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1.5

First published: February 28th, 2023


Before diving in, ajumma is used to refer to a middle-aged or older woman (in a less respectful tone). Ajusshi is used for a middle-aged or older man.

...

"Don't worry, unnie. They'll all arrive soon," Seol-hee says, tapping on her bluetooth earpiece, a beep signalling the end of her phone call.

Thirty-eight-year-old Park Seol-hee secures the loose braid around her auburn hair bun, deliberately taking in a long, deep breath. Her gaze directs to the entrance of Daekim Bank, on the other side of the sun-lit hall. Her perfect smile cracks into a grim. Why are they so late?


She rolls up the sleeve of her dark blue cardigan, a generous courtesy from the bank to its employees, revealing an intricate jade watch. It's past noon already.

She huffs out a sigh, placing her hand on either side of her black wheelchair. Intent gaze on the end of the hallway she's in, Seol-hee begins her rattling stroll.

Taking a sharp left, the paraplegic bank clerk enters a narrow corridor, lined with multiple teak doors on the right, the equidistant pillars facing the open hall on the left. "Excuse me," she says when five of her colleagues walk out through one of the doors, blocking her path. They continue talking among themselves, taking a while to clear some space.

I so miss my Electric, Seol-hee grunts, recollecting her swift grey wheelchair she spent over twenty times the cost of this old scrap on, as she makes another sharp turn toward her right, entering the General Services department. A loud screech from her wheelchair, as if its response to her tantrum, announces her arrival. 

Some of her somewhat-close colleagues, who attend to the customers from their counters, take a quick glimpse of her, smirking or sighing in reaction.

Seol-hee shrugs the sudden wave of awkwardness off her shoulders. Come on, I've been working here for the last six years. She flinches when her wheelchair rattles in place, "What was that?"


Turning over her shoulder, she sees a young boy race toward her, his green loafers squeaking on the white polished floor.

"Ajumma, give me my ball," the eight-year-old says, facing her. 

Seol-hee tilts her head, "I don't have-" She stops, gaze landing on the bright yellow beach ball, wedged firmly between her foot rests. A chuckle rises up her throat as she looks at her insensitive legs being pushed by the large ball. She bends down, nudging the beach ball out of the grip.

The boy grumbles when a long minute passes by without his favorite toy in his hands.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," Seol-hee says. 

"How can you, ajumma? You can't move your legs."

Seol-hee ignores the sharp pang inflicted to her heart, casting an amusing smile, "Wait and watch."

She reaches her hand in the glossy red handbag placed on her left, sifting through its few contents. She pulls out a small silver tube.

The boy repeatedly taps his foot on the floor, "Ajumma, what are you-" He gasps, eyes wide upon seeing the silver tube extend to an arm-length rod. The ajumma straightens in her seat, using her magical rod to nudge his beach ball.

The ball shoots out of Seol-hee's wheelchair, rolling toward the array of counters on the other end of the room. 


"My ball!" The boy cries, dragging his small feet as he rushes toward it.

"Didn't even say thank you," Seol-hee murmurs, contracting her rod and placing it back in her handbag. "God, I've made such a mess. My earphones are-"

"Ajusshi, why did you kick my ball away?"

Seol-hee flits her gaze to the boy who rushes to her left, chasing his bouncing ball. She turns to see the back of the man the boy shouted at. This was an easy find; most of the customers stared at him for a few moments. 

The man adjusts his brown coat and tugs his black cap that covers his short but wavy hair, bending down to the slit on the counter window in front of him. Seol-hee can't make out what he's saying over the chit-chats and the squeak of her annoying wheelchair.

He looks familiar, she muses as she heads to the right side of the room, toward the counters' entrance. She sees her counter, a "CLOSED" board stuck behind its window, which is four spaces away from the counter dealing with the man.


"What do you mean I can't go inside? She's my aunt!"

This shrill voice makes Seol-hee turn to its source, Jae-seong?


Kang Jae-seong removes his cap, combing his fingers through his pressed down hair, glaring at the employee behind the counter.

The bank teller, thirty-two-year-old Song Hye-in exhales slowly, shifting in her seat. Don't give in, her girlfriend's voice chimes in her head, which slowly reduces the goosebumps on her skin.

Ignoring the grumbling man in front of her, she checks the elderly customer's profile again on her desktop screen. "Sir, I'm really sorry." She turns to him, "But I need proof, since you're not in the customer's list of approved guardians."

Jae-seong looks away, resting his hand on the counter threshold. Damn, I forgot. He notices the customers' disapproving gazes on him, his jaw clenching. As if they're so perfect with the employees.

He turns back, taking a look at the bank teller's namecard, "Ms. Song Hye-in." He leans forward, his nose just an inch away from the glass window, "You don't know who I am?"


"Excuse me," a voice calls.

Jae-seong sighs, turning over his shoulder. "What-" He stops, completely turning around when he sees no one. He directs his gaze down to the paraplegic employee in front of him, "What now?"

It's him, Seol-hee clutches on to the arms of her wheelchair, controlling her smile. "Sir, if you want to get access to our customer's locker-"

"I'm telling you we're not strangers," Jae-seong snaps. "And I'm already talking to someone here," he says, pointing his hand to Hye-in. 

Seol-hee slouches her back, her excitement plummeting. He doesn't remember me.

Jae-seong shrugs his shoulders when a cold wind blows past him. He takes a glimpse of the wide room, there are no windows. He shakes his head, turning to Hye-in, "Look. I'm South Korea's most famous-"

"Sir," the same voice says, this time louder.

"What?" Jae-seong asks without turning back.

"You want access to Mrs. Park Yoo-na's locker, right?"

Jae-seong turns around, trying to narrow down his widened eyes. How does he know?

Hye-in blinks, does she know him?

"Then please follow me," Seol-hee says, spinning in her wheelchair without warning, making Jae-seong flinch as its wheels come near his shoes. She accelerates out of the room.


.


"Where are we going?" Jae-seong asks, panting as he tries to keep up with the accelerating wheelchair. He almost bumps into a customer when they turn right and enter the wide hallway. The open hall on their right is now ablaze with the afternoon sun overhead.

Seol-hee's undecipherable mutters match the rattle from her wheelchair as she heads along the hallway, gaze locked on the elevator on its end, he seriously doesn't remember me?

"Slow down, ajumma!" Jae-seong says, stopping. He places his hands on his hips while catching his breath. 

Seol-hee comes to a screeching stop, the last layer of her patience worn out, what the- did he call me aju- ajumma?


Jae-seong takes a few hurried steps back as the furious bank clerk races toward him. "W-w-what?" He winces when his back hits a pillar.

Seol-hee glares at the clueless actor, "What? You called me an old lady? I'm almost a year younger than you!"

"Wait wait!" Jae-seong says, motioning her to stop while rubbing his back. She's just three feet away from crushing his feet. "Do we know each other?" 

"Forget it," Seol-hee snaps, placing her hands on either wheels of her wheelchair. She begins to turn back, but halts when she sees two familiar figures enter the hall.


"It's this way," Young-ha says to a nervous Dae-ho, pointing to the right as she walks past the glass revolvers and enters the hall. "And calm down. They won't bite you off if you're late."

"Kim Young-ja!" a voice calls, making the two glance at the person on the other end of the hall.

"Park Seol-hee?" Dae-ho says, making out the paraplegic employee who approaches with his squinted eyes.

"It's her," Young-ja confirms, a wide smile spreading across her lips.


"Kim Young-ja?" Jae-seong gawks at the employee who heads toward the person sharing the same name as his old high school friend. He follows her, eyes wide when he sees the detective, "Ya, Kim Young-ja!"

"Kang Jae-seong?" Dae-ho says, blinking his eyes as the actor nears him and Young-ja. How is he here? He notices his brown coat, bright polka dot shirt and black jeans, wait, that's what the guy who bumped into me wore.

"It's been such a long time since we last met," Young-ja says, bending down to hug Seol-hee. "What, a year?"

"Longer than that," Seol-hee says, waving to Dae-ho who smiles.

"What?" Jae-seong says, now standing beside the paraplegic enigma. "You know her?"

Dae-ho arches his brow, "You don't know who she is?"

Jae-seong crinkles his forehead, glancing at the man in front of him, "Who are you now?" He tilts his head when the black suit man's jaw drops. "Wait...you're the rude ajusshi who bumped into me earlier!"

"Rude?" Dae-ho says. "And ajusshi?"

"Right?" Seol-hee says. "This idiot called me an ajumma."

"Hang on," Jae-seong cuts in, darting his gaze to the employee. "How dare you call me an-"

"Shut up!" Young-ja says, making the others zip their mouths. We've just met, and we're already bickering like kids. She exhales slowly, glancing at a perplexed Jae-seong, "You know me right?"

"Of course," Jae-seong replies. "We both were stuck in the same class throughout high school."

Seol-hee rolls her eyes, he remembers her. She smiles when she sees Dae-ho nod in agreement.

"Okay," Young-ja says, pointing her left hand. "He's Baek Dae-ho. You both were in the same study group."

"What?" Jae-seong gasps, turning to Dae-ho. The bespectacled nerd comes to his mind, this man can't be Dae-ho. He shakes his head, "No."

"Yes," Young-ja says, her voice firm. She points to her right, "And she's Park Seol-hee. She's from the other sect-"

"WHAT?" Jae-seong yells, causing the passers-by to flinch. He watches Seol-hee waves off the two guards that head their way. "No..." He takes a step back, gaze shifting to her legs. No way.

This can't be Seol-hee. She was never in a wheelchair. Heck, she was an idol trainee for SM Entertainment. Jae-seong rubs his mouth, finding resemblance between the cheery seventeen-year-old and the paraplegic employee - the brown eyes, the pointed nose... "But-"


"No," Dae-ho says, eyes on his buzzing phone. "I've totally missed my appointment."

Seol-hee turns away from a stammering Jae-seong, "Don't worry, Dae-ho. You're here for the loan approval, right?"

Dae-ho looks at her, "Yeah. Can you do something?" He checks his phone, "I've to be back at my company in an hour."

Seol-hee nods, "I'm heading to the manager's office now. He'll be able to help you."

Young-ja knits her brows, "But isn't it the loan officer's job to handle this?"

Seol-hee checks her watch, "It's too late for that. He and the rest of the employees will go for lunch now."

Young-ja bites her lip, so that means I won't get to meet Hye-in.

"Young-ja, you also have an appointment right?" Seol-hee asks, bursting her bubble of thoughts.

"Yeah," she answers. "But I can come tomorrow."

"Why come back when you're already here? Plus, you'd also have to meet the manager for the new bank account, as it's a recent scheme."

"Yeah," Dae-ho joins in. "And you were saying that you don't have much free time to commute to here."

Young-ja casts a restricted grin, "Okay, fine. I'll come." She glances at Seol-hee, "But won't the manager-" She stops, shaking her head. The manager has his break before his employees, she remembers her girlfriend Hye-in's frustrated remark.

 
"Then let's go," Seol-hee says, spinning her wheelchair and heading to the elevator. Dae-ho follows her.

Jae-seong, meanwhile, stands dazed by what's happened so far, how come I didn't know this? I mean, I would've known if she got into an accident...

"Jae-seong," Young-ja says, snapping her eyes in front of his face. "Ya, Kang Jae-seong!"

"What?" he says, looking around. "Where did Seol-hee go?"

"We're going there," Young-ja says, pointing to the elevator on the far end of the hall. Seol-hee and Dae-ho wait nearby as the elevator descends.

Young-ja sighs when Jae-seong races toward the elevator, catching up to him.


.


The wide elevator reaches the second floor of Daekim Bank, carrying the four old comrades. Jae-seong's gaze is fixated on Seol-hee, who's in front of him. How am I the only one out of the loop? He clears his throat, catching Young-ja's attention, "How do you guys-"

The elevator door opens, Dae-ho the first to get off. Young-ja follows, giving more space for Seol-hee to come out.

"We stayed in touch after our ten year reunion," Seol-hee says as she gets off.

"Ten year reunion?" Jae-seong says, shocked. He steps out of the elevator, "How come nobody called me?"

"They did," Young-ja says, shaking her head. "The whole class put huge posters of you in the party hall." 

Jae-seong turns to her, "You're kidding?"


"No," a crisp voice says. The four friends turn to the person seated in one of the lobby's couch.

"Kang Jae-seong," Ha-neul says, his eyes twitching; as if the ghastly posters of his friend gave him nightmares. "Yongsan International's No.1 movie star." A chill travels down his spine.

"Choi Ha-neul?" Jae-seong says, slowly approaching him. "You're also here?" He turns to the others, his back slumped when he sees their indifferent reactions, "You all knew."

"We saw him in the parking lot," Dae-ho says, checking his phone for the gazillionth time.

"And he has an appointment with the manager," Seol-hee adds.

Young-ja furrows her brows, so, all of us are here to meet the manager?

"Wah," Jae-seong says, glancing at his five friends. "This is amazing. I didn't know I would meet you all here-"

"Let's go," Seol-hee says, approaching the door on the end of the lobby. She looks at Ha-neul, "You'll have to wait inside that room for the manager."

"I know," Ha-neul replies, following her. "I just got here." He turns over his shoulder, "You three are also coming?"

"Yep," Seol-hee answers, stopping before the large wooden doors. "You all have to wait inside. The manager has a separate office inside." She knocks thrice before pushing them open.


Dae-ho is the first to enter the room, tapping on his phone, sir, I'll be there for the meeting...

Jae-seong is next, his face blank as he stares at the well-lit room. He finds himself seated beside Dae-ho on the biggest couch, facing the manager's office door. Yeah, I came here for Imo's bracelet. He removes his cap and shoves it in his coat pocket, now why would she ask for that?

Young-ja and Ha-neul step in together, glancing at each other for a moment, strange, right? They watch the youngest of the gang enter the room, speeding to the polished door on their left, the golden plaque on it embellished with the words 'Park Hee-Chul, Manager of Daekim Bank, Yongsan: Garwol-dong Division'. 

They're all here, Seol-hee bubbles with joy, a wide grin on her face. She knocks on the door thrice, and moves a few feet back, we're finally united.

Ha-neul clears his throat, noticing the Seol-hee's brightened visage, "Seol-hee, what's going on?"

Young-ja crosses her arms, "Yeah, and why are you cheered up?"

Jae-seong and Dae-ho look up to see the paraplegic employee.

You'll see, Seol-hee squeals, not able to contain her excitement. The Daydreamers Club is back once again...after twenty-two long years. 

Everyone watches the door as it slides open with a creak. A person walks out of the dark room, her green hoodie and beige trousers gradually revealed under the beige lighting of the room.

It takes a whole minute for the four clueless customers to realize: the lady standing in front of them is not the manager.


Young-ja's jaw drops when the lady takes off her dark sunglasses, what the-

Dae-ho springs up from the couch, fumbling, "Na Eu-"

"Weren't you supposed to be in jail for the rest of your life?" Jae-seong gasps. 

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