The Group

A black imported sedan I had never seen before sat in front of the building, hazards blinking. It wasn't the car that stopped me. Leaning against the passenger door with both hands shoved into his pockets, a middle-aged man was watching me. His navy pinstripe suit carried four gold buttons, and the cufflinks at his wrists matched. Even at a glance the whole of him was expensive: waistcoat properly worn, brown oxfords without a single scuff, hair laid immaculate under pomade. And then the cigarette between his lips. I loathe cigarettes to an extreme, but I had to admit it suited him.

……What is this?

I meant to walk on, but the way he looked straight at me made it impossible to miss that he had business. Rahee seemed to feel it too; her body went steadily rigid. Ever since the matter with Song Gayeong, she still bristled at anyone new who approached me. If that hardened into a habit it would be a problem. She might end up with a narrow way of thinking, and I would have to watch it from here on. Better, even now, to show her an easy conversation than a guarded one. I was just lowering my arm from her shoulder when he spoke.

"Lee Shinwoo?"

"Yes. I'm Lee Shinwoo."

The voice that called my name was a weighted baritone, the sort that inspires trust—the voice of a lawyer or a businessman. And yet, for a businessman, the eyes were a little too soft. There was goodwill in them. Not the look of a man hunting only his own profit, and not a jackal's eyes, forever sniffing for a weakness and an opening. The small gold badge on his suit told me I had read him right. In the instant our gazes crossed, I felt a glint stir in his.

"My apologies. I haven't even introduced myself."

No hostility in the tone, the face, or the gesture. A man who opens with an apology can be met with the guard at least partly down. I know how rare it is for an adult—and one who has lived long enough to have put the years on—to apologize for rudeness at a first meeting. He sent a brief glance toward Rahee, then came forward at an easy pace, and Kim Do-hoon likewise pushed off the car and closed the distance.

"A pleasure. I'm Kim Do-hoon."

"……Yes. Lee Shinwoo."

He offered his right hand, and I took it and shook. From this much I could infer a fair amount. I simply couldn't imagine what business any man would have seeking me out, so for the moment I answered blandly.

"You seem to be a multimale. Is there something you need from me?"

"As expected—you saw it at once. Hmm. You're far more handsome than you were on the news. A pleasure to look at. You're probably the only man who ever announced he was a multimale through the news."

He smiled as he greeted me, smooth as anything, and the absurdity of it pulled a dry laugh out of me before I answered.

"Am I supposed to be grateful?"

"Your first impression was tremendous, at the very least."

"You make a fine impression yourself, Counselor. The suit suits you."

At that his eyes went wide, as if he hadn't expected it, and then a smile drew itself across his face. There were a good many lines, but they sketched the sort of character he must be in ordinary life—pleasant lines, natural ones.

"Your powers of observation are remarkable. Thank you. Getting off rather late, aren't you? The posting had ten o'clock on it."

"Less getting off work than being closer to a member of the gym. I'm only helping out here for a bit."

"I see."

He drew a business card from his breast pocket and held it out, and I took it as I answered.

"I'm unemployed, so I don't have a card."

"Quite all right. You know as well as I do that, for men like us, a profession hardly means much. Closer to a way of passing the time. A man who meets many women and fathers many children is worth more than a president. A president appears, left or right, the moment there's an election. We don't appear simply because we wish to."

There was a touch of chosen-people pride in it, but nothing I couldn't understand. I had been working hard enough myself to tamp down the urge to get carried away. I watched him say it as if it were nothing, eyes narrowed, then dropped my gaze to the card.

"So you were my senior. That would make me your junior."

Kim Do-hoon laughed, bright and open, and nodded as he answered.

"Which is why I came. A pleasure ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to meet you. Male juniors are rare enough to see, and a multimale junior—it's been a very long time."

He kept letting it show that he already knew. Deliberately offering it up, more like. I could feel that he hoped I wouldn't stay on guard. His character seemed decent enough, and even after I acknowledged being his junior he didn't drop the polite register. I could probably stop being wary. I still didn't know what he had come to say, though, so the face and the eyes would bear watching.

"I'm glad to meet you as well. But wasn't Hansung Group the better place?"

"If one looks only at the money, yes. The satisfaction in the work is far higher where I am now. Today I'll limit myself to a greeting. If you have time tomorrow, I'd like a word."

"Mornings are difficult, and so is anything after four."

"Then how about we talk over lunch? This is Anyang, and I know a decent sushi place nearby."

"May I ask what this is about? How often does a lawyer come looking for an ordinary person?"

Kim Do-hoon, who had been smiling easily, regarded me for a moment before he spoke.

"……My. You're more of a gentleman than I expected. Composed, and careful—and this was little better than calling on you without manners. It's been a long time since a plain greeting with no profanity in it. Longer still since I've had anything like a real conversation with a multimale I'd only just met."

"……I am being a little wary of you, Counselor."

"As you should be. Caution never hurts. It's nothing else. One piece of official business, and one private proposal."

I scratched my cheek and turned it over. Official business—as a lawyer, or as a man of the Ministry of Maternity and Childcare? Think as I might, I couldn't find a reason a lawyer would need to see me, though a ministry man might have something to say. It would be about what came after I registered. The number of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠women, maybe. I had been registering for days on end. Or was there some problem with my having been exposed on the broadcast? Either way, I wasn't greatly worried. The private proposal, though, stirred my curiosity.

"When you say official business?"

"Nothing much. The civil servant who exposed your personal information has been disciplined, and I've come to offer an apology."

"That really is nothing…… I know it was only a matter of time. And wasn't that the sort of thing that could have been handled by mail?"

"Haha. Quite so. In other words, the official business is a pretext. I came because of the private proposal."

"So you watch that sort of thing too, Counselor?"

"Ah, it was entertaining. I enjoy a bit of gossip myself."

He picked up the light icebreaker at once. We could talk here.

"And the private proposal?"

"Hmm. Neither the place nor the hour looks right for going into it immediately. And you have company."

He flicked his eyes past my shoulder. I turned and found Rahee with one arm wrapped around the other, watching me with a worried look. I held her gaze a moment and nodded. She looked at me anxiously, nodded back, and slowly withdrew into the building.

"It's fine. Dragging things out doesn't suit my temperament either."

"……The rapport between you runs deep. From the way she was glaring at me, the trust is already thick."

"Well. She's my woman."

"……I see. Understood. Those words are enough."

Kim Do-hoon smiled, soft and satisfied, and moved to light the cigarette still between his lips—then seemed to catch himself, and raised the lighter toward me. I nodded my permission. The lid of a silver Dupont flicked open with a clear bright chime, and a flame leapt. Tobacco crackled as it caught, and his mouth opened.

"I'm sorry, but we've already looked into your personal details. I apologize for that."

"You more or less warned me while you were speaking, so I know. I'm not pleased, but I'm not angry either. Even a government office had my information loose within a day."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Kim Do-hoon nodded and answered, studying me.

"It can't be helped. The state can't control every human desire one by one."

"I understand."

"Once more, I apologize for that matter."

"It isn't something for you to apologize for, Counselor. And, well. It's done now. If someone had even resigned over it, I think I'd be the uncomfortable one."

He smiled gently at that, but the truth was I felt a little sorry for the civil servant. Still, the man had given me a moment of real alarm. Now, I supposed, I felt nothing at all. Kim Do-hoon went on.

"You accepted your own sense of self only very recently. You must have suffered a great deal in the meantime."

"……Yes, well."

"It's late, so I'll keep to the point. I came to invite you to our group."

"A group?"

"Yes. A multimale group. You may call it a club. Do you know anything of the multimale groups here at home?"

"No. Nothing. This is the first I've heard of them."

"You lived with your interest shut off entirely. I understand. Without doing so, those sensitive adolescent years would have been hard to endure. There are a great many men like that. As a rule, it's those whose sense of self formed early who brood for so long."

He had it slightly wrong, but since he was offering to understand, I didn't need to correct him. Even if I did, it would be difficult to say I had simply changed all at once. Better to keep my mouth shut. Cigarette between his lips, Kim Do-hoon continued.

"There are many small groups nationwide, but every one of them belongs to a large group. More than ninety-five percent of multimales have their names on a group's rolls. We're too scattered for a community to arise on its own, you see. We have to band together, if only for our own rights. Broadly speaking, there are two."

He held up two fingers toward me.

"Dowon and Valhalla. I've come from the one called Dowon."

He drew something else from his breast pocket and offered it with a smile. It was a black plastic card edged in gold ornament, with the character meaning peach brushed across it in gold like calligraphy. A magnetic band on the back made me wonder if it was a credit card, and beneath that his name was engraved: Kim Do-hoon. I didn't know what the thing signified, but it seemed to be proof that he belonged.

"Dowon?"

"Think of it as a peach orchard."

"That much I know well enough…… but why a peach……"

He all but cut across me, and for a moment I had no words left.

"I simply cannot fathom why women are ashamed of breasts that large. Ah—of course even a roadside dandelion has its worth, but why they should take greater pride in those useless things, flat as gum ground into the asphalt, is utterly beyond me."

"……Pardon?"

Joke or earnest, I couldn't tell. Was he really saying this with that solemn face? For a second I wasn't sure I'd heard him right, and the dissonance left me staring. Kim Do-hoon paid it no mind. He looked up at the night sky with the cigarette between his lips, raised both hands, and let his fingers dance in the air as if he were shamelessly kneading something.

"They have to be big. Unconditionally big. Big enough not to fit in one hand. No—big enough that you feel your hand has disappeared. If that warm flesh gives and spills out between the fingers, it's a shame, but I can allow it. Soft and supple, they ought to wrap the hand worn out by my work in warmth. Like the inner flesh of a peach at perfect ripeness. Not those canned yellow peaches and white peaches stuffed with filthy silicone from some surgery, but a pure crystallization of fat."

So he preferred them soft rather than firm. Canned yellow peaches are delicious too. No—that wasn't the point. For a moment my mind went hazy. I knew well enough that people spoke of honey peaches and likened a woman's breasts to the fruit, but I had never imagined this was the peach they meant. And the sheer frivolity of it, worlds away from the weight he had carried from the first impression until now, left me rather speechless. Meeting my blank stare, he seemed to come back to himself. Kim Do-hoon cleared his throat and apologized.

"Ah, forgive me. It slipped out before I knew it."

"Not at all. I agree with you. I just happen to think the smaller ones have a charm of their own."

"……So you side with the tomato school. A large tomato is delicious, but so are cherry tomatoes. And stevia tomatoes have been quite good lately, too. Within Dowon, which respects diversity, support for that view has grown—on the grounds that it suits Dowon even better."

"……Ah. Yes. Well……"

"In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a way, it really does pierce to the heart of why a woman's breasts exist at all. There is also the view that it merely dresses up an omnivorous appetite. Still, if that is a multimale's taste, it ought to be respected."

At my answer he put on a profound face, muttered to himself, and nodded as if he had understood something. I stared at him blankly. I had felt this before, with Changsu.