Chapter 6: The Abyss Gazes Back

However, a mere twenty minutes later, Yeon-ho was struck by the realization that choosing delivery over a refund had been an utterly rash decision. Ding-ding-ding-ding, ding!

[Calling unit 2104.]

Yeon-ho flapped his shirt, listening to the faint music emanating from the speaker. The sun blazed relentlessly, yet this accursed entrance, designated solely for outsiders, offered not a single patch of shade.

While labeled ‘outsider-only,’ its true purpose was to deter delivery drivers, movers, and other service personnel from using the main entrance.

‘It’s sweltering. Why on earth won’t this infuriating Unit 2104 just open their door immediately?’

Yeon-ho had been wrestling with the unresponsive intercom for a full ten minutes. Unit 2104, it seemed, either ordered deliveries before stepping out or simply lived with their intercom switched off, for they had never once opened the door promptly.

Consistently, Unit 2104 would only grant entry moments before the estimated delivery time was about to lapse.

Driven by exasperation, he attempted to call them on his phone, but the call went unanswered. For a delivery rider, this was utterly maddening.

‘This is precisely why I dreaded coming here.’

What precisely was the psychological game behind forcing a rider to wait outside? Was it a display of power? An outlet for frustration? Didn’t they, too, order delivery with the expectation of eating promptly? He simply couldn’t fathom why someone would inflict such a disadvantage upon themselves.

He had heard tales of individuals who deliberately hindered riders from meeting their estimated delivery times, all to avoid paying for their food. However, Unit 2104 did not appear to be such a case.

Yeon-ho wiped the sweat trickling down his jaw with the back of his hand, then brazenly raised his middle finger at the camera. Intellectually, he understood that being caught making such a gesture to a customer would escalate far beyond a mere complaint.

Yet, perhaps due to the oppressive heat, he found himself in a state where he simply didn’t care if his defiant act was discovered.

In truth, he almost hoped he would be caught. Then, an infuriated Unit 2104 would undoubtedly shout, ‘What do you think you’re doing?!’ and finally open the door.

Should their temper prove fouler than anticipated, they might even storm down to seize Yeon-ho by the collar. Conversely, if they possessed a more sinister disposition, they might simply capture a screenshot and lodge a complaint with the franchise and platform customer service.

‘Given their behavior, they must surely be the insidious type, wouldn’t they?’

Yeon-ho recalled how Unit 2104 consistently opted for contactless delivery of their food and beverages. This led him to conclude that Unit 2104 must be an individual with extreme social anxiety or avoidance tendencies.

Otherwise, the only plausible conclusion was that they harbored a personal vendetta against him. Yet, Yeon-ho knew no one with the affluence to reside in a magnificent apartment complex like Elysium.

“I truly wish to see their face. I desperately want to know what kind of person they are.”

As he muttered this lament to himself, another delivery rider emerged from the basement and came to stand beside Yeon-ho.

“Damn it, I spent ages looking for the elevator,” the new rider grumbled. “Why did the security guard just take my ID and not bother to tell me the elevator was located outside?”

From their comments about the elevator, it seemed they were either new to the delivery job or had recently changed territories, much like Yeon-ho. This apartment complex’s designated outsider parking lot had no direct elevator access, meaning one had to ascend to ground level to find an elevator.

“Why aren’t you going in?” the rider asked. “Is there a problem with the entrance?”

“Ah, that’s the thing…”

As he pondered where to begin his explanation, the entrance door abruptly swung open.

“I’m going in first,” the other rider declared.

The rider briskly stepped inside the building. Fearing the door might close, Yeon-ho quickly followed, entering the complex.

He had no idea why the door had opened, but he knew if he didn’t enter now, there was no telling how much longer he would be forced to wait outside.

Inside the cargo elevator, the rider fanned themselves with a hand, complaining loudly.

“Wow, the weather’s this hot, and they don’t even bother with air conditioning in the elevator,” they griped. “Isn’t this supposed to be a ridiculously expensive apartment? This is truly outrageous.”

“Tell me about it,” Yeon-ho agreed.

Yeon-ho offered a noncommittal response as the rider continued to lament the residents’ stinginess, claiming that the wealthy were always the worst. After gossiping about the apartment dwellers for a moment, they suddenly lowered their voice.

“They say so many celebrities live here, right?” the rider whispered conspiratorially. “Almost every other unit, I heard. Have you ever spotted a celebrity while making deliveries here?”

Did Elysium truly house so many celebrities? Perhaps, but it was certainly not a matter that captured Yeon-ho’s interest.

“I wouldn’t know,” Yeon-ho replied. “I haven’t been assigned to this area for very long.”

“Oh, I see,” the rider responded. “My friend started delivering before me and claims to have seen a lot of celebrities here. Han Tae-young is rumored to live here too; I’d love to see them. My friend was desperate to find out Han Tae-young’s address.”

Yeon-ho merely let the mention of Han Tae-young residing in Elysium wash over him, his expression utterly devoid of interest. It wasn’t crucial information for his delivery work, and given the sheer volume of baseless rumors surrounding celebrity residences, its veracity was highly improbable.

Instead, Yeon-ho merely registered the fact that Han Tae-young’s name had been cropping up with increasing frequency in his recent conversations.

‘Is this simply unavoidable, now that his drama has begun to air?’

Hearing Han Tae-young’s name invariably brought ‘Cold Reading’ to mind, and ‘Cold Reading’ in turn resurfaced thoughts of the regression he had long tried to forget. He felt as though he were trapped in a relentless, vicious cycle.

He no longer cared whether he had regressed or not, yet the world persistently compelled him to pay attention to that failed—no, that *damned* drama.

Stepping out of the elevator, Yeon-ho proceeded directly to Unit 2104. He carefully hung the bag containing the Mediterranean salad on the doorknob, then dispatched the delivery complete message.

He perked his ears, hoping to catch the faint chime of an app notification from beyond the door, but absolute silence emanated from behind the thick front door. Yeon-ho had no way of discerning whether the owner was absent and therefore missed the alert, or if the apartment’s soundproofing was simply too effective.

‘What are you doing, Seo Yeon-ho? You look like some kind of stalker right now.’

Yeon-ho found his recent actions to be disturbingly sinister. He vaguely recalled a saying about gazing into the abyss to hunt a monster, only to find the abyss gazing back into you—and this moment felt precisely like that.

‘I’m going to completely ruin my disposition just to earn a few extra thousand won by taking this delivery.’

It was then that he firmly resolved, no matter how dire his financial situation, never to accept another delivery request for Unit 2104. Just as this thought solidified, a message arrived from Bang Hyo-jun, a former trainee from his previous agency.

[Yeon-ho!]

[!!Yeon-ho!!]

[Yeon-hoooo~~!]

[Yes, Hyung.]

[You’re doing well, right? I’m shooting our new arrivals this Friday—could you be a fitting model for me?]

Yeon-ho paused, considering the request, before quickly typing out his reply.

[Yes, if you can wrap up the shoot before 4 PM, I believe I can make the time.]

Accepting the fitting model job meant he would have to take a break from his delivery work during those hours. While his agency would undoubtedly express their displeasure if he requested an unscheduled day off, Yeon-ho was determined not to refuse Hyo-jun’s favor if he could help it.

Though the fitting model’s pay was substantial, Yeon-ho would have readily offered his help even if the compensation had been meager. Hyo-jun was, after all, his benefactor, having generously lent him the deposit for his rooftop apartment and a scooter during a time when Yeon-ho’s circumstances were far more dire.

Hyo-jun had known Yeon-ho since the days when Cherry Picker was still known as Nest Entertainment. Back then, he and Yeon-ho had been fixed members of Nest’s eagerly anticipated debut group.

However, a pivotal event occurred: the ownership of Nest Entertainment transferred to CEO Yoon Won-han. The company was rebranded as Cherry Picker, and consequently, both Hyo-jun’s and Yeon-ho’s debuts were abruptly canceled.

After being released from Cherry Picker, Hyo-jun abandoned his trainee life entirely and launched ‘Da Capo,’ a men’s clothing online store. Initially, he sourced garments from wholesale markets, but since last year, he had begun selling his own designs, which were garnering a respectable reception in the market.

These self-produced garments from Da Capo were precisely the items Yeon-ho was scheduled to model that Friday.

“Hyung, I’m here.”

“Oh, good morning. Those are the new arrivals we need to shoot today, so go ahead and check them out.”

As Yeon-ho arrived at Da Capo’s office and studio, Hyo-jun gestured towards a clothing rack. Examining the garments hanging there, Yeon-ho looked at Hyo-jun with an expression of surprise.

Da Capo specialized in street fashion, yet the clothes on the rack were a far cry from that style.

“Is Da Capo selling casual suits now?”

“Our last line of slacks got a decent response, so I’m testing the waters with this.”

Hyo-jun’s voice, as he outlined the shooting concept, carried a distinct tone of determination, perhaps reflecting his venture into a new domain.

Moments later, Hyo-jun’s girlfriend, Son Eun-hee, arrived at the Da Capo office.

“Yeon-ho, hello? Long time no see.”

“Hello, Noona. What brings you to Hyung’s office at this hour? Isn’t this a day you’re supposed to be at the salon?”

“No, it is a workday, but I took a half-day off. This scoundrel used one of the wishes I gave him for his birthday to ask me to style your hair for the shoot.”

Eun-hee retorted, playfully pinching Hyo-jun’s cheek. She worked as a manager at Volume Up, a hair salon in Cheongdam.

‘To ask Noona Eun-hee for such an unusual favor… Hyung Hyo-jun must be really serious about this new collection.’

Though he had worked as a fitting model for Da Capo for over a year, this was the first time Eun-hee had come to style a model’s hair. Previously, Yeon-ho had always prepared his own hair and makeup for shoots. Since the photos were taken to minimize facial exposure, his ‘hair and makeup’ typically amounted to little more than applying some wax and trimming his eyebrows.

‘I’ve never seen Hyung put so much effort into a shoot before… Should he really be using me as the model?’

Yeon-ho grew increasingly restless as Eun-hee styled his hair with a curling iron. Why hadn’t Hyo-jun simply hired a higher-caliber model? While clothing design was crucial in the apparel business, a model’s influence was significant.

Factors like proportions, aura, and fame all played a role. In Yeon-ho’s opinion, he was merely someone Hyo-jun could conveniently call upon as an acquaintance, possessing little appeal as a professional model.

‘Did a well-known model demand too high a fee, causing the contract to fall through? Or perhaps the shoot was arranged so hastily that scheduling adjustments were impossible?’

As he speculated about the circumstances that might have compelled Hyo-jun to call him for the shoot, Eun-hee, having finished with the curling iron, pulled out her phone.

*Click, click. Click, click.*

“Yeon-ho looks absolutely stunning today. Yeon-ho, turn your head just a little to the side. Perfect. Good. Now, the other way.”

He had wondered what she was doing with her phone, but then Eun-hee captured Yeon-ho on camera with a proud expression. She seemed satisfied with the excellent results. Even to Yeon-ho, his hair looked remarkably good. It made him entertain the fleeting, vain thought that if he had performed on stage with this look during his active days, he might have gained a few more fans.

‘Don’t cling to regrets. It’s been over a year since I quit; what good are fans now?’

Moreover, the salon where Eun-hee worked was expensive, and Cherry Picker would never have made an appointment there. Yeon-ho shook off his idle thoughts and offered his thanks to Eun-hee, who was reflected in the mirror.

“I only look decent because Noona styled my hair so well. Thank you.”

“My darling’s skills are beyond words. Girlfriend’s perk is the best!”

Hyo-jun, too, gave two exaggerated thumbs-up, fawning over Eun-hee. However, Eun-hee pushed her younger boyfriend away like a dog begging for chicken and then asked Yeon-ho,

“Yeon-ho, I’m going to post the photos I just took of you on my social media, okay?”