Fashion King
Friday, 6 PM.
The five-day work week was behind me.
Forty work hours filled once again.
Ability check!
What now?
Fashion?
Public holidays only?
And then...
A feeling washed over me.
Nothing had gone wrong with my body.
This ability existed for one purpose: to get me through the theater club alumni reunion on Saturday.
Fresh off Muscle Pump, and now Fashion King. Sure, why not.
Right on cue, a message arrived from Youngsoo.
Ziiing—
Saturday, 4 PM.
In front of my building.
One side of the ground floor had my private parking space.
Room for two cars.
Youngsoo parked beside my beloved CV70.
Ziiing—
The phone rang.
"Where are you?"
"I'm home."
"Home where? They're building a Starbucks down here."
"Yep. Come up to the second floor."
"What?"
When I reached the second floor, I opened the door for him.
In his right hand, Youngsoo carried a roll of toilet paper.
In his left, a roll of paper towels.
Both eyes went round as saucers.
"Wh-what the hell? Why are you coming out here?"
"Because it's my place."
"What?"
"Get in here first."
.
.
.
I had Youngsoo take a seat on the sofa, then explained the situation.
That I'd discovered Bitcoin I'd bought ten years ago.
I didn't tell him the whole truth.
No one would believe it anyway.
"What kind of novel-grade nonsense is that?"
"Then don't believe it."
"Y-you lucky son of a...!!"
Youngsoo let out a shout, then started inspecting every corner of the apartment.
"How big is this place? Don't tell me it's pushing a hundred pyeong?"
"Seventy, give or take?"
"Seventy or a hundred, who cares! Hey, that small room there. Okay, it's bigger than mine... it's big, sure, but by your standards it's the tiny one—can't I just live in it?"
"You think that's happening?"
"Wow. My best friend is a Gangnam landlord! A Starbucks landlord, no less!!"
Youngsoo gripped my hand tight and said,
"Let's stick together for life."
"......."
I looked at him and gave him one word.
"Get lost!"
6 PM. In front of the banquet hall of a traditional Korean restaurant in Gangnam.
Chandeliers glittered beyond the glass doors, and the sound of laughter drifted out.
I paused at the entrance to catch my breath and straightened my tie.
The ability window floated up before my eyes again.
A coat tossed carelessly over a black suit.
The man in the mirror looked no different from usual, yet somehow he gleamed.
Even I found the feeling unfamiliar.
"Hey, don't be nervous."
Youngsoo jabbed me with his elbow and grinned.
"Today, you're the star. Make way for the landlord Fashion King!"
"Good grief... watch your mouth."
Shaking my head, I pushed open the door.
The banquet hall was already packed.
Soju glasses sparkled on every table, and the laughter of old friends layered over itself again and again.
The moment someone spotted me, they shouted.
"Oh! Dong-su! It's been ages!"
"Hey, he actually came!"
Eyes turned to me in an instant.
I waved awkwardly in greeting.
Whether it was thanks to Fashion King or not, people's gazes were strangely different.
It was as if my mere outfit was dominating the room.
"You look like a model."
"What brand is that? Is it tailored?"
"They say ten years can change a whole landscape—apparently it can change a person, too."
I smiled and dodged the questions.
"I just... threw something on."
A little later, Youngsoo—the club treasurer and master of ceremonies for the evening—took the microphone.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have a member joining us for the first time in years. Give it up!"
Youngsoo shoved me forward by the back.
I reluctantly stepped out.
Dozens of eyes fixed on me.
My heart was pounding, but strangely enough, confidence rose up in place of fear.
"Hello, everyone. It's been a long time. I'm Kim Dong-su, fourth cohort of Theater Lab."
My voice rang out across the hall.
"It's good to see you all again."
For a moment, the banquet hall fell silent—then erupted into cheers and applause.
Only then did I understand.
Fashion had the power to move people's hearts.
Looking at the crowd gathered here, old memories came flooding back one by one.
The Hansu University theater club, Theater Lab.
Theater Lab was never just a club.
People on campus called its members lunatics.
That's how serious we were about acting.
Back in college, we had a tiny practice room in the basement of a run-down lecture building.
The walls were plastered with old posters and scribbled graffiti, and the floor carried a permanent mixture of dust and sweat.
But to us, that place was a stage.
I was fourth cohort, so the club must be around its twentieth by now.
There was one more reason our club was famous.
The film actress Song Hae-in.
The woman they called Korea's National Actress came from our club.
I looked around half hoping, half bracing myself—
but of course, she was nowhere to be seen.
What I did see was one person glaring straight at me.
Choi Yejin.
My ex-wife.
Or more precisely, my ex-wife who had cheated on me.
Back in college.
Not that any farming family would know, but mine was never what you'd call comfortable.
My parents scraped together my tuition, but that was where their support ended.
And I wasn't so pathetic as to expect anything beyond that.
So I spent more than half my university life working part-time jobs.
The fact that I even managed to date anyone—that was Youngsoo's doing.
The bottom line: in college, I lived my life perpetually chased by the clock.
The moment lectures ended, I sprinted to the convenience store; on weekends, I hauled concrete at construction sites.
My palms were permanently calloused, my clothes permanently dusty.
And into all of that, Youngsoo barged in.
"Hey, want to go on a blind date?"
I slurped down cup ramen with a sleep-deprived face and answered.
"What are you even saying. A guy like me, on a blind date?"
"Listen. You and me—same major, same club. That's practically heaven handing us brothers."
"So?"
"This hyung here is feeling generous enough to rescue his poor little brother from singlehood."
"Spare me."
"I've got my reasons, all right? We just got a new member in the club. And I think she's got a thing for you."
I set my chopsticks down and stared at him.
"Are you insane. When was the last time I even went to the club room?"
Youngsoo grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Come on, life is all about timing. Bust your ass at part-time jobs all you want, but you've got to meet people too."
And so I was dragged, against my will, into a lunch date.
At a snack joint near campus, under warm afternoon sunlight, I met Yejin for the first time.
A white blouse, neatly kept hair, and the hint of dimples when she smiled.
She said to me,
"You're Kim Dong-su sunbae, right? Fourth cohort of Theater Lab."
I nodded, dazed.
"Yes... that's me."
"I'm Choi Yejin, fifth cohort. Actually... I'd seen you around the club room a few times, but I never got the chance to say hello."
At that moment, Youngsoo snickered beside me and whispered.
"See? I didn't set this up for nothing."
The relationship that began that way was a small comfort in the grim grind of college life, shuttling between part-time jobs and the practice room.
Somehow it carried on all the way to marriage, and I believed it was destiny.
But now, the eyes of the woman glaring at me from across the banquet hall were pure ice.
A gaze that seemed to ask what business I had being here.
Her fingertips trembled faintly as she set down her glass, and her lips were pressed into a hard line.
For a moment, I could hardly breathe.
Youngsoo, noticing, whispered at my side.
"Hey... isn't that Yejin? The vibe over there is brutal."
I turned my head and glared at him.
"Shut it."
Yejin rose slowly from her seat and started walking toward me.
The click of her heels against the floor rang out, unnaturally loud.
The laughter and clinking glasses around us faded away, and only her gaze pressed down on me.
"Oppa."
A voice, short and clipped.
I answered without expression.
"It's been a while."
"You're looking well? You've lost weight... and your clothes look nice, too."
"Can't complain."
Youngsoo, watching my expression, jumped in.
"Yejin, that's not all. Dong-su here's a landlord now. In Gangnam, no less."
"......."
Yejin clearly dismissed it as nonsense—she didn't dignify Youngsoo's words with so much as a reply.
Then her eyes narrowed to slits.
"I never expected to see you here, oppa."
And then she handed me something.
A small envelope, clutched in her hand.
Her own wedding invitation.