Eight Bottles of Makgeolli
What struck me most was how completely the employees' attitudes toward me had flipped.
The associates, junior associates, and assistant managers treated me with careful politeness, while anyone at manager level or above seemed oddly wary of my every move.
I found it strange that everything could change so suddenly, but there was no way for me to know why.
I hadn't been invited to their group chats, after all.
Even after a whirlwind of a day, time kept moving all the same. And I, standing at the center of it, spent the hours surprisingly idle.
Remarkably, no punishment or disciplinary action came down on me all the way to quitting time. On any other day I would have been fretting over my own future, but right now I felt almost unnervingly at ease.
Or is this ease at all? Or is it just that I've already let everything go, so this is unhappiness? Having never had a terminal illness before, I don't even understand my own condition.
"Thank you, everyone. Good work today."
Six o'clock sharp. I stood, put on my coat, and left on the dot. I'd already cleared my desk that morning, so there was nothing left to tidy. I could feel countless eyes on my back as I turned away.
When have I ever drawn this much attention?
It felt good, then uneasy, then uncomfortable, all at once.
I pressed the elevator button and stepped back.
"Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin."
Oh—!
I turned my head and found Kang Bitna staring up at me. When had she gotten there? She'd been out since midday and nowhere to be seen. She moved like a ghost.
"Ah, yes."
"Earlier I was so flustered I never got to thank you properly. Thank you again. If it hadn't been for you, Assistant Manager Noh, my pretty face might have gotten hurt."
Wow. She can say something that brazen and somehow it isn't annoying at all, because her face really is that pretty. And this woman went through all that and still has zero tension left?
"Ah, well… glad it worked out. Glad we could protect that pretty face."
"Oh my, you think I'm pretty?"
She cupped both cheeks in her palms and looked up at me.
Ah—
"…"
Ding.
The elevator doors opened.
"Well then. I'll be going."
I stepped inside.
"Ah, I'm heading out too!"
She climbed in after me.
"…"
Looking closer, she was wearing a coat and had a bag slung over her shoulder. Right. She was clocking out.
An awkward stretch of silence settled between us.
So much for "I'll be going"… that was embarrassing.
"By any chance," she said, breaking the quiet, "would you like to have dinner together? I'd like to repay you."
"Ah, I'm a bit awkward about eating with other people."
"Ah! I see."
Ding.
"Then really, I'll be going."
I fled the elevator and headed for the exit.
"Assistant Manager Noh Hoojin!"
She came running after me in a hurry.
What is with this woman being so clingy?
"If eating feels awkward, how about drinks? You drink, right?"
"Drinks…"
"Come on! I know a good place. I'm buying tonight. I can pick the spot, right?"
Weren't you supposed to be repaying me?
She spoke with total confidence, then took the lead and tugged on my coat. I couldn't exactly brush her off. With things as they were, I had no choice but to follow.
The place she headed for was a seasonal Korean restaurant not far from the office. Given her age and style, I'd expected her to prefer something atmospheric—an izakaya or a cocktail bar—so this was a mild surprise.
Inside, the place was already packed. Everyone must have come straight from work. The walls were covered in signatures, and among them I spotted our company chairman's.
A famous spot, then?
There were about eight tables. Not a large restaurant.
"Auntie! I'm here~!"
"Oh, Bitna's here. The usual?"
"Yes!"
The way the owner greeted her so warmly, she was clearly a regular.
The basic side dishes came out: kimchi, young radish kimchi, cubed radish kimchi, various seasoned namul, mini pancakes, stir-fried garlic scapes, pickled onions.
What is this spread? This is pure makgeolli territory.
Thud.
Right then the owner set a bottle of makgeolli, a kettle, and a bowl on the table.
Jesus.
My mouth watered on its own.
"This place okay?"
"Ah, yes. It's really nice."
I had to give her that.
"How did you even find a place like this?"
I asked out of genuine curiosity.
"I used to come here a lot with my grandfather."
"Ah, I see."
She gave the makgeolli bottle a practiced swirl and poured it into the small kettle. This was not someone who'd done it once or twice.
"Can you hold your liquor?"
"Sorry? No?"
I answered on instinct.
"Then drink at your own pace. You know your limits."
She filled my bowl as she said it. A cool-headed woman.
Between the side dishes and the makgeolli, we emptied the first bottle in no time. The banchan really were incredible—just a touch under-seasoned, yet somehow you kept going back for more.
Without hesitation she got up, pulled another bottle of makgeolli from the fridge, and brought it over. I tilted my head slightly.
This might be dangerous. Don't they say once makgeolli hits you, you can't even recognize your own parents?
But right then—
"Here! Eat plenty."
"Kyaa! Thank you, Auntie~!"
The owner set a plate of spicy raw skate salad on the table. A sharp, sweet heat rose from it and my mouth watered all over again.
"Wow! Looks amazing! Ah, this might be a bit spicy. You okay with that?"
"Ah, yes."
She already ordered it and then asks if it's okay?
Fortunately, I wasn't someone who couldn't handle spice either. We talked about the banchan and the food spread across the table and ate with real appetite. Not once while drinking did she bring up anything about the company.
I liked that.
Two hours later.
The table was a wasteland of empty plates, and eight empty makgeolli bottles stood stacked between us. And yet something was off.
Why am I not drunk?
Eight bottles of makgeolli. Four each. We hadn't even talked that much while drinking. Probability of being wasted: 99.99 percent.
And yet my head was crystal clear. I could even feel the alcohol breaking down inside me.
Is my alcohol dehydrogenase working in overdrive? Has my liver function improved too? Or has my entire metabolic system been restructured…?
And why am I even thinking like this?
The old me would already be unconscious, blacked out, or hugging a toilet bowl. Was this also because of the bomb sitting inside my brain?
Across from me, Kang Bitna's face was flushed a warm red.
"Liar…"
She muttered, glaring at me, then started pouring a heavy pour into her bowl.
"Bitna, maybe we should stop drinking now…"
"You said you were a lightweight! Why are you still fine?!"
She suddenly snapped, sharp enough to make my ears ring.
"I honestly don't know either."
I really didn't.
"Liar! One more round! Let's go until one of us drops! Tomorrow's the weekend anyway! Let's go!"
She shouted again.
"Why are you suddenly flexing about drinking…?"
She'd said this was a thank-you dinner. Her idea of repayment was truly unique.
I clinked bowls with her without much expression and knocked back another. Not getting drunk was almost a plus, and yet somehow I also felt like I was coming out behind.
In the end we drank until closing. This woman could hold her liquor.
She rose unsteadily, as if the alcohol had finally caught up, then spent a long while hugging the owner and cooing over her before finally peeling herself away.
"Second round! Let's go for a second round!"
"Whoa, careful, careful."
She walked unsteadily, arms flailing for balance.
"Oh! Over there! Over there!"
Apparently she'd spotted another bar, because she started walking faster.
At this rate something bad is going to—
"Aah!"
Just as she tried to go down the stairs, her foot missed the step. Her body pitched forward, balance gone, and she started to fall.
"Hey—no!"
I reached out and shouted. She was too far. All I could do was desperately hope she was okay—wait.
In that instant, something astonishing happened. As if time itself had slowed, her figure appeared slow and razor-sharp. The angle of her lost balance, the speed of the fall, the structure of the stairs, even the slope of the ground—every variable rose in my mind at once, and I calculated the optimal path.
Huh? This is…? It happened last time too.
Then… I can make it.
I drove power into my legs and sprinted. My body shot toward her as if the laws of physics had given up, and I stretched out my arms and caught her around the waist. Then time snapped back to normal and we went down together.
I twisted hard so I hit first, my back slamming into the cold stone steps, and she collapsed on top of me. The impact knocked her phone free.
"Ugh!"
"Bitna, are you okay?"
She couldn't steady herself and kept flopping loosely on top of me.
"Uuugh… uk!"
In a situation where I couldn't even put my hands on her properly, she suddenly made an ominous sound.
Don't tell me—
"Hey! Bitna, no! Don't—!"
"Uuuuugh!"
She finally brought the thick makgeolli right back up all over me.
The next morning.
"Uuugh…"
Kang Bitna woke to a headache that felt ready to split her skull.
"Uuugh!"
Out of habit she stretched her arms and legs, then felt something catch against her hand.
What is that?
Still with her eyes closed, she groped around, trying to figure out what it was. Something warm and firm—skin? Skin?
Her eyes flew open.
She stared at the ceiling. A ceiling she had never seen before. Her pupils darted, and every hair on her body stood on end. She tried to rewind her memory, but it was as if the whole night had been scooped clean out of her head. Nothing came back.
Don't tell me—
She slowly turned her head to the side. And there was Noh Hoojin, turned toward her, sound asleep. Her hand was resting squarely on his chest.
Her pupils shook hard and her face went paper-white.
"Kyaaaaaaaaaaah!"
"Ugh—!"
I jolted awake in pure shock.
Thud!
Some impact knocked me clean off the bed. She had kicked me.
I got my bearings and looked up to find Kang Bitna wrapped in the blanket, staring at me with a face full of panic. The odds of this turning into a misunderstanding were extremely high. No—they were certain.
I hurriedly tightened the robe I was wearing, threw both hands up, and shouted.
"It's a misunderstanding! A misunderstanding! Absolutely nothing happened between us! Please calm down."
"Where is this? Why—why are we here together? And m-my clothes?"
She was in nothing but underwear under the robe.
"Th-there!"
I quickly pointed to one wall. My dress shirt and her top were hanging there, hand-washed in a hurry and still damp, not fully dry.
"Please calm down and listen. Do you remember throwing up on me last night?"
"What? I did?"
She stared at me with a look of pure shock.
I slowly opened both hands where she could see them and began explaining, step by step, everything that had happened the night before.