The Interview
“Yujin-ah, you up?”
I knock, but there's no response.
I think about opening the door and peeking in, but decide against it.
Minwoo just left. He never used to head out this early, but for the past few days, he's been going out every morning like he's got a job.
Did he find some part-time gig?
“Mom, I'm heading out.”
I stand in front of Mom's door and call out, but again, no answer.
I step out the front door and head to the bus stop.
People are rushing by, afraid of missing their bus or subway. I envy them.
I'm heading to "work" too, but it's a whole different world from theirs.
Everything changed after Dad died in that freak accident.
This apartment we moved into five years ago... that's when I found out we hadn't even paid off the mortgage.
With no money to spare, Dad's absence hit us like a ton of bricks—straight-up poverty.
The monthly principal and interest payments were over 4 million won. Luckily, the credit loan was almost due—just a year left—and we covered it with Dad's life insurance payout.
But we still had to shell out 1.3 million every month for decades.
Mom would sigh staring at our dwindling bank balance.
I suggested selling the apartment and moving, but she wouldn't hear it. "Don't worry, Mom's got it handled." End of story.
After marrying Dad, Mom had been a full-time housewife. She'd never worked a day outside the home.
Of course it was hard for her to find a job.
Someone had to bring in money, but it couldn't be her, and Minwoo and Yujin were too young.
So I dropped out of college and started job hunting.
Cafe gigs or convenience store shifts paid minimum wage—barely enough to keep us fed, let alone cover everything else.
Just the loan was 1.3 million a month, plus utilities, living expenses... even pocket money for Minwoo and Yujin...
It was way too much for me, the girl who'd only ever studied, to handle alone.
One night, drinking with Jian, I vented. I had no idea what to do. It felt like I had to step up, but I didn't know how. For Dad's sake, who raised and clothed me, I couldn't let this slide.
A few days later, Jian called. There was an opening at her company—want to give it a shot? The pay was good, she said. I was intrigued.
I asked what kind of company, but she didn't get specific. Just come with me.
We'd been friends since elementary school, so I didn't suspect a thing and tagged along.
It was pretty far—a 90-minute bus ride to the area where she worked.
But instead of an office, we walked into a cafe.
“Here, this place.”
“Hello.”
Some burly guy approaches and sits across from us.
“You order coffee yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Pick whatever. Price doesn't matter.”
“Sure, hehe.”
Jian chats him up, ordering this and that. The big guy places the order and sits back down across from me.
“No need to be nervous. You're here for a job, right?”
“Uh? Yeah...”
“What do you think?”
“It's... about what I expected...”
The burly guy eyes me up and down. It creeps me out, so I turn my head away slightly.
I'm used to those stares dozens of times a day, but they never get easier.
I know exactly what they're thinking. I've grown up under eyes like that.
Guys I'd never even talked to would pop up out of nowhere with confessions. Just because we'd passed each other a few times, or lived in the same neighborhood—they'd skip straight to "I like you."
They'd leer at me like that, imagining having me.
“When can you start?”
“Huh?”
“You can work today, right?”
Before I can respond, Jian jumps in: “She can start right away.”
“I'll pay top rate. Didn't expect someone like you...”
That gross stare again.
“Hold on a sec.”
Something feels off. I stand up.
“Hey, come out here a minute.”
“Huh? Just wait a bit.”
The big guy looks flustered. I head outside the cafe and wait for Jian.
She comes out soon after and stands in front of me.
“Hey, spill it—what's with that guy?”
“You need money, right? This is the interview.”
“Interview? For what?”
“Ugh... you kinda figured it out already, didn't you? I work at an opi.”
“Op i?”
I'd seen it in the news a few times. Stories about women doing sex work in officetels. That one where a girl posted a bank statement with 100 million won and got humiliated.
Lots of articles like that—all negative, full of hate.
Op i meant... prostitution?
“Yeah, you know what I mean. You've heard of it.”
I snap.
You crazy bitch.
“Are you seriously telling me to work at an opi? Is that why you dragged me here? 'What I expected'? What the fuck?”
“Why are you acting like this? Where else you gonna get that kind of cash? Part-time? Normal job? Dream on, you idiot.”
“What? You fucking psycho!”
“Hit me, go ahead.”
My hand twitches up, but I hold it back.
“They treat you the best. One hour, over 100,000 won.”
“......”
“You're gorgeous, sweet, popular... but get real. Even if you find something else, it'll be the same in the end.”
“Same how?”
“Straight up—if I were you, I'd get a sugar daddy. Hook up now and then, sleep over... easy money.”
“Watch your mouth, you—”
“That way you could go back to school, take care of Minwoo, Yujin, even Mom. Pay off the loan.”
“Are you even my friend? I had no idea you were like this...”
“You fucking bitch! Didn't know what? You knew I had standards! How else did I pay Mom's hospital bills?”
I remember Jian's mom having surgery three years ago. I visited daily, offered what comfort I could, but that was it.
She lives alone with her mom. At just twenty, where'd she get that kind of money? I suspected, but never asked. Because we were friends.
“You want me to do the same?”
“Yeah, that's your only option. Or spend your life drowning in debt, dragging your siblings and mom to some slum.”
Tears well up suddenly.
“Yoonseo, no one will know. Close your eyes for a year—no, six months. With your looks, you could make 200k a day...”
“......”
“Work when you want. Any issues, just say. They'll hook you up. Save up a few months, go back to school.”
“Fuck off.”
I shove Jian and run blindly. I end up in some random park, out of breath, collapsing on an empty bench.
You crazy bitch.
I could never do it. Never even thought about it.
Dragging your "friend" to something like this? Telling her to sell herself?
Jian, we're done.
I get up and trudge to the bus stop. Luckily, one heading home pulls up, and I board.
*
“Sis, you're back?”
Minwoo greets me at the door with a smile.
“Yeah. You eat?”
“Yeah, digging in now.”
Ramen smell hits me. I head to the kitchen.
A pot with one side dish tub, ramen slurped onto a plate. Yujin shoveling it down.
“Sis, eat with me.”
“Nah, I ate.”
Minwoo sits, slurping his. Fridge is empty—side dishes gone, eggs almost out, no snacks.
This is too much, even for us...
I change in my room, shower, then head to Mom's.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“Come in.”
She's at her vanity, getting ready to go out. I sit beside her.
“Spit it out quick. I gotta head out.”
She's ignoring me, staring in the mirror.
“Sell this place, Mom.”
She stops mid-makeup, turns to glare.
“I said no.”
“The kids are eating ramen right now, Mom!”
“We have ramen sometimes. Don't make a fuss.”
“Mom!”
“Enough! Keep nagging about the apartment, get out.”
“We can't afford this anymore! Just till I graduate—let's move somewhere else, please?”
“I said I've got it handled! Gonna keep repeating yourself?”
“You can't handle it, that's the problem! What are you even doing out there? Don't you care about us?”
“You think I want this? What can I do?”
“Sell the damn house and move!”
Slap!
My cheek burns.
“Keep pushing, and that's the attitude you give your mom?”
“What the—? Mom!”
Minwoo bursts in, rushing to my side.
“Mom! You hit Sis?”
“Both of you, out! I can't even look at you. Fine, I'll go... fuck... seriously.”
Mom slams the door and storms out. Front door bangs shut soon after.
“What happened? Apartment talk again?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit... fuck, it's bruised.”
Minwoo fetches the first-aid kit from outside, dabs ointment on my cheek with cotton.
“Sorry.”
“For what? You're not the one who should be sorry.”
“Just... sorry.”
I turn away, spot a bruise on Minwoo's wrist.
“Minwoo, what's this?”
“Oh? Slipped at work.”
I want to press, but can't.
“Alright, go rest.”
“Yeah.”
He helps me up. Back in my room, I slump on the bed.
Minwoo's been job hunting since high school graduation. That bruise looks like rough work.
Mom won't budge. What do I do?
*
“Here.”
“Hi, good to see you again.”
I nod lightly and sit across.
“We were worried when you bolted that day. You okay?”
“Yeah...”
“So you're doing it?”
“Yeah...”
“I smoothed everything over. Don't stress.”
“Okay...”
Clueless bitch.
“Usually starts at 80k, but base pay's 100k per go for you.”
“100k an hour.”
100k? Per hour?
“And... your size is impressive, so I thought it over. Plus 80k—180k per.”
“Whoa, fuck.”
180k?
“Ads'll list you as +8... matches your output. Top pay around here.”
“Girl, I've never heard of 180k. That's huge.”
“Yeah...”
“No profile pic, right?”
“No...”
“Cool. We'll assign chill regulars only. No worries.”
“Okay...”
“Finish up and let's go?”
“Sure...”
I barely taste the coffee before time slips away. Jian stands; the big guy follows. I get up, trailing her out.
Soon, we reach an officetel. Elevator up, step out. She punches in the code; door unlocks.
I follow the big guy and Jian inside.