CHAPTER 5
Jung Noeul woke that morning feeling groggy. A vague sense that something was off nagged at him, though he couldn’t quite identify why. Perhaps it was just the anxiety of his first day at work.
A receptionist greeted him with a warm smile. “Good morning, Mr. Jung! Welcome to Greenlight Tech. Ms. Evans is expecting you in Conference Room B.”
“Thank you,” Noeul replied softly.
Sarah Evans, the HR manager, welcomed him before leading him through the standard orientation. Later, she guided him around the office, introducing him to the different departments. Heads turned, offering polite smiles and greetings. More than one employee gave him a second glance as he passed.
Noeul returned each greeting with a polite nod, keeping everyone at a distance.
By 9:30, after a short break, Noeul met with his direct supervisor, Mr. Anderson. They exchanged a firm handshake and briefly discussed professional expectations.
“We have several interesting projects in the pipeline, Mr. Jung. I’m confident you’ll be a valuable member of the team.”
“Thank you. I look forward to the challenge,” Noeul replied.
After the meeting, he organized his workspace with meticulous care, arranging every pen and paperclip with mechanical precision.
During lunch, Noeul sat alone in the company cafeteria, picking at his salad. The laughter and conversations around him felt distant. He pulled out his phone, debating whether to call someone. After a brief hesitation, he slipped it back into his pocket.
It was better this way.
The rest of the afternoon disappeared into work. He buried himself in manuals and technical specifications, grateful for something that demanded his full attention.
When the clock struck five, Noeul packed his things and left the office. The familiar sting of loneliness steered him away from the after-work crowds spilling into trendy bars.
He slipped into a narrow side street, drawn by the flickering neon sign of Whiskey Riffs.
He had never been particularly fond of rock or metal, but years of friendship with Duri had softened him toward the genre.
Maybe it was Duri’s enthusiasm whenever he spoke about music that had made Noeul listen more often.
The bar felt like a relic of another era with its soft lights, worn wooden stools, and a jukebox playing classic rock tracks.
A perfect refuge for the invisible.
Duri…
No matter how hard he tried, Noeul couldn’t push his image from his mind. One of his closest friends. One of the few who hadn’t abandoned him or blamed him.
Noeul sat at the bar, immediately aware of the cold leather beneath him. “A beer. Whatever you’ve got,” he murmured.
The bartender nodded and set a chilled glass of amber liquid in front of him. Noeul took a slow sip, welcoming the bitterness. He avoided looking at the other patrons.
He finished the first beer quickly. Another glass appeared without a word. He thanked the bartender with a nod.
As the alcohol settled in, a strange calm wrapped around him.
He glanced around the bar. A muted baseball game played on the television. He remembered watching games with his father, the smell of popcorn, and his reassuring laughter. A sharp pang of longing cut through him, quickly drowned by another swallow of beer.
By his third beer, the loneliness was still there, but its edges had softened.
He paid the bill, leaving a generous tip that earned him a smile from the bartender. Noeul stepped back onto the busy street and took a taxi home.
He unlocked the apartment, poured himself a glass of water, and made a sandwich. As he set the glass on the counter, the day replayed in his mind: the office, the polite smiles, the crushing loneliness.
He had no right to build bridges. No right to connect with anyone.
Not when they were dead.
With a quiet sigh, he turned off the light and let the familiar darkness envelop him.
The phone’s ring woke him for his second day at work. He answered with a voice rough and heavy with sleep. “Yes?”
His mother’s familiar tone floated through the line, tinged with worry. “Oh, Noeul, my sweet boy! Are you all right?”
Noeul let out a long sigh. “Yes… I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“We haven’t heard from you since you left Korea, son. Is everything okay with your new job?” his father asked, concern woven through every word.
Noeul hesitated. There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt them. They couldn’t know how much he suffered, how much he longed for the void.
“The job… it’s fine. It’s just… a lot to get used to. New city, new people…”
Ji-Woo’s voice cut in sharply. “You shouldn’t have run away like that, hyung.”
A brief silence followed on the other end. Noeul knew that silence; lately, his parents never seemed to know what to say to either him or Ji-Woo.
“Have you made any friends? Are your coworkers kind?” his mother asked softly, breaking the silence.
Noeul’s voice grew distant. “They’re professional. Polite enough, I guess.”
“What does being professional even mean?” Ji-Woo snapped, frustration edged with concern. “You need friends. Someone to help you navigate the city. You can’t just sit alone all day, hyung.”
Noeul tightened his grip on the phone, voice rising. “I told you I can handle this! Why don’t you trust me? I can make my own decisions! Look… I’m okay. I just need a little time to adjust. That’s all.”
His mother’s voice softened. “We’re just worried, Noeul.”
A heavy sigh came through the line. Then silence, as if everyone were waiting for him to say more.
“I know. It’s… just a big change, nothing more.”
A pause hung between them, thick with unspoken emotion. Mr. Jung broke the silence. “We miss you so much, son. Could you… maybe visit us at Christmas? It would mean the world to see you.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
There was nothing to think about. He needed to stay away, for their sake. To keep them safe.
“We love you so much. If you need anything, just call us, okay?” his mother said gently.
“I love you too.”
“Take care of yourself, son,” his father added, before the call ended.
Noeul sat on the edge of his bed, holding the phone in his hand. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
He prepared for work mechanically.
The office felt colder than usual that morning. When Noeul entered the building, his greetings were brief. The receptionist offered a hesitant smile, and he returned it with a polite nod.
He reached his desk, gathered his notes, and headed straight to the conference room for the morning meeting. A colleague, Amelia, sitting beside him, tried to strike up a conversation.
“So, how was your first day settling in?” she asked kindly.
“Productive,” Noeul replied.
Amelia tried again. “Any exciting plans for the weekend?”
“No.”
After the meeting, the team decided to take a coffee break before returning to their tasks. One of them, a young man named David, smiled at him. “Hey, Noeul, want to join us for coffee?”
“Thanks, but I have something to catch up on.”
David shrugged and returned to his friends.
Each day passed in silence.
During lunch, Noeul always sat alone, leafing through technical manuals. From time to time, Amelia invited him to team gatherings after work. Each time, he politely declined, citing “prior commitments.” Eventually, the invitations became less frequent.
Every afternoon at five, Noeul packed up his belongings and left the office.
That Tuesday was no different. As he stepped out of the building, he noticed Amelia talking seriously with another colleague, Kate, who seemed hesitant and shy.
Noeul approached, but the building’s columns shielded his presence.
He had no intention of eavesdropping. Then he heard his name. He stopped.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Kate. Noeul is very closed off, distant. Not just with you, but with everyone. Confessing your feelings… I don’t think he’ll respond the way you hope, you know?” Amelia said softly, her voice tinged with concern.
“But I like him so much… Maybe I can get him to open up to me a little,” Kate replied. Her voice was low, carrying a delicate hint of hope she could hardly conceal.
“Kate, you come to our department at least twice a day for the past few months. Have you ever seen Noeul even glance at you?” Amelia asked, genuinely curious.
“Well… um…” Kate hesitated.
Noeul couldn’t deny it. He had never looked at her, not even once. Most of the time, he barely noticed anyone around him.
“Maybe if I tell him how I feel, something will change.”
“Nothing will change,” Noeul’s deep, cold voice interjected. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear. I was just passing by. But since it’s happened, let’s clear things up.” His gaze was hard, his tone steady and sharp.
“But… if you gave me a chance…” Kate tried to say.
Noeul wanted to tell her the truth, to reveal that he was gay. Yet the fear of social rejection ran deep, firmly rooted in him. The world was still full of prejudices. And despite the loneliness, what he wanted most was his peace.
“It’s not going to happen. You’re not… my type. I like beautiful brunettes with green eyes and long, toned legs,” he said, a tone of ironic confidence lacing his words. If he was going to lie, he would do it properly. Better to be harsh now than give her hope he would later shatter.
A fleeting thought struck him. Why had he described Duri’s appearance so precisely? The answer hovered too close, and Noeul pushed it away. Duri was Ji-Woo’s friend. Four years younger. Almost family. Whatever had prompted the comparison, Noeul had no intention of examining it.
He left the office without waiting for a reaction.
Sometimes, instead of going home, he found refuge in a bar. When the pain became unbearable, he wandered the streets until he found somewhere to drink.
That Friday was one of those days.
A blues guitar drifted through the smoke-filled air of The Rusty Nail, a worn-down bar whose regulars matched its faded décor perfectly.
Noeul sat in silence, his third beer untouched in his hand, lost in thought.
Across from him, a man with fiery red hair and a playful glint in his eyes kept stealing glances in his direction. Eventually, he approached. “Mind if I sit here, handsome?” he asked, his voice thick with smoky whiskey and flirtation.
He looked up at the man, his amber eyes empty of warmth. “Thanks, but I’m waiting for someone,” he said evenly.
The man’s smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. “Waiting for someone who probably forgot they had a date?” he replied, nudging his glass playfully.
Noeul set his own glass down with enough force to make the bar creak. The man flinched.
“Listen,” Noeul said coldly, “I appreciate the interest, but I’m not interested. In anything. Especially not with someone like you.”
The playful edge vanished. The stranger straightened. “Fine,” he said flatly. “Your loss.”
He walked away, leaving Noeul alone with his half-finished beer.
Noeul took a long swallow.
He reached for his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He knew exactly who he wanted to see.
Duri.
The name was still there, buried among work contacts.
He typed:
I miss you. And my brother too. How do I find the courage to tell you? Maybe if I were someone else… if I hadn’t made so many mistakes… maybe then I could talk to you.
He read it three times. Then saved it to drafts. Then deleted it.
His stomach twisted. He hated that, for a moment, he had felt ready. He hated even more that he hadn’t followed through.
There was only one person he should never see again: his first love.
He had loved him for years. But after everything that had happened, even the thought of reaching out felt sinful.
Maybe in another life, he thought, draining his glass.
Sunlight slipping weakly through the blinds woke Noeul from restless sleep. He sat up with a pounding headache, the price of the night before. He couldn’t remember how much he had drunk, much less how he’d made it home.
He pulled on jeans and a loose long-sleeved shirt. From the fridge, he grabbed leftover kimchi jeon and a few mochi, along with two painkillers. He packed a small backpack: water, snacks, and a well-worn fantasy manhwa.
“Couldn’t you pick something new for once?” he muttered to himself.
The truth was, he didn’t want to.
He stepped onto the balcony and took a deep breath. The cool air offered brief relief. Today, he would disappear into nature.
As the breeze brushed through his hair, his phone vibrated.
A KakaoTalk notification.
Hope you’re doing okay, hyung.
Five words. No emojis. No context. No explanation.
Noeul stared at the screen. His fingers hovered. He wanted to reply. Something simple. Something human.
You too, Duri.
He didn’t send it. He locked the phone. Not yet.
He took the bus to the outskirts of the city, toward a familiar hiking trail. By ten that morning, his footsteps crunched steadily over the gravel. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, painting shifting patterns on the ground.
He walked for hours.
When he reached a lookout point, the city stretched out below him. He sat on a weathered rock, unwrapped his pancake, and ate in silence. Afterward, he pulled out his worn fantasy manhwa and lost himself in its familiar world.
When the sun dipped toward the horizon, he packed up and headed home. That night, he lay awake for a long time.
Another day surrounded by words, he thought.
None of them spoken to another person.
Sunday passed much the same. He drifted between video games, books, and sketches, filling the silence as best he could.
When night fell, he stared at the ceiling.
He never acted on the quiet yearning for a less lonely future.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.
A year passed.
Only his weekends changed. Whenever he could, he escaped into nature.
For a few hours, clean air and open trails quieted the noise inside him.
By evening, he usually found himself beneath the pale lights of another local bar.
He always chose a corner seat. Inevitably, someone would try to strike up a conversation.
Every attempt ended the same way. Sundays greeted him with a splitting headache and the sour smell of vomit.
That weekend was the worst he had experienced since arriving in America.