Double Junk - 169

Ajin was just getting used to living in the house. He’d learned how to turn the air conditioner on and off and even how to use the ice machine. But now, a new challenge had come up. His first reaction was naturally fear.

“…Going to work? As the President? At the company?”

“Yes, just go and sit there. Kang, the secretary, always handled all the work anyway. Even if you have to attend a meeting, you can just play that phone game of yours. You know, the one you’re always playing. People were already complaining about you before, so it won’t be a big deal if they complain a little more. It’s fine.”

“A game…”

Ajin frowned slightly. He understood what a game was because, seventy years ago, he’d heard people in gambling dens saying things like, “Just one more game.” But could he really do that at the company? Play cards? Gamble?

Ajin scratched his cheek. Just then, a kitchen staff member—a term Seokju had advised him to use instead of “servant,” saying it was more respectful—poured grapefruit and orange juice into Ajin’s empty cup.

Ajin stared blankly at the juice, avoiding Seonhwa’s gaze. Seonhwa tapped her finger on the table.

“You need to get back into your routine. That’s the only way you’ll regain your memories. Think of it as therapy and try going.”

Playing games at work, calling it therapy, while Seokju handled all the real tasks… Blinking a few times, Ajin asked,

“So, am I just a figurehead?”

There was a brief silence following his question. Then Seonhwa burst into loud, carefree laughter. The others followed suit, from the staff member pouring juice to Seokju. Everyone laughed—except Ajin, who remained expressionless.

What’s so funny? Is being a figurehead funny?

Scratching his eyebrow, Ajin noticed Seonhwa looking at him with a fond expression.

“That’s right, you’re a figurehead. You’re aware of that, huh? How adorable.”

Ajin’s eyes narrowed. He might not have been the brightest, but he could tell whether someone was sincerely complimenting him or teasing him. He pouted slightly, prompting Seonhwa to console him.

“Ajin, being a figurehead isn’t such a bad thing, you know? You don’t do any work, but you’re still called the President and earn money. Isn’t that nice?”

“Hmm…”

“And honestly, not working is helping. Just do whatever Seokju tells you to.”

“Okay.”

Though sulking, Ajin nodded obediently. In fact, he felt relieved. Being a figurehead and simply following Seokju’s instructions wasn’t a difficult task.

Ajin stole a glance at Seokju, who was sitting beside him. Sensing Ajin’s gaze, Seokju looked back at him, the lingering smile from the “figurehead” comment still faintly visible on his lips. Flustered, Ajin quickly averted his eyes and shoved a piece of peach into his mouth.

Ajin’s steps were awkward as he walked in his shiny dress shoes. He still wasn’t fully accustomed to walking on two legs, and adding formal shoes to the mix made his legs wobble even more.

Today was Ajin’s first day at work. He had struggled all morning to dress in a suit and tie, trying to do it on his own but eventually accepting Seokju’s help.

Though he was just a figurehead, he felt unusually nervous. He barely touched the health juice Seonhwa had personally made for him in the morning.

The car, driven by Seokju, stopped in front of a tall building. It was clean and gleaming, towering so high that Ajin couldn’t see the top even when he craned his neck. For a moment, he felt a flutter of excitement. He was finally going to step into a modern building, not a traditional hanok.

But as soon as he entered, his mind went blank.

“Good morning, President.”

“Good morning.”

“Hello, President.”

“Good morning, sir.”

The flood of greetings felt like an attack. At first, Ajin didn’t even realize they were directed at him. Only when he noticed everyone looking at him did he start bowing back in response.

“The President wasn’t exactly warm or approachable with the staff,” he recalled Seokju’s advice. Trying to seem casual, Ajin forced a faint smile. Judging by the lack of reaction from Seokju standing beside him, he figured his act was acceptable.

After crossing the vast lobby, Ajin finally stepped into the executive elevator with Seokju. Letting out a deep sigh, Ajin leaned against the wall and closed his eyes before opening them again. His ears felt strangely clogged.

Though he’d taken countless elevator rides during his hospital tests, this was the first time his ears felt this way. They were likely going to a very high floor.

Ajin endured the unfamiliar sensation, stealing a sideways glance at Seokju.

Wearing a neatly tailored suit and an ID badge around his neck, Seokju somehow seemed different from the man Ajin remembered from his past life. His broad shoulders and solid muscles were still the same, but his aura had changed.

Why would someone with his size and build be a secretary instead of a gangster? Back in the day, he could’ve been incredibly successful as a gangster. Or… maybe the profession didn’t exist in the future?

Lost in such idle thoughts, Ajin wrinkled his nose just as the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Stepping aside, Seokju gestured ahead.

“That large door in front is the President’s office. Walk straight in.”

“You’re not coming with me?”

Startled, Ajin turned to him. In a low voice, Seokju explained,

“I’ll follow you in, but I can’t walk ahead of you. The other staff will see.”

“Oh…”

Ajin often forgot he was supposed to be Seokju’s superior. Nodding, he walked forward, the sound of his dress shoes echoing crisply.

The staff seated along the corridor immediately stood up and greeted him.

“Good morning, President.”

“Oh, yes. Good morning.”

Absentmindedly, Ajin began to bow in return, but Seokju grabbed his wrist, snapping him back to his senses. Startled, Ajin flinched but quickly straightened up and hurried into the President’s office as if nothing had happened.

Seokju exhaled a silent sigh through his nose.

The office he hurriedly entered felt vast, clean, and orderly. It was nothing like the toy-filled room he had at the family home. Rather than being neatly arranged because it was a workspace, it seemed more like this wasn’t a place Ajin spent much time in.

[CEO Han Ajin]

The crystal nameplate sat boldly on the desk. Ajin glanced at it and fidgeted with his fingers while Sekju moved around, organizing everything like he was used to it.

“Please sit here,” Sekju said, pulling out the chair in front of the desk. Ajin awkwardly lowered himself into the seat. Sekju began putting various documents he had prepared into the desk drawer. The books Ajin had been reading were placed neatly on the desk.

“You remember how to call me, right?” Sekju asked while raising the blinds. Ajin nodded, patting the “cell phone” in his jacket pocket.

The night before, in preparation for his first day at work, Ajin had hurriedly learned how to use the phone. At first, he’d been baffled by the device. However, to his surprise, his fingers instinctively found their way, navigating back buttons or going to the home screen before he even consciously thought about it.

The main thing to remember was the number 5. He had to press and hold the number 5 on the phone icon with the receiver image, and it would call Sekju. He’d also learned other important numbers: 1 for Seonhwa, 2 for Hyung, 3 for Noona, and 4 for Aunt.

Ajin carefully placed the phone on the desk. Meanwhile, Sekju, taking wide strides, headed toward the door, which startled Ajin, causing him to shift in his seat.

“Where are you going?” Ajin asked quickly.

“To my desk,” Sekju replied.

Ajin’s face crumpled. “Your desk is outside?”

“Yes, not far from here. Just to the left as you step out—”

“But the dictionary said secretaries stay by their bosses’ sides to assist them. Why—why is your desk outside? Aren’t you supposed to be next to me?” Ajin’s words poured out in rapid succession. He hadn’t considered that he might be separated from Sekju at the office. Being left alone in this vast, unfamiliar space was unthinkable. If he’d known it would be like this, he would’ve stubbornly refused to come to work in the first place.

“……”

Sekju quietly observed the pale and panicked Ajin. After a moment’s thought, he carefully asked, “…Should I work in here instead?”

Ajin immediately nodded, so energetically that his freshly styled hair bobbed. Suppressing a laugh, Sekju tilted his chin slightly.

“In that case, I’ll bring what I need.”

“……”

But Ajin’s face clouded again. To reassure him, Sekju added, “I’ll be back within five minutes.”

Hearing that, Ajin nodded vigorously again and stared intently at the wristwatch Seonhwa had picked for him, as if preparing to time him. Feeling a sudden sense of urgency, Sekju quickened his steps.

Sekju spread out his belongings on the coffee table in the CEO’s office. There was a laptop, a tablet, a phone, documents, pens, and even Post-it notes—a small mountain of work tools.

Meanwhile, Ajin, finally feeling hungry, sipped on the strawberry milk Sekju had brought for him while reading a book. It was about two boys and a girl who enroll in a magical school, learn spells, and fight villains. The story was so captivating he couldn’t stop reading. The series was long, with many installments, so it seemed like it would keep him occupied for a while. Although it was a translated novel with words he couldn’t find in the dictionary, he simply skipped over the confusing terms.

As the morning passed, numerous people came in and out of the CEO’s office. They were all there to see Sekju.

“Secretary Kang, a moment, please.”

“Secretary Kang, I have a question.”

“Secretary Kang?”

“Secretary Kang, how about the CEO’s approval on this—”

“Secretary Kang—.”

At first, Ajin flinched whenever he heard the knocks, but soon he was turning pages in his book with a calm expression. Being a figurehead CEO seemed to suit him. Occasionally, when Sekju handed him a document to sign, Ajin diligently wrote his name. He took extra care when writing the surname “Han,” which he grew more fond of the more he used it.

However, Sekju would sigh deeply, saying the signature looked like a child’s forgery and that he should scrawl it messily. Annoyed, Ajin scrawled “Han Ajin” carelessly, which finally met Sekju’s standards.