Chapter 9: An Unexpected Encounter in Elysium

His assumption of a smooth delivery, however, proved entirely mistaken.

“Oh?”

Since this was his first time delivering to Elysium on foot, Yeon-ho made an uncharacteristic mistake. He had mistakenly approached the residents’ main entrance, rather than the designated visitor’s entry.

‘What should I do?’

Yeon-ho deliberated: should he call unit 2103 and ask them to open the main entrance, or should he walk around the entire building to the visitor’s entrance?

To be frank, both options were equally irksome. The path of least resistance involved calling unit 2103 through the intercom. Yet, depending on the customer’s disposition, they might perceive Yeon-ho’s request as an imposition.

He had often encountered situations in his delivery work where riders faced complaints after seeking permission to use resident-only facilities.

Even if the customer were to open the main entrance, a significant hurdle remained. The security guard, ever vigilant in the lobby, presented the second obstacle. Explaining that a resident had granted him entry would fall on deaf ears.

The guards would undoubtedly reiterate their rigid stance—’We simply follow the manual,’ or ‘Such is the management policy’—and unceremoniously usher Yeon-ho out. No exceptions were ever made, for the sight of a delivery rider using the main entrance by another resident could easily spark a considerable fuss.

The second option, however, promised physical inconvenience. One might assume it was merely a few extra steps within the same building, but that assumption would be entirely wrong. Elysium was constructed with towering walls, meticulously separating the visitor’s entrance from the main residential lobby.

‘Time isn’t pressing. There’s enough time to go through the visitor’s entrance and take the elevator.’

However, the thought of taking an inefficient, circuitous route when a shortcut lay directly before him was deeply unappealing.

*Creak.*

As he wavered, debating whether to call unit 2103, the door suddenly slid open. A person emerged, passed Yeon-ho without so much as a glance, and proceeded toward the promenade. Ordinarily, he would have been met with a suspicious gaze, questioning why a rider was lingering at the main entrance, making this lack of reaction quite surprising.

For some inexplicable reason, the omens felt favorable. Yeon-ho, seized by a glimmer of hope, peered into the lobby. Incredibly, the security guard who should have been diligently manning the front desk was conspicuously absent.

This was practically an open invitation, clearing the path for Yeon-ho to slip inside.

*Thump, creak.*

As he hesitated, wondering if he should enter, the door began to close. Unwilling to squander such a perfect opportunity, Yeon-ho moved with a decisive resolve, adopting a ‘seize the moment, deal with the fallout later’ mentality.

*Thud.*

By a hair’s breadth, the door closed behind Yeon-ho. The pleasant, cool air of the lobby enveloped his cheeks, a subtle confirmation of his successful entry. Yet, this was merely the first obstacle overcome, and far from the finish line, so Yeon-ho maintained his heightened vigilance.

‘Please, let the security guard return late.’

Feeling much like a petty thief, Yeon-ho approached the elevator.

Twenty-first floor, twentieth, nineteenth…

“Hello.”

He pressed the call button, anxiously awaiting the elevator’s descent, when the security guard suddenly approached him.

‘Damn it.’

A shiver of dread ran through Yeon-ho’s entire body. To be caught by security at this precise moment was a stroke of truly rotten luck.

‘Should I quickly turn around and leave? Or should I beg the security guard to turn a blind eye just this once?’

As he frantically wracked his brain for an escape, the security guard offered Yeon-ho a surprisingly gentle smile. Yeon-ho flinched, bewildered. He couldn’t fathom why the man, who ought to be glaring at him like a trespasser, was instead smiling so amicably.

“Shall I carry that for you until you get on the elevator?”

“What?”

‘Carry what? Surely not the delivery food?’

Yeon-ho unconsciously tightened his grip on the gamjatang bag he held in his right hand. Sure enough, the security guard’s hand extended toward the gamjatang. It was undeniably an attempt to confiscate the delivery food. Yeon-ho hastily concealed the plastic bag behind his back.

“Wh-why? Why are you offering to carry it?”

The security guard beamed.

“It looks heavy! It seems like you should hold it with both hands, so wouldn’t it be better if I carried it for you instead?”

While it was true the bag was heavy, containing a large gamjatang and several bottles of soju, it was by no means an unmanageable weight for an adult man. Yeon-ho became convinced the security guard was attempting a ruse, hoping to lower his guard before seizing the food.

“No. I’m fine. I don’t need help.”

“Understood. Enjoy your meal.”

Despite Yeon-ho’s rather aggressive tone, the security guard showed no hint of displeasure. Instead, he offered an awkward chuckle, bowed politely to Yeon-ho, and then returned to the front desk.

Yeon-ho watched the security guard’s retreating figure, his own hips swaying slightly, and pondered.

‘Did he really just want to help me carry it? Did Elysium’s policy change that quickly?’

However, he hadn’t heard any whispers of the main entrance restriction for riders being lifted. As Yeon-ho nervously tapped his thumbnail with his index finger, a distant gaze caught his attention. He turned his head in that direction, meeting the eyes of the security guard, who had since returned to the front desk. The guard offered another faint smile and a silent nod of acknowledgment.

The uncharacteristic affability of Elysium’s security guard left Yeon-ho thoroughly flustered.

He was accustomed to seeing them treat residents with utmost deference, but… wait a moment.

‘Could he have mistaken me for a resident?’

Indeed, the security guard had wished him an ‘enjoyable meal’ just moments ago. Typically, riders were greeted with phrases like, ‘Thank you for your hard work,’ or ‘Have a safe delivery,’ never ‘Enjoy your meal.’ After all, a rider’s role was to deliver food, not consume it.

However, if the security guard had genuinely mistaken him for a resident returning with takeout gamjatang, then the guard’s perplexing words and actions suddenly became entirely understandable.

‘Why would he think I’m a resident? With my helmet, there’s no way he could make that mistake.’

Only after catching his reflection in the elevator’s polished surface did Yeon-ho realize he wasn’t wearing his helmet. Furthermore, his attire was noticeably different from his usual delivery uniform. Yeon-ho rubbed the back of his neck, acknowledging that the security guard had, perhaps, been entirely justified in his misconception.

‘Could someone else have tried to enter using the same method as me?’

That possibility seemed exceedingly remote. Changing clothes was already a bother, but waiting for someone to exit the building was far too much of a gamble.

‘If I’m told to do this again next time, I absolutely can’t.’

Yeon-ho shook his head to himself, a silent, solitary gesture. Even when he had impulsively marched to his former agency and pounded on their door, he hadn’t felt such a bone-chilling tremor of anxiety. It seemed that resorting to such underhanded tactics was simply not in his nature.

The elevator neared the first floor. Yeon-ho took a deep breath, resolving to use the visitor-only elevator when he eventually left. However, the elevator bypassed the first floor entirely, descending instead to the basement. Two possibilities immediately sprang to mind.

Either a resident had gone down to the underground parking lot to depart, or a resident who had been out had called the elevator to ascend to their home.

Yeon-ho silently prayed for the former scenario as he shifted his grip on the plastic bag’s handle. Even without his helmet, the thought of sharing an elevator with a resident made him profoundly uneasy. There was a distinct possibility that someone who had previously ordered delivery might recognize his face.

Though such an occurrence would be a cruel twist of fate, Yeon-ho, reflecting on his past life, could hardly claim to be a lucky man.

*Ding! Creak.*

The elevator doors glided open. Yeon-ho’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the face of the person inside.

‘Please, don’t let it be someone from a previous delivery.’

Thankfully, it wasn’t a familiar face. However, the instant Yeon-ho recognized the man in the elevator, he was so utterly shocked that the bag of delivery food nearly slipped from his grasp.

‘Why is Han Tae-young here? …The rumor that he lives in Elysium wasn’t just a rumor, it was true?’

Han Tae-young, whom Yeon-ho was seeing in person for the very first time, leaned his head against the wall, arms crossed. Having apparently just returned from an all-night shoot, a faint shadow of exhaustion veiled his handsome, closed-eyed face.

*Creak.*

Staring blankly at Han Tae-young as if he were a static image on a billboard, Yeon-ho nearly missed his chance to board the elevator. He frantically jabbed the button repeatedly, forcing the doors to reopen.

He had anticipated Han Tae-young would open his eyes at the noise, yet the man remained utterly motionless, his head still resting against the wall. The elevator, being a luxury model, apparently operated with a quieter mechanism than Yeon-ho had expected. Compared to the visitor’s freight elevator, any other elevator would naturally seem silent.

Yeon-ho slipped into the elevator, suppressing his every movement as if trying not to startle a rare, sleeping wild animal.

What would be an appropriate distance to stand? Yeon-ho, grappling with a question he had never before considered, awkwardly positioned himself beside Han Tae-young. Despite maintaining a considerable space, Han Tae-young’s presence felt intensely powerful, as if he stood with his back to a blazing sun.

‘So, rumors can actually be true.’

Yeon-ho cast a curious sidelong glance at Han Tae-young. When a rookie rider had first mentioned Han Tae-young residing in Elysium, Yeon-ho had summarily dismissed it.

Yeon-ho rarely put stock in celebrity rumors. Having once been immersed in the entertainment industry, he had witnessed far too many instances of groundless gossip spreading like wildfire, masquerading as truth. Even the words of those who claimed to be industry insiders or affiliates were utterly unreliable.

Simply working for the same company didn’t mean one truly understood the inner workings of other departments on different floors, after all.

What was the likelihood that information known by someone with no connection to the entertainment industry could be true, especially when even industry professionals often spread unsubstantiated rumors as fact? It was, naturally, less than 0.01 percent. Yet, for Han Tae-young’s residence to fall within that minuscule percentage, Yeon-ho couldn’t help but find it astonishing.

‘His physique is no joke. He looks even bigger than he did on TV.’

Celebrities often appeared smaller in person than on screen due to camera effects, but Han Tae-young was an exception. His broad shoulders strained against his jacket and shirt, his pectorals were robustly developed, his neck was long and thick, and his legs seemed to stretch up to Yeon-ho’s solar plexus. Looking up at him, Yeon-ho felt not just an appreciation for his impressive stature, but a slight sense of being overwhelmed.

‘The young boomer was about this tall too, I think.’

Yeon-ho recalled the person with the best physique he had ever met, then hastily shook his head. Once was a mistake, twice was intentional. He had already committed the offense of comparing the young boomer and Han Tae-young earlier, and he couldn’t repeat the same mistake without reflection.

‘Han Tae-young is much better. Isn’t that obvious?’