Finding a Part-Time Job
Song Yura walked slowly toward yet another scheduled interview, doing everything she could to keep the gloom off her face.
It had felt good, hearing her department's lead professor tell her he hoped she'd do well even after being expelled. But that was as far as the good feelings went.
We're sorry. The position has already been filled.
Unfortunately, it looks like we won't be able to work with you, Ms. Song Yura.
She'd seen the posts, of course — articles and community threads on every major portal site insisting that part-time jobs weren't easy to come by anymore. Song Yura hadn't given them a second thought. Deep down, she'd looked down on those people, quietly convinced they were either hunting exclusively for cushy gigs or simply weren't trying hard enough because they weren't truly desperate.
If it were her, she'd land one in no time.
Her Master had told her to get just one. She'd been arrogant enough to think she could handle two without breaking a sweat.
Imagination and reality, however, were worlds apart.
"Do you have any work experience?"
The owners hiring for part-time work were incredibly picky, and the competition was absurd.
"Yes, I do!"
"My place is right around the corner, so I can come running anytime. I was the fill-in specialist at my last job! I know I can do this diligently!"
"Oh my god, boss. The interior here is amazing. Wow, I've always wanted to work somewhere like this."
Whenever she ended up interviewing alongside other applicants, there was almost no one without prior experience. Since when did a part-time job — not even a real career position — require a résumé?
On top of that, people would shamelessly flaunt every advantage they had. And though it was rare, there was even the occasional crazy bitch who went straight for sex appeal.
Song Yura stopped in her tracks and checked the message with fearful eyes.
Then her heart sank.
"It's just a part-time job!"
That was the thing. It wasn't some corporate career. It was simple, repetitive work — the kind of job a complete beginner could get used to in a single day. So why wouldn't anyone hire her?
"Ahhh…"
She'd had no idea that being rejected could leave a person this wretched, this bleak. These days, even the sound of a text notification was enough to give her PTSD.
"…It's just a part-time job."
No. It wasn't just a part-time job.
She knew that perfectly well.
"Haa."
The harder she tried to find work on her own, the more Song Yura was forced to look again at how remarkable Han Naengjung had been — landing jobs so casually at that young age, working late into the night while other kids played. And the more she saw it, the larger her guilt and shame grew.
"Master…"
Right there in the middle of the street, on her way to yet another interview, Song Yura nearly burst into tears without meaning to. He hadn't contacted her in three whole days. She hadn't known it would leave her this hurt, this bitterly lonely.
"Ha, haha… I'm insane."
Even she had to admit how ridiculous she was being. This was a man who had wanted to kill her. A man who had no interest in her whatsoever beyond getting his stolen money back and using her as a sex slave for a year to slake his lust.
Wouldn't a normal person be jumping for joy after three days without seeing someone like that? He's finally forgotten about me — that should have been the thought.
So why do I miss him this much?
If she could feel warmth in those ice-cold eyes, if she could find gentleness even in the things he did purely to satisfy his lust… then maybe she really had lost her mind.
Even so.
I miss him.
There was no lie in that feeling. She didn't care if they only met for sex. She just wanted to stand in front of her Master again.
"Kyaah!"
Clatter. Crack—.
The timing and the message were so completely unexpected that Song Yura startled and dropped her phone. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, but she didn't care in the slightest. Just knowing her Master had texted her was enough to make her want to wag a tail she didn't even have.
What do I do? What am I supposed to say?
F-first, she had to show him she hadn't been slacking off for three days. Even if she hadn't landed a single job.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Song Yura prayed he would call her over. But the message that came back was nothing like what she'd hoped for.
"Ah!"
In that instant, Song Yura regretted everything. If she'd known this was how it would go, she would have just told him she was sitting around doing nothing.
"Ow…"
They said misfortune came in streaks.
She stuck the finger she'd sliced on the cracked screen into her mouth and started walking again. Her pace picked up on its own. Fine. She'd wrap up the interview as fast as possible and contact him, just as he'd ordered.
It was a bit of a walk from her place, but she'd heard that with no work experience, there was no better part-time job than a convenience store.
"H-hello."
"Welcome. How can I help you?"
A female part-timer with a pretty smile greeted her as she stepped inside. She used to take that kind of thing for granted. Looking at it now, she understood — a first impression like that put you ahead before you'd even started. The unfailingly kind attitude toward every single customer, too.
If I were the one hiring, I'd pick her over me.
Without meaning to, Song Yura glanced enviously at the CS Convenience Store name tag hanging over the other girl's chest. There was a time she would have said she wouldn't take one of those even if they handed it to her. Now she wanted, desperately, to pin that tag on and work in this store.
"I heard you're hiring for the evening and overnight shifts."
"Ah, you're here about the job? What's your name?"
"Song Yura."
"One moment. Ah, here you are. If you look in the back corner, there's a door — the manager is in there organizing stock. Head that way and you can do the interview right now. You should hear back as soon as tomorrow."
"Yes, thank you."
Matching the other girl's kindness, Song Yura offered a polite bow and started walking. It was only a few steps, so why did the door where the manager was waiting feel so impossibly far away?
I can't go as far as sex appeal… but maybe I could try batting my eyes a little?
People hadn't often called her kind. But she'd been hearing she was pretty since she was little. So if the manager turned out to be a man, maybe a little flattery wouldn't hurt… The thought crossed her mind because, if she was going to see her Master anyway, she wanted to bring him good news.
And then…
"H-hello?"
"Who's there? Ah, are you here about the job? Give me just a moment. Three seconds."
"O-oh, please, take your time."
"Haha, sure. I'll be right out, just hang on."
Looking at the kind-faced, middle-aged man whose gentle smile somehow called her own grandfather to mind, Song Yura quietly shelved the idea. He had a decent, honest face, and he was clearly not the type that sort of thing would work on.
"Let's step out. We can sit over there and talk."
"Yes, of course."
It was just an interview. Song Yura was so tense she clenched both hands into fists as she followed the manager and sat down in the chair across from his desk.
"Let's see… Song Yura, is it?"
"Yes!"
"No need to be so nervous. Convenience store work isn't that difficult. That said — and I hope you won't take this the wrong way — the overnight shift isn't easy for a woman. I'm not saying that to look down on you, Ms. Song."
"No, I've heard that a lot myself."
It was true. For night shifts, a PC bang wasn't so bad, but everywhere else — even in a country as safe as Korea — there were places women were reluctant to work. Convenience stores were no exception. Drunk troublemakers in the dead of night. The kind of customer with no manners, slipping in during the hours when almost no one else was around.
"I still want to do it."
"Hmm…"
She knew why he was hesitating. No matter what she said here, if something happened, the one who would take the blame wasn't anyone else — it was the store.
Even so.
"I-I'll work really hard. No matter what happens, I'll tough it out!"
She understood now, firsthand, just how embarrassing it was to say something like that. From a distance, she used to sneer at people who came out with such cringey lines. Actually doing it herself, she finally knew how much courage it took.
"If you're going to put it that strongly, I'll try to look at this a little more positively. Ah — wait a moment."
"Yes…"
The atmosphere had been heading toward a good outcome, but Song Yura tensed up all over again. Until just a second ago, even while he was deliberating, the manager had kept a measure of that grandfatherly kindness on his face. Now he looked more serious than he had at any point since she'd walked in.
"…Maak High? Did you happen to go to Maak High?"
"Yes, I was there for three years."
"I… this may be a truly rude question, but I've heard a few things. I really hope this is a case of the same name. Ms. Song Yura — Han Naengjung. Have you ever heard that name?"
In that instant, Song Yura felt her heart drop straight through the floor. Why was her Master's name coming out of this man's mouth?
"Ah… well."
"So you have. I was hoping I was wrong, but that means this Song Yura is one of the people who tormented that little boy."
"Th-that's, I mean…"
Her throat closed up. The words wouldn't come. She still had no idea what was going on, but one thing was painfully clear: the manager sitting in front of her was far closer to Han Naengjung than she had ever been.
That past again. Whenever she came face to face with those traces of a history she could never change, Song Yura hated herself so much she thought she might go insane.
"They say the world is small, but I never expected to meet you like this. Honestly, I thought if I ever ran into you I'd curse you out in that dignified kid's place, get it all off my chest. But looking at your face, it's not as easy as I imagined."
"Ah, ahh…"
"Just seeing you out here hunting for a part-time job yourself… I hope you understand, even a little, how hard it was for that tiny child back then. Do you know what that little boy used to say, standing there scanning barcodes while every other kid his age was out playing?"
Song Yura squeezed her eyes shut. But she kept her ears wide open.
The manager spoke to Song Yura with his expression held as blank as he could manage.
"Hhk, hhkk…"
Song Yura could only nod, tears streaming without end. Even in this moment, she hated herself so much it hurt. She wanted to die, plain and simple. No — she didn't even need the year. She wished her Master would take her life right here, right now.
And then.
"You're here, sir? I had somewhere to be and thought I'd stop in on the way…"
At the voice behind her, Song Yura trembled so hard she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole in the ground and disappear.
"I-I, I mean… I r-really didn't know. That this was, I mean…"
Drip. Drop—.
Like the tears hitting the floor, Song Yura wanted to crumble apart.
But.
"Let's go."
"…!"
Han Naengjung's hand closed firmly around her shoulder and pulled her to her feet, and Song Yura's heart felt like it might burst from the consideration in that single gesture.
"Naengjung! Do you have any idea what that woman did to you…"
"It's alright, sir."
Han Naengjung answered the manager in a voice that sounded like none of it mattered at all.
In that instant, it was as if a dam inside her had given way. Song Yura burst into tears, buried herself in Han Naengjung's chest, and poured out apology after apology without stopping.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… I was wrong, hhkeeeh. I, I…"
And even now — finding this embrace so unbearably warm — Song Yura hated how pathetic she was.