Moving Job (1)
"What're you doing? Get in quick."
"Huh?"
I was genuinely shocked by the ajumma's words. She was telling me to get in her car? Why? Weren't we supposed to move stuff from right here? I stood there with a blank look on my face, clueless about where we were even going.
"We're not doing this apartment—we have to go somewhere else. I sent the wrong address."
"Oh... got it."
She slowly explained when she saw my dumbfounded expression. Once I understood, I hopped right in the car.
"Aigoo... a guy who's so bright and hardworking. That's impressive."
"Aigoo... thank you."
As soon as I got in, the ajumma started praising me. Fuck... this was suffocating. I'd gotten in because she told me to, but damn, why did this woman talk so much? It felt like riding in a taxi with one of those chatty old dudes. Couldn't she just drive in silence?
She kept yapping, and I had to respond to every damn thing... She went on about how the moving center jobs were, how she did her work, how she could haul three heavy boxes at once. For stuff like that, I just gave generic reactions like "Whoa, really?!" or "That's amazing!"
"Hehe~ Seeing your reaction makes noona feel pretty badass, huh, Seonghun?"
"Huh?"
Fuck, noona?Noona?! Shit?! What the hell? She looked more like someone you'd call "boss" or "hyungnim," not noona. Hell, that'd be generous—her vibe crossed gender lines into a whole different species. I barely swallowed the profanity bubbling up my throat and just gave her a thumbs-up.
I had to hold back the urge to curse; this ajumma was paying me. Until the money hit my pocket, I needed to play nice. Somehow, I dragged a clown smile onto my face. Living in this world is fucking exhausting.
After enduring a barrage of cringey compliments, we finally arrived at the job site. A truck was parked in front of the apartment, loaded with appliances, furniture, and a bunch of massive boxes.
"Okay, everyone—this is Oh Seonghun, our day laborer for today. He's a guy, so he might not be great at this stuff. Keep an eye on him."
She introduced me to the group and told me to take a break. I'd come because of the "male preference" listing, but some of them eyed me skeptically.
"You sure you'll be okay? We've got some rough stuff like fridges and furniture."
"Yeah? What... sure, I'm fine. I'm pretty strong."
If they were gonna stare at me like that, why even advertise male preference? I had no idea.
"Just give me a shot. If I can't hack it, send me packing."
"Sigh... fine. Start with those boxes over there."
"Got it."
More talking would just sound like excuses. For manual labor like this, actions speak louder. I slipped on my gloves and got to work.
Blue plastic moving boxes were stacked up. With gloved hands, I grabbed two or three at a time and hoisted them up.
Hmm... not bad.
I'd worried they might be heavy at first, but three wasn't a problem. I'd moved way heavier shit like bricks and cement bags before—this was light work. I carried them over, wondering where to put them.
"Just... inside the truck? That okay?"
"Yeah?"
Following her directions, I dumped the whole stack onto the truck bed. The ajumma who'd been doubting me moments ago looked stunned. Had I fucked up?
"What? A guy lifted all that?"
"Isn't he a guy? Look at his build..."
"All at once? Dude's got some serious strength."
"I just saw his forearm. Drooling over here."
I instantly got what the whispers were about. No point stressing—it'd just slow me down. I ignored them and kept at it, silent and steady.
I slung a top-loader washer onto my back, laid blankets under the wardrobe and shoved it onto the truck. Once I got the hang of it, the tough parts weren't so bad. Sweating it out felt good, body moving freely.
The real pain? All the stares. They were heavy.
"Unnie, check it out—a guy's doing all that."
"Stronger than us."
"Wonder how solid those forearms are?"
"Sweat's making him look so sexy."
They gawked, whispered, praised. I tried ignoring it, but they made it impossible. When I rolled up my sleeves, someone even let out a little scream. I didn't wanna deal, but they forced it on me. Just finish fast.
I kept lifting, hauling...
"Whew, kid's got some real power! Looking sharp!"
"Thanks."
I wiped sweat and chugged water. All my problems solved in one go? Money sorted, body aches gone. Felt great.
Short break over, I geared up to restart.
"Kid! Let's rest a bit more."
"Sure."
Under the truck's shade, they handed out mats, bread, and canned coffee. I snagged a corner spot.
Formosa bread and RC Cola coffee. This combo after hard labor? Beats the world's top three delicacies. Back in the old world, I didn't get it—boss sent me for bread, I grabbed Pushmon and Quantata, and got reamed by foreign coworker Amir: "Boss likes Korean shit, or I wouldn't leave that crap here." Called it trash-tier.
Munching blissfully, sure enough, the other women from the job swarmed over.
"Student, Seonghun, right? How old?"
"Twenty-five."
"Nice age. Check those arms—ripped. Where you live?"
"...Pretty far from here. Goshiwon."
"Really?! Why's a guy in a goshiwon? Don't you want comfort?"
"I'm comfy enough."
Interrogation disguised as chit-chat. I chewed bread, gave short answers.
"Okay, okay. Got a girlfriend?"
"...No girlfriend yet. Never dated."
"For real? You're hot—must have high standards?"
Ugh... tough to answer.Just wanna go home.
"But... damn, you're strong. Those arms from working out?"
"Nah, just lots of manual labor."
The banjang who'd been questioning suddenly grabbed my arm. I yanked back on instinct, fist almost flying. I'd held back a ton already, but had to keep it together. For the cash, I'd endured worse. Gritting teeth, I slipped my arm free and tried standing.
"Body's like a rock. No gym, and it's like this? Not from moving."
"...Did some construction gigs."
"Yeah? Guys can make easy money."
She ignored me, groping again. I'd been patient as fuck. Sweat mixed with thick makeup scent assaulted my nose. One more whiff and I'd puke up that bread. Get off me.
"Hey... free for dinner shift? You're hustling hard—you want the cash, right? Noona can hook you up."
"I'm good."
"Our team's short-staffed~ Can't you help?"
"Sorry."
She kept hugging, begging for night work. I was money-hungry, but not stupid. Night shifts paid more, sure, but teaming with someone groping me? Fuck no—what kinda shit would happen? Too scary.
I refused as politely as possible.
"Fine... if you don't want to, can't force ya. Gimme your number and account—I'll send the pay."
"Uh... no account. Can I get cash instead of transfer?"
"What? No account why?"
"Seized. So..."
She blanked out, then closed in.
"Aigoo! Why didn't you say? Tough times?"
Ah, fuck. I'd just escaped, now she pitied me and tried hugging again. I bolted upright and fled. No telling what happens—finish and bounce.
Job done, back at the goshiwon. 150,000 won—my earnings today. She said "a little extra" with a wink, nearly made me hurl, but seemed decent. Good people give cash... but no way I'd do it twice.
Bzzz—smartphone vibrated. Message? I checked.
"Who is this?"
A message from an unknown number. Thought it was smishing at first.
"Ah, fuck..."
Saw "handsome" and knew instantly. Why the hell was today's banjang texting me?