New Keys, Old Gods

A week had passed.

Click-clack, tap-tap.

Kang Hyeong-seok hammered away at a keyboard without so much as a scratch on it, drafting out a business proposal. It was the working draft of a project plan bound for a government agency—one of those tasks he had to finish and submit to Kwak Young-ho before the end of the day.

Clackity-clack-clack.

Ah, this really is nice.

He'd agonized for ages over what to do with the tidy sum Shin Jeong-ah had given him. Any other time, he would have saved it. But things had gotten easier for him of late, and he'd wanted to buy himself one small reward for all his hard work—which was how this keyboard had come to be ordered.

"Sunbae, how much did that cost you?" Namgoong Min-ah leaned over from the next desk, eyes brimming with curiosity.

"Sorry. Too loud?"

"No, no, it's not that. I just like the sound of it."

It's a funny little thing—having someone react like that to something you bought just puts you in a good mood. Kang Hyeong-seok gave a faint smile and answered with his fingers.

"Seventy thousand won? Why are keyboards this expensive?"

"No idea. I just picked one of the most-recommended models, and it really is different, I'll give it that."

"Ooh, should I buy one too when I make full-time?"

"Keep at it. If you pass, I'll get you one as a congratulations gift."

"Really?"

Just as Namgoong Min-ah's eyes began to sparkle, someone seized his shoulder from behind. Only a superior could get away with that. Kang Hyeong-seok shut his mouth first, then turned his head; Namgoong Min-ah had already snapped her gaze and posture back to neutral.

"Looks like someone's got time on their hands. Chatting away during work hours."

Shin Jeong-ah was staring down at him with the eyes of a workplace superior.

"Section Chief."

"It's work hours. Focus."

She pointed at a corner of the draft glowing on his monitor. "Something's off here. Check ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whether the formula's broken. And fix the typos here while you're at it."

"Sorry about that."

"What have you got to be sorry for? It's a work in progress."

Tapping his shoulder lightly with the papers in her hand, Shin Jeong-ah left him with a 'Work hard,' and vanished.

"Phew."

Namgoong Min-ah, utterly flattened by Shin Jeong-ah's presence, let the breath back out—then reached out not with her voice but through the company messenger.

Click-clack.

That was true enough.

Kang Hyeong-seok was in the middle of typing out his agreement when—

The message came flying in out of nowhere and brought his fingers to a dead stop on the keys. Kang Hyeong-seok clenched his jaw and turned his head sideways. Apparently it was showing—that Shin Jeong-ah looked out for him a little more than she did the others.

Click-clack.

Kang Hyeong-seok closed the messenger and hammered the corrections Shin Jeong-ah had flagged into the keyboard. A strange chill crept through him all the same. There was nothing good about the rest of the department catching on that he was receiving special treatment.

Kind of unfair, honestly.

Strictly speaking, what he had with her was something like a business arrangement. He'd helped Shin Jeong-ah when she needed it, and in return he'd received generous compensation. A relationship apart from all the others—it could, if you squinted, pass for the kind of bond a company keeps with a key client.

No moonlighting.

Though the company regulation that had popped unbidden into his head did seem to be flitting back and forth before his eyes. Kang Hyeong-seok shook his head and set his hands back on the keyboard. If he wanted to clock out on time, he first had to pound those keys and fill in the document template—

"Assistant Manager Kang?"

Kwak Young-ho's voice from behind sent what little focus had finally settled into his fingers flying off into the far distance.

"Yes, Department Head."

"Got a minute for a quick chat?"

Kang Hyeong-seok saved the document and rose from his chair.

"Is something the matter, sir?"

"No, nothing. It won't take long."

Or was it his imagination that Kwak Young-ho had glanced at Namgoong Min-ah, who was studiously pinning her eyes to her monitor? Either way, Kang Hyeong-seok followed him into the department head's office, and Kwak Young-ho opened his mouth at once.

"How's Min-ah been lately?"

Kang Hyeong-seok couldn't manage an answer; he just searched Kwak Young-ho's face. The question had come flying with no preamble. He was still half-wondering what on earth Min-ah—the same Min-ah who'd been chatting with him so comfortably a minute ago—could have gotten up to, when Kwak Young-ho smiled, gentle wrinkles gathering across his face.

"It's nothing bad, so relax."

His eyes said he meant every word. So Kang Hyeong-seok took a moment to order his thoughts, then spoke.

"If you're asking about her work, she's improved a great deal—more than she gets credit for. She's close to carrying a full person's weight on her own, honestly."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

He didn't bother adding that she was a little too pure for her own good.

"Right? That's what I've been seeing too. Which is why—tomorrow's business trip. Mind taking Min-ah along with you?"

"You mean the run out to Danyang, sir?"

"It's about time she started getting field experience, and it's not a difficult assignment. Works out nicely."

The company had clients in all directions. Among them, Danyang—distance aside—was what you'd call a pleasant destination. Setting aside how much the client mattered to the books, it came down to the people there: easygoing, never sharp-edged.

"It's more of a courtesy call than a trip, really—just go share a meal with them and keep the relationship healthy. Nothing to it. Unless that's a problem for you?"

"No, sir. I was just a little surprised."

Kwak Young-ho put on a smile warm enough to make him look every bit the kindly middle-aged man, and flicked his gaze toward where Namgoong Min-ah sat. "She's worked hard all this while."

From intern to full-time employee. That seemed to be the picture Kwak Young-ho was painting.

"Goes without saying, but don't go whispering any wild notions into her ear, all right? Nothing's been decided yet."

It was such an obvious thing to say that Kang Hyeong-seok ended up laughing anyway.

"I know, sir."

"Then tomorrow's trip is settled—you two go together. If something comes up and it looks like it'll drag on, send me a text."

It was one of the quiet sorrows of the sales department, and it happened now and then—clients who'd try anything to wring the corporate card out of you, or places that chewed up far more of your day than they had any right to. Danyang wasn't a bad client, but they loved their mountain hikes, and more than once that had pushed his return well past schedule. Kang Hyeong-seok nodded with a wry smile.

"Understood, sir."

With a look of genuine thanks, Kwak Young-ho gave his shoulder one hard squeeze before letting go. It probably meant, I'm counting on you.

Dinner had been a quick fix on the way home: jeyuk bokkeum—spicy stir-fried pork—from the place he ended up whenever the trusty gimbap joint had died for the day. The taste was nothing to write home about, but as a cheap way to fill your stomach, it did the job.

Beep-beep-beep, di-ri-ri.

Home at last, Kang Hyeong-seok kicked off his socks first thing and draped his coat over a dining chair. Preparing for a business trip was, as always, nothing much.

Clack.

He slid open the bathroom cabinet and took out his portable toothbrush sanitizer and toothpaste; from the closet, he set aside a change of clothes against all eventualities.

Ziiip.

No suitcase necessary, so he opened his backpack instead.

Power bank's already in. Notebook goes in... and this one—leave it out.

Sorting through his things at a leisurely pace, he came to a stop in front of his pencil case—the one that held his sacred shaman bells.

Take them, or leave them?

He'd made the Danyang trip any number of times; nothing seemed likely to happen there. Even so, rather than drawing the bells out, Kang Hyeong-seok pushed the case deep into the bottom of the bag.

Just think of it as a talisman.

By now, he knew exactly what the bells could do. They warned of danger, and they drove off things unclean. Regard them as a charm that fends off calamity, and the only sensible thing is to carry them on your person at all times.

Ziiiip!

He set the zipped bag down beside the shoe rack and fiddled with his phone. He'd given Namgoong Min-ah a rough idea of what to prepare before they left work, but it seemed right to text her the list properly. That was how it had been for him, back when his own mentor was the one training him.

Bzzt-bzzt-bzzt!

Mid-text, to his mild bewilderment, a call came in—from Namgoong Min-ah.

The call ended. The room seemed to have gone quieter than usual, and Kang Hyeong-seok drew a long breath before sipping at his tumbler.

A field visit to greet a client. There was truly nothing to worry about.

Gulp.

And yet, coffee finished, he fetched a plate from the sink and set it on the table. Then he went into his room and returned with a plastic bottle, pouring its contents out onto the plate. It was purified water.

Kang Hyeong-seok raised a prayer steeped in devotion to his Momjusin. It was the act most people called chiseong—an offering of earnest sincerity—and it was a prayer for Namgoong Min-ah and for himself.

Gazing at the still, clear water filling the plate, he pressed his two palms together.

It was a prayer that he, Namgoong Min-ah, and the client alike would come through without a hitch. Above all, he hoped that Namgoong Min-ah—who stood a real chance of walking into that full-time position—wouldn't get tangled up in any trouble, and wouldn't earn the company's frown.

Swish, swish.

He rubbed his pressed palms together and finished the prayer with three slow bows of his head. Then he tidied the plate away and went into his room.

He'd even made his offering. And yet, somehow, his heart refused to settle.

"I've never been on this trip before."

Namgoong Min-ah fired the words off the instant she dropped into the passenger seat outside the office. Seatbelt clicked home, Kang Hyeong-seok lifted one corner of his mouth at her barely contained excitement.

"Not nervous?"

"Huh? Am I supposed to be?"

Right. That was Namgoong Min-ah for you.

His worry that she might be wound tight felt suddenly absurd. Engine on, Kang Hyeong-seok pulled out following the navigation's guidance and spoke up.

"They're a client. It's not a difficult meeting—but a slip of the tongue would still be a problem."

"Oh."

Her eyes were asking for the rest, so he kept talking even as he drove.

"They're the ones who supply the company's garlic. We distribute it on to a processor that makes black garlic."

"Yes! I know that part!"

Namgoong Min-ah answered stoutly, and Kang Hyeong-seok nodded.

"They may not account for much of our revenue, but they're an old client. You know that much?"

"Of course!"

He gave a firm nod of his own. The client they were headed to see had done business with the company since its founding days—which meant that, beyond the money, they carried real weight as an institution.

"So all we're doing is paying our respects, keeping the business relationship in good repair. That's it."

"Hehe, then there's nothing hard about it at all."

"Still—no mistakes."

It mattered that much, so even behind the wheel, Kang Hyeong-seok spared her a short glance.

"If this deal ever fell through, the damage could reach you too, Min-ah. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!"

Namgoong Min-ah balled her little fists tight and nodded with her whole body.