Chapter Text
Seong Gi-hun was great at his job. He managed education programming at a leading contemporary art museum, led tours and after-school activities for the low-income school children in the area. He loved working with kids! He loved sharing art with them and seeing the ways their eyes sparkle as they spin the wildest stories for everything they see. He loved making the museum a welcoming space for kids who didn’t think it was ever for them. And he refused to think about the vacant Director position, which no doubt would be filled by some careless, snobby art administrator with a dual phd in art history and business management. Could you get a PhD in Business Management? What even was Business Management? He didn’t know and he didn’t care to find out. Gi-hun was loyal to a fault, and he was still close friends with the previous director so he was bound by their friendship to automatically hate the successor.
Senior leadership had tried to get Gi-hun to join the search committee for Sang-woo’s replacement, but he had come up with any and every excuse not to participate. Gi-hun and his department of 2 (Gi-hun himself and Ali) and 1 (barely paid) intern were busy with tours and programming. It was the middle of winter, for fucks’ sakes! Every school teacher within the museum’s screaming distance was looking for indoor enrichment activities! So Gi-hun had continued to ignore the search and chose to focus on the logistical nightmare of organizing docents, training new docents, fitting in tours, and spearheading the museum’s largest education program, Art Connections, gearing towards fostering creativity in children from kindergarten to high school. So yeah, he was a busy man.
Today, though, Gi-hun had a series of back-to-back tours he needed to lead for two local elementary schools’ fifth-graders. All 350 little children with their teachers. Typically, there would be a limit to how many people could be inside the museum at one time. Fire code, artwork safety, and all that. And there should be at least a 15-minute gap between tour groups so people have time to herd their kids out. But today, oh today, Gi-hun fucked up. Or more accurately, his intern Dae-ho fucked up, which was honestly was Gi-hun’s fault because he didn’t explain the scheduling procedures well enough. On top of that, Ali was out on his annual vacation this entire week, which Gi-hun had happily approved knowing how important rest was. Now, both Gi-hun and Dae-ho would be reaping the consequences. The only saving grace was that the museum was closed to the general public on Mondays, which was the only reason why Gi-hun wasn’t as tempted to cancel all the tours. Still, Gi-hun should pre-order a box of donuts for Jung-bae and his security officers as apologies for the absolute chaos about to be unleashed.
Right at 10 AM, the first 75 children and their teachers arrived. Gi-hun, Dae-ho, and five fresh-faced docents immediately jumped into the abyss. Gi-hun must have blacked out because his next memory was of him waving goodbyes to the 75 children, making sure they all get back into their buses, and watching as Dae-ho struggles to give instructions to the next round of 75 children. With a sigh, Gi-hun headed back inside as he mentally prepared himself to talk about colors and shapes to another set of distracted kids and their bored teachers.
It wasn’t until 3 PM that Gi-hun managed to take his lunch break since he prioritized giving Dae-ho and the docents their breaks first. As soon as Gi-hun closed the door that led to staff offices, most of the noises coming from the galleries were muffled. He sighed in relief.
“Oh, Gi-hun ssi!” Jun-hee waved as Gi-hun walked into the staff lounge. “How are the tours going? I could hear the children from outside the building!” She waddled over to the table where Gi-hun sat with her snack box. Ever since she got pregnant, Jun-hee felt like she needed to eat for five people. Thank fuck her ultrasound confirmed that she was to give birth to one, singular, beautiful, perfect little girl.
“Urgggggggggg,” was all Gi-hun could muster in reply.
“That bad huh?” Jun-hee winced.
“Colors and shapes will haunt my nightmares tonight,” Gi-hun said, hands shaking a bit as he fumbled to open his lunch box.
Jun-hee couldn’t stand seeing him struggle so she reached over and grabbed the box out of his hands, “Here, let me!”
“Thank you,” Gi-hun said, grateful. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably die of starvation,” Jun-hee shrugged, “And you should drink less coffee, more--”
“Drink more water. I got it, I got it,” Gi-hun interjected, familiar with Jun-hee’s views on his abysmal diet of mostly coffee and junk food.
Jun-hee scoffed, but didn’t press. She rather focused on the incredible fruit salad her roommate Hyun-ju packed for her. Blessed that girl and her current obsession over trendy Tik Tok fruity concoctions.
They ate in comfortable silence as Jun-hee watched Gi-hun shoved his kimbap into his face like an animal. That man could swallow a bear and not blink an eye, probably. For all of the almost-two years that Jun-hee had been at the museum, Gi-hun was the friendliest, smartest, and kindest person. She knew vaguely how tumultuous the last few years had been for Gi-hun at the museum, something that involved the previous director, but she respected and liked him too much to give in to the nasty rumors.
“When are the last tour groups coming in?” Jun-hee wanted to know when it would be safe for her to walk through the galleries and take some installation photos for their social media.
“Right at 4, so I gotta hurry. I don’t think Dae-ho is going to last long without me,” Gi-hun said with a frown.
“You guys need another full-time team member before you collapse. Then what would Ali do? He can’t hold down the fort with only Dae-ho, ” Jun-he said wisely.
“I wish! But before they find a new director, I can’t propose any new hires,” Gi-hun looked like he could cry.
“OH! Speaking of--, “Jun-hee started just as Gi-hun’s phone rang, loud and shrill.
“Uh oh, it’s Dae-ho,” Gi-hun winced as he answered. “Hey Dae-ho, what’s going on?”
Jun-hee couldn’t make out what Dae-ho said in response, but she could hear the pandemonium leaking through. Something sounded like multiple children screeching, then a loud crash, then crying.
Gi-hun choked down some water and ran.
There wasn’t much Gi-hun could have done since he wasn’t there to prevent any of it from happening. Two little boys started fighting over a cat-shaped eraser that escalated into full blown tantrums for their entire group of 7 children. Dae-ho was frantic, trying to console the two kids. Gi-hun saw the teacher trying to do the same to the rest of the group to no avail. At some point, a kid’s water bottle had rolled out from their backpack during the chaos, sending another kid slipping over and falling backward, almost knocking over a nearby pedestal. Thankfully, besides a bit of a bruise, the kid would be ok. Gi-hun honestly couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the artwork being damaged.
The other docents were able to lead their own tour groups upstairs, away from the chaos. Gi-hun made a mental note to also bring them donuts after this mess of a day was over.
The teacher was so apologetic. She was no doubt worried that her class would be banned from returning, but Gi-hun reassured her that kids were unpredictable, and as long as they were safe from physical harm, a little dent in the flooring wouldn’t be that big of a deal. He suggested she and her group take a short break in the museum’s cafe and atrium to rest, drink some water and eat a snack before resuming their tour. She looked grateful at the idea and Gi-hun sent one of the docent to go with her just in case.
By 5:50 PM, Jung-bae was giving Gi-hun meaningful side glances and subtle taps at his watch to indicate it was time to clear out. Most groups had begun to form their single-file line, hands held and ready to walk into the elevator or down the stairs, thank gods above. Gi-hun took up his place outside the exit, waving and smiling as each group filtered out. Dae-ho was further down the sidewalk to watch out for oncoming traffic. He looked like he could keel over any second, and Gi-hun felt so bad. Maybe he should give the poor intern an extra day off for pulling through one of the busiest days yet.
“Gi-hun ahh, wanna go grab a drink after work??” Jung-bae said as Gi-hun closed the exit doors behind him. “You should treat my team to a round of drinks for whatever the hell today was!”
“Urgggggg, Jung-bae hyung, I wish I could leave, but I have a metric ton of emails I need to go through and that presentation and--”
“Ok, ok I get it, you’re busy,” Jung-bae patted Gi-hun back a little too harshly to be comforting, “You can buy us drinks another day! And remember to set the alarms when you leave tonight!”
Gi-hun nodded tiredly. Dae-ho and the other docents had left the moment Gi-hun gave them the ok. He murmured his thanks, not even enough energy left for his usual exuberance.
The cool, dark office greeted him, which felt like a balm on his soul after such a long day. Gi-hun turned on his desk lamp, chosen to forgo the overhead lights, and dove into his inbox. He wasn’t exaggerating - the 666 unread felt ominous.
It took a good part of almost two hours for Gi-hun to sort through and delete the junk mails, forwarded wrongly-addressed emails to their appropriate departments, before he got to the ones he needed to reply. By that time, his stomach was growling loud enough that he had to do something about it.
Just as Gi-hun stood up, stretched and groaned over his back pain, he heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. There should not be anyone else left in the building except for him. His heart quickened, his palms started to sweat. He reached for his phone, ready to dial 119, when he heard a door click opened not too far from his office. Hesitating, maybe one of his coworkers forgot something in their office? Pocketing his phone, Gi-hun tip-toed to his office’s door and eased it open wide enough to peek out. His office was smack dab in the middle of the hallway, so he had the view of both ends. Nothing seemed suspicious, except the bit of light coming from... the director’s office? Now Gi-hun was back to freaking out. That office was supposed to be empty and locked! Before he could even decide what to do, the light was turned off and a shadowy figure emerged from the doorway.
Gi-hun almost died of shock. His desk lamp was still on and the tiniest sliver of light that escaped from the crack in the door stood out starkly in the dark hallway. Before he could second-guess himself, Gi-hun yanked his door open and jumped out with his arms spread wide, hoping to catch the shadow before it could escape. He hit a solid form - muscular if he were in his right mind to notice, and the momentum pushed them both down onto the floor in a heap with Gi-hun entirely on top of this now-solid-shadow.
The first thing that hit Gi-hun’s senses was a faint note of cedar wood, something that could come from an expensive cologne. The second thing that Gi-hun’s senses was a very deep voice. The third and last thing that hit Gi-hun’s senses was a pained huff of breath right next to his ear, tickling him.
“Urggggg,” the shadow said, trying to wiggle free. “What---?”
“Who,” Gi-hun pressed down onto the shadow, “Who are you??”
“Urgg, who the fuck are you?!” The shadow grunted back, trying harder to dislodge Gi-hun.
“I work here!!!” Gi-hun finally got some leverage and sat up, though he still managed to hold onto the shadow by its very muscular biceps.
“So do I!!!”
“Lies!!! The director’s office is empty!!!”
“It’s my office!!!”
“What the fuck??” Gi-hun choked on his own spit.
Finally, the shadow managed to head-butt Gi-hun. The force of the push and the pain exploded from his forehead were enough to make Gi-hun scrambled back and off of the shadow.
“I am the new director,” the shadow said, hand rubbing his own forehead. “Why the fuck did you jump me for?”
“I thought you were a thief!!!! I didn’t know the new director was even chosen yet!!!” Gi-hun said, exasperated.
“Well, nice to meet you, today was my first day,” the shadowy new director said grumpily. “Hwang In-ho.”
Gi-hun slumped against the wall, momentarily speechless. Today was turning out to be a bigger disaster than he could have ever predicted.