A Dead Investor's Journey

Korean ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Air First Class.

"You know why people fly first class?"

"Because the seats are comfortable!"

They were on a plane bound for Europe. Sora seemed thoroughly pleased with her seat.

Comfortable, no question.

There was no comparison to a budget airline. Korean Air's economy was perfectly serviceable, but first class was something else entirely.

Tap. Tap.

He gave his palm two light claps. A flight attendant caught the signal and hurried over.

"Meal service is soon, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. There's still a little time. If you'd prefer, we can serve you first — how would you like to proceed?"

"Keep the meal on schedule, but chill a bottle of wine for me, please."

The meal. That was where first class truly set itself apart — not just from economy, but from business as well.

This is why first class exists.

Who would balk at a ten-million-won ticket? There was a reason people paid that kind of money to sit up here.

The meal arrived as a full course. And with it, the wine — bottles worth a hundred to two hundred thousand won apiece. The flight attendants assigned here were the prettiest of the lot.

"Senior."

"Hm?"

"That was seriously annoying just now."

"…"

No one knew first class better than he did. Which was precisely how small misunderstandings arose.

Call a woman "miss" once you're past a certain age and it starts sounding like harassment.

The world had gotten harder. At some point he'd simply started summoning them without a word. Apparently that had come off as rude.

A trivial misunderstanding. It would sort itself out over the meal.

A moment later the aperitif arrived.

Glug, glug, glug~

Champagne, its bubbles exquisitely fine. Chilled exactly as requested — the perfect drinking temperature.

"I was worried it was non-vintage, but it looks like it's ready to drink."

"What's non-vintage?"

"Means your skull's empty."

"You bastard."

Non-vintage. Champagne was often blended across multiple years for quality control, so many bottles never listed a vintage at all.

This one's been in the bottle a good while.

A Chardonnay-based blanc de blancs — easy drinking. The light body was a minor flaw, but as an aperitif it was more than fine.

Crunch.

He ate it with the salad that came alongside. Both the salad and the champagne were so clean and empty on the palate that the more he ate, the hungrier he got.

"Some light cookies and caviar. Spread the caviar as you like."

It did its job as an appetite-whetting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠starter. Next came bread and butter to soothe the empty stomach.

Sometimes they serve caviar or terrine instead of butter.

The purpose was the same either way. But depending on what arrived, the mariage — the pairing — had to change with it.

"Shall I pour the wine?"

"Skip the wine. Johnny Walker Blue, mizuwari. Same for her."

"Me too?"

Caviar was not a wine food. The classic pairing was vodka.

Absolut's a bit beneath this grade.

Ossetra caviar. The nutty notes stood out. Johnny Walker Blue had a similar grain. Diluted with water, chilled over ice — it would roughly fit.

As expected, it was decent enough.

"This is my first time eating caviar."

"Is there anything that isn't your first time?"

"It's creamier than I expected. A little salty, though."

There was a reason people ate it in place of butter. He rinsed his tongue clean with the mizuwari, which didn't interfere with the rich, oily flavor.

Clink.

Next came the soup — or rather, its counterpart: a crab-meat doenjang stew. The moment for warm food was approaching.

Plenty of substance in there. A red wine should work fine.

Rich stews paired well with red. The crab doenjang soup had that same weight, so he'd ordered accordingly.

"This is way too astringent."

"Yeah, it is."

"I don't really know wine, so…"

Sora had every right to make a face. The wine simply hadn't opened yet.

That's how these things go.

The wines served in first class tended to prioritize brand over actual drinking quality. Adult circumstances at work.

"Pour us a fresh glass of the Nénin, please."

"You're being a total pain."

"I paid for this."

"…Fine."

To cut costs, airlines bought a single vintage in bulk. And that vintage was rarely a good one.

But every now and then…

Something decent slipped into the mix. Like this Château Nénin Pomerol 2008.

Flight attendants. Most of them ended up here for roughly the same reason.

Haa…

They wanted to be the chosen ones. An embarrassing thing to admit once you were old enough to know better.

"How did you even get assigned here? You can't even pour champagne?"

"I'm sorry."

"Does 'sorry' end your career as a flight attendant?"

At least in her student days, it had been different. Say you were majoring in airline service management and men lined up. Blind dates with elite university students came one after another. Seoul National, Korea University, Hankuk University — take your pick.

"The plane hit turbulence all of a sudden, and—"

"Are you making excuses right now?"

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

That had been the peak of her life. Once she actually became a flight attendant, every single day was hell.

I thought working first class would be different.

Hye-yeon had toughened it out somehow. She'd been assigned to first class — a posting only model employees ever reached. As a new hire it had looked like a star in the sky. Once she was the one standing under it, she realized it was nothing special.

"You're doing this on purpose to screw me over, aren't you?"

"Of course not, unnie."

"Then how does it make any sense that you spilled champagne on the chairman? If he'd demanded compensation for the clothes, your entire salary wouldn't cover it — do I need to spell that out for you?"

Nurses had their hazing. Flight attendants had seniority. Workplace bullying was common in female-dominated jobs. And that was the better option.

There was a reason the purser was furious.

Gulp.

First class had no difficult customers. Not none, exactly — but nothing compared to economy. Which made them more terrifying. If someone would just say something, just point out what was wrong, it would be easier.

"You handle it yourself. I don't know anything about this."

"Yes. I'll take care of it."

"If I get passed over for purser because of you, I'll make sure your flying career is comfortable for the rest of your life. Look forward to it."

"…"

A complaint? That wasn't how it worked. They simply switched airlines. Most first-class passengers stuck with a single carrier — better for accumulating miles, better for the perks.

Switching means something went wrong.

VVIPs lived in their own world. It wasn't just one dissatisfied passenger; several would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leave as a group. Then all hell broke loose. Mass reassignments, bloodbaths among the cabin crew — that was how they described it. She could easily end up in the crosshairs.

She was serving under that kind of pressure when she overheard them.

"I was worried it was non-vintage, but it looks like it's ready to drink."

"What's non-vintage?"

"Means your skull's empty."

"You bastard."

A young couple. At a glance: a chaebol kid living large on his parents' money, and a pretty girl freeloading off him.

She must've gone hard on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠silicone.

That size wasn't possible with just a push-up bra. She'd probably hounded some plastic surgeon about wanting to land a man.

But they were customers. Service was service.

She was about to pour the wine with a professional smile when—

"Skip the wine. Johnny Walker Blue, mizuwari."

The man's expression as he chose the drink was surprisingly serious. An order she never would have expected. From that moment, he had her attention.

Hye-yeon had been trained in alcohol service. She knew this wasn't empty talk.

"This one's perfect!"

"The Nénin's a young vine, so it's got a lot more energy. 2008 was a year when Pomerol rivaled a great vintage."

"Senior, you sound like such a wine nerd."

Young vine meant a young grapevine. A great vintage was a year when the grapes had thrived exceptionally. She'd learned all of this on paper. The company ran training specifically for staff who handled VVIP clients.

So that really was a good wine.

But she still couldn't truly understand it. Like high school math — the more you studied, the less you grasped. That was the kind of world it was. The wall between ordinary people like her and the rich made itself known.

"There's Western cuisine too."

"I prefer Korean food."

"With a chest that huge…"

"Why would you even say that?!"

The man ordered Korean. She'd assumed he'd stick with the Château Nénin from earlier.

White wine?

Main courses were normally paired with red. Common sense said so.

White wine was meant to be drunk before the main. That was what Korean Air's sommelier had instructed.

"The aroma's nice, but it doesn't taste like much?"

"Like cheongju — sweet on the nose, dry on the palate. That's why it works with Korean food."

Hearing it explained, though, it made sense. Korean cuisine was notoriously difficult to pair with wine. Out of the few available options, the man had found the natural match — even the bottle they'd set aside earlier.

"It's ready to drink now."

Whatever he meant by that, Hye-yeon — who knew wine on an academic level — understood instantly.

"Your Korean meal, sir. Bibimbap, miyeok-guk, side dishes, and galbi."

"Thank you."

She had to move on immediately to the next passenger — the one the purser had threatened her over.

"And would you like some wine as well?"

"Yes. Without spilling it this time, if you would."

"O-of course, sir."

"Let's see… rather a lot of options here."

His expression was kind. He hadn't been angry just now at all. If anything, it was a joke meant to put her at ease.

Gulp.

But this was the chairman — of a company closely tied to Korean Air. She could not afford a misstep.

"If you'd like, I could make a recommendation?"

"I'd appreciate that."

"How about this Gewürztraminer?"

"A white wine?"

A high-pressure moment. The standard response would have been a red, or simply pouring everything available. But that felt irresponsible. Desperate to make a good impression, Hye-yeon made a choice that surprised even herself.

Glug, glug, glug~

The white wine the man had praised. This time, she poured without spilling a drop. Whether it would suit his palate…

"Oh — it's just like cheongju. This should go beautifully with the food."

"Thank you, sir. Enjoy your meal."

"Could you recommend a red as well?"

"Yes!"

A success. The red she poured next earned a smile and praise as well.

So it was a wine that needed time to open.

If she'd followed protocol and opened a fresh bottle, she would have failed the service entirely. The thought sent a chill through her. She'd been given a real gift. To someone else it might have meant nothing — to her, it was practically salvation.

"Would you care for more wine, sir? We can also provide an additional main course."

Within the limits of her authority, she wanted to offer something extra. An indirect way of repaying the favor.

"I'm nicely buzzed. Hehe."

"That's a two-hundred-thousand-won bottle. Gotta get our money's worth. Keep 'em coming — whole bottles~."

"…"

They were just drunk.