A Moment of Respite
After a fulfilling week-long vacation packed with photos of my nearly little-sister-like family members, I returned home. Starting tomorrow, my employees would be on their break, so there was no reason to open the office. From morning, I lounged around, petting our dog to my heart's content.
Whether working or resting hard, there's always a backlash. The obvious tasks were visiting the address on the business card from Jeju and shopping to maintain my department store membership tier. Even covering all that would take only half a day, so I dove back into bed.
"Haaah... so fluffy."
These days, even without magic on the bedding, advanced science provided that comforting plushness. Our dog, sensing I had no intention of getting up, lay back down and snuggled into my arms.
Come to think of it, it was about time for Baek-gu's rabies shot. Closing my eyes and mulling over various thoughts, a few errands surfaced.
"Let's go to the clinic today."
-Woof!
At the mention of going out, one of Baek-gu's ears perked up happily. He feared the shelter run by my acquaintance more than a regular animal hospital, since we went there often. Not knowing exactly what a clinic was, but urging me to hurry with his fidgeting, I got up too.
I wondered if department stores allowed dogs. After a quick hot shower and slathering on some lotion, I headed out. Baek-gu trotted along without a leash and hopped into the passenger seat, curling up.
"Let's roll. Be good, okay?"
-Wooof!
With his cat-like affirmation, I slowly started the heavy SUV. Instead of an unfamiliar clinic, we went to the shelter run by someone trustworthy. Baek-gu, who had been grinning thinking we were going elsewhere, visibly sulked and buried his face in the seat.
"Heh, better than leaving you with strangers. You like playing there too, right?"
-Whiiiine...
He didn't hate it completely—plenty of friends and space to run—but the painful memories of sharp needles lingered. Still, I didn't want to hurt my little guy, but all animals needed those many vaccines from puppyhood.
"I'll get you something tasty, so don't be too bummed."
Petting his head, the promise of meat melted his pout, and his mouth opened again.
After dropping him at the shelter, I headed straight to the department store. For filling the spending quota, buying food was a solid strategy. No need to price-shop; they curated the best produce, but at two or three times the usual price. Grabbing single portions of fruit for one person quickly hit hundreds of thousands of won. Add some handmade sikhye and fruit juices, and the quota was stuffed.
While browsing frozen foods, I spotted a lady dragging along a boy from the opposite aisle. She ran a hotel and department store chain, so I'd seen her at big events. I greeted her first.
"Oh, fancy running into you here. Hello."
"Hello."
A light greeting since we knew each other's faces, but her son—still clinging to her arm, unhappy about not getting his pick—puffed his cheeks and nagged until her glare sharpened. Only then did he greet me.
"Hewwo..."
"Hi. You must be Ji-ho."
His greeting was half-hearted, sulky. Fair enough for occasional acquaintances, but the lady frowned, deeming it rude.
"Sorry. He's not usually this whiny."
"It's fine. I was the same as a kid—got scolded plenty by Mom."
"Really? Hohoho."
I threw a bit of cover for the kid who'd get an earful later; not sure if it landed. As we passed, I glanced back. Trailing behind her with wilted shoulders, he'd probably grow up to make a big name—after surviving one major incident. With her family's power, they'd handle it easily.
"Shall we deliver to your home?"
"No, I'll take it."
Declining the refrigerated delivery for freshness, I checked out. I hated strangers approaching my house anyway, and leaving boxes at the gate was worse than me parking myself. No way I'd trek back and forth alone. Satisfied with blowing over 400,000 won this week as required, I loaded the cart into the car.
Department stores, prime spots for showing off, drew more stares than usual, but no one harassed a shopper heading out.
"Um... looks heavy. Need help...?"
Damn, speak of the devil.
-After loading the groceries and buying two casual outfits I'd felt short on during Jeju, I pulled out the business card in the car. Just a shiny card with a name and address.
"Thought it was some mountain spirit shrine, but it's a regular house?"
Arriving slowly at the Nonhyeon-dong address, it was an ordinary home. True to Gangnam's affluent vibe: a small yard, two stories for one family. Seemed more suited to an elderly couple than youth. I rang the bell, and sure enough, a refined elderly lady answered.
"Who is it?"
"I came with this business card. It said to visit for someone."
"Business card?"
She puzzled over my face and words. Better to show it than explain—I handed her the one from my wallet.
"This."
"Ahh...! An esteemed guest. Come in, quick."
She ushered me inside before nosy neighbors noticed. Guiding me to the living room table, she brewed two coffees.
"Where did you get this card?"
"Jeju. Payment for helping someone."
"Hm... a young woman, by chance?"
"Yes. You know her?"
"She's the eldest in our family."
"Ah, I see."
Odd for this white-haired grandma to call a young woman the family elder, but I nodded. Noble families had their ways. Sipping coffee, I glanced around. Family photo in the center, next to it a frame with a man's formal attire—gave away their lineage.
"Bringing that card means this is what she intended."
She fetched a file from the master bedroom and handed it over.
"One's straight cash reward, the other's a contact for one favor in tough times."
"Opposition party... assemblyman?"
"In Seoul, even bigger pull. Lots of connections."
Likely family. No business needing a politician, so I pocketed that one without much interest. The cash reward? A bearer bond from that famous company. First time holding one of those crisis-only issuances.
"Even solid companies release these sometimes. Redeem it right away."
"Expiration?"
"Practically indefinite unless the company folds. Best while the current chairman lives."
Handing it personally to the chairman might yield extras. Rewards leading to more errands, like Matryoshka dolls of gains.
"I'll visit when time allows. Save it for real need."
"Whatever suits you. I'll notify the assemblyman—treat you well if you come."
"Thank you."
"No, we're grateful. Sounds like you did something remarkable."
Her initial cloudy gaze had me take it without checking; outside, it read 1 billion won. Priced per unexplained traffic death averted, or per head. Either way, more than a lotto jackpot take-home. One family trip netted travel-a-thousand-times money.
"Cash it tomorrow? It's a billion..."
I had far more than that, but who leaves a billion on paper? Even Gates picks up pennies; no reason for small-folk me to slack.
Of course.