Chapter 1 #2
He had expected it to be empty, but a woman was making her way down the stairs just as he was walking up.
He stopped and bowed, flattening himself against the wall even though there was ample room for her to pass.
She was a slim, horse-faced woman who worked on the second floor, in contracts.
He had helped her recover some corrupted files several months ago, and she had been overly thankful then, bordering on irritating.
“Hello!” she said cheerfully, with a familiarity Junyoung didn’t like. She gazed out the window. “Strange weather we’ve been having.”
“Hm,” Junyoung said. Already his mind had wandered to his videos from the bathroom on the second floor where she worked. Cellulite-dimpled legs. Gray underwear that sagged at the bottom, with a loose and fraying elastic band. A big, fat bush.
Eugh.
Junyoung shook his head, returning to the stairwell. The handrail was cold underneath his fingers, and he realized the woman was staring at him with a puzzled expression. “Sorry, what were you saying? I … didn’t hear you.”
“I’m trying to buy a laptop for my son. Do you have any recommendations?” she asked, repeating herself.
“Ah! Sorry. I’m a little slow today. You know how it is.” He grimaced, and at the same time, they both groaned, “Mondays.”
The woman laughed. Junyoung smiled and said, “I can help with that. Send me your specifications and budget, and I’ll email you some recommendations.”
“Oh, thank you. You’re always so helpful.”
Junyoung bowed. “Absolutely,” he said, before gesturing toward the stairs. “Sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m in a bit of a rush. Crazy day.”
She bowed in return as he unstuck himself from the wall and moved past her, his shoulder brushing against her arm. He walked quickly, afraid she would stop him again, and exited the stairwell once he reached the third floor.
It was a beautiful afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the windows and into the hallway where Junyoung now stood.
He blinked, his eyes aching from the brightness.
The IT department was housed in the basement, where they had no natural light.
On some days, if he arrived early enough, he didn’t see the sun at all.
As he had anticipated, everybody had gone to lunch, and the third floor was quiet.
There were no voices drifting from the conference rooms. No clamoring through the double doors that led to the cubicles.
The bathrooms were tucked at the end of the hall, the women’s to the right, the men’s to the left.
Junyoung marched toward them, confident and cool.
If anybody asked, he had an excuse prepared: He was helping someone with a support ticket and, on the way out, was making a pit stop at the restroom.
Small bladder. He’d inherited it from his mother.
With a quick glance at his phone, he confirmed that the women’s bathroom was still empty.
He hurried inside, ignoring the dress-clad silhouette on the door, and made his way into the first stall.
Once he was certain the latch was secure, Junyoung turned toward the wall, running the pads of his fingers along the cracks that branched along the tiles like cobwebs.
Most of them he had made himself. He had learned that the easiest way was to drive a metal toothpick into the tile with a hammer.
One good hit was all it took, though it had taken some practice.
Junyoung quickly found the tiny camera. It was nearly invisible unless you knew exactly where to look.
With the pointed end of the metal toothpick he’d brought with him, he poked at it, adjusting its position little by little until he was satisfied.
On his phone, he saw that the camera had returned to its previous angle and gave himself a thumbs-up, grinning.
It was easy work. Three minutes, tops. Why had he been so anxious in the first place?
He was about to reach for the lock when the door to the bathroom swung open.
Without thinking, Junyoung retracted his hand and sat abruptly on the toilet seat, lifting his dirty shoes up and hugging his knees to his chest. He fumbled for his phone and unlocked it to see on the cameras that a woman had just walked in.
It was Mirae, one of the new employees who had started that week.
She was doe-eyed and quiet, beautiful in a subdued way, and Junyoung had been salivating over her for the last few days.
White panties. Plain. Cotton, if he had to guess.
Mirae’s footsteps stopped at the first stall, where Junyoung was hiding.
A hot spike of fear pierced through him as she pushed against the metal door.
When she realized it was locked, she shook it, looking perplexed.
She bent over to check for feet, and Junyoung, holding his phone so tightly his fingers ached, stifled a gasp.
The ends of her long hair poked out from the bottom of the door.
Go to the next one, Junyoung thought. He flicked his eyes toward the ceiling, the blood pounding in his ears. The next one, please!
Mirae straightened up. “Hmm,” she muttered.
A wave of relief swept over Junyoung as she went into the last stall.
Half aroused, half fearful, Junyoung listened to the gentle scrape of metal as she unbuckled her belt and began urinating.
She flushed, washed her hands, and, without a second look at the first stall, disappeared through the door.
Alone again, Junyoung waited, straining to hear beyond the door.
He still hadn’t put his feet back down. When he looked at his phone, he saw himself framed in the center of the screen.
He chuckled. It was a funny sight. He counted to three, then quickly put his feet on the ground, and bolted out of the bathroom like a crab on the beach running for cover.