The Thirty-Sixth Assignment — A Daydream of Mortal Affairs ①
"Want to take a break? You've still got leave saved up."
"No, I'm all right. I can't spend every day moping. I'm fine now."
"Saying you're fine doesn't make it so. You've got to actually be fine."
"I really am fine. The trouble with you, Noona, is you worry too much sometimes."
"It's not too much worry, that's the point. The way you… no. Forget it."
"See? I'm perfectly all right, and you're the one making a fuss over nothing."
"Oh, look at you. Tch! Even worrying about you is a problem, apparently."
Of course, delivering letters was noble, meaningful work. It unraveled the knots left behind by the dead and gave the bereaved—family, friends—a chance to hear one last word. Nothing in it warranted panic or dread.
But what if the letter in question was about to bloom a garden of pink blossoms?
From Changmo's point of view, being told to deliver a letter like that was no different from being told to crash a mood he had only just lifted as high as it would go. And not by a little—from heaven straight down to hell. Who in their right mind would want that? Even a grim reaper had things he would rather not do.
"Director. I'd like to request a brief meeting."
"So it's you. I thought you might come."
Simyeong faced Heukchi with a hardened expression. Heukchi, who seemed to have already been briefed, was clutching his head and groaning. He wouldn't be any happier about this godawful mess than anyone else. Simyeong spoke first.
"Is there anyone who hasn't gone out on delivery yet, or anyone with time to spare? There's a letter I need reassigned, rather urgently."
"That would be difficult. I turned it over in my own head the moment I got the report, but there's simply no room to maneuver. You're a Team Leader yourself; you know how things stand."
Heukchi waved the suggestion aside. Reality, as always, was unforgiving. Letters were pouring in even now, and the staff were already worked to death just sorting them. Given the volume bearing down on them, the next week would be packed solid.
They were in no position to do anyone the courtesy of a favor.
"I wondered if it might be possible under the Director's authority."
"I'd like to cut him a break myself. When a Senior Team Member of all people starts getting depressed, you have no idea how badly the work efficiency tanks. I don't like seeing it either, as his superior. But no means no."
The corners of both their mouths twisted, just slightly. A situation this damned miserable could wring a bitter smile even out of grim reapers. All the more so when, unlike in the living world, there was no flexibility to exercise. The reality was that they were already drawing dirty looks from the sticklers for principle.
"Assign the letter to Changmo. He's a grim reaper before he's a man in love, isn't he? He has a job to do. Let him do it."
Stretching things any further than this was impossible.
As a superior, that was the only conclusion he could reach.
So it comes to this after all.
Simyeong lamented inwardly.
If Heukchi was speaking that firmly, there was no way through. The odds of him listening to any further persuasion were zero. Simyeong gave up and turned to go. In place of a real fight, he offered a small act of resistance.
"The delivery itself won't be difficult. So I'll assign it with as much time as I can give him. I'd ask you to allow me that much."
"That much should be fine. So long as the delivery itself isn't a problem, I'll leave the rest to your discretion."
"Understood. I'll take my leave."
The short exchange over, Simyeong quietly left the office. Even from the back, the heaviness in him was plain. Heukchi was no different. He let out a long breath, then looked at the group photograph standing beside his desk.
Heukchi's hand lowered the frame from the desk—so he would not have to look at the photograph, so he would not have to see Changmo in it.
"How did it go?"
The moment Simyeong stepped out of the office, Yuhwa came running. She had clearly been waiting outside the whole time. Simyeong shook his head before he said a word. In his worn, haggard face, the regret he was carrying showed through.
"He said to just assign it. That we can't keep making exceptions forever. I tried to talk him around somehow, but it doesn't look possible."
"So that's how it ended up."
Yuhwa's brows drew together, just as pained. The words stuck in her throat as if something had lodged there, and nothing came out. She considered going in to speak with him herself, then let the thought go. It would have been meaningless.
"Should I assign it now?"
Once she understood it wouldn't work, she gave up quickly. Yuhwa tightened her grip on the letter and stood. She meant to hand it over this instant and let him face the truth. But Simyeong stepped in her way. He shook his head.
"No. Not that."
"Why not?"
"It's not as if we even need to hunt down the recipient's address, is it? So long as we don't miss the deadline, that's all that matters. Let's wait until the day before—or at the very least, a week from now. The point is to give him time."
It was a vague, noncommittal conclusion, unlike him. What good would stalling like this even do? Over any other matter Yuhwa would have seized on that and not let go, but this time she stayed quiet. She had no choice. Pushing hard was not going to produce a happy ending.
"We can't give him long. Work is work. And since the Director told us not to go easy on him, Changmo has to take the letter one way or another."
"Who do you think doesn't know that? Don't push. Please—that's enough for today. I'm tired."
Simyeong waved her off. His head was already throbbing. He had asked for time, and for now he did not want to talk about any of it. Today's shock had been hard to bear even for him, who was usually like steel.
Rest—or an escape from reality.
He needed one or the other, desperately.
"All right. I'm sorry."
"That's enough. You wouldn't have said any of it lightly either. Go on, get back to work. The letters for delivery will have piled up."
At his word, Yuhwa turned and left without argument. When he was in a mood that heavy, it was better to leave him alone. Once she had gone, Simyeong sank quietly into thought. He gathered up the emotions that had been surging through him, and grew still, turning over what to do from here.
What on earth am I supposed to do about this…
A grim reaper was a being who always had to keep official duty and private feeling strictly apart.
But this time, he could not tell which one to choose.
The next day.
Changmo's eyes snapped open.
A vaguely unsettled feeling lingered in the air. He'd slept plenty, hadn't he? He blinked a few times, but the fatigue was completely gone. He rose from his bedding with the unease sitting heavy in his chest.
That's weird. Whenever I get a feeling like this, it always means something bad.
His divine power was strong, even if it didn't quite match Yuhwa's. An ominous feeling was as good as a premonition. A sense that something was about to happen circled through his mind. Even as he straightened the blankets and bedding, even as he started on breakfast, the anxiety refused to lift.
She's not about to dump me, is she?
But his guess veered off in a completely different direction. Of course it did. Every nerve he had was poured into that one thing, so every worry pooled there too. It never occurred to him that he might get blindsided from an angle he couldn't even imagine.
And so he decided to simply ignore it.
Today was a day off. With nowhere he had to be, he figured he would chat with Yeoni for a while before heading out on deliveries. Showing off his cooking was a bonus. Yesterday's happy meeting had his spirits soaring.
Changmo named the dish with total confidence. Perhaps uneasy at the thought of an Eastern grim reaper attempting Western cuisine, Yeoni did not agree right away, and hesitated. Changmo tempted him in a coaxing tone.
It was a dish he had never made before. He was determined to hear a review.
Yes!
The temptation had worked once again. The moment he had permission, Changmo silently cheered. He'd barely hung up before he was darting to the cupboard, pulling out bread and the rest of the ingredients. His hands moved quickly, full of delight.
There was a haste in it, too—as if he were trying to outrun the uneasiness from a moment ago.
Meanwhile.
"Seri. Song Seri!"
"Hm. You called?"
"Don't 'hm' me. I called you like five times."
Seoah shook a sleeping Seri awake. When Seri cracked her bleary eyes, Seoah and the rest of her clubmates were peering down at her with worried faces. Seri yawned, utterly unbothered.
"I slept well. Why is everyone looking at me like that?"
"Why do you think. You've never taken a nap in your life."
A senior answered in a huffy voice. A nap—her? The exacting, conscientious Song Seri? If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, they would have written it off as a lie. She was the kind of senior—and junior—who, no matter the circumstances, never once fell asleep beneath the sun.
Naturally, they wanted to know why she was under the weather.
"Did you get in late last night? You said you were on a date."
A date?!
And Seoah had the reason out in the open in no time. Everyone's eyes went wide as saucers as they stared at Seri. Her being tired was surprising enough; the word date was twice as hard to believe. The same girl who'd said no even when Seoah sang the gospel of blind dates? Really? In an instant, every pair of eyes in the room speared toward Seri's face.
"You're dating? For real?"
"With who?"
"What? What? You just went and went on a date without a word? That's too much. You didn't even report to us."
"Whether I go on a date or go out and have fun, I'm the one doing it. Honestly… you people are way too interested."
Seri grumbled under her breath. But her lips had already curled up, soft, of their own accord. Just thinking about the wonderful day she'd had yesterday, the smile came by itself. In a voice faintly bright with leftover excitement, she told them about it.
"You remember the person I had that debate with last time? It was him."
"That Hong Changmo guy? He did have a way with words. So how was it?"
"He was pretty decent beyond just the talking, actually. Fun, and well-mannered too. So the two of us did a bit of this and that, and I got home late. That's why I'm tired."
The club members who heard her smiled. And this was Seri they were talking about. The young woman who never had a thought for anything but work or studying. To think spring would come even for her. Curiosity was secondary; what they felt was a warm, fond satisfaction. The club president clapped her on the shoulder in encouragement.
"Give it a real shot. He seemed like a decent guy, from what I saw. Chances to snag someone like that don't come around often."
"I was going to anyway. But don't start getting carried away already. We've only met once. It's still wait-and-see."
"Come on! They say starting is half the battle. If the first time was good, you're doing fine."
Like a man who already had a girlfriend, the club president answered in an easy, knowing tone. From where he stood, the whole thing had a pretty good feel to it. If the guy could soften up a young woman that businesslike, you didn't need to see the rest of the movie. He had a feeling this was a good opportunity.
"You don't have to think that dating someone means you'll go the distance. Get too greedy about it and that's where the problems start, in my experience. Just think of it as giving it your best while you're together, and try from there."
"The way you put that, it kind of sounds like you're playing matchmaker, senior."
"I'm just giving advice. As your senior, and as your senior in dating."
Seri recoiled from the slick encouragement. But he didn't mean it in a bad way, so she didn't make an open show of distaste. The club president answered with a light laugh of his own. Among college students, if you couldn't talk about dating, what could you talk about?
Given how much she'd quietly worried them all this time, he hoped she would try love the way a young person should.
"So, while we're on the subject—how far did you get?"
That, and he was also dying to tease her.
Oh, for heaven's sake. Of course it comes down to this question.
"I'm curious, that's all. Neither you nor that guy seem like the type to move fast, so I need to know how far you've gotten before I can punch the numbers and figure out what advice to give."
Starting with the club president, everyone's eyes lit up, bright and gleaming. All sorts of imaginings and wild fantasies were already blooming in their minds. A few of them had gotten so far ahead of themselves they were already picking out wedding halls. For the sake of these poor souls dying of thirst for a love story, Seri answered with a sweet, sunny smile.
"We haven't gotten that far yet, so don't go imagining anything weird. Understood?"