A Battlefield at Breakfast
This place was a silent battlefield. A brutal warzone where the slightest lapse in vigilance meant bullets whistling in to claim your life in an instant. To survive here, I kept up perfect camouflage. I held my breath carefully, moving my fingers so slowly they wouldn't even stir the air.
Clink! Shit! Screw-up. Was it from overdoing my home workouts? My fingers trembled, and... I ended up nudging the bowl with my chopsticks.
"Son."
"Yes?"
My heart plummeted. I slowly raised my head and locked eyes with Dad, who was reading the news on his X Pad. His eyes gleamed sharply behind his glasses, like a sniper zeroing in on a target.
"You pulled another all-nighter last night?"
"Haha, well... I crashed around 4 a.m., I guess? Felt like pulling the third night watch shift..."
Thud! The X Pad hit the table like a grenade. Then the safety clicked off, and the bomb detonated.
"So you woke up at the same time as me?"
"Technically, I was in my room doing a bit of exercise, but yeah, you could say I got up earlier than..."
"Meaning you got up earlier than me, who was pulling an all-nighter at work?"
Was the soybean paste stew always this spicy? My mouth felt thick and heavy as I racked my brain.
"I've been studying foreign languages lately, but with the time difference for my friends overseas, it ran late."
"Without using a translation app?"
"...Sometimes?"
Dad scanned me up and down like he was taking measurements. Must be the interior designer in him—those eyes were piercing. I'd always timed my activities to avoid him while he was home, but I'd failed to anticipate this guerrilla raid called overtime.
As I fidgeted with my spoon, rolling my eyes, he suddenly let out a long sigh.
"Going to bed around the same time as me, waking up around the same time?"
"Yeah..."
"I don't think that's so strange. Consistency is key. At least your schedule's regular."
Cold sweat broke out. This was it. I'd dodged the grenade, only to find an unexploded mortar round right in front of me. Bracing for impact, I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Then how about working together?"
"Haha."
I needed an escape route, a way out. Suddenly, it felt like I was trapped in a jungle swarming with enemies, no path visible.
That was the moment.
"Honey, what are you saying to the kid?"
"No, I just meant..."
Mom swooped in like a chopper rescuing an isolated soldier, dropping the lifeline. She even brought a plate of perfectly fried eggs—positioned conveniently close to me. She knew Dad loved those, too.
This time, Dad was the one rolling his eyes, mumbling excuses.
"That's not what I..."
"Don't discourage him. Finish your meal. And stop reading the news at the table."
"I was just trying to communicate with my son..."
"Lee Hyunwoo."
Mom's gaze dulled the sharp glint in Dad's eyes. He flipped the X Pad face-down completely.
"Got it..."
"Son, eat up before it gets cold."
The fried eggs slid to the center of the table, and peace returned to the shell-pocked battlefield. Under Mom's protection, I steadfastly finished my meal.
"Thanks for the food."
"You woke up earlier than usual today. Got something going on?"
"Oh."
Did the post-battle relief make me drop my guard? As I carried my empty bowls to the sink, I slipped up.
"I've got an interview."
"An interview?"
"Int, interview?"
No taking back spilled words. Now even Mom was eyeing me with concern.
"Sit back down for a sec?"
I loaded the dishwasher and meekly returned to the table.
"What interview out of the blue?"
"Well..."
Their stares burned. No—backing out with "just kidding" now would crush them. I went with a mix of truth and lies.
"An acquaintance asked me to help out short-term at a small operation they're running—a private room kind of thing."
"Like a part-time gig?"
"...Yeah, something like that. It's an interview, so it might not pan out. Just a quick meet-and-greet."
They exchanged glances, then nodded.
"Starting small isn't bad."
"Oh! Then have some more rice? You need energy."
"I'm good. Gotta..."
"Sua! Your brother's heading to an interview!"
Why was everyone home today of all days? Sighing at my own pathetic crisis management, I eyed my sister emerging from her room. It was afternoon, and she was dressed in a sharp black suit.
"Kid, isn't today your day off?"
"Project stuff—heading in this afternoon."
She plopped down next to me. Our schedules rarely synced anymore, so it had been a while since I'd seen her up close. This girl was a genetic scam. Unlike plain old me, she had celebrity-level looks and—exaggerating a bit—was basically perfect in brains and brawn.
"Sua, hear that? Our Suo’s off to an interview!"
"...Mom, I'm hungry."
"Oh my god, brain fart! One sec!"
Sua ignored me completely, even sitting right there, and fiddled with her phone. I considered saying something but cautiously stood.
While I'd been "employed" as a house sitter for three years, she'd already entered society at a top-tier corp everyone knew. Somewhere along the way, we'd grown distant—talking felt awkward now.
"Gonna get ready and head out."
"Good luck, son."
Dodging Dad's heavy gaze, I retreated to my room. For a formal meetup, jeans and a jacket beat sweats. As I slipped on my shoes to leave, someone called from behind.
"...Hey, interview?"
It was Sua. Hey? Had three years erased even "bro" from her vocab? Come to think of it, subtract three years from my age and she was technically my big sis by a year.
"What? N—Sua."
Almost slipped. She hesitated, then held out her hand.
"Hand."
"Hand? What? Gimme?"
Sounded like training a dog. ...I extended mine without protest. She placed her hand on my palm, then pulled away. Her flawless, lean fingers left a neatly folded 50,000-won bill.
"Buy something to eat."
"...Pocket money?"
"..."
No response to my joke—she vanished into her room. I stared at the bill, then stepped outside.
"...Couldn't she just E-transfer?"
Silly thought as I unfolded it. Wait—two bills. ...A weird mix of joy and melancholy hit me. Anyway, 100,000 won was real money. I'd pay her back tenfold at her wedding.
Unlike my odd mood, Seoul's weather was gorgeously clear and blue. 2 p.m. The subtly sparse crowds felt relaxing as I headed to the bus stop.
They say Seoul used to be packed back in the day. Now, after all the chaos, the over-ten-million population had halved more than once.
I boarded the punctual driverless bus, slumped into a seat, and gazed out the window. Even in daylight, the neon city glowed, but after so long cooped up, the blue sky stole the show.
As I zoned out, a voice drifted into my ear.
"The world's really gone to hell... tsk tsk."
The old man across from me muttered it, then donned high-tech goggles. Whatever he was watching had a woman's voice repeating eerily.
...Pretend I didn't hear. Feeling the end times in my bones, I luckily reached my stop. Shaking off the drained vibe, I walked to Korea University's main gate.
On the way, I pulled out my phone and texted.
"Huh? Hold position?"
I fired back at the cryptic message.
Interview started already? Grinning at Conel's secret-agent texts, I played along.
"...What the? How'd she know?"
I froze at the weird text, scanning around. Was Conel—that German dude—nearby? But how my outfit...
"Hey, B2."
The familiar name made me turn. A foreigner stood before me.
"...Conel?"
"Ja."
"You..."
But... why did the guy who should be a middle-aged German look like a gray-haired beauty?