
"Ma'am, mattress care service is complete. Now, about the new air purifier..."
"Nah, I'm done. Already late for my friend. What're you on about?"
The usual rejection.
He knew better than to push an annoyed customer, but desperation forced his mouth open anyway.
Thud—.
He rolled his tongue around his bitter mouth and climbed into the car.
"Haa.... Didn't sell a damn thing today either."
There was still one account left to handle.
A quick scan of the app showed it had everything from mattresses to bidets, water purifiers, air purifiers, and household appliances.
The customer worked nights, so nothing until eight at the earliest.
If he bailed saying it didn't pan out and ghosted, the branch manager would throw a fit about dropping handling rates.
He'd applied because the ad mentioned work-life balance.
Work-life balance my ass—only the top salespeople managed that.
For a sales zero like him who couldn't hit the bare minimum cutoff, it was bullshit.
Was he really going to keep doing this for a measly 1.6 million won a month?
Reality hit hard.
Still, he'd only been at it five months. Even the trainer said no sales in the first six was normal.
'Maybe I can make five, even ten million like the other techs.' Vain hopes anchored his feet.
And the fear of quitting another tough job—what else could he even do? The nagging voice calling him a quitter with no grit terrified him too.
[Han Siwoo: Yo, you getting any calls?]
[Kim Hyoi: Nah, fucking dead season. All shit calls fml]
[Han Siwoo: Finishing my last customer at 8 near your place. Beer?]
[Kim Hyoi: Yeah, usual convenience store.]
The one friend he had warmed his heart unexpectedly.
Kim Hyoi—not a guy with a girl's name, but an actual girl. Friend.
Whoa! A guy and girl as friends? Such lowly nonsense!
Stuff like that was for above-average folks.
For below-average losers like him and Hyoi—who couldn't even land service gigs and did delivery instead—people might say losers stick together.
But they both had eyes.
In Hyoi's eyes, he was a scrawny guy with nothing manly to lean on.
In his, she was a good person, but zero appeal as a woman.
Mutual rock-bottom sexual attraction had built a solid friendship naturally.
Lost in random thoughts and YouTube sales tips, it was suddenly eight.
"Ma'am, I'm out front now. Okay to come in?"
A young woman's voice replied.
-Yes. Come on in.
His heart fluttered a bit, like some nerd.
"Yes, ma'am. Coming right up."
An old apartment building, fifth floor, no elevator.
All the gear together weighed over twenty kilos.
"Huff, huff.... Mattress care service!"
No wonder his back and knees throbbed every time he got home.
Ring riing—
The door opened to an empty entryway.
'This place is up for redevelopment in a year or two, they say.'
Seemed like a wealthy owner.
Remodeling a doomed building like this? Money to burn.
He mused about how nice it'd be if every room got an air purifier as he stepped inside.
Clean white interior.
Kitchen with trendy small tiles instead of outdated ones.
Stylish lighting, warm yellow glow—not harsh white.
"The bedroom's the one on the right at the end of the hall."
He turned toward the faint, pleasant scent of cosmetics.
A woman with long straight hair was drying it with an air dryer.
Even from the side, her upturned nose and red lips screamed beauty.
Downcast eyes, huge swollen breasts—he hastily looked down.
'Flower tattoo on her thigh.'
His gaze dipped below her short pink dolphin shorts; he snapped his head toward the bedroom door.
Poor eye discipline could get him labeled a perv, hit with a complaint.
Screw up again, and he'd really get fired.
Last time, a customer saw his pant leg and mistook his usual bulge for an erection—he'd nearly been canned.
'Keep staring and it'll actually happen.'
Beyond firing, straight to the cops.
He ducked into the bedroom to escape the oozing sex appeal.
Flower tattoo blanketing her right thigh. Around his age.
Interior screaming thousands spent.
He could guess her line of work.
"Uh, yes. Any issues with the mattress so far?"
"No, none. I'm super busy—can you wrap it up quick?"
This one's a bust too.
Busy customers tanked sales odds. Not that he'd succeed with a relaxed one either.
'Just focus on the care.'
"Ma'am, all done as fast as I could."
He bowed his head low and hurried to the entryway.
Bag stowed, shoes on—he finally looked at her face.
Too stunning to even glance up properly.
Plastic surgery vibes.
As he bowed and turned to leave, a "Pfft." chuckle escaped her.
"Hey, uh, aren't you Han Siwoo?"
"Pardon? Yeah... how'd you know?"
He looked up puzzled; her lips curved slyly. Upturned nose, eyes looking down at him.
A familiar expression.
"It's me, dummy. Park Dahee. This is what you've been doing?"
In that instant, he felt infinitely ashamed, shrinking small.