SoMi sat in her so-called "office"—a small, windowless room where time seemed to stand still. Lined with shelves of manuscripts, the walls muffled any sound from the outside world. It was here, in silence and obscurity, that she spent years editing the works of Korea's most prominent authors. Those texts later became bestsellers, won awards, and captivated millions. Meanwhile, her name faded into small print at the bottom of the last page, as if hinting that the real heroes remain in the shadows.
Her long-held dream of seeing her own name on a book cover remained dusty in her heart. Marriage disrupted her plans, like the wind snatching sheets of paper with unwritten stories from her hands. Although they did not yet have children, she plunged headlong into everyday life. This tiny room was her only refuge, where she could imagine, while correcting other people's lines, that she was editing her own for a moment.
But today, something was different. The silence itself shuddered when the door creaked open and Kim Seong Joon, the director of the publishing house, appeared in the doorway as if in an unexpected movie scene.
"Good morning, Ms. SoMi," he greeted her, trying to enter. His broad shoulders stopped at the doorframe. The man got stuck in a comical way, swayed, stepped back, and, with a slight smile, continued speaking from the doorway. "I'm glad to see you."
His voice sounded like a young man's confession—nervous and slightly hoarse.
SoMi quickly got up from her small table, surprised by his visit.
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Seong Joon," she replied cautiously, folding her arms timidly.
"You look beautiful today," the director added awkwardly, quickly clearing his throat and glancing around the cramped room. "Ahem... Can we talk in my office?" It's kind of awkward to have a serious conversation at the door of your 'office."
"Yes, of course," SoMi nodded, hurriedly leaving her desk.
As she walked down the corridor, she felt her heartbeat matching the rhythm of her footsteps on the floor. When she reached the door to the director's office, it opened to reveal a room bathed in soft light. The sun flooded the room with golden dust that reflected off the shiny parquet floor. Outside the windows, the park bustled with the wind playing with the young leaves. The scene looked like another world, unattainable from the dark closet.
"Editor SoMi," Seong Joon began as he approached his desk. "I invited you here because I want to personally hand you a new project." He carefully placed the folder in front of her.
"For our small publishing house, working with Lee Hang Soo is a tremendous honor. Most importantly, he asked for you to edit his manuscript himself.
SoMi involuntarily clenched her hands. Her name had been noticed.
"And," the director continued, catching her anxious glance, "since this work will require your full commitment, I believe that the working conditions should be commensurate."
He smiled that warm, supportive smile you usually see at important moments in life.
"What do you mean?" she whispered, afraid to hope for more.
"I mean..." your cubicle is not suitable for the work you do. I can only say one thing: You have reached a new level in your career, so you should have your own office in which to work comfortably.
The world stopped.
Even the air seemed to freeze in anticipation. SoMi stood in the middle of the brightly lit stage, like a tiny bird that had suddenly felt the power of its own wings. She was small in this space but big in her inner world. Deep inside her, something long forgotten was awakening. Faith. In herself.
"What? My own office?" SoMi repeated, stumbling over the words as if each one were too big to say.
With a slight smile and a hint of impatience, Kim Seong Joon slid a glossy interior design magazine toward her.
"Yes, that's why I invited you," he said, sliding his finger across the cover. "I wanted to discuss a few details. I want you to choose a place worthy of your work."
SoMi mechanically ran her hand over the pages depicting bright offices with tall windows that looked like something out of a fairy tale.
"Oh, I'm very grateful, but I'm comfortable in my little room," she whispered, hiding her gaze behind her long hair like a schoolgirl caught daydreaming.
Seong Joon just shook his head, almost laughing.
"No, no, no. That answer is not acceptable." His voice was warm but firm. "You deserve better. If you plan to stay here as an editor, you should aim higher."
His eyes shone with the same faith that had just sprung up in her own soul. SoMi couldn't help but notice.
"Let's do this," he suggested, closing the magazine with a soft snap. "I'll choose the design. You just tell me what you want."
She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.
"Well... I'd like a lot of natural light. Also, I need a wider desk because I can't even fit my elbows on mine." She smiled to herself. "Also, I'd like a small sofa. So I can lie down when I'm having a hard day."
Seong Joon laughed briefly, sincerely and without a hint of condescension.
"Wow, I didn't know you were so modest! Usually, when people get promoted, they demand a throne and guards with coffee machines. But you just want comfort and sunshine."
SoMi blinked.
"Excuse me? Did you say 'promotion'?"
He dramatically slapped his forehead.
"Oh, right! I should have started with that." He smiled and leaned closer to her as if to tell her a secret. "You've been promoted. Starting today, you are the editor-in-chief of our publishing house."
She froze. Her heart seemed to turn into something hot and trembling.
"Congratulations!" Kim Seong Joon solemnly handed her a large manuscript wrapped in cream-colored paper. "This is your new project. Your advance will be transferred to you today. Your office will be ready by the end of the week, but..." He winked. "I don't advise putting off work. Our schedule is strict, as always. You will receive full payment when the book goes to print.
"Promotion," "editor-in-chief," "your own office"—these words swirled around in SoMi's head like a flock of birds, giving her no peace. She still couldn't believe what she had heard.
Is this a dream? Is this really happening to me?" she asked herself silently as she walked down the familiar corridor to her tiny closet. Her fingers involuntarily slid over the rough edge of her bag; her heart pounded in her throat.
Opening the door, Somi silently went inside. She closed it behind her. Then, as if an electric current ran through her spine, she leaned her back against the cool wood of the door and slowly slid down. The floor embraced her tired body.
"What's going on?" she whispered into the silence of the small room.
Like the characters in a movie checking reality, SoMi pinched her forearm. The pain stabbed her instantly and sharply. No, it wasn't a dream. A smile touched her lips.
At that moment, the phone rang with a short vibrating signal. She picked it up mechanically.
"Transfer successful."
SoMi's eyes widened. The amount in her account looked like something from another world.
"That's not possible!" she laughed, whispering through tears.
But it is possible. And it's happening to her.
She was promoted to editor-in-chief. Her own office. A new, big project. A salary she was afraid to even dream of.
Life seemed to have switched to fast-forward mode in fulfilling her desires: divorce — done; style update — yes; new apartment — finally. And now, her dream job.
Miracles really do happen, even when you've almost lost hope.
The day was hard but pleasant. For the first time, SoMi didn't bring any work home with her; she finished a considerable amount in the office today. She decided to devote the evening to herself and her friends. A week ago, she had promised to throw a housewarming party. She ordered large quantities of food and drink — pork, chicken, beer, soju, and other treats guaranteed to satisfy her hungry guests.
SoMi laid out the treats on the table next to the sofa and waited for her friends. But waiting in silence turned out to be boring.
At that moment, her neighbor returned home. He took a shower, put his dinner in the microwave, and decided to meditate for at least 15 minutes. He spread out his yoga mat, sat in the lotus position, and closed his eyes. However, his Zen didn't last long.
Suddenly, loud music burst forth from the wall and flooded the entire apartment.
The neighbor tried to ignore it. He endured one song. Then another. The third. But when the cacophony of disco was joined by stomping to the beat and his neighbor's epic singing, his nerves gave out. Barely untangling his legs, he grabbed his black face mask — there was no way he could appear calm — and resolutely went to SoMi's door.
He banged on the door.
The door swung open abruptly.
"Yes?!" SoMi looked at him in surprise.
"What are you doing?!" the guy in the black mask exclaimed. He looked as if he were about to break up a street protest.
"What happened?" the girl asked, blinking.
"Since you moved in," the neighbor began, "silence has become a myth in this house!" The first day, I put up with it—moving is stressful. The second day, I put up with it because you were tired. The third day, I survived because the music was quieter. On the fourth day, I was lucky; I wasn't home. On the fifth day, I came home late and you were already asleep. But today! Today!" His voice rose to a falsetto. "I just wanted to come home, have dinner, and watch TV in peace!"
SoMi blushed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know the walls were so thin here."
"Even if the walls were concrete," the neighbor barked, "what you're doing is illegal! And inhumane!"
"I'm sorry," she whispered guiltily, lowering her eyes.
But he wasn't going to give up so easily.
"I bet the people downstairs are already learning swear words. If this happens again, I'll call the police. No warnings!"
"I understand. I'll listen to music with headphones." SoMi barely restrained her anger, biting her lip.
"Thank you!" the neighbor grumbled, turning away decisively like a general after issuing an ultimatum.
The door closed.
"How delicate..." SoMi muttered as she shuffled into the room. "And the music wasn't even that loud..."
Meanwhile, his neighbor was finally enjoying dinner. The apartment was finally immersed in long-awaited silence. Half an hour passed. An hour. An hour and a half. He did some yoga, watched TV for a while, and settled down with a book.
He had barely read the first line when...
HA-HA-HA!
A burst of loud, hearty female laughter rang out from behind the wall. It was so loud that even the book shook in his hands.
"Yaaah, Lee Hyun, not so loud!" SoMi glanced at the ceiling. "My neighbor has already complained about the noise."
"What?!" Lee Hyun protested, leaning toward the wall. "How dare he? Can't we talk loudly anymore?"
"Lee Hyun," MinJi said, gently putting her hand on her shoulder. "Don't cause trouble for SoMi. We have to live in peace with our neighbors."
"Whatever..." Lee Hyun rolled her eyes. "Maybe they'll forbid us from breathing, too? Let him sue the developer for the thin walls!" She burst out laughing loudly.
The girls laughed too, their laughter short and ringing like champagne bubbles bursting.
"By the way, SoMi," MinJi said, changing the subject as she poured soju for everyone, "how's work? Did you get that important project?"
SoMi suddenly fell silent. Intrigue filled the room.
"Oh, yes," she finally said, barely twitching her lips into a smile. "I got promoted. Now, I'm the editor-in-chief of the publishing house."
After a few seconds of silence, Lee Hyun burst out:
"Hooray! SoMi, finally!" She jumped up and hugged her friend tightly, almost knocking over her glass.
"Congratulations," MinJi said with a gentle but sincere smile.
"Thank you." SoMi lowered her gaze. "It's strange how life can turn upside down..."
"Maybe not upside down, but finally getting on its feet?" Lee Hyun smiled and bit off a large piece of chicken leg. "You're where you should have been ten years ago."
"Maybe," SoMi nodded, thoughtfully holding a glass in her hand. "But I had to go through all this to become myself. To learn to listen to my desires."
"SoMi~ya," MinJi said tenderly. "You deserve it. And don't you dare doubt it."
"Let's drink to that!" Lee Hyun exclaimed, probably alarming the neighbor again.
They clinked their glasses loudly.
Knock-knock.
SoMi froze.
"I'll get it. It's probably a delivery," she said, quickly moving toward the door.
She opened it. But there wasn't a courier standing behind it — it was her angry neighbor in a black mask, arms crossed, looking at her.
"I warned you," he said coldly. "One more time, and I'll call the police. But..." He lowered his voice. "Congratulations on your promotion. Just please be quieter."
"Yes, yes, sorry!" Lee Hyun shouted from the room, finally making the situation absurd.
The neighbor grimaced.
"I'm serious. I have to be at work at six."
"We understand," SoMi nodded, carefully closing the door.
She turned back to the girls.
"Lee Hyun, I'm serious. Keep it down a little. We don't need the police here."
"Ugh," Lee Hyun sighed. "We can't even have fun! I was already imagining us singing and dancing. Now, all my dreams are ruined by the neighbor's indignation!"
They sighed in unison. But smiles remained on their faces—the evening was just beginning.
However, the silence lasted only as long as a soap bubble in the wind. That is, not long.
Lee Hyun, a true party girl, had had a little too much to drink. She turned the music up to full volume, grabbed a microphone-shaped soju bottle, and began passionately singing along to K-pop hits. She danced as if she had won the grand prize in a dance battle.
This was typical of Lee Hyun—if you're going to have fun, go all out.
No matter how hard her neighbor tried to drown out the drunken singing by turning up the TV volume, he was losing this futile battle. The new neighbor's apartment was winning 10:0.
Righteous anger filled the guy as he took a deep breath and headed back to SoMi's apartment. His knocking was so aggressive this time that the door handle almost turned the other way.
MinJi, who was closest to the door, intercepted the blow. She opened the door, preparing for a barrage of negativity, but...
"Oh, Mr. Plankton?" she stammered, holding on tightly to the door handle as if it were her last hope.
Laughter erupted in the living room.
"Mr. Plankton?!" Lee Hyun exclaimed happily, as if she had heard the code phrase to start the party. She instantly jumped up to the door.
"Mr. Plankton?" SoMi peeked out from behind her friends and raised her eyebrows in surprise.
Now, all three of them stared at the boy at the door as if by agreement. His eyes darted around and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Oh, Mr. Plankton!" Lee Hyun burst out laughing right in the stranger's face.
The man ran his hands over his face, confused. There was no mask.
Just a completely bare, defenseless face that girls all over Korea see on their screens almost every day.
"The mask..." he muttered in despair, touching his cheeks as if he could put it back on with the power of his mind.
"Do Hwan?" whispered SoMi, recognizing the familiar features. Her voice trembled, and images from the drama "Mr. Plankton", which she had recently finished watching while sitting on the floor wrapped in a blanket and crying, flashed wildly through her mind.
A heavy and awkward silence hung in the room.
The party froze.
"Ah, yes. Good evening." Woo Do Hwan exhaled, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left. He scratched the back of his head, looking like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
But it was too late.
The mask was off. The girls would never forget such a blunder, even though they were drunk. The nickname "Mr. Plankton" would stick with him forever, like gum to the sole of a shoe on a hot day.