Chapter Text
Working in corporate was a double-edged sword.
When it was bad, it was really bad. Soul-sucking. Dehumanizing. A masochistic affliction on the self.
But when it was good?
Oh, it was good.
And that's what Minji, star employee as Head of Product and Services Outreach Management, lived for.
She just got out of a meeting, and she felt the euphoria. It was like she had just ran a half-marathon.
There was sweat down her back, her chest felt tight, the rapid clicking of her heels against the cold tile of the floors matched the thudding of her heart, and little black dots practically filled the outsides of her peripherals, threatening to obscure her vision.
But she felt that runner's high, too. That satisfaction of achieving something that she knew only she could do. That no one else had thus far.
"How'd it go?"
The voice of Gahyun — co-worker and secretary of the Minji's department — broke Minji out of her euphoric haze as she reached Gahyun's desk. Since Minji was so high up in the department, Gahyun was the go-between for a lot of communications, and they got along well. Minji considered Gahyun the only one in the company who went beyond just co-worker and into friend territory. But they still mostly talked about work.
"It went well! I think. They seemed really impressed," Minji answered with a smile, loosening her collar enough where it was still professional. She really was sweaty.
"Of course it did. You're Kim Minji. You have a reputation, you know," Gahyun pointed out.
"And what reputation is that?" Minji raised an eyebrow.
"That that smile of yours can disarm even the most stubborn of potential clients," Gahyun claimed. Minji laughed, rolling her eyes.
"I like to think it's my attention to detail and persuasive earnestness," Minji claimed.
"Sure. But I've heard things about the clients you were just with. They've rejected the software implementation of so many different companies before meeting with us. Big players in the industry who I know have heavy hitters when it comes to pitches and getting offers on the table. If you impressed them? Guess you have something special," Gahyun smirked.
"Maybe my something special involved all the work I put into learning Japanese just for meeting with these clients. I figured trying to break into such a closed-off market might require more effort into bridging the gap than just using the usual interpreter," Minji boasted.
"Mhm. And none of the suits in the room tried to invite you for a drink after the meeting after they were so impressed with your tenacity," Gahyun chuckled, resting her chin on the back of her hand. Minji let out a sigh.
"There may have been… some solicitations. Luckily, I had my usual excuse. This particular meeting may be over, but I have to start preparing for the next one," Minji claimed. Now Gahyun rolled her eyes.
"I understand rejecting the suits but this excuse runs a little hollow when you use it for any romantic prospects ever. Or just any social prospects. Are you ever going to lighten up?" Gahyun huffed. "Live a little?"
Minji puffed up her cheeks.
"I live! I'll have you know, this weekend I'm taking a trip out of town! Going to stay overnight at a hotel and everything!" Minji argued. Gahyun cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward.
"And what, pray tell, is the purpose of this trip?" Gahyun inquired. Minji's cheeks burned red. Maybe for anyone else, it would've been due to someone prying into something scandalous. Instead, it was because Gahyun had her number.
"It's… it's a conference focusing on industry trends and the direction of the market… I'm running a few seminars and attending others… It's important to stay on top of these things! The- the hotel has a pool!" Minji scrambled. Gahyun beamed smugly.
"Look at you. It's Friday, you've worked hard for months just for this one meeting, It went well. And how are you going to celebrate and relax over the weekend? By working more," Gahyun huffed. "Bet you won't even visit the bar to let loose."
"I told you, I'm running seminars! I can't afford to be hungover," Minji stated.
"You can afford to not have everything revolve around work at least a little," Gahyun scolded, but her face softened into something sympathetic. "Look. You're really good at your job. As much as I tease, it's obvious to anyone that a big part of that is how much work you put into it. But too much of anything is a bad thing. Okay? Think about taking a bit of a break. And soon. I'm telling you as a friend, not as your secretary."
Minji let out a sigh.
"I'll consider it. After all, there's studies that rest can be beneficial for the mind and body. It'll give me a chance to recuperate and maybe come back even more focused. I could probably manage an evening off sometime soon," Minji mused. Gahyun shook her head.
"I hope you're kidding. Otherwise, you really are hopeless," Gahyun huffed.
"Humour is part of my charm. I promise I'll give myself a break soon, okay?" Minji assured.
"Good. I'll hold you to that. I need to finish up returning some calls and file some paperwork. You have a good weekend, yeah?" Gahyun expressed.
"Sounds like we could both use a break," Minji smirked. "You have a good weekend, too. I might even have a beer at the bar for you."
"Great! Maybe even strike up a conversation with someone you find attractive! You never know!" Gahyun urged. Minji laughed, starting to walk past.
"We'll see," Minji smiled that disarming smile as she went on her way.
Despite her promise, she only made it because she could tell her friend was genuinely worried for her, and Minji didn't want to take that for granted.
But the truth was, Minji didn't feel the need to take a break from work.
She didn't feel the need to do anything other than what she was doing.
She was on a winning streak, and at that point, why stop the momentum?
Why try to look for happiness in anything else when closing the deal was the greatest happiness she could ever imagine for herself?
Everything was perfect exactly how it was.
No need for any divergence. Just onward and upwards. As always.
That was all Minji needed to feel fulfilled.
"Yubin, you're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Tapping out the beat of whatever song you're composing in your head."
"Ah. Sorry."
Yubin sat up in the plush floor cushion so that she could no longer reach the floor she had been tapping against, as a courtesy to her friend.
Said friend, who called Yubin out on her impulsive habit, went back to plucking at her guitar strings. The guitarist was named Bora, and the two of them went way back all the way to the music academy they had both attended. So Bora was used to these habits and knew Yubin never meant any harm.
The two of them couldn't have been more different. Bora was often loud, impulsive, and exuded a fiery passion. Yubin was more calm, quiet, and just went with the flow rather than directing it herself. Even in terms of music, they preferred vastly different genres and methods of producing that music. But exposure to those different tastes made them better musicians, and they enjoyed each other's company, so their longtime friendship often included evenings like these, working through their own respective creative processes.
Yubin often got inspiration from hearing Bora experiment around on her acoustic guitar, but Bora needed full focus to get in the headspace to compose, so she needed the silence, even if she liked Yubin to be there as someone to talk to between inspiration.
"Don't worry about it. I'm just jealous. You're always writing bangers in your head. Me? I keep circling around on the same guitar riff going, is this something? Is this something? I'm tired," Bora whined.
"As someone who has sat in while you composed most of your songs, it very often is something. You're one of the most talented songwriters I know. I've always said it and I stand by it," Yubin claimed.
"A lot of good that does me," Bora muttered. Then she blinked, slowly raised a hand, and lightly slapped herself across the face. Yubin jumped.
"Did you just hit yourself?" Yubin questioned. Bora was rubbing the part of her cheek she hit.
"I really need to stop letting my intrusive thoughts win," Bora grumbled. "I'm just tired of hearing all the negativity come out of my mouth lately. It's not like me."
Yubin frowned.
"It's not. I know you've been frustrated lately. It's okay. Comes with the artist territory, I think," Yubin mused. Bora let out a sigh.
"Yeah, but I'm frustrated that I'm frustrated. I don't need to be frustrated! I just, ugh," Bora played a dissonant chord on her guitar. "I know I'm a good songwriter. I've always been almost too full of myself in that regard. But releasing my EP… it's been a really big hit to my ego."
"It's a great EP! It's not even my style but I know that the musicality is some of the most interesting I've heard. You don't follow the trends and I've always admired that," Yubin pointed out. Bora sunk down a little.
"That's all well and good, but the problem is going against the trends doesn't exactly sell EPs," Bora muttered. "Record label dropped me so fast. I was so happy when I signed that deal. What a whiplash this past year has been for my career."
"To be fair, I do not think that record company promoted you well enough. Or to the right people. It almost felt like they wanted you to fail," Yubin argued. Bora sunk down further.
"Doesn't help that they shifted their focus toward more AI generated songs," Bora groaned.
"You were too good for them anyway if they were willing to compromise their art like that," Yubin stated.
"Objectively you're right. But on paper and in my bank account, it sucks," Bora grumbled. "Regardless, my music did not sell. It did not appeal to enough people. And I got replaced by a soulless robot. So I gotta be better. My music has to capture the attention of a wider audience. But I don't want to compromise on my sound. So I'm stuck in a loop of everything not feeling… enough."
"I empathize, I do, but there was a time where you didn't do this because you wanted to be popular. You did it because you loved to make music," Yubin contemplated, and then held up her hand when she saw Bora start to open her mouth. "I get it. That isn't realistic in this society. It's not like doing art for art sake pays the bills."
"Tell me about it. It's going to be time to renew my deposit on my apartment soon, and at this rate, I'll have to downsize a lot just to afford groceries. And then what?" Bora sighed.
"It'd help if you could busk more than one day a week," Yubin hummed.
"I'm not the only struggling artist out here. There's an honour system. It's a very popular location and there's not a lot of places in the city where you can legally busk. I'm lucky I get to have a slot for any amount of time," Bora stated.
"Because other artists respect you. It's almost like you're recognized by people who know what they're doing," Yubin teased. "But still. It's not exactly stable income. No gigs lately?"
"No luck. You?"
"Yeah, actually. I have a DJ gig at some conference out of town tomorrow night," Yubin replied. "You could come. Lend your vocals to my set. I'll split the pay with you."
"No. You need the money as much as I do," Bora sighed. "Besides, you know I don't do collabs. I'm too deliberate about my creative output. You know I'd be annoying the moment I'd want to do something different."
"I know how you are. Wanted to offer anyway," Yubin nodded.
"Thanks. You're a good friend," Bora smiled. "Maybe one day I'll swallow my pride if I'm desperate enough. I really feel like I have to do this on my own though, for now. I'll just hope I'll make enough this week to fuel my ramyun diet."
"I'll be pulling for you to get a generous benefactor," Yubin gave a thumbs up. Bora let out a loud, bitter laugh.
"Someone with money? Liking my music?" Bora scoffed. "That would require them to have taste."
"And we all know they prefer the taste of the ass that writes them the biggest cheque," Yubin shook her head.
Bora stared ahead of her.
And then she raised her pick to her guitar strings.
Yubin regarded her with interest.
"You just got inspired, didn't you?" Yubin mused.
"Maybe," Bora muttered, plucking out a little melody.
"And what I said inspired you? Does this mean we collab'd?" Yubin teased.
"Shut up. I'm focusing," Bora huffed, and then started humming a tune softly along with her plucking before quickly jotting something down on her notepad.
Yubin chuckled, tucking her hands under her legs so that she wasn't tempted to start tapping and distract Bora.
The weekend was about to be a write off for Bora, now. When she got inspired, nothing stopped her until she finished her song.
Knowing her, it'd be done by Tuesday.
So much can change in a weekend.
On Friday, Minji felt on top of the world. Untouchable.
The convention itself was great. Insightful. She learned a lot. Was lauded for her seminars. The DJ at the hotel bar was great. She even treated herself to one (1) beer.
And then she walked into work on Monday, and it all came crashing down.
Minji had faced a lot of hardships when establishing her career, but it had been a long time since she felt so… defeated.
She wasn't sure what to to, as she reflected back on the moment she realized something was wrong.
It had been all sunshine and rainbows when she approached Gahyun's desk as she always did. Her intention was to boast about how refreshed she felt even after a weekend of technically working. She was ready to get back to the grind. To the next difficult client. To the next signature on a contract.
Her smile fell when she saw the look on Gahyun's face, stricken pale, covered in guilt and looking like she was about to explain the concept of death to a child.
"What? What's with that face?" Minji had asked, concerned. Gahyun winced.
"So you haven't heard. Guess the execs are still trying to figure out how to approach you about this," Gahyun sighed. "Minji. The deal fell through."
Minji eyes widened.
"Wh-what?" Minji gaped. "No. No? I was in the room with them. They were practically itching for a pen to sign on!"
"But they didn't, did they? Before you left the room," Gahyun frowned.
"They said they would discuss it further but that's always just professional jargon. I know how this works. They had already decided. I could tell," Minji argued.
"Something changed," Gahyun muttered.
"What? What do you know?" Minji demanded, more harsher than she intended. She caught herself quickly. "Sorry, I'm just confused."
"It's okay, I get it," Gahyun waved her off. "I don't know anything officially but you know me. I hear people talking. And, well… you didn't hear this from me, but… apparently they decided to go with a generative AI model instead."
Upon hearing this, Minji slammed both hands on to Gahyun's desk.
"God dammit," Minji hissed. "Seriously? Instead of our software written by actual humans who know what they're doing? They went with something that regularly hallucinates data?"
"It's apparently a cost effectiveness thing. And they believe anything we could offer them, the gen AI could learn to do just as well in time," Gahyun shrugged.
"That's not how it works!" Minji lamented.
"But you know how their minds work. They just see saving money now. To hell with quality, right? As long as it lines their pockets immediately. They'll come crawling back the moment its not sustainable," Gahyun pointed out.
"By then it'll be too late. This company was really banking on that deal going through. The whole next five years was planned around it. The meeting even went so well, they started pushing through some of the investments. This is going to be devastating," Minji's eyes widened.
"To be fair," Gahyun lowered her voice, "it's the executives' fault for putting all their eggs in one basket like this. Talk about not having a contingency plan. They really must've had a lot of faith in you."
Minji felt the colour drain from her face.
"They've gotta know I did all I could, right? They have to be able to recognize all the work I put in. There was nothing more I could've done other than signing the contract for them," Minji contemplated. Gahyun leaned back in her chair and let out a huff.
"And not take accountability for their own mismanagement? Sure. Maybe a miracle can happen," Gahyun huffed.
But a miracle did not happen.
Once Minji was called into the executives' office, she quickly learned that she was indeed blamed for the deal falling through. That she must have fallen short somewhere. Maybe she offended the clients somehow with her hastily-learned Japanese.
Anything than face culpability for their own decisions.
Either way, Minji was informed in no uncertain terms, and very loudly, that it fell on her shoulders to "fix" this. It was down to her to save the company and her job. Either by winning over the other clients again, or finding enough other clients to make up for the loss.
No pressure.
Minji was used to working hard, but that Monday was one of the hardest and longest she worked since being at that company. Making calls, emails, gathering data, putting the team of different tasks, all well into the night.
And then running off maybe two hours of sleep, it continued into Tuesday.
"Minji," Gahyun snapped Minji out of her laser focus toward her computer screen. A mug of coffee was slid to her over the desk. "Minji, go take a break."
"Huh, wuh?" Minji blinked rapidly. She automatically took a sip of the coffee and smacked her lips. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure. After I finished this three hour presentation on how implementing human made and verified software is more viable for tech-focused businesses."
"No. Now," Gahyun demanded. "Remember how rest is good for you? That's still true, especially now. I hate that they're doing this to you, but if you're going to get through this, you need to clear your head for a while. Go take a walk or something."
"You're right. You're right," Minji sighed, and she downed the entire hot coffee in just a few gulps, to Gahyun's horror and fascination. "It won't help anyone if I make a mistake because I'm too tired."
"Yeah, but, consider also, your own health," Gahyun argued.
"I'll worry about my own health when everyone's jobs are saved," Minji muttered, getting up and doing a big stretch. "I think I'll go on that walk. I've heard it's a nice evening."
"Take it easy, okay? No one will blame you for walking all the way home and into bed. Well, no one reasonable will blame you," Gahyun noted.
"Honestly, I should release everyone to get some rest. You included. I'll probably come back and do some more work after I grab a bite to eat. I won't overdo it, I promise," Minji claimed. Gahyun eyed her with suspicion.
"Okay. Just, text me if you need anything, alright?" Gahyun urged.
"I will. Thanks for being my rock as always, Gahyun," Minji expressed.
Gahyun regarded her with sympathy, but she saw her off and just hoped Minji wouldn't burn herself out too much. She knew Minji too well to know she could stop her once she was in this headspace. Gahyun had done all she could.
Minji went to every person who worked in her department, greeted them with a smile, told them they did good work, and then gave them the rest of the evening off. She wanted to be a good role model, so she did not let on just how exhausted she was. But god, was she ever exhausted.
It wasn't just from the constant working and lack of sleep. She had crunched harder in the past. But she was exhausted from the emotional whiplash. As mentioned, the corporate world could be soul-sucking and dehumanizing, and Minji had almost forgot just how much her "value" was superficial at best.
She truly felt it as she walked out into the evening air. It had been a hot day, but was cooling down with the lowered sun and a gentle breeze. It was so natural and comforting and different from the cold walls of the building, that she almost started crying then and there.
Her office building was in the middle of the hustle and bustle of downtown, where the city felt most alive with activity. Among the other office buildings, there were trendy restaurants, bars, arcades, parks, markets, museums — whatever a white collar worker needed to distract themselves from a busy day at work. Minji just needed to pick a direction and walk, and let the atmosphere of the city melt away her stress.
So she did, but she couldn't fully let go of the thoughts about work swimming around in her mind. How could she? Even before this, all she ever really thought of was work.
She had given so much to that company. So many hours. So much effort. Went above and beyond.
And one thing out of her control took all that good will away.
She'd never forget the words of the executives, or the looks on their faces. They might as well have called her dirt under their shoes.
And the worst part? Part of her started to believe it. That hundreds of people were going to lose their jobs because of her. Because she didn't try hard enough. Because she wasn't good enough at her job.
Minji no longer felt exhausted. She was starting to feel angry.
Angry at the executives who would rather put the blame on one person rather than admit their faults.
Angry at a world that would rather go for the cheaper and unregulated method than to pay more for proven quality with better returns long term.
Angry at herself, for giving so much and chasing the recognition that was so easily taken away when convenient.
Angry that she knew she wasn't going to learn anything from this.
She stared at the ground, her heels now clacking furiously against the pavement, not caring about where she was going, just engrossed in the rhythm matching the pace of her own frustrations.
And the beautiful melody that rose above the ground to accompany it.
And the voice so deep and ethereal, she knew it wasn't coming from her own mind.
Minji looked up to see where she was. She had made her way to a busy pedestrian bridge connecting to another part of the city over a stretch of highway. In the middle of it was a smaller girl with just a guitar, an amp, and some speakers attached to a microphone.
And that haunting tone of her voice that blended with the furious and unique syncopation of her strums that made it feel like the guitar was several instruments in one. And the subject matter of the lyrics? About a soulless world willing to cast humanity aside because our lives are already ruled by something that has no sentience.
It was like this girl was singing right to Minji's soul
She got closer, and she stood there, and she listened. She listened while others kept walking by in their busy lives, paying this fantastic artist no mind as she shared her gift for free. Some would drop some money in her guitar case as they passed, but not nearly as much as Minji thought was warranted. And people afforded her even less attention than was warranted.
Minji couldn't believe it. This musician had clearly worked so hard on her craft. She had gotten so incredible at it. And people didn't care.
So Minji stayed, and she watched, and she listened.
She listened to each song. She watched as the girl's face twisted from the emotion in her lyrics. She observed the way her throat would bob and tense as if straining from the more difficult notes, but her voice would still come out clean and clear. She absorbed the way the woman's hands, though so tiny they barely reached around the fretboard of the guitar, so expertly glided across the strings every which way to create the cacophony of sounds that tickled her ears in the best way.
She felt her chest warm up as the passion of the woman's singing and playing reached her.
This was art.
Minji liked music as much as the next person. But she mostly listened to the radio. She didn't have the time or energy to seek out music on her own.
So she had never experienced music that touched her like this before. Like it woke up something deep within her.
Song by song went on, and Minji watched, and she listened, among the hectic city centre, where people rarely stopped to just listen. And for the first time in a long time, she felt properly seen. And she felt properly at peace.
Then the music stopped, and Minji blinked her headspace back into something resembling functionality.
The musician hadn't noticed her watching this whole time. She just quietly set her guitar down and started packing up. Show was over.
Minji's sense of peace fled at that moment, because she realized she needed to thank this stranger in some way. But what would she say? Hello, thank you for making me feel emotions that I had forgotten how to feel?
Seemed a little intense for a strange woman to say to her randomly.
So Minji decided to stick with the language she knew best, from the world she knew best.
Because even with the subject matter of the woman's songs, they did live in a society. And based on the donations Minji did watch the girl get, she probably wasn't in the most stable situation. Minji could gift her that, as a thank you. She was in a position where she could. And maybe it meant this talented individual could make even more beautiful and hard-hitting music.
That was a gift Minji could give to the world.
She rushed forward just as the woman was about to put her guitar away. She grabbed her wallet, hoping all the cash inside of it would be enough. With a couple bounds, she was in front of the musician just in time.
"Thank you for sharing your music!" Minji squeaked out as she threw the entirety of her physical money into the case. The woman looked up at the sound of the voice to regard Minji, appearing surprised at her suddenly manifestation.
The woman's jaw dropped at the sight of Minji, her eyes wide.
"H-holy shit, um, ah, tha-tha-thank you," the musician stammered.
Minji flashed one of her winning smiles, which made the woman's eyes go even wider.
And then Minji turned and walked away, feeling satisfied.
"Wait. Wait, oh my god. Um! Ma'am! Are you sure you meant to give me this much?! Hey!"
Minji heard the calls after her, but she didn't dare turn around and give the woman a chance to argue and try to return the donation. Instead, she just gave a wave behind her, and kept walking.
To Minji, it was the most meaningful thing she thought she had ever done with her money that she worked so hard for. It's not like she was hurting for it, after all.
And with that feeling of freedom, in all her years of professional accomplishments, Minji had never felt more fulfilled than in that moment.
"She gave you how much?!"
Yubin's food nearly fell out of her chopsticks.
"You heard me," Bora nodded. "That's why I'm treating us to gogigui."
"It all makes sense now. Guess you won't have to worry about groceries for a little bit afterward, huh?" Yubin noted.
"I guess. To be honest, I want to save most of it up to maybe self-publish another EP. And that's expensive," Bora muttered.
"And you'd have to actually get your music out there. You'd run into the same problem where you release good music but nobody knows about it. And marketing isn't cheap either," Yubin pointed out.
"Yeah, I'm aware," Bora sighed, sinking in her chair as she cut another piece of meat with scissors. "Even with that nice bit of cash that person gave me, it's not enough to cover everything I would need to do without a record company backing me."
"Well, maybe she'll be back," Yubin suggested. Bora perked up at that.
"You think so?" Bora questioned.
"Why not? Maybe she's a fan. Maybe she'll be your first whale and fund your entire next project," Yubin contemplated.
Bora blinked, and then got a far off look in her eye.
"Oh, yeah, more funds would be good. Wouldn't want her breaking the bank or anything," Bora mused.
Yubin stopped chewing, leering at Bora thoughtfully, and then swallowed and smacked her lips.
"Oh?" Yubin cocked her head. "So how pretty was she? Around our age, you think?"
Bora blinked rapidly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Bora scoffed.
"Don't be coy. I know that look. Bet she had a big smile, didn't she," Yubin accused, and Bora let out a huff.
"It was like she had extra teeth, Bin. More teeth per teeth. But in an intensely attractive way. I know I become useless in the presence of a pretty woman but Yubin. I've never seen someone like her, I swear. It was like getting struck by lightning," Bora breathed.
Yubin shook her head.
"That pretty, huh? Well, I hope her personality is more attractive than what you usually fall for," Yubin muttered, and Bora glared.
"Not my fault so many people are assholes these days," Bora grumbled, poking at her food. "But, she threw money at me. Literally. So maybe she's pretty and nice."
"Did you talk to her at all?" Yubin questioned, and Bora deflated a bit.
"No. She told me thank you for sharing my music, gave me money, and then left. I tried to call after her but. I don't know. Based on how she was dressed, I think she was an office worker. Must have been busy," Bora deliberated.
"Probably high up on the ladder too, judging by the amount she gave you without any trouble," Yubin noted. Bora frowned.
"I wish I had been able to look at her more," Bora muttered, and Yubin snorted through a mouthful of food. Bora rolled her eyes. "Not for gay reasons. Well, not completely gay reasons. She just looked tired. And kind of sad. Even with how bright her smile was. I wish I could've asked her if she was okay."
"Wow, you've got it bad," Yubin teased.
"Shut up," Bora scowled. "I mean it. You know my music. It's not exactly light stuff. If it resonated with her, well… I just hope giving me that money wasn't indicative of anything."
"Geez, Bora, that's dark," Yubin gawked.
"I'm worried!" Bora whined.
"No kidding. You always do this. Your heart is bigger than your brain sometimes. This is a stranger. Try not to torture yourself over her well-being, okay? Chances are, you might never see her again, and if that's the case, you can't jump to the worst case scenario, okay?" Yubin lectured. Bora let out a deep sigh.
"You're right. I need to stop being dramatic," Bora admitted. "I do hope I see her again some day, though. You know, in general. I know I just said I'd stop being dramatic, but… I feel like I might always yearn for the connection there we could've had."
"Train cars passing in the night, and whatnot," Yubin philosophized and she threw more meat on the grill.
Bora looked wistfully out the window, wondering if that pretty office worker got to see the sky that often.
"On a random Tuesday."
That Tuesday evening, Minji had ended up going right home and into bed. She had the best sleep of her life.
And then back to the grind.
Naturally, she got scolded for not doing enough.
But Minji found it didn't weigh on her as heavy. Not that she didn't still care. Oh, she cared. She was still aware that so many jobs — including her own — were on the line. She was still determined to turn things around for the company and prove she was as good at her job as she always thought.
But the opinions of the execs? She didn't have the capacity to dwell on them anymore.
That part of her brain was occupied by something else, now.
She hadn't stopped thinking of that busker with the beautiful voice and skilful hands. She thought it would just be a one time thing, a moment that was fleeting but treasured, and she'd go her separate way and they'd live their separate lives knowing they impacted each other for but a moment.
But she couldn't let go. She wanted another taste. Maybe just to see if it hit as hard the second time, or maybe she had just been that tired and upset the first time.
So after work on Wednesday, she went on another stroll.
But this time it was a different busker. Her guitar player was nowhere to be found, even though she waited just to be sure.
And then she returned on Thursday. And Friday.
No mysterious musician.
Minji worked through the weekend to make up for the evenings she missed, and come Monday, she had given up. She had accepted that she might never see that siren again, and spending more time looking for her was just going to negatively impact her work.
No more heads in the clouds. Back to reality.
The next day, Minji was working late once again with the rest of the team. She still tried to be optimistic around her co-workers, but deep down she was feeling pretty discouraged and embittered.
Only Gahyun knew her well enough to tell.
"Hey. You aren't going on your evening walks at the usual end of the day anymore?" Gahyun questioned as Minji was printing some documents for filing. "I was actually relieved you were getting out every evening. Being cooped up in here isn't good for you."
"Ah, yeah, I've decided that it was a waste of time, actually," Minji shrugged. Gahyun stuck a finger in her face.
"Hey. No. Mental health breaks are never a waste of time," Gahyun scolded. Minji chuckled, gently pushing Gahyun's hand down.
"That's not what I meant," Minji admitted, and then she looked away shyly. "I was actually looking for someone. I've accepted I won't find them."
Gahyun pressed the pause button on the printer.
"Hey!" Minji exclaimed.
"This can wait. What do you mean looking for someone? Did this someone finally catch the Kim Minji's eye enough that finding them took precedent over work? Huge, if true. Who is it? Did you meet someone's eyes on the sidewalk? Nearly walked out into traffic because you were too distracted and they heroically saved you?" Gahyun interrogated.
"I knew you were watching too many dramas on the clock," Minji shook her head. "It's not like that. It was actually a busker. I really liked her music and I was just hoping to hear it again. But I haven't been able to see her again, so, it might've been a one time thing. It's a shame, but, there's more important things going on."
Minji felt a pit in her stomach as she un-paused the printer.
"A busker, huh?" Gahyun mused. "What day did you see her again?"
"Tuesday," Minji confirmed, like it was at the forefront of her mind at all times. Gahyun hummed thoughtfully.
"And today is Tuesday," Gahyun contemplated. "I have a friend who used to busk. Used to do puppet shows with coconuts. Irrelevant. Anyway, they told me for the busiest legal spots in town, they had a worked out rotation with other buskers. They usually keep the same time slot every week."
"You mean…?" Minji's eyes widened.
"It's Tuesday again. She's probably there now. You could still catch her," Gahyun confirmed. Minji looked forlorn at the printer.
"Gahyun—"
"You go. I'll finish up and file everything for you," Gahyun urged, shoving Minji a little.
"You're a saint," Minji breathed, gathering her stuff.
"Someone has to make sure you don't burn yourself out. Now go listen to some music," Gahyun stated.
"Thank you. I owe you!" Minji called back as she shuffled out of the room.
"You're damn right!"
Minji just hoped she wasn't too late.
While Bora busked, she didn't usually look at the people who stopped to watch her or glance her way.
Part of it was just because it was awkward. It was too intimate a venue and, as much of an extrovert as Bora was, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed laying her heart bare while she sang to a stranger.
Another part of it was a lot of the people who stopped to watch her ended up being creepy men who wanted her number. If she met their eyes, there was a 100% chance they would approach her for a drink after her set, and that's the last thing Bora wanted.
So she would keep her eyes on the ground, or close them in a passionate moment, and just focus on playing and singing and not on the people around her. She'd figure out the kind of attention she got by the donations in the end. Unless a certain whale stopped by.
Which was exactly the reason why, on this particular Tuesday, that Bora was going against all her instincts and looking up.
She felt there was no point in fooling herself as to why. She was looking to see if the pretty office worker would show up again.
No such luck yet. As each song went by, Bora could only spot a deluge of faces that didn't stand out in any way, shape, or form. Just people getting off work, going about their evening, and showing reactions to her music that ranged from mild interest to disgust. Bora was used to her music being polarizing, so she didn't mind that.
But she was disappointed that it looked like she wasn't going to see that smile again.
The thought crossed her mind that, originally, she assumed the woman must've worked in the area. But she had been playing this slot a long time and had never seen her before. Maybe she was from out of town and was just briefly here for a business meeting in the capitol of the country.
The thought weighed heavy on her. Dramatic worries aside, maybe they really were just trains in the night. As most people are. And Bora didn't know why this one in particular bothered her so much. It almost felt like… a waste.
Even her arms felt heavy as she strummed. Good thing she was about to play her last song of the night before switching out. She needed to go home and lament the brief crush that would never amount to anything. Maybe write a song about it.
She would feel better in a few days.
But as she launched into the song, her eyes did one last scan. Just to make sure.
Nothing.
She closed her eyes and willed herself to grasp acceptance of reality, and she sang. It probably sounded more melancholic than usual, but she didn't care.
Yubin was right. She really was too dramatic.
But while she tried to bury herself in the timing of the song, she almost was thrown off by a sound that did not match the rhythm she was going for. It was nearly too distracting, like when Yubin would tap along to the song in her head.
The rapid crescendo of loud heels against concrete.
Bora opened her eyes and looked over, and she nearly lost her timing again.
There was the office worker, beaming, out of breath, a little shiny from sweat, and a couple of buttons from the top of her blouse undone. She was a vision.
Had she run here?
Bora flashed a smile back through her singing, and the woman's grin grew wider. More teeth per teeth.
She managed to tear her gaze away and locked in. This was the last song. This woman had ran here to hear it. She was going to make it worth her while.
When she finished, she almost felt out of breath, too. She was almost scared to look over again, scared that the woman would be gone.
But she was still there. She appeared to have caught her breath, now, but her eyes were twinkling through the little bit Bora could see past the woman's gentle, scrunched up face. Maybe looked a little watery.
Bora smiled again and nodded to her, hoping she would come over while she started to pack up.
Her wish was granted as the woman approached. Bora noticed she was already getting out her wallet.
This was her chance to strike up conversation.
"Hey, hey. No. You've already given me enough. You only heard one song, anyway. Close that back up," Bora chided.
The woman paused, seeming almost at a loss for words that Bora would be turning down more money.
"Oh, but, that last song was really good! It's worth at least something, right?" the woman argued. "Money is exchanged for goods and services. You provided a service by sharing your talent which impacted me positively. Ergo, you get money."
Bora almost laughed. This was indeed a worker in the capitalist machine.
"If more people saw value in art that way, there'd be less starving artists in the world," Bora mused, collapsing her microphone stand. "I admit, the money is helpful. But I don't expect it. When you say I'm sharing my talent, that's exactly what I'm doing. Any feedback in monetary form is a gift."
"Then let me give you a gift," the woman insisted, and thrust a handful of cash toward Bora. Bora's eyes widened at it.
"You really don't have to," Bora sighed. "The greatest gift was seeing you came back just to hear me again, to be honest."
The woman blinked a few times.
"Really? Why?" she questioned.
"It's a huge compliment. You can like an artist. But liking them enough that you come back? That's special," Bora explained. "Plus, you're a stressed individual who gave a bunch of money away. The imagination runs wild on the possibilities as to why."
Her brow furrowed a moment.
And then her eyes widened.
"Oh, no! Oh, oh I never wanted to give off that impression. I'm sorry. I'm fine, I promise. I'm stressed but I'm not that stressed," the woman reassured. And then she paused a moment, looking perplexed. "How'd you know I'm stressed?"
"Dressed like an office worker. In an office worker area. You're an officer worker," Bora listed off. "It'd be weird if you weren't stressed."
"Touché," she chuckled, and then jutted out her hand as Bora threw her guitar case over her back. "Well if you won't accept my money, will you accept my name? Seems fitting, since you already know so much about me. I'm Minji."
Bora smiled. It was just what she was hoping for. Getting to know her better.
"I'm Bora," Bora replied, taking Minji's hand and feeling the firm grasp around hers, probably from lots of practice making a good impression in boardrooms.
Yet her hand was so soft.
"Bora," Minji repeated thoughtfully. "Well suffice to say, I'm a big fan, Bora."
Bora let out a light giggle.
"Lucky me," Bora teased. "Thank you for stopping and giving my music a chance."
"It's captivating. It's different. I can't imagine it not capturing people's attention," Minji pondered, and Bora felt herself blush. Outside of the opinions of other musicians, Bora had never heard someone praise her music like that.
"Well, it's usually because it's so different that people generally pass it by. You must have pretty eclectic tastes," Bora noted, and then leaned forward a bit, curious about this office worker named Minji who was curious about her. "What do you usually listen to?"
"Um," Minji looked lost in thought for a moment before answering. "Babymetal?"
Bora stared at Minji a moment to try and figure out if she was joking.
Not because Babymetal were bad — they were great, actually — but rather she didn't seem the type. Though she didn't seem the type to like Bora's music either.
Once she registered the earnestness on Minji's face, Bora couldn't help but laugh, which made Minji blush.
"Is that weird?" Minji mumbled. Bora shook her head.
"Not at all. I'm actually just thinking about how glad I am we got to talk so I could find out how cool you are," Bora stated. Minji's smile slowly formed on her face again.
"Are you teasing me?" Minji chuckled. Bora shook her head.
"You appreciate the arts way more than most people around here. That makes you pretty cool in my book," Bora confirmed.
Minji's eyes seemed to get misty again, and her smile nearly reached those eyes, pressed in a thin line.
"I'm glad we got to talk, too," Minji agreed. "Sorry I missed most of your set this time. I'll try to come earlier next time. You always play here on Tuesdays?"
"Yep. Every Tuesday," Bora confirmed. "You'll come again next week, then?"
"Like I said, I'll try," Minji nodded. Bora hummed thoughtfully.
"Tell you what. Just to give you some incentive… if you show up to listen next week, I'll make it worth your while," Bora offered. Minji tilted her head in a way that Bora found utterly adorable, she nearly swallowed her own tongue.
"Oh?" Minji questioned. Bora managed to get a hold of herself before she totally lost her footing and screwed this up for herself.
"I only have so many original songs, and I don't want you to get bored, so…" Bora smiled, biting the edge of her lip. "Maybe next week I'll prepare an acoustic version of Gimme Chocolate. Just for you."
Minji's eyes widened in excitement.
"Really? That sounds so fun!" Minji exclaimed, and even at just the suggestion, Bora could almost see Minji stand a little taller, a little less burdened. "I didn't know you took requests."
"Not usually, just for the prettiest ones," Bora winked.
And then Bora quickly turned away, because when she had winked, she felt her other eye close after which had made it more of an awkward blink, and Bora was kicking her own ass inside her head at that moment.
But because she turned away, she missed Minji going beet red, too utterly taken by Bora's smooth words to even register a momentary lapse in coordination in the face of a pretty girl.
"Aaanyway, I think the next busker is here so I should be on my way," Bora said quickly, gathering the rest of her things. "But it was very nice meeting you."
"O-oh. Yeah. It was," Minji stammered, watching Bora tuck two speakers under her arms and throw the guitar and mic stand on her back. "Are you okay carrying all that?"
"Yeah. I actually live close by. I'm used to it, it's no problem," Bora assured. "I really gotta go. It's bad busking etiquette to stay in this spot past my slot. But thank you, again. For coming back just to listen to my music."
Bora didn't want to leave, but she also did need to vacate the location, and she didn't want to come on too strongly either (and normally Bora loved to come on strongly), so with her feet feeling like cement, she managed to turn to start to walk away.
A hand around her arm stopped her.
"Wait," Minji called out. Bora turned back to see Minji looking almost desperate. "I know you said I don't need to, but… let me gift you some money again for your set today. Please. I just feel like it's something meaningful I can do. I want to."
Any form of resistance melted out of Bora at the look on Minji's face. Damn, was she ever disarming. It was a good thing she just seemed genuinely kind with no discernible ulterior motives. Otherwise this Minji would be a very dangerous woman.
"You go-getters and your can-do attitude," Bora sighed. "Alright. Don't make a habit of it. Especially if you're going to make attending my sets a regular thing. There will come a point where I'll feel bad. Even taking money from someone with a cushy white collar job."
Minji flashed another smile.
"Like I said, this feels like a meaningful way to spend it," Minji reiterated, holding up another wad of cash. She looked around at Bora's very full hands. "Um…"
"Oh, uh," Bora tried to shift what she was carrying into one hand so she could take the money, but Minji stopped her.
"It's okay, I got it," Minji claimed.
And then she reached over and slipped the money just beneath Bora's waistband, her fingers brushing over Bora's abdomen as she did so, causing a wave of shivers to shoot right up to the back of Bora's neck.
Holy shit. What was wrong with her? Didn't she know a move like that could be fatal to someone as gay as Bora?
Bora gulped, trying not to collapse on the spot, especially after seeing the innocent look on Minji's face that betrayed no notion of the type of move she just pulled. Maybe she was an even more dangerous woman this way.
Bora was already in deep.
"So, next week then?" Minji beamed.
"Y-yeah. You bet," Bora nodded, her head fuzzy and her mouth dry.
"Until then," Minji smiled again, and she turned and walked away.
Bora watched her until she disappeared into the crowd.
She felt the warmth of the money that Minji was holding against her skin, and she felt light on her feet despite the heavy equipment she carried.
Next Tuesday couldn't come soon enough.