The team leader, whose usual gentleness formed the base of everything, was uncharacteristically angry. At the irritated voice drifting over the partition — a mix of annoyance and anger — Eunseo flinched. Normally his timidity was both his strength and his weakness, and on the rare occasions he acted like this, it meant another team was politely “requesting” work — or, less politely, dumping it on them… Should he run? Eunseo, half-risen from his chair mid-deliberation, suddenly locked eyes with the team leader, who had popped up over the partition.
“Senior Shin Eunseo.”
“…Yes.”
“Come here a moment.”
Grabbing his notebook and pen and going to the team leader’s seat, Eunseo just nodded along, thinking, of course — so that was why he was in a bad mood. After grumbling for a moment about how busy he already was and how they were foisting useless work on him, the team leader foisted that useless work onto Eunseo. Of course it wasn’t unrelated to Eunseo, and it was certainly necessary… it just wasn’t something Eunseo himself necessarily had to do.
“You’re saying to test the substitute raw material?”
“That’s right.”
“But we dropped this last year because the properties didn’t come out….”
“They’re saying to try to apply it somehow, even if you have to change the plant or the formulation.”
“Ah….”
The raw material grade and formulation were all set, and the product was already in mass production — how were they supposed to change the formulation and the process? As if reading Eunseo’s skepticism, the team leader pulled out the property and formulation table that Eunseo already knew by heart.
“Here, the formulation is given as a range, so adjust within it. Same with the properties.”
“…But that’s reference material we give the client. The metrics we manage are separate…”
“They say to revise even that if it means substituting this raw material.”
“……”
“The plant that supplied the original material is shutting down from this August through November.”
“…What?”
When Eunseo’s eyes went wide, the team leader waved a hand under them. It was a joke he’d started after his vision-correction surgery.
“Don’t open your eyes that wide, your eyeballs’ll fall out.”
“…….”
“Why have you been hiding this face?”
“…I haven’t been hiding it.”
Last winter, Eunseo finally got the vision-correction surgery he’d been putting off out of fear. His glasses’ lenses had felt heavy, pressing on his nose, and since his only hobby was lying down reading books, he’d wanted even a little more comfort. Plus, he hadn’t used much vacation the whole previous year, so he had a pile of annual leave left and ended up taking about three weeks off at year-end, half by choice, half not — which gave him the time.
Free of the glasses he’d worn like a second skin for nearly fifteen years, and having gotten his hair cut a bit for a change — though he should have predicted the future the moment the hairdresser looked so delighted. On his first day back at the institute in the new year, Eunseo watched and heard with his own two eyes and ears as rumors about him spread through the entire lab: when someone who met his eyes started whispering about it over there, even people far away were nodding along, and it made his stomach churn.
And from that day until now — nearly three months — his messenger window had been extremely noisy. Eunseo tried to ignore messages unrelated to work, but company life didn’t work that way, and answering every single one left him with hardly any time to actually work. Most of the messages were invitations to lunch together or asking what he was doing for dinner, and turning them down was its own ordeal.
Either way, Eunseo absolutely did not want the conversation turning to his face, so he forced the topic back to the raw material. His coworkers’ transformations carried no malice, but that didn’t make them feel good either.
“Team Leader, couldn’t the purchasing team just pull the material in early?”
“That doesn’t work, that’s why. They say the capacity is short too.”
Was there no choice but to do it? Last year the test results had been poor and they’d gone ahead with the sales and marketing teams accepting a shortage; now the same thing was happening again this year, and it felt like doing the work twice.
“I hear there’s one more substitute material this time, so it’ll be a bit better.”
“…Yes, understood.”
“How long will it take?”
“About two weeks to manufacture to the existing formulation and test. If the testing department isn’t too busy, that is.”
“They have nothing going on these days.”
“They said they were busy with the batteries, so I’ll check the schedule. If the properties don’t come out at the existing ratios, I don’t know how long it’ll take.”
“Okay, sorry to make you suffer through it. I’ll buy you a drink later.”
Isn’t that a punishment rather than a reward…. Eunseo nodded reluctantly, marked the schedule in his planner, and got away from the team leader. The team leader was a fairly good-natured person, but his problem was exactly this: he’d say all the unpleasant things to other teams’ requests and then bring the work back anyway. This case was necessary work, so bringing it back was justified… still. Thinking of the team leader’s long history of dumping work on him, Eunseo messaged the purchasing team’s contact.
Hello, Assistant Manager Lee Seunghun. I’m contacting you about the substitute raw material.
Hello! Ah, you’re handling the substitute raw material case, Senior?
Yes….
Oof…. There are two materials; I’ll tell the vendor today and request shipment.
Yes, understood. First I’ll check whether the material can be changed without changing the formulation, and I’ll let you know the results timeline after I talk to the analysis team.
Got it. Good thing it’s you, Senior. I was worried Chaegim Kim Jiseok might end up with it.
Haha
Chaegim Kim Jiseok really was someone who tried to avoid every single spot task outside his own assignments, and even when he did get stuck with one, he’d stall and stall — which made the related departments truly despise him. Even within the same team, since he wouldn’t do the spot work, it all fell to everyone else, so no one could like him.
Sorry to make you suffer.
Not at all. It’s something that has to be done….
I’m going to Daejeon next week — let’s have a meal together!
Sure.
Then, good luck!
After finishing his conversation with the bubbly Assistant Manager Lee Seunghun, Eunseo pressed the bridge of his nose and got up from his seat. Since the surgery, touching around his eyes and finding nothing in the way felt nice and strange and awkward all at once. Three months had passed, and he still wasn’t used to it.
…Even small things like this take time to get used to — so what was so wrong with a change in something that huge lasting three years? Eunseo briefly rationalized his own state.
He’d been working without rest since morning and had even been saddled with odd jobs, so his mood stayed low, and he decided to step out for some air. To be honest, his only options were the garden in front of the institute or the snack shop.
Heading down the stairs toward the basement snack shop, Eunseo spotted a very familiar figure from behind. Startled, he hurried down the stairs, and at the sound of his footsteps, the person ahead whipped around.
“…Sunbae?”
“I didn’t expect to run into you this fast.”
It was Jin Seunghu. His eyes went round with delight as he approached, and Seunghu, just as delighted, faintly furrowed his brow.
“Are you wearing lenses?”
“Ah, I had surgery.”
“When?”
“Last winter….”
At the interrogating questions, Eunseo flinched back, watching his face, and Seunghu gave a slightly artificial smile and stepped closer. Then, gazing down at him quietly, he cupped Eunseo’s cheek with a large hand and rubbed at the corner of his eye.
“How did you get that scary surgery done?”
“There wasn’t even any blood…. It was fine during the surgery. It was after — my eyes were dry and sore — that was the problem.”
“You suddenly look so much clearer, you startled me.”
“Clearer-looking, please…. Anyway, what brings you here?”
Carefully pushing away Seunghu’s hand, which still lingered around his face, Eunseo asked again with his delighted expression restored. At that unfiltered attitude, Seunghu smiled a little and opened his mouth.
“I came to work.”
“You came back to Korea?”
“Yeah, last month.”
“You should’ve told me, it’s been almost a year….”
Eunseo let the words out with a hint of disappointment, then quietly closed his mouth. He’d remembered why Seunghu wouldn’t bother contacting him.
“Either way, I’d see you once I came here. I was trying to surprise you, but I guess it failed?”
Seunghu had read Eunseo’s embarrassment but smoothly changed the subject as if nothing were wrong. Grateful for that, Eunseo went to the snack shop and bought the two most expensive coffees, and they came out the main entrance and sat side by side on a small bench. It was March, but the sun was strong and the day unusually warm — a fine day to sit outside.
“You got appointed as an assistant professor?”
“No, not yet. I think it’ll probably happen before next semester.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah, one of the associate professors under our advisor is moving to the U.S.”
“An associate professor — so they got tenure?”
“They did, but… I guess they wanted to try something else. Thanks to that, a spot opened up and I could slip in, but the timing didn’t quite line up.”
Eunseo listened to Seunghu’s story with bright, sparkling eyes. Watching him while quietly holding his coffee cup, Seunghu chuckled. It had been so long since he’d met someone who delighted so purely in another person’s success that it felt strange.
“So there was a gap, and when I polished up the paper I wrote this time and submitted it as a proposal, your company bit.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re here.”
“I said let’s do a one-year contract, but I don’t have the time, so I only contracted for half a year.”
“Which team are you coming to, then?”
He’d occasionally seen PhD researchers come as dispatched staff, but he’d never imagined it would be Seunghu. Feeling a little thrill, Eunseo scooted a bit closer to Seunghu, and Seunghu flinched and pulled back. An awkward current flowed between them for a moment.
“Ah, sorry….”
“No, I….”
Thoughtless of me. Eunseo put distance between them again and only gripped his warm coffee cup harder. Even acting friendly like this, meeting him with delight and liking it — thinking of him, he shouldn’t do any of that. Eunseo bit only his lip, and Seunghu tenderly swept his hair back.
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