Substitute-Chapter 13
Jiwon felt a little thrown off. He’d been told Han was a good liar. That he shouldn't be underestimated. So all this behavior — the way he talked like an actor — probably wasn’t something to be trusted.
But was it really all lies? Was every word, every expression, really fake?
“Are you a broker?”
“Sort of. But I go out into the field, too. You can tell by the face.”
If Han was both a broker and a comrade, maybe he could actually be useful.
Jiwon turned it over in his mind.
“Don’t trust him. That fucker.”
Goddamn it. Now he was confused.
“You’re the one who picked up that client, right?”
Han asked.
“...Yeah.”
“Where, how’d you get the call?”
Han leaned in, pressing him. Jiwon took a small step back and replied, “The driver app.”
“Really? So it was random?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
It had been random. More or less.
But now Han’s questions were starting to get in his head.
It had to be random. Definitely.
“So I just got lucky that day?”
Han sounded a little disappointed.
Jiwon knew how the designated driver app worked. He’d never believed that client had specifically called for him. If Jiwon hadn’t accepted, some other driver would’ve. That’s how it worked.
That’s why he hadn’t paid the guy any extra attention. Just figured he was another big-handed client.
But... was it really a mistake?
What if that client had nothing to do with Han?
What if everything Han was saying now was total bullshit?
Jiwon started feeling uneasy. This whole conversation — it was screwing with him.
“Anyway, after the second interview, I started getting scared. Didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. Not really...”
What was there to be scared of?
Yeah, it had been weird running into someone who looked exactly like him. But only for a second.
What scared Jiwon was the vagueness of the present, the bleakness of the future, and the fear that this opportunity could vanish at any moment.
His half-hearted reaction made Han pout and hit his vape again. Then he asked, “If they were gonna harvest our organs, they wouldn’t need to see our faces, right?”
Apparently, he’d had the same thoughts.
“Right. They’d probably have done a health check first.”
Jiwon chuckled. Han laughed too.
“A hundred million won. Can you believe that?”
Han mumbled so softly, like someone might overhear.
“Honestly, hyung — if someone offered that much just for putting in that dildo, even my dad would be all over it. No joke. I mean it.”
It sounded like a joke, but Han’s face was dead serious.
They both went quiet.
Han started walking again, heading out of the quiet alley and toward a more crowded area. A few minutes later, his phone rang.
“Hello? Me? I’m near Gangnam Station.... Oh, you’re already here? Wow.”
He glanced at Jiwon.
“My friend’s here.”
He looked apologetic.
“You can go. I need to get to work anyway.”
“Aw, that sucks, hyung.”
He said that, but he was already turning to leave.
“I’m sure we’ll get another chance.”
“Yeah, hyung. Let’s make real plans next time, okay?”
“Sure. Take care.”
“Bye-bye~”
Han waved with that usual cute act of his, then vanished into the crowd.
Jiwon suddenly felt parched.
He knew Gangnam like the back of his hand, so he easily found the convenience store again, grabbed a cup of ice and a bottle of water, and chugged it.
He sat down at a table and tried to replay that night — the night he’d driven the Maybach client.
Could it really not have been a coincidence?
He shook his head. Maybe if the guy had found him through a call center, but even that seemed unlikely.
Jiwon finally opened his driver app and shot off a text.
[I’ll pay you tomorrow.]
[How much?]
[One hundred.]
[Make it two, if you can.]
[What money? Should I just not give it to you?]
[So stingy.]
[Anyway, looks like Mr. Choi didn’t know anything?]
[Didn’t know what?]
[Large cargo.]
The reply window went silent.
A moment later—
[Later.]
Jiwon started typing “Later when?” but before he could finish, the app pinged with a job alert.
What was the point in knowing when?
It only made things more complicated.
Keep it simple. Keep it fucking simple.
He deleted the half-written text and checked the job info. The pickup spot was a nearby bar, and the fee looked good, so he tapped to accept.
It was already past 11 p.m. The first client was a mildly drunk office worker. Celebrating a promotion, the # Nоvеlight # guy rambled the whole ride home about how amazing he was.
After that, jobs kept coming. Most of the passengers were easy enough, and Jiwon was working smoothly — until he picked up one more ride in Gangnam.
A guy around his age was standing next to a silver Avante. He wore a black tracksuit, long-sleeved top and bottom, in this ridiculous heat.
The client was tall enough to stand out from a distance. Even in an oversized tracksuit, it was clear he had a powerful build. The cap he wore shadowed his face, but the shape of his nose and jawline were striking. Not just decent-looking — genuinely handsome. No way he was just some average guy.
An actor? Or maybe a trainee?
Either way, his height and size made people turn their heads.
Of course, all Jiwon could think was that it’d be hell if someone that big were drunk and unruly.
“Did you request a driver?”
He walked over and bowed politely.
“Oh! You’re the driver?”
There was a note of surprise in the guy’s voice.
“Yes. Um, the keys...?”
“Ah, here you go.”
He handed them over with his right hand, which was heavily bandaged. There was no smell of alcohol at all.
“I injured my hand.”
He raised his right hand, unprompted, to show Jiwon.
“Mind if I sit in the passenger seat? The back’s full of stuff.”
Even though it was his own car, he asked for Jiwon’s permission.
“No, please sit wherever you’d like.”
Jiwon answered politely and got into the driver’s seat.
As per unwritten rule, he didn’t adjust the seat — just tweaked the rearview mirror a little.
“Mind if I put the radio on? I’m kinda nervous — first time using a designated driver.”
They’d barely been driving five minutes when the client spoke.
“Go right ahead.”
Jiwon actually preferred it that way.
The radio played summer songs and stories about the heatwave. They made it through the 30-minute ride in silence, comfortably.
Eventually, they turned off the main road into a quiet residential area. The street narrowed, leading to a block of red-brick multiplex homes.
“Just drop me off in front of the convenience store.”
Jiwon pulled toward it, but couldn’t find a parking lot.
“Where should I park?”
“Park? Oh — this isn’t a taxi, right? Sorry about that.”
The guy laughed awkwardly.
Even without seeing his eyes, the way his mouth curled when he smiled was charming. And his voice — a low, clear tone that landed squarely in Jiwon’s ears — was surprisingly pleasant.
“I’ll take care of the parking. Here’s your fare.”
He held out cash.
“I’ll take it after you’ve parked.”
He didn’t smell like alcohol, but just in case.
The guy let out a soft “Ah” and waved his hand, still smiling.
“I really didn’t drink. Not even a drop. What do I need to do to prove it? I called for a driver because my hand hurts, that’s all.”
He held both hands out for Jiwon to see.
Jiwon had assumed only the right hand was injured, since it was wrapped. But now he saw the left palm, scraped and raw like it’d been dragged across pavement. The wounds didn’t look deep, but they had to sting like hell.
“You believe me?”
“...Yeah. Be careful with the parking.”
“Will do.”
The guy handed him the cash.
Jiwon pocketed it and stepped out of the car.
The client got out too and walked around to the driver’s side.
Jiwon bowed again and was about to leave when—
“Hey, wait!”
The guy called out.
“How are you getting home?”
He really didn’t know how the whole system worked.
These days, most drivers took scooters, but Jiwon preferred public transport. Because of the trauma from his accident and his injured arm.
“Uh... bus or subway. If they’re still running.”
He glanced at his watch.
It was cutting it close for the bus, but the subway would be fine.
The guy’s eyes lingered on Jiwon’s wrist for a moment — more specifically, the scar on his right hand.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
His voice was warm.
“Sorry?”
“Your right hand.”
He pointed to the scar.
“Oh. Yeah.”
Most people ignored it even when they noticed. This guy was curious.
“Does it still hurt?”
He hadn’t expected that question at all.
“...A little.”
“Think mine will end up like that?”
The guy looked down at his own hand, concern written all over his face.
For someone that huge, he looked kind of absurd acting that way — maybe even a little cute. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t acting condescending. That somehow made it feel nicer.
“If you get it treated properly, you’ll be fine.”
Jiwon, for once, offered comfort.
The guy smiled, lifting the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks.”
That smile really was magnetic. It was almost spellbinding.
“Sorry for rambling. I must’ve kept you too long.”
He scratched his head and raised a hand.
“If you’re taking public transit, head down this street here. It’s faster.”
He pointed out the way with a smile.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, really.”
He gave a small bow and got into the driver’s seat.
Polite, too, Jiwon thought, then chuckled to himself — like an old man watching someone his age be too well-mannered.
He followed the direction the guy had pointed and, sure enough, there was a bus stop. Just ahead, the subway entrance. Along the main road, a strip of small bars and chicken joints buzzed with noise.
As he was heading for the subway, Jiwon’s phone buzzed. A job alert.
The destination was a motel in Gangnam — one of the areas he’d set as a preferred location. Since it was a regular order, he could’ve ignored it, but thanks to that last guy putting him in a decent mood, Jiwon figured he’d take just one more.
He assumed, at this hour, it’d be a drunk client. But instead, he got a drunk couple. One was hard enough. Now he had two.
Immediately regretting it, Jiwon knew there was no backing out.
He had to help them into the car. Had to park near the motel cluster. Even after handing them the keys, they wouldn’t pay unless he helped carry the guy inside.
“Come on, ajusshi, just piggyback him. What, a young guy like you can’t do that? Kids these days, no service spirit. No wonder you’re stuck doing this.”
What choice did he have? Gross or not, he had to do it.
He hadn’t eaten anything but white porridge since yesterday, and now he was dragging a full-grown man — his arm was ruined, and while trying to lay him on the bed, he even threw out his back.
Knowing full well he shouldn’t take more on an empty stomach, Jiwon swallowed two more painkillers. That made six total.
Maybe that’s why, on the bus ride back to the goshiwon, he had to jump off halfway to throw up. Not that there was anything to vomit — he dry-heaved bile and stomach acid until he was sweating through a fever.
