Chapter 13: A Signless Cafe in Gangnam Station's Back Alley
It was a cafe tucked away in a back alley behind Gangnam Station. No sign out front. Ian had picked the place.
The kind of spot where even a famous actress could ditch her mask and sit without anyone batting an eye. Only three tables of customers, all hunched over laptops.
They sat facing each other by the window.
Two iced Americanos arrived. Ian took a sip through her straw and spoke first.
"The test shoot photos turned out great."
"You saw them?"
"Yeah, I asked Chae-ah unnie."
Chae-ah had been puzzled about what Ian wanted the test shots for, but to her, they were priceless—photos no one else could get anywhere.
"Thanks. I think it went well because of you two."
"You two?"
"You and Nari."
Ian's straw froze in her glass. A brief pause, as if chewing on the fact that Nari's name sat right next to hers.
"…Nari was the one who cracked everyone up first. I just joined in later."
"Your puns were funny too."
"Liar."
"For real. It wasn't that they were hilarious."
"Then why'd you laugh?"
"No, it was just… you being like that was so cute, that's why."
Ian set her straw down and looked at Harin. She seemed about to say something, then closed her mouth. Her ear tips flushed faintly, but the dim cafe lighting hid it.
"…Anyway, enough of that."
Ian changed the subject.
"Heard anything from Chae-ah unnie?"
"About what?"
"Moving."
Harin set her cup down.
"Yeah. She told me the day before yesterday. The CEO's preparing an officetel for agency-managed housing."
"How many options?"
"Haven't heard yet. Just that it's clean, spacious, and close to the office."
"…Don't go."
Harin's gaze lifted.
"…Why?"
Ian stirred the ice in her glass with her straw once.
"Agency officetels keep entry-exit logs."
"…Logs?"
"Lobby management system. Card-tag entry. One scan going in, one coming out. Data reports in real-time."
Harin's grip tightened on her cup.
"What time you leave, what time you return, if you pulled an all-nighter out or not. All logged."
"…Is that even legal?"
"It's in the contract. The officetel occupancy agreement includes a clause consenting to entry-exit logging for talent management."
Harin bit her lip.
"How do you know about that?"
Ian glanced out the window.
"I lived there."
"…There?"
"Yeah."
Ian's voice went flat.
"I was fifteen when I first signed with the agency. Fresh from the countryside, didn't know a soul in Seoul. The CEO suggested it the same way."
"Clean, spacious, close to the office?"
"Yeah. With one extra line: 'Your parents will feel at ease.' She knew my folks worried a lot."
Ian put her straw to her lips, then pulled it away.
"Lived there a year."
"A whole year?"
"Yeah. Every day for a year, those logs piled up. What time I left in the morning, when I got back at night, if I went out on weekends."
Harin looked at Ian's face. Ian was still staring out the window.
"Didn't realize at first. It was just a nice clean place, and swiping the card felt like any apartment keycard."
"When did you figure it out?"
"Around three months in."
Ian turned her gaze to Harin.
"The CEO said to me, 'Ian, you're coming in late every Tuesday lately. This is a crucial time for conditioning.' I had lessons at an outside academy on Tuesdays. I'd get back around ten."
"And she knew…"
"I hadn't told a soul I was out late Tuesdays. When she said it, I thought, Wait, that's weird? But she said it so casually, I let it slide."
Ian's finger slowly wiped a water droplet from the glass.
"Next month, something similar. Met friends over the weekend, came back late, and Monday the CEO goes, 'Did you rest well? You were out late Saturday.'"
"…That's when you knew for sure?"
"Yeah. That's when it hit me. She's watching everything. Maybe more—who knows. But at least the logs."
Ian took a sip of her iced Americano.
"Endured another half-year after that. Started dreading the card beep every time I left. Wondering what the CEO would say if I got back late."
"…That's a prison."
Ian looked Harin straight in the eye.
"If you move there, you're in the CEO's palm. Sleep schedule, wake-up times, who you meet, how long you're out. Every last bit of your freedom vanishes."
Harin exhaled. The ice in her glass had melted, water nearly spilling over.
"…What do I do then?"
"About?"
"This place isn't in my name. I do need a new address in my name. But if agency housing's like that, no alternatives."
"There is."
"What?"
"I'll look into it."
Harin paused.
"A place. I'll find it. I'll cover the deposit too."
"…What?"
"Doesn't have to be near a station. Something like a villa in a residential alley."
Harin shook her head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Ian, do you know how much deposits cost in Seoul? Even for the tiniest place."
"I do."
"Then why? You don't have money to burn."
"Not burning, but I have some. I earn well. Enough to help you out."
"It's not about that…"
"Then what is?"
"It's a burden. If you do this much for me, how do I repay you?"
Ian set her straw down.
"Harin."
"Yeah."
"I can't stand watching you dragged around by the CEO."
Her voice was low. Gentle, but unyielding.
"If I can do something and don't, that's worse."
Harin stared at the water droplets on the table. Water from her cup had formed a small circle on the wood. It spread, merging with another into one.
"…I'll pay you back for sure. Later."
A small voice.
"No need."
"No."
Harin looked up.
"I will."
"Harin…"
"You keep doing things for me."
Ian's mouth shut.
"Everland, showing your face. Test shoot, covering the CF reading. Now the deposit. I haven't done a thing for you."
"That's not—"
"It is."
Harin's voice sharpened.
"I don't want to just be a taker. Not with you."
Ian looked at Harin for a moment, then spoke.
"You being here is what you do for me."
"…What does that mean?"
"Just be there. That's enough."
Ian smiled. Her usual soft smile. Harin felt not gratitude, but guilt.
Harin downed the rest of her iced Americano in one go.
"Ian."
"Yeah."
"I'll work hard."
"…Out of nowhere?"
"Not out of nowhere. To pay you back fast, I need to earn fast. To earn, I need skills."
"Payback talk again?"
"Say what you want, I'll pay you. It's the least I can do."
Ian gazed steadily at Harin's face.
The eyes that had stiffened in front of the camera now held steady. The Harin Ian knew was quiet, withdrawn, always checking others first. But the gaze across from her now held something different.
"…Okay."
Ian said, sipping her straw.
"Work hard. I'll cheer you on."
After parting with Ian, Harin didn't head home.
On the subway, she pulled out her phone. Their conversation looped in her mind.
What can I do?
Everland, Ian unmasking. A top actress risking exposure. Offering the deposit. Pulling from an 18-year-old's earnings for someone else's housing. Shifting the CF reading. Unilaterally adjusting the director's schedule.
All concrete. Not vague favors—carved from Ian's time, money, career.
Harin had no time, money, or career to give.
One thing she had.
Stand out fast.
Make cuts that work in front of the camera, and jobs come. Jobs bring income. Income pays deposits, independence means Ian won't have to carve out for her.
To not burden Ian, I have to stand tall.
She got off at Gangnam Station. Passed the RASCA building lobby, took the elevator to the seventh floor.
Pushing open the glass door revealed an empty office space. Saturday. Half the lights on, all monitors dark. Only the AC humming.
Harin's footsteps echoed down the hall.
She opened the door to Practice Room B. The mirror reflected her head-on. Empty room. Afternoon sun slanted through the windows onto the wooden floor.
Tied her sneakers tight. Stood before the mirror.
One step. Two. Three.
Shoulders tilted on the fourth.
From the start.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Gaze dropped on the fifth.
From the start.
Tried a turn. At the wall's end, pivoted on her toe—center of gravity slipped back.
From the start.
Thirty minutes passed. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Nape damp.
Mirror-Harin stared back, face slick with sweat.
Siyul sunbae did that turn effortlessly.
The semicircle glimpsed through the door crack resurfaced. Toe gliding over the floor, gaze fixed forward, speed constant. No hitch before or after.
She spun.
Half turn. Weight on the ball of her foot, then gone. Didn't fully fall, but stumbled two steps.
No. What's different?
Over an hour. Legs trembling. Soles burning.
Once, six steps without shoulder wobble. But the next turn crumbled it.
Needed water. No dispenser in the room.
Opened the door, stepped into the hall. Heading to the pantry.
Passed Practice Room C.
Door ajar.
Harin's feet stopped.
Someone inside.
Siyul.
Siyul's eyes flicked via the mirror toward the door. Harin's face reflected there.
Their gazes met in the mirror.
"……"
"……"
Siyul relaxed her pose. Crossed her arms, turned from the mirror to face the door directly.
"…Why are you here again?"