The Real Adult
University life burns through a fortune. Especially for a self-supporting student like me who came up from the provinces—I'm a walking Ferrari when it comes to fuel efficiency.
Murderous rent, the inevitable parade of utility bills and food costs, plus every little extra just to keep a shred of human dignity intact. Get shaken down for drinks by a pack of underclassmen posing as juniors, the way I did today, and you end up with a budget black hole no supplemental appropriation can fill.
I couldn't just blow through the savings I'd scraped together like gold in the army, either. Five million of that had already vaporized into thin air thanks to Park Yeongmin's scam.
So I work.
Shifts run Monday through Thursday, six to midnight—a brutal grind that still feels worth it.
"Four thousand won…"
Once classes wrap, I buy two corn breads from the convenience store. From the pretty-eyed part-timer who talks in that cute way even behind her mask.
Then I head to the subway and ride out. Destination: Gasan Digital Complex, not far from campus.
The most bleakly cursed neighborhood in Seoul—the place people flock to chasing startup dreams, only to collapse into miserable wage slaves.
Munch, munch…
I tear into the first corn bread the moment I hit the office and get ready for work. Nothing but simple, skill-free repetition.
At nine I open the second. At least the perks aren't bad—drinks and snacks overflow, which is some consolation.
"Taekgu."
I was just stretching after polishing off the bread when a middle-aged man with a dark tan walked over, two fingers raised.
"Cigarette?"
"…"
I'm a nonsmoker. A pure one—never even tried it out of curiosity.
Still, I follow him. One reason only: he's my boss, the CEO of this office.
Pwaah…
Pale cigarette smoke billowed out against a night sky empty of stars. The boss turned with a wistful look.
"Hoo… Don't you go learning this crap."
"Ha… haha…"
Heh…
It had been a joke from the start, so he answered with a laugh of his own. Standing there alone like an idiot felt awkward, so I tossed out any question that came to mind.
"Boss? There's something I've been wondering…"
"Boss, my ass. I told you to just call me hyung."
"What? No matter what, how am I supposed to call the company president hyung…"
"People came first, bosses second—not the other way around. The thing I hate most in this world is that rotten class consciousness. You and I are coworkers before we're boss and employee. So hyung and dongsaeng makes sense, right, you punk?"
"…"
Even being generous, we were at least uncle and nephew age-wise… But looking at the freewheeling office vibe, he might actually believe it.
"So what's the question?"
"Ah, nothing big. Why'd you hire me?"
"What's with the bland question all of a sudden?"
"Come on, you know what I mean. I'm not even a major, no related experience. It was just a part-time gig, but the competition was insane. I still don't get why I got picked."
"Why? Because you looked like fun."
"…"
When someone finally asks a serious question, is it that hard to give a matching answer? Luckily he seemed willing enough—he flicked ash and continued.
"Remember the interview?"
"Of course. Full-on pressure interview."
"Remember the first thing I said the second I saw you?"
"How could I forget? Most ridiculous greeting I've ever heard."
I hadn't even opened the door and given my number yet. He'd looked up with pure irritation and said, flat-out:
What the fuck is this ugly-ass bastard?
Even knowing from reviews that a pressure interview was coming, I'd frozen. The boss's lips curled at the memory.
"What'd you answer?"
"'The bastard who came for the interview,' right?"
"That's why I hired you."
"…"
Still not enough explanation. But our boss was a man who never lacked for words.
"You think I've only done that interview once or twice? Usual reactions come in two flavors. Either they freeze up, stammer, and back down—or they get so pissed they fire right back. You weren't either."
"I was just so shocked I tried to joke it off…"
"That's the point. For everyone else it was a fork in the road—get offended or don't. For you it was a chance to show who you were. You know how it is with kids these days. No grit, no guts, complete fucking retards. But that day, the second you answered, I thought without even meaning to: Oh? This bastard's a bit like me."
"…"
Boss, I think your prejudice against the younger generation might be a little extreme?
Sure, losers exist everywhere, but they don't speak for all of us.
"You know what college I went to?"
"Uh, the one in Boseong, Jeollanam-do…"
"A bottom-tier local school so obscure you can't even remember the name. Honestly, what are you supposed to do coming out of a place like that? Alumni meetings, the security guard from our college shows up in a suit. But I wasn't like that. I ground myself into the dirt entering contests, racked up dozens of titles solo, and smashed through the doors of a conglomerate my classmates couldn't even dream of."
"…"
He stared into space like he'd taken a quick time-travel trip. But that was only the prequel—before the real story even started.
"I thought I'd made it once I got into the big company. Turns out no. The SKY pretty boys formed a cartel and worked me to death alone. Fucking hell, it was so goddamn shitty I slammed my resignation on their faces after three months and walked. And you know the funny part? Not a single one of those bastards who laughed at me for running is still in this industry."
"…"
Normally I'd have clicked my tongue at a middle-aged guy full of empty bluster. Not this time.
Because this man is the real deal.
Name: Shin Duhyeong. Age: forty-two this year.
A genius of the advertising world, building a career no one can touch—an ongoing blue chip.
That overflowing self-efficacy can make you frown. But when he backs it with results, nobody gets to call it bluffing.
So everything about him is real. This man who shattered every wall of birth with pure ability is the only kind of adult I can actually respect.
"And that man picked you. You might think you can't do a damn thing, but I see everything. If anyone's going to follow in my footsteps, it's you."
"…"
The excessive anal-kissing still sat wrong. Luckily someone arrived to end the discomfort.
"Boss? Madam's here."
"…?"
Team Leader Uriheung. Madam?
Even among the slave-driving shops of Gasan Digital Complex, this was a notorious male-dominated sweatshop. A woman appeared who could wash away the stale sweat smell with pure freshness.
"What are you doing here this late?"
"You must be exhausted. I packed some kimbap for you to share with the staff."
The gentle tone and the late-night snack painted the perfect devoted wife. Against that: a clean, long silhouette and slightly glamorous eyes.
Plus the mask covering her lower face and the maxi dress that put her figure on full display. Wasn't this the legendary Dongtan Missy?
"Thanks. I'll share it with the kids. It's late—you head home first."
"Will you be much later?"
Compared to the care she put in, Shin Duhyeong's reaction felt a little stingy. He answered with a faintly irritated look at the woman who still seemed reluctant to leave.
"You know we're in the middle of a project. Everyone's giving up personal time to work. How am I supposed to duck out?"
"R-right… that makes sense…"
Ugh… It was a scene sad enough to make any watcher feel sorry. Shin Duhyeong's wife glanced around with watery eyes, then left the office, her solid rear swaying.
Gulp…
"…?"
I swear that sound didn't come from me. I won't deny appreciating a figure that belonged to the "madam," but I wasn't some unhinged bastard who'd drool that openly.
Slick…
The culprit was Uriheung. Until the madam had completely left the office, he never tore his bloodshot eyes off that bouncing ass.
"Ahem…"
I forced a cough and he finally pretended to get back to work. Knowing he'd be embarrassed, I tossed out a random question.
"Isn't the boss's house in Dongtan? Coming all the way here at this hour is seriously impressive."
"They don't live there anymore. Moved nearby a while ago."
"Wait, really? Finally made it big and returned to Seoul in glory?"
"It's not Gangnam or Hannam-dong—what's so glorious about Geumcheon-gu? Commute was too far, so he rented out the Dongtan place and came here for a bit."
"That's still huge. Madam made a big decision for her husband, right?"
"Not really. You know the boss is past forty. They're trying for a kid, but you can't pick stars without looking at the sky. So they talked it over and moved closer."
I got it. Workaholic Shin Duhyeong basically lived at the office, so his wife decided to come up to Seoul herself.
"She looks so young, though. Of course the boss looks younger than his age too, but…"
"Not baby-faced—actually young. More than a full twelve-year gap with the boss."
"Huh? So she's still in her twenties? How'd the two of them even meet and get married?"
"This bastard still doesn't get it. A man's true value shows starting in the late thirties. Looks mature right around then, social status and money finally hit their stride. Little girls who don't know anything might not notice, but once a woman matures even a little, other men don't even register."
"…"
Outdated wine theory? I haven't hit that age yet, so I don't want to judge too fast.
But the second those words leave the mouth of a man who is himself in his late thirties, the persuasiveness halves.
"Eat some kimbap while you work."
Shin Duhyeong casually handed over the kimbap and dove back into portfolio hunting. After the unexpected expenses from Oh Sujeong and Han Gyeoul, I diligently shuttled back and forth from the table, stuffing kimbap into my mouth.
Munch, munch…
Better than expected. Young, strikingly pretty, plus a submissive mindset and cooking skills—the perfect specimen of a new bride.
Just how much must Shin Duhyeong love his work to turn down even a wife like that?