"Ugh... Ah... Ahh... Heh heh."
I forced my drooping eyes open, but for some reason, only my right field of vision would stay clear.
Stumbling up the hill, I started muttering to myself.
"Haa... That damn bitch."
Just dozens of minutes ago, I'd been drowning my sorrows in booze with one of my ball-busting buddies before parting ways.
But the target of my curse, "that damn bitch," spilling from my lips wasn't him. To talk about her, I'd have to go back several hours earlier.
I shook my head side to side to chase away the bad memory resurfacing, but all that came up was the dizziness from the soju. Before I knew it, the scene from back then started replaying in my mind.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Mr. Choi Jun-young?"
"Yes!"
"You're turning thirty this year, and aside from part-time gigs, you don't have any real work experience?"
It was the question I'd expected. Even if expected, it still stung like hell, but I'd at least prepared a canned response.
"Yes, but even while I wasn't working, I consistently..."
As I opened my mouth to recall my rehearsed answer, the pretty young thing sitting next to the interviewer snickered and cut me off.
"And what do you think the reason is?"
"...Pardon?"
"Are you really asking because you didn't hear me?"
"..."
"The reason you haven't built up any experience by your age! What do you think it is, Mr. Choi Jun-young? I think I know..."
Stop it. I know it too.
"Did you happen to look in the mirror before heading out this morning?"
...Stop it, you bitch. I know I'm ugly!
"We're not hiring based purely on looks, but..."
As she stared straight at me, driving one dagger after another into my heart, I silently rehearsed countless comebacks in my head.
Fucking bitch. Think being pretty means you own the world? Must be nice, born that way! ...Nah, it's plastic surgery, right? I can tell—total fake job.
In truth, I'd felt this kind of misery countless times and been tempted by plastic surgery more than once.
But the reason I lived with the face I was born with wasn't some noble bullshit about not altering the body my parents gave me. I was just scared.
A little double-eyelid job or nose job wouldn't cut it—I'd need a full teardown and rebuild.
And whenever I saw news about surgery complications or fatalities, my natural cowardice made the idea impossible.
Anyway, while I was inwardly cursing "fuck, fuck," her jabs at my appearance kept coming.
"Still, when candidates have similar skills for the job, a neat appearance is better for the company's image too..."
She's just a kid herself, barely out of diapers, sitting there as an interviewer—all because her parents are loaded... Wait, does that mean I got shitty parents? No, that's not it. Yeah! Fucking rich parents...
"...Mr. Choi Jun-young? Hello?"
Ah, parachute hire for sure. Total nepotism. What's the point of all that money if you're dropping trash like her into the company? Look at her attitude toward me now. Total lack of home trai...
"Hey, Mr. Choi Jun-young!"
"She's a woman who never got any proper home training!"
"..."
Silence fell.
It had been over ten years—back when I was still in high school and a friend ripped a massive fart in the middle of class. The split-second hush that followed was nothing compared to this ice-cold atmosphere.
"...?"
I looked around blankly.
At that moment, I had no idea my thoughts had blurted out loud because she'd called my name so sharply.
I was just wondering why this bitch had suddenly gone quiet mid-rant.
"Wha...! Hoo... Um... Mr. Choi. Jun. Young? Just to be sure, that comment you just made... was it directed at me?"
"...Pardon?"
I stared back dumbly, and the middle-aged interviewer next to her looked even more flustered as he snapped at me.
"No, young man! Is that any way for a job applicant to behave? Apologize at once!"
What the... Huh? What? Did I just say that out loud?
Finally realizing what was happening, I stammered in panic, racking my brain for how to salvage this.
Wh-what do I do?
Even amid the chaos, the middle-aged interviewer's scolding continued, and the woman—the actual target—seemed even more pissed off watching this uncle figure yell on her behalf.
She muttered "Ha! Unbelievable" while fanning her flushed face, which only twisted my guts further.
She's acting like the total queen bee. Can't even be bothered to chew me out herself—too beneath her dignity or whatever?
With that thought, the middle-aged interviewer, who moments ago had seemed so imposing, suddenly looked pathetic.
I mean, he's just some woman's husband and someone's dad. Outside work, he'd be just another neighborhood ajus...
"Ahem! Mr. Choi Jun-young! I said apologize!"
"Sorry, ajusshi!"
"...!"
"...!"
"...Guh!"
The mood chilled again.
My two blunders in quick succession had sharpened my instincts this time—I caught my slip-up immediately.
Fuck, I'm screwed. This interview's toast anyway. Time to bolt!
"S-sorry!"
I bowed frantically to the fidgeting ajusshi and the smug bitch prepping her war cry, then bolted for the exit.
Crash, screeech—.
Even as I yanked the door open and fled, one thread of injustice gnawed at me.
She starts with personal attacks about my face during a damn interview, and I'm the one who fucked up by snapping back once?
I couldn't just leave it like this. I jammed the closing door back open and peeked my head through the gap.
The two exchanged baffled looks as my fleeing face reappeared. Staring down the young bitch, I let loose.
"Hey! Being pretty doesn't give you the right to trash other people! Live a little nicer!"
After yelling that at the top of my lungs, I soaked in the stares from the waiting candidates in the hall—ranging from "crazy guy" to "hero worship"—as I sprinted down the stairs of the high-rise.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
That was what had gone down at the interview a few hours earlier.
Down in the dumps, I'd hit up my friends, but we weren't kids anymore who could meet up on a whim like years ago.
The only one who could squeeze in time was the one working as a high school teacher.
Late February—before school even started—and yet teaching wasn't as leisurely as it looked from the outside.
I'd dragged that guy out from school during break, gotten some pity drinks, and poured booze back and forth until just dozens of minutes ago.
Now, blackout drunk and just a few hundred meters from home, that bitch from the interview still wouldn't leave my head!
"Haa... That damn bitch."
Fuck. Should've played it cooler back then...
Why do the perfect comebacks never hit until way after the moment's gone?
"If I'd said, 'Interviewer, that's too harsh,' she would've gone, 'Oh? What's harsh about it? I was just stating facts.' Yeah, that's exactly what that nasty bitch would've said."
Then I'd drop my voice real low and say,
"A company that judges people by looks and hurts them? I reject you! ...Kuh! Perfect!"
I tried doing both parts solo, deepening my voice then pitching it up high. Embarrassed?
Nah. Perimeter check: no living souls within 50 meters.
"Mommy, why's that guy mumbling to himself?"
"Shh, don't look. He's crazy, honey."
I ducked my head. Must've missed them in my stupor.
"..."
Shivering with disappointment at the cruel world and my own shame, I rounded the last alley.
"Ughhh... I wanna be handsome! I wanna get a job! I wanna get a girlfriend toooo!"
Whispering like an ant to avoid another humiliating scene, that's when—
"Huh? What's that...? Whoa, startled me!"
I spotted an animal carcass sprawled in the middle of the road. Next to it, a crow pecking at it with its sharp beak. It was dark, but the bird's feathers looked reddish—probably soaked in blood.
"Eugh. Bad omen. What is it? Dog? ...Cat?"
Sober, I'd have skirted right past, but booze makes men bold.
"Hey! Get lost!"
I stomped from a distance, only seeing its profile. It lifted its head, and its creepy eyes locked onto mine.
"Eek."
Those unsettling eyes dilated and contracted like a camera lens.
"Ugh, shoo! Beat it!"
I spun counterclockwise, threatening it, and the crow hopped around too. Now I could only see its right side again. What, is it the moon? Why only show one side?
"Go! Get outta here!"
After a dozen seconds of foot-stomping and staring contest, it finally gave up and flapped away.
"Hoo..."
After the crow left, I crept toward what looked like a corpse—only for it to twitch suddenly.
"Eek! Wh-what? It's still alive?"
It was in a streetlamp dead zone, hard to see. I flicked on my phone's flashlight app and shone it gradually from the edges so as not to startle it.
"It's a cat!"
Yep. On the cold pavement, lying on its side, was a sleek brown kitty.
"No blood...? Not hit by a car! Maybe starving?"
The ground under my phone light was spotless—no bloodstains. I'd assumed it was dead from the crow pecking.
So the crow's red was just its natural color?
Seeing the pitiful kitty whimpering before me sparked a flurry of thoughts.
Take it home? ...Nah, you've never had a pet. Just go. Can't commit to the responsibility.
I tried ignoring it and walking past, but...
Man, if I go out tomorrow and it's starved to death, I'll feel so guilty! Maybe run home for milk or tuna? But what if it gets hit by a car while I'm gone? Or that crow comes back...
While I dithered, the cat weakly turned its head and looked up at me.
Not those eerie night-glow eyes. Sparkling, pleading pupils!
Too weak to rise, it stretched out a paw, feebly scraping the asphalt.
That fluffy paw pad! How good would it feel to squish that pink jelly?
I shuddered at the unbearable cuteness, staring back into its eyes—when its thin pink lips parted.
"Kkyu... Kkyuu..."
That cry pierced my eardrums and heart!
"Wh-what?! Do cats normally go 'kkyuu'? Is this sound squeezing my heart?!"
Might be the booze messing with my ears. But that's exactly how it sounded to me! Kkyuu!
Blown away by the combo of its adorable looks and otherworldly meow, I stopped hesitating.
"Uh... Hng! Th-this big bro will take care of you. Boy or girl, doesn't matter. Let's go! Big bro'll make you happy!"
I gently scooped up the cat.
My hand chilled against the asphalt, but my palm warmed from the cat's body heat atop it.
On the dark alleyway in front of my empty home on the night of a failed interview, I crossed paths with a new fate.