Beyond the Wall
Thud. My eyes snapped open.
Thud. Thud.
I heard something pounding against the floor from beyond the wall. A rhythmic, heavy striking sound. What woke me up even before my alarm was that very noise on my second morning since moving into Haedam Villa.
I checked my phone. 6:42 AM. What the hell? Are they crazy?
Thud. Thud. Thud-thud-thud.
The noise was coming from the wall shared with Room 203. The woman who had told me to "keep it down" yesterday. Isn't she the one being noisy right now?
I tried covering my ears with a pillow, but it was useless. Since the vibration was traveling straight through the concrete wall, blocking my ears wasn't going to solve anything. Thud. Thud. The intervals quickened, paused for a moment, and then started up again. Was she working out?
I endured it for ten minutes. Then twenty. Even after thirty minutes, the noise didn't stop. This was too much. For a freelancer, morning sleep is a lifeline. To someone whose daily routine involves working all night and sleeping in the morning, this kind of noise at this hour was pure torture.
I kicked off my blanket and got up. Dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, I stepped out into the hallway. The air in the corridor was cold—the crisp chill of an April morning. I stood in front of Room 203 and pressed the doorbell. The noise didn't stop. The heavy thumping continued inside. I rang the bell once more. Still getting no response, I knocked on the door.
"Excuse me."
The thumping stopped. Footsteps drew closer. The door swung open.
In an instant, I was lost for words.
Lee Haeun. The woman who had barked "Move" at me on the stairs yesterday was standing at the door. She was wearing a sports bra and leggings. That was it.
Sweat was trickling down her exposed abdomen beneath her black sports bra. She had abs. Defined, sculpted abs. The rectus abdominis split into two distinct, sharp lines, framed by the sleek contours of her obliques. Beads of sweat slowly traced their way down her skin. A single droplet slid past her belly button and soaked into the waistband of her leggings.
I let my eyes drift upward. Her collarbones. Her neck. Her jawline. Her sharp, piercing eyes. Her black hair, tied back in a ponytail, was slightly disheveled from her workout, and damp strands clung to her skin from her temples down to her forehead. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as she caught her breath. Though compressed by the sports bra, her ample curves couldn't be hidden. With every breath, the band of her sports bra stretched and contracted ever so slightly.
"What?" Just one word.
"Ah, well... the noise."
"Noise?"
"There's been this constant thumping coming through the wall. Since six-thirty."
Lee Haeun swept her gaze over me from head to toe. It was a look that felt like she was looking down on a perfectly average 175-centimeter-tall man. Since she was 170 centimeters, we were nearly eye-to-eye, but the sheer pressure of her gaze had absolutely nothing to do with height.
"I'm working out."
"Excuse me?"
"Jump squats. It's my morning routine."
"At six-thirty in the morning?"
"I've been at it since five-thirty."
Five-thirty? Is this woman sane? "Well... the wall was vibrating so much that I couldn't sleep."
"And?"
And? The implication of 'So what do you want me to do about it?' was unmistakable. Haeun leaned her arm against the doorframe, looking at me. In that posture, the muscles in her arm defined themselves. They weren't slender. For a woman's arms, they were undeniably firm—the arms of an athlete. Her biceps swelled slightly, and tension coiled along the line connecting her shoulder to her arm. Sweat rolled down her arm and dripped from her fingertips.
"Since we're neighbors, I think we should both be a bit more considerate—"
"I work out at this time every day. It's my warm-up before I head to the gym."
"Every day?"
"Except on my rest days."
"Then that means every morning, this noise—"
"If you don't like it, move out."
She was smiling. The natural, slight upturn of her lips curled even higher, morphing into a full-blown sneer. Was this woman actually serious? My blood began to boil. I didn't want to pick a fight with a neighbor on my second day here, but this was a matter of common sense. Jump squats at six-thirty in the morning?
"At the very least, if you laid down a mat, it would muffle the noise a bit."
"I do use a mat."
"And it still makes that much noise even with a mat?"
"I jump hard."
Was she bragging? I shut my mouth. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I realized logic wouldn't work on this person. Haeun tilted her head slightly as she looked at me, as if observing some curious specimen.
"By the way, you're in Room 201, right?"
"Yes."
"What do you do for a living that you're still sleeping at this hour?"
She had addressed me informally. She looked at least two years younger than me. No, age aside, speaking so casually to someone you just met was incredibly rude.
"I'm a freelancer. An illustrator."
"Ah, so you're a slacker."
"I'm not a slacker."
"You just draw pictures at home."
"That is my job."
"Right." Giving a dismissive reply, Haeun grabbed a towel and wiped her neck. The towel slid down from her neck to her collarbones, then swept across the upper curve of her chest. As the towel absorbed the sweat, her bare skin was revealed. Fresh from her workout, her skin was flushed a delicate, rosy pink, especially across her upper chest.
"What are you staring at?"
"I wasn't staring."
"Liar." Haeun slung the towel over her shoulder and locked eyes with me. Her eyes narrowed. Her expression was hard to read—somewhere between a smirk and a glare.
"Go eat some breakfast, slacker."
"I told you, I'm not a slacker."
"Whatever."
The door slammed shut. Slam. She definitely closed doors with a lot more force than the average person. Three seconds after the door shut, the thumping started right back up inside. Unbelievable.
I returned to Room 201, closed the door, and leaned my back against it, letting out a long sigh. My blood pressure was already through the roof, and the day had barely started. Lee Haeun. Room 203. Personal trainer. She looked to be around twenty-five, yet she spoke to me so casually. And she was incredibly confrontational.
"If you don't like it, move out." How rude. Objectively speaking, she was an incredibly rude person. And yet... I couldn't stop thinking about her abs. No, not just her abs. The beads of sweat rolling down them. No, not even just that. Just... her entire look. Who on earth opens the door wearing nothing but a sports bra and leggings? Was she just completely unguarded, or did she not even view me as a man? The latter was highly likely.
"Fuck." Why was I acting like this first thing in the morning? I should just eat. I walked over to the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove. I had the eggs and green onions I bought yesterday. Simple egg fried rice would do. I drizzled some oil, tossed in the green onions, and soon the savory aroma of scallion oil filled the kitchen. I added the rice, stir-fried it, and swirled in a splash of soy sauce. Finally, I poured in the beaten eggs and scrambled them quickly with my chopsticks. A five-minute breakfast. I plated it and sat down at the dining table. Alone again today. The table had returned to its usual state, without Seojin and Yuri from yesterday.
The thumping was still coming through the wall. The rhythm had changed. It was faster than before. What was she doing now? Burpees?
I finished my meal and did the dishes. I organized my to-do list for today: grocery shopping, setting up my workspace, and starting the sketch for President Kim's commission. I needed to do the grocery shopping in the morning. The local market was about a twenty-minute walk. That was a reasonable distance.
As I changed my clothes and stepped out of my front door, the door to Room 202 opened. Seojin was coming out, holding Yuri's hand. Yuri was wearing her preschool backpack.
"Oh, Siu. Good morning."
"Good morning."
"Yuri, say hello to the nice mister."
"Mister! The food yesterday was super yummy!" Yuri grinned brightly, her twin tails swaying. Was smiling just this kid's default facial expression?
"I'm glad you liked it."
"Are you making meat again today?"
"Yuri—" Seojin laughed, looking slightly embarrassed. "The mister's food belongs to the mister."
My eyes met Seojin's. Today, she was wearing a linen shirt and cotton trousers. It seemed to be her outfit for working at the cafe. Slinging Yuri's backpack over her shoulder while holding Yuri's hand with her other... the morning routine of a mother doing it all on her own. I couldn't help but find it admirable.
"Are you heading out to buy groceries?"
"Yes, to the market down the street."
"Ah, that's a great place. I get my ingredients from there too. For tofu, the old lady to the right of Entrance 1 is the absolute best."
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
Seojin led Yuri down the stairs. "Bye-bye!" Yuri waved, looking back at me. Without realizing it, I raised my hand to wave back.
Just as I was about to head down the stairs myself, the door to Room 203 suddenly swung open. Lee Haeun stepped out. She had thrown a zip-up hoodie over her sports bra and leggings, but she hadn't zipped it up, leaving her front completely exposed. A gym bag was slung over her shoulder.
"Oh."
"What."
"No, nothing."
Haeun locked her door and glanced at me. Perhaps remembering my complaint from earlier, the corner of her mouth curled upward.
"Did you manage to get some sleep?" She was definitely mocking me.
"Thanks to you."
"Don't mention it."
Haeun headed down the stairs first. Beneath her open hoodie, her waistline was visible. The tight leggings perfectly outlined her legs. With every step she took, I could see the muscles in her thighs flexing. It was truly an athletic body. Not just skinny, but solid and toned. Her waist was slender, yet her thighs had a healthy fullness—a striking proportion.
"What are you looking at now?" Could she feel my gaze even while looking straight ahead?
"I wasn't looking."
"Liar." Haeun didn't even look back as she descended to the first floor. As she stepped out of the villa's main entrance, she raised a hand. It was a gesture that could have been a wave or a dismissive brush-off.
I followed her down to the first floor. Stepping outside, the April sunlight felt warm. The cherry blossoms had mostly fallen, but a few still clung to the trees at the end of the alley. Haeun was already walking out of the alley, taking long, confident strides with her long legs.
I walked in the opposite direction. A twenty-minute walk to the market. It was a beautiful day for a stroll.
The market was bustling. From early morning, vendors had set up their stalls, calling out to customers. The scent of fresh fish mingled with the sweet aroma of fruits, and from somewhere nearby, the mouthwatering smell of griddled hotteok wafted through the air. I looked for the old lady to the right of Entrance 1, just as Seojin had suggested. It was a small stall selling tofu.
"Grandmother, one block of tofu, please."
"It's made with domestic soybeans. Freshly made this morning." I took the tofu. It felt soft yet springy in my hands. This was excellent tofu—on a completely different level from the mass-produced factory stuff.
I bought potatoes, zucchini, onions, green onions, red pepper flakes, and minced garlic. And some doenjang. The soybean paste had a rich, deep aroma and a reddish-brown hue. When I dabbed a bit on my finger to taste it, a savory, earthy aftertaste lingered long after the initial saltiness. A stew made with this doenjang would be incredible.
I also bought some pork shoulder, pork belly, a carton of eggs, a five-kilogram bag of rice, sesame oil, and perilla oil. The walk back with heavy bags in both hands was a bit exhausting, but I was in high spirits. It was the thrill of getting my hands on high-quality ingredients.
Back at the villa, I put away the groceries and set up my workspace. I placed my dual monitors on the desk, connected my tablet, and adjusted the height of my chair. I pinned a few reference sheets to the wall. The studio was finally starting to look the part.
I re-read the commission email from President Kim. It was for a fantasy novel cover featuring a female warrior character.
The client's classic contradictory request: strong yet feminine.
Lee Haeun came to mind. Purely as a reference, of course. The abs above her sports bra. Her sweat-dampened ponytail. Her sharp eyes. Yet, her collarbones were delicate and feminine, and the curve from her waist to her hips was undeniably womanly. Strong yet feminine. That description lived right next door in Room 203.
I pressed my stylus to the tablet and began sketching the rough drafts. The shoulder lines of the female warrior. The shading of her abs. An expression with a slight smirk. Eyes that seemed to say, 'What are you staring at?' This was just practice, completely separate from the commission. A reference study. Yes, that was it.
I lost myself in my work for about three hours. When I concentrate, time simply melts away. My stomach growled. I checked the clock; it was 1:00 PM. Time for lunch.
I decided to make doenjang-jjigae. My very first soybean paste stew in this apartment. I washed the rice, set it to cook, and began preparing the broth with kelp and anchovies. I placed the kelp in water and let it simmer slowly over medium heat. Once the water turned a faint, golden yellow, I scooped out the kelp, added the anchovies, and let it boil for ten minutes. After skimming off the foam, a clear, savory broth was ready.
I cubed the tofu. The sensation of the knife slicing through the soft block was incredibly satisfying. I cut the zucchini into half-moons, the potatoes into bite-sized pieces, and roughly chopped the onions. Pouring the broth into an earthenware pot, I dissolved the doenjang, pressing it through a sieve to ensure there were no lumps. I boiled the potatoes and onions first, then added the zucchini and tofu, and finished it off with minced garlic and red pepper flakes. Finally, I topped it with finely chopped green onions.
As the earthenware pot bubbled vigorously, the rich aroma of doenjang filled the kitchen. A deep, savory scent. As the distinct, fermented fragrance of homemade soybean paste filled my nose, I suddenly thought of my mother. My parents, who lived out in the countryside... I really needed to call them. I hadn't even let them know I'd finished moving yet.
The rice finished cooking, the stew was bubbling hot, and I quickly rolled up a side of egg rolls to set the table. Doenjang-jjigae, egg rolls, and fresh rice. It was a bit much for one person, but stews always taste better when made in large batches.
My first spoonful. As the broth spread across my palate, the deep, complex flavor of the doenjang enveloped my tongue. First came the saltiness, followed closely by a rich, earthy savoriness, while the starchy goodness of the tender potatoes melted into the soup, giving it a comforting thickness. The tofu had absorbed the flavors beautifully, remaining incredibly soft yet holding its own. The natural sweetness of the zucchini balanced the entire dish. It was delicious. It fell slightly short of my mother's recipe, but it was remarkably close.
I worked through the afternoon. I created three rough sketch options for the female warrior cover and sent them to President Kim. Option A was a front-facing pose, Option B was a side-profile action shot, and Option C was a dynamic, backward-glancing composition. Honestly, Option C was my favorite. The gaze of the female warrior looking back over her shoulder... It was a gaze I felt like I'd seen somewhere before.
When evening fell, I turned off the studio lights and headed to the kitchen. Dinner would be a simple pork belly roast. Placing the thick strips of pork belly onto a cast-iron skillet, the fat sizzled and melted, sending up a savory, aromatic smoke. I didn't realize that the scent was escaping through the ventilation fan and drifting out into the hallway. Actually, I should have known better. After all, Seojin had caught the scent and come over just yesterday.
Just as the pork belly was browning to a perfect golden crisp, I heard a sound from beyond the wall. Not the thumping, but the sound of a door opening and closing. The door to Room 203. Then, footsteps walking down the hallway. They stopped right in front of my door. One second, two seconds, three seconds. The doorbell didn't ring. The footsteps started moving again, heading back toward Room 203. The door closed.
What was that? Did she just walk up to my door and leave? Why? Was it because of the smell of pork belly? No, surely not. But even if it was, she just turned back without even ringing the bell? I decided not to let it bother me. I flipped the pork belly, mixed up some ssamjang, and washed the lettuce. Eating pork belly wraps alone required a bit of effort, but it was delicious, so I didn't mind.
As I ate, I found myself listening to the wall. It was quiet. No thumping, no sound at all. What was Lee Haeun eating right now? Chicken breast and boiled eggs, like she'd implied earlier? And here I was, filling the air next door with the rich aroma of grilled pork belly. I didn't feel guilty. Why should I? I was just cooking what I wanted to eat in my own home.
Looking at the last two pieces of pork belly, I hesitated for a brief moment. Maybe half a second. I actually contemplated putting them on a plate and bringing them over to her. I immediately dismissed the thought. That would be insane. If someone who went to complain about noise in the morning and got told "If you don't like it, move out" suddenly brought over pork belly in the evening, what kind of bizarre situation would that be?
I ate the remaining pork belly myself. It was delicious. After doing the dishes, I lay down on the sofa and scrolled through my phone. I really needed to call my parents, but I decided to do it tomorrow. My second day at Haedam Villa. On one side, I had the warm Seojin and the adorable Yuri. On the other side, the confrontational Lee Haeun. I had only wanted to live a quiet, solitary life, so why were my neighbors like this?
I closed my eyes. Lee Haeun's abs flashed through my mind. No, they didn't just flash—my brain was playing them back on an endless loop. The sweat trickling beneath her sports bra, the waistband of her leggings, and her sharp voice saying, "What are you staring at?" kept drifting through my thoughts. I couldn't fall asleep.
1:00 AM. I turned on the studio lights and sat in front of my tablet. I began refining Option C of the female warrior. The warrior looking back. Her sharp eyes. Her smirk. "This is for the commission. Just the commission," I muttered to myself in the empty studio.
I put down my stylus at 3:00 AM. The warrior's eyes were finished, but they looked incredibly familiar. She'd probably start thumping again tomorrow morning. I needed to buy earplugs. With those thoughts, my second night passed.
Room 203 beyond the wall was dead silent. Was Lee Haeun asleep too? Or was she awake like me? Damn it. Why was I even thinking about that woman? I pulled the blanket over my head and forced my eyes shut. Sleep didn't find me until much later.