A man with an ID card still hanging around his neck walked through the door. He carried two coffees in a cardboard tray, and his confident stride was enough to convince the people greeting him. They recognized him as a friend of their company manager.
“Mr. Han is currently in an emergency meeting with the marketing division.” The receptionist smiled after hanging up with the manager’s assistant. The man, who still hadn’t been able to reach his friend, finally nodded and thanked her.
He decided to move aside to the waiting lobby, which was filled with towering bookshelves. The shelves displayed bestsellers published by his friend’s publishing company. His eyes wandered over the titles printed along the spines.
After looking around to his heart’s content, he finally relaxed his weary body on a sofa. There weren’t too many visitors today. It was a miracle that Yuhwan had invited him to lunch. With the intense workload and the amount of energy it demanded, Yuhwan often turned down invitations to eat lunch out.
“But I already have an appointment with Mr. Yun. At eleven.” The urgent voice made him look up. A young woman wearing a coral cardigan and a knee-length black pencil skirt hugged a clear folder to her chest. It contained several thick sheets of white printer paper.
The young receptionist picked up the phone again, while the man’s eyes remained fixed on the woman’s face, which seemed determined never to bow.
“One of Mr. Yun’s team members said there’s been a schedule change. You’ll be informed shortly. Please wait for now.” Her eyes narrowed like a cat’s. That practiced smile made the woman’s shoulders droop. She finally nodded. Her head nearly bowed, but she straightened again. She sat a few feet from the man.
The man looked away when the woman glanced back at him. Then, little by little, he turned his head back. She had already lowered her gaze to the folder.
He noticed her trembling hand. Her fingernails tapped against the folder. Her shoulders rose and fell a little too quickly.
“Are you here to propose?” In truth, he felt like he was floating somewhere above the clouds when he tossed out the question.
By the time regret began spreading through his body, the woman had looked up and shaken her head. Her lips stretched into a smile as she answered. Her slightly chubby cheeks lifted. A few tiny red pimples dotted them. Wisps of hair stuck up stubbornly where they had escaped her tie.
“No, sir.”
The man parted his lips, then nodded. “Then what are you here for, if you don’t mind my asking?”
The woman’s gaze dropped. She bit the corner of her lip. It was a different look from the one she’d had when demanding that the receptionist honor the promise she’d been given. Her eyes weren’t as strong as before.
“I want this...”
She showed him the front of the folder she had been clutching against her chest. Instead, the man caught the woman’s hesitant smile.
He shifted slightly and narrowed his eyes, trying to see what she was showing him. It looked like a title in a fairly prominent font. He cursed himself for forgetting to put his glasses in his pocket.
His eyes widened. The man broke into a smile. “Ah, you’re a writer?”
The woman quickly shook her head, raising a hand in denial. Color bloomed in her cheeks. “N-not yet, not yet! Soon, I think.” She scratched behind her ear.
The man gave her a small smile. After a moment, his gaze dropped to the woman’s folder, then returned to her face. “The title is... ‘Sound of the Whale.’ Very unique. When are you going to publish it?”
The woman lowered her head again. She pressed her lips together, lifting both eyebrows with a rueful smile. “I’m asking the same thing. The novel is still being revised.”
Silence slipped between them. The man felt it would be too soon to push her. But he was confused, too. Instead, a brief memory flashed through his mind. The girl in front of him seemed like a mirror reflecting the days when he had been an intern, confused more often than not.
“But I know I can do it.” His head seemed to be yanked forcibly from a sea of memories. He looked up and found that the woman’s lips had lifted again. Her eyes burned with fire.
The man’s smile widened, too. Once again, he remembered the days when he had denied every burden beginning to pile onto his shoulders by smiling as broadly as possible at himself in the bathroom mirror each morning. That was exactly what the woman was doing now.
“Yes. I’m sure you can. All your perseverance will bear sweet fruit.”
The woman dipped her head briefly. “Thank you. You must have worked hard for a long time. You must be amazing.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. He followed her gaze. His hand felt for the card that was apparently still hanging around his neck. “Ah, thank you.” Finally, he slipped the card into his pocket.
“Are you promoting it on social media?”
The woman nodded, her eyes lighting up. She quickly pulled her phone from her bag.
The woman had just opened her mouth when a man of average height came over to the person who had been talking with her. “Hey, Yoonho. Long time no see?”
When her eyes met the man’s, the woman immediately stood and bowed. “Good afternoon, Mr. Han.” Her smile widened flawlessly.
“Ah, it’s Ms. Park. Why haven’t you gone in to see Mr. Yun in the editorial division? You wanted to meet him, didn’t you?”
The woman nodded slowly. “The receptionist told me to wait.”
Han’s brow furrowed. “I saw that division taking it easy. What’s that about?”
The man noticed the woman’s shoulders lift again. She looked stiff and unyielding, though her smile remained fixed in place.
Han shook his head. “Ah, just go on in. I’ll ask them later why they left a writer waiting like this.” His smile crinkled his eyes, and the woman quickly nodded and bowed.
“All right. Thank you, Mr. Han.”
Then the woman glanced at the man still sitting there. “I’ll be going now, sir. It was nice meeting you.” She gave him a quick bow. The man could only nod with his smile still in place. It remained there even after the woman’s back disappeared from view.
Han, seeing the man’s expression, cleared his throat. “She’s still too young, Yoon.”
Yoonho, the man in question, quickly closed his eyes. He sighed and stood.
“The coffee’s gone stale because of you, Han Yuhwan.” He held out the two coffees, then left his friend behind.
“Hey! You should be thanking me.” Yuhwan hurried after him with a mischievous grin.
Meanwhile, Yoonho kept squeezing his eyes shut, trying to erase the woman’s face from his mind.
Actually, it wouldn’t have been difficult for Yoonho to get the woman’s contact information. But the woman’s face, hand movements, and sighs seemed to reflect his youth. They made him aware of the enormous distance between them. She was still growing, while he had begun wondering when he’d last possessed that same fire.
There were times when he held back his steps from going to Yuhwan’s company during lunch.
“Ms. Park is here. Don’t you want to pretend you just happened to run into her?”
That afternoon, he decided to eat in the office cafeteria without answering his friend’s message.
After nearly fifteen years at the same company, he had always trusted careful planning and hard work more than perfect timing.
Yet for some reason, after going on so many blind dates arranged by his friends, he had started to believe in the existence of timing after all.
Then, one Saturday, beneath rows of clouds that lent the air a little coolness, Yoonho decided to go to the mall to buy a spare belt. His eyes immediately settled on a corner of the mall atrium partially hidden by a crowd.
He narrowed his eyes and moved closer, finding several staff members around an interactive touch screen while people busily scanned QR codes.
“Please get in line first, sir. There’s a digital bookmark.” The staff member gestured toward the line. He smiled briefly, realizing that the man was one of the marketing team members at Yuhwan’s company. He remembered Yuhwan’s message about a novel launch with an in-person signing. This time, his eyes found the end of a long table where people sat in a row.
Yoonho slowly looked at each person seated there. They smiled as they signed books with their pens. When he reached the end, his eyes suddenly widened. It felt like a breath of fresh air amid the slightly stuffy air-conditioning around him. He quickly headed toward the display of the writers’ new books.
He stood in line, gripping the ocean-blue book tightly in his hand. When he reached the woman, whose eyes looked slightly vacant, he bent forward. He leaned his face toward hers.
“Ms. Park.”