Substitute-Chapter 18

All day, the atmosphere at the room salon was like walking on thin ice.

Because Han was gone, Jiwon had to personally escort the second-round clients to the motel himself, and each time, the madam scolded him. He was just doing things the way he always had, but she nitpicked everything.

Then around 3 a.m., after she'd asked him to go buy cigarettes, the manager told him to head to the director’s office. The madam wanted to see him—alone.

It was the first time he’d been summoned to her private space. He’d expected some kind of lounge, but it gave off the distinct air of a business office. More specifically, a pawn shop office. The cheap desk and bookshelf looked decades old, and only the sofa seemed remotely new.

The madam sat in the seat of honor on that sofa, waiting for him. The room was thick with cigarette smoke. She was the only person at Emperor Room Salon who smoked regular cigarettes, and Han used to run her errands often. Today, it was Jiwon’s turn.

“Hey. You know something, don’t you?”

She asked before he even closed the door.

“Huh?”

“About Han Seoho, that little fuck. You know what he’s been up to lately, don’t you?”

She looked up at Jiwon and repeated herself in a shrill voice.

“N-No... I don’t know anything...”

He shook his head.

“Yeah, right. Sure you don’t.”

She bit her lip, and her white teeth left a smear of lipstick.

“Sit. Don’t just stand there.”

Jiwon sat on the sofa to her left, leaving the two packs of cigarettes from the convenience store on the table.

She’d told him she was thirty-seven, but up close under bright light, she looked older than that.

“What were you two talking about at the convenience store all the time? That clerk said you were always showing up together.”

She pressed.

“I mean... nothing special...”

Jiwon trailed off. She was staring holes into him, so he started spouting off whatever came to mind.

“We mostly talked about clients. Complaining, whether there were too many or too few... Then he’d ask if I had any regular clients, or if I ever got troublesome ones... asked how the warehouse job was going... Lately, it’s just been small talk about the weather, stuff like that.”

“Really?”

Her tone dripped with suspicion.

“The clerk said you two talked about all kinds of shit.”

“Ah... well, sometimes we talked about guys. And, uh, new places opening up, accidents around the neighborhood...”

He had never once talked about men with Han, but he made it up on the spot, hoping it would earn the madam’s trust. She knew Han was gay, so she’d probably believe this.

“You swing that way too?”

The madam let out a dry, deflated laugh.

“Wouldn’t have guessed. Tch. Can’t trust anyone these days.”

She scanned him up and down, then curled one side of her mouth into a smirk.

“He didn’t mention President Kwak?”

After a pause, she asked.

“President Kwak? Who’s...?”

Jiwon raised his eyebrows like he genuinely had no clue.

“You don’t know?”

“No. Is he a client? Or another business owner...?”

“You really don’t know?”

“...Is he someone I should know?”

Her eyes narrowed.

She seemed to be gauging whether he was telling the truth. Then finally—

“If you don’t know, that’s fine. Go.”

She nodded toward the door.

Passed.

Jiwon stood with a puzzled look, gave her a slight bow, and was about to leave when—

“Wait.”

He froze.

She’s not just some fox. She’s sharper than that bastard Han Seoho. Be careful.

Why that warning decided to resurface now, he didn’t know.

He tried his best to turn around casually.

“Hey, what time can you make it today?”

“...Huh?”

“The MT.”

Whew. Nearly had a heart attack.

He exhaled in relief.

Ever since the final interview, Jiwon had been on edge every time he stepped foot in the room salon. It was the beginning and the end of everything. And since no one had ever passed the final stage before, the tension was all the worse.

“I thought it was canceled—”

“Who said it’s canceled? We’re going today. What time?”

She pressed again.

Even though she’d already canceled it twice because Han didn’t show, now she was changing her mind out of nowhere.

“These days, I usually finish work between 8 and 9 p.m.”

“So you can be there by 11, right?”

“...Yes. That’s plenty of time.”

“Good. Ask the manager for the pension address in Gapyeong. And get your travel money while you’re at it.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“You better come. Whether that bastard Seoho shows or not, we’re going.”

Her expression made it clear—if he didn’t show, she’d lump him in with Han. Or maybe she already had.

The manager, busy handling guests, looked annoyed as hell when Jiwon approached him.

“You’re really going?”

“Yes. She said it’s happening no matter what.”

“God. If she was gonna go, she should’ve gone yesterday.”

He groaned openly and texted Jiwon the address of the Gapyeong pension. Then handed him 150,000 won.

“You’re driving the minibus back. That’s what this money’s for.”

He said it like he was doing Jiwon a favor.

“You have a class 1 license, right?”

Great timing to ask.

“Yes. I do.”

The manager didn’t even wait for the answer. He bolted off to greet a new group of incoming clients.

The room salon was busier than it had been in a while. The past weekend had been a total wash, and everyone had been sour about it. Finally, things were picking up. Unfortunately, that meant Jiwon’s arm felt like it was going to fall off, and the pain in his lower back was worse than ever.

He chewed painkillers as he hauled clients to motels. Before he knew it, it was quitting time.

The whole ride to the pension, the madam was on the phone. Over and over, Jiwon heard her say “Seoho” mid-conversation. Whether she was trash-talking Han or trying to track him down, he couldn’t tell. But one thing was obvious—she was furious.

To his surprise, she didn’t pay Jiwon any attention at all.

After dropping everyone off at the pension, Jiwon headed toward the bus stop—when he felt someone behind him.

He turned.

A man in a ball cap was following him.

It was Han.

“Hey—”

“Shhh.”

Han held a finger to his lips.

Then nodded for him to just keep walking.

Jiwon, aware of Han following behind, walked quickly toward his original destination—the bus stop. Just then, the bus headed for his goshiwon arrived. He paused, wondering if Han would follow him onto it. But Han shook his head.

Only after they let a few buses pass did Han finally get on. Jiwon felt a flicker of unease, but figured nothing would happen on public transit, so he followed him aboard.

Han took the very back seat. Jiwon slid in next to him.

The stench of alcohol hit him immediately.

“Did your interview go well?”

Han asked, eyes fixed straight ahead, his voice low.

Last Friday when they met, Han hadn’t said a word about the interview. Now he wanted to know.

“Yeah, I guess... What about you, Seoho?”

Jiwon replied.

“Totally fucked.”

Han let out a long sigh.

“What? Why?”

Jiwon's voice rose before he could help it.

Han shushed him.

Lowering his voice, Jiwon asked again,

“What happened?”

“I came. While I was putting it in.”

Han confessed he’d ejaculated in the middle of penetration during the test.

There wasn’t even any foreign substance or accident involved. Jiwon couldn’t understand why that would mean he failed.

Wasn’t the whole point to find a man who could perform in a sex party? If anything, being able to get it up, feel it, and come easily would be a good thing. Especially if he was already on their side, there’d be no reason to reject him.

“I don’t know why either. They just said, sorry, but I’m not a match.”

“They actually said that?”

Jiwon forced himself to stay serious, though part of him wanted to go numb again.

Han nodded, exhaling deeply.

“What about you, hyung?”

He turned to Jiwon, eyes reddened.

What the hell is that look? It was confusing.

“Dunno. They didn’t really say anything.”

“Maybe you failed too?”

Han sounded almost... pleased.

And that pissed Jiwon off.

“You heard about the 700 million, right?”

Han lowered his voice.

Jiwon nodded slowly, trying to read between the lines.

No matter how close someone was to their side, there’s no way they’d give that kind of money to just some broker. Which meant Han must have genuinely wanted to be selected for the party. Seven hundred million won, doing something he enjoyed—he might’ve been just as desperate as Jiwon.

Thinking of it that way, Han’s attitude made a little more sense now.

Assuming Jiwon’s assumptions were [N O V E L I G H T] correct.

“Shit, it’s driving me crazy. I really thought I had it. Everything was going so fucking well before the final test.”

Han wrapped both hands around his ball cap.

“My mom was right—I must be cursed or something. I always fuck up the most important shit.”

Han said he couldn’t focus on anything ever since he found out he failed the final interview. He was angry at himself for missing the one chance to escape that life. Said he didn’t care about anything anymore—just wanted to throw it all away.

Then he fell silent.

Jiwon, meanwhile, ran through his own memories of the final interview, gripped with anxiety.

He hadn’t felt like himself. But then again, ever since the accident—no, ever since learning the full truth about the accident—he hadn’t felt like himself even once.

It did feel like they were going to accept him... but what if he was wrong?

Shit. I’m losing it.

The two of them sat side by side, spiraling silently in their own private hells.

Who knows how long passed like that?

The bus had filled up by then. People were starting to stand.

Han suddenly spoke again, this time in a much lighter tone.

“Hyung, let’s go get hangover soup. I know a place that’s fucking amazing.”

Without waiting for a reply, Han reached up and hit the stop request button.

It had been just twenty minutes since they got on the bus.