Diamond Dust - 3

The idea of me being part of this escape, which was like a romantic elopement, felt strange, but they had included me in the plan from the very beginning.

No one was pressuring me to go to sea, and no one was forcing me to break up with a loved one, but the fact that I had nothing was reason enough for me to escape. There was no reason to leave, but there was no reason to stay either.

At first, it had started as a half-joking conversation. In high school, we would lie on the beach and giggle as we made ridiculous plans, like something out of a C-grade Hollywood movie. We never thought the day would come when we would actually carry them out.

My brother and I packed quickly and without hesitation. There was nothing here so precious that we had to take it with us. From a drawer filled with striped shirts, I grabbed a couple of t-shirts and some underwear.

Finally, my brother stuffed his favorite comic book into his backpack, zipped it up, and stood up. He paused in front of a photo hanging on the wall. Then, he took it down, folded it in half, and put it in his jacket pocket.

Our house, a line of three rooms facing the sea, had been renovated into a modern style a few years ago, but its basic structure was still that of a traditional Korean house. We carefully slid open the door and stepped out onto the stone and cement veranda.

A light drizzle was falling. The sea breeze that touched the skin exposed outside my clothes felt cooler than usual, a chilly coolness that made the back of my neck tense up.

We walked across the yard, annoyed by the drizzle. My brother gestured that we should climb over the wall instead of opening the gate. It wasn’t a high wall, and it seemed better than making noise by opening the gate.

As we moved towards the wall, we heard a door open behind us, coming from the main building. The sound of the sliding door being pushed open from inside made us stop in our tracks. Slowly, we turned around.

It was our father.

In the darkness, with only the sound of the waves in the background, our father sat inside, holding the doorknob, looking in our direction.

It was past midnight, and we were standing in the rain, each with a backpack. It was obvious to anyone that we weren’t just going for a stroll around the neighborhood.

How would our father react?

Sweat quickly beaded on my forehead and down my back. My heart pounded as if it would burst.

At that moment, more than worrying about whether our escape would succeed, all my attention was on my father’s lips. It wasn’t the disappointment of being caught.

For the past five years, his lips had made me give up hope by repeatedly raising and dashing my expectations, until I finally stopped hoping altogether.

I was sick of the silence. Yet, I was becoming someone steeped in that silence, most accustomed to it. Father…

“Hyun, let’s go.”

How long had I been standing there in the rain? My brother placed a hand on my shoulder. It wasn’t a gesture to hurry me. He knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

We changed our minds and opened the gate instead of climbing over the wall.

The rusty iron gate, long ungreased and easily corroded by the sea breeze, groaned as it opened. My brother slipped out first, and then I followed, stepping outside with one foot. With a heart heavier than Lot’s wife leaving Sodom, I turned back one more time.

“Where are you going?” I thought. “Don’t go.” But my father never said those words.

■ ■ ■

The vintage cabinet was filled to the brim.

The general rule was to arrange everything according to the photos taken before we removed the items, unless the client had specific instructions. But no matter how generously I described it, the cabinet in the photos was a mess. Despite the luxury of the collected items, their display was in poor condition.

If the client had been present, I could have asked how they wanted things organized and followed their directions. But today, the client was absent. Even at their previous home, we had entered by punching in the door lock code ourselves and started moving the items. It was the same when we brought the items to the new house. The client hadn’t shown up even as the move was nearly complete.

Their only request was, “Just arrange it as you see fit.”

Well, there was one exception.

“Be extremely careful with the paintings.” That was the one thing the client, who hadn’t seemed too particular during the contract, had emphasized several times.

The client, who had moved into an apartment with a magnificent view directly facing the skyscrapers of Yeouido across the Han River, owned a vast collection of high-end decorative items, as well as numerous paintings.

I slightly exaggerated when I said there wasn’t any blank space left on the walls because there were so many artworks hung everywhere in the house. In fact, one of the four rooms was entirely dedicated to storing paintings.

At first, I thought the owner might be a painter, but despite the large collection, there were no tools for painting. It seemed more likely that the person was an avid collector or worked in a related field.

It had been a while since I had seen so many paintings at once. Over the past few years, the only “art” I encountered was a mural of a shark family or angel wings painted on the hill leading to my grandfather’s house.

From behind me, while I was trying to decide where to place a delicate porcelain doll dressed in 18th-century fashion, I heard the team leader’s agitated voice. He was probably watching the news on the internet.

The team leader and the other four members had already finished organizing and cleaning their respective areas. They were now sitting on the carpet, which had been laid down to protect the floor while moving furniture and boxes, killing time as they waited for the client.

Normally, our team would include an auntie who handled the kitchen and bathroom, but today, she had an urgent family matter. Her son and daughter-in-law, who were also part of the team, had a newborn grandchild who had just passed the 100-day mark, and they needed someone to look after the baby. So, I was filling in for her.

I did fairly well in school, but I didn’t go to college. I didn’t have the confidence to smoothly navigate office life, even in a simple desk job. I felt like I was almost running away from something, so I put off taking any permanent position.

Then I saw an ad for a moving company job.

The team leader sometimes scolded me, saying that it was a waste that someone with my height hadn’t built up any strength, but he wasn’t one to be unfair. I initially applied just because the pay was given on the same day, but I also liked that I could choose my working days, and the pay was decent.

“What’s going on? Did something else happen?” one of the other movers asked, curious.

The team leader began to explain the news article in a frustrated tone.

“Some alpha bastard got drunk and caused trouble in a taxi. The driver got so pissed off that he just dropped him off somewhere random on the way. The bastard, still drunk, had no idea where he was and ended up running into an omega. What’s infuriating is that this omega started their cycle earlier than usual that day, so their boss, thinking he was being generous, let them go home early to take their meds.”

Even hearing just that much, I could guess what happened. The other movers seemed to understand too, as they all showed their sympathy in their own ways before the story was even finished.

“That bastard was picking a fight with the driver, kicking the seat, and even tried to open the door while the car was moving… You can’t really blame the taxi driver for throwing him out. And if the boss wasn’t a jerk who let the omega go early, none of this would’ve happened. How did things line up so perfectly for this to happen?”

I listened quietly as the team leader lamented the cruel twist of fate, absentmindedly fiddling with the edge of the 18th-century woman’s dress.

“Honestly, these alphas are no different from animals,” said the second mover, who was even more outspoken in his criticism of alphas. “They may be tall and smart or whatever, but when you hear about the things they do on the news, it’s a disgrace. They can’t control themselves. How is that even human? I’ve never seen an alpha in real life, but the thought of people being controlled by those hormones or pheromones or whatever is unsettling.”

The second mover, who had worked with the team leader for almost 30 years, had a strong sense of justice, even more so than the team leader’s sympathetic nature. It seemed like the two of them had been through a lot together over the years, getting involved in all sorts of situations.

“People like us need money to keep our dignity, but it’s especially true for alphas and omegas. Without money, they lose their dignity and turn into animals in no time. Those new drugs and treatments are expensive too. I just feel bad for the victim… What are the odds? The world is crazy.”

The world was full of these kinds of unbelievable stories, where impossible things seemed to happen, like a huge truck suddenly hitting the protagonist crossing the street on a green light—events so random and sudden that they wouldn’t even be used in movies or dramas because they lacked any real logic.

“Are you done with the kitchen, kid?” the team leader called out.

“Yes, it’s all done,” I replied, positioning the porcelain doll with the umbrella slightly askew. The work had been finished for a while. I was just fidgeting because I felt awkward being surrounded by older men who were at least fifteen years my senior.

“Since the client will arrive in ten minutes, let’s finish up and leave right after,” said the team leader as he got up, dusting off his pants. His voice, once filled with sympathy for the omega in the news, was now full of anticipation for going home.

After packing up all the cleaning tools and sending them down on the ladder truck, the client arrived. They looked hurried, evident in their expressions and movements. Apologizing for not being present earlier, the client handed the team leader an envelope, suggesting they all have dinner together.

Though I only caught a glimpse, the client, dressed in comfortable yet stylish clothes, didn’t seem as picky as I had heard. The inspection was brief; apart from the room where the paintings were stored, they just opened the doors and took a quick look inside.

While waiting for the elevator, everyone was busy praising the client. It wasn’t just because they gave us money for a meal, but because having such a kind customer made the job bearable.

“But it seems like they live alone in such a house. They must be doing well.”

“Right? Even if it’s not owned but rented, this apartment and this size would be around 1.5 billion won.”

“Is this place really that expensive?”

When the youngest member, in his thirties, shared this information, the other movers widened their eyes in shock.

1.5 billion won. To me, it might as well have been 10 billion or 100 billion, or even 1 trillion won. It was just a huge amount of money, beyond any sense of reality—a very, very large sum.

“We met a client who even gave us money for dinner. We’re lucky today. Maybe we should buy a lottery ticket.”

“How much do you think is in there? I’m tired of eating pork belly and soju. If it’s a good amount, let’s try something different today,” said the second mover, pressuring the team leader to open the envelope.

The team leader had just pulled it out of his back pocket when we heard a sound from inside the entrance, where we had just come out, indicating the lock had been opened. The team leader quickly shoved the envelope back into his pocket.

“Wait a minute!”

It was, of course, today’s client who called out to stop us.

“Who cleaned the kitchen?”

We all hesitated to answer, unsure if something was wrong or if we had made a mistake. The movers, who had been excited about the unexpected dinner money just moments ago, now looked worried.

Trying to recall calmly, I was sure we hadn’t broken or lost anything. It couldn’t be the worst-case scenario. Steadying myself, I cautiously took a half-step forward.

“Our team’s aunt wasn’t here today, so I took care of it.”

I answered while looking down at the client’s feet, not their face. They had hurried out after us, wearing stockings and slippers.

“The thing is… this guy is still young, as you can see… If there was something you weren’t satisfied with…” the team leader began to defend me, but the client cut him off with a bright laugh.

“No, it’s not that… Would you like to work at my place? You’re totally my type.”

“……”

I couldn’t quite understand what they meant, so I just moved my lips silently.

“Oh, did I say that weirdly? I meant, your work style is totally my type. I’ve been so busy lately that my place is a mess… and I get stressed when things aren’t tidy. It’s hard to find someone who fits my needs, but when I opened the kitchen cabinets…”

The client was rambling a bit, mixing in some complaints, before suddenly stopping mid-sentence.

“Wait… are you Hyun? Lee Hyun?”

From under the brim of my cap, I saw the client’s face clearly for the first time as they correctly called my name. It was the moment when someone who had been pushed far into the background of my life suddenly reappeared center stage.