Substitute-Chapter 6: Coincidence and Inevitability (5)

For the first time in a while, Jiwon put on a suit and took the red intercity bus from Gangnam to Yongnam City. He’d only managed to catch about two hours of light sleep, but he didn’t feel tired.

After grabbing a change of clothes from the goshiwon, he washed up at a nearby sauna.

Every time Jiwon moved, eyes followed him, but he didn’t care. Not because he was used to it—because there was no way to ever get used to it.

He dried his hair thoroughly and dressed head to toe in things he’d been saving: underwear, socks, all of it. When he finally put on his suit pants and jacket, he looked just like a proper office worker. His past overlapped with the reflection.

Back then, he lived without even knowing what misfortune was. Up until that incident, Jiwon’s life had been smooth.

He wasn’t rich, but he’d grown up with the full support and love of parents he could proudly call the best in the world. A genuinely happy household. They’d never even raised their voices.

He’d gone through the usual bumps and hardships of growing up, but he overcame them easily thanks to his parents. Even as an adult, he’d had no major concerns, found a job that felt like a calling, dated and broke up naturally, met his ideal partner, and even dreamed of a future together at a fairly young age.

It was a time of foolish happiness.

The clean-cut face in the mirror soon twisted. The light in his expression that had looked briefly bright turned dull again.

Jiwon barely suppressed the urge to smash the mirror and stepped out of the sauna.

Don’t get depressed. Not time for that yet.

Steadying himself, he boarded the bus at 8:50 a.m. The express bus was still crowded at that hour with commuters and college students. He got lucky—the doors shut right behind him.

Jiwon took the last open seat and, unlike the others who were buried in their phones or trying to catch up on sleep, he just stared blankly out the window. Then his head started to nod.

His chin jerked forward hard and woke him up. Worried he might’ve missed his stop, he rushed to check the time. Only thirty minutes had passed. He sighed in relief.

Feeling sheepish, he rubbed his face with his palm and turned back to the window.

He didn’t know how much farther they went. The road lined with tall buildings and apartment complexes gradually turned greener, and then, all at once, a new city appeared. It looked like the new towns they’d just passed, but everything in sight was pristine and new.

He had finally arrived in Yongnam City.

Jiwon got off the bus and walked in the direction his map app pointed. There were so few people around that it felt like he was walking through a ghost town. He passed several office buildings draped with huge banners reading “Now Leasing” before he reached the Taeseong Building.

Just like the others he’d passed, the front of the building had a “Now Leasing” banner.

The first thing that hit him when he stepped into the lobby was the smell of coffee. Jiwon had only eaten a boiled egg before leaving the goshiwon, so he was momentarily tempted—but quickly turned on his heel and strode toward the front desk.

The woman in a uniform behind the desk gave him a perfunctory smile.

“Um, I’m here for an interview...”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words “model agency.” No matter how he looked at it, he didn’t look like someone who belonged in that kind of place.

The woman’s expression didn’t change.

“You mean for SuperX Model Agency?”

she asked, without skipping a beat.

“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

“I’ll need your ID, please.”

She took his ID and handed him a visitor log.

Jiwon filled in ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) his name, contact info, and reason for visiting, then received a temporary access card.

“The agency office bell isn’t working due to a power issue, so just tap your access card and go right in.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He gave a slight nod and headed straight for the security gate.

The gate lit up blue when he tapped the card. Not wanting to be late, he hurried through.

There were four elevators. He pressed the one that served odd-numbered floors. It arrived in less than a minute. It was just before 9:55 a.m.

He felt tense. As the floor numbers on the display climbed, his mouth dried out. Even without a tie, his neck felt tight. He unfastened the top button of his shirt just as the elevator stopped on the 25th floor.

Stepping out, he glanced left and right. The office on the right was completely empty. The left looked just as vacant—if not for the nameplate reading SuperX Model Agency, it could’ve been mistaken for an unoccupied space.

Remembering what the front desk woman said, he tapped his card. The automatic glass door slid open. He stepped in cautiously.

There was nothing—no carpet, no decor.

What the hell? Is this a scam?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, a voice called out, “Here for the interview?”

Startled, he turned toward the voice. A large man, dressed like a low-level gangster, asked, “Interview?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Jiwon answered despite himself, wearing a stiff expression.

The thug didn’t seem to care. He jerked his head toward the back of the office. A door marked “Meeting Room” was visible.

“That’s where the interview is.”

He chewed his gum loudly and gave Jiwon a once-over. Disdain briefly flickered across the thug’s face. But Jiwon felt the same way about him—so they were even.

Just as Jiwon reached the meeting room and was about to knock, the door swung open.

“Kim Jiwon, right? Come in.”

This time, it was a middle-aged man in a flashy wine-colored suit who greeted him. A strong scent of cologne hit Jiwon’s nose.

The man looked like a nightclub manager or someone even higher up in the gang hierarchy than that thug. Jiwon had already suspected this wasn’t a normal model agency, so their appearance didn’t disappoint him.

He gave the monkey-faced man a small nod and stepped inside. Behind the chair was another door, not a swinging one, but a sliding door. A sign above it read “Conference Room.”

There was only one chair in the office, facing the entrance.

“Have a seat for now. Want some water?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Damn, nice voice.”

The monkey gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared into the conference room.

Beep-beep.

His cheap digital watch chimed. It was exactly 10 a.m.

Jiwon straightened his posture and tried to calm his nerves. Even though the monkey had been gone for more than five minutes, there was no sound from the other side of the sliding door. To fight the anxiety, he started counting in his head. He reached a hundred, started over, and got to thirty-two before the door finally slid open and a voice called him.

“Kim Jiwon. Please come in.”

Jiwon jumped to his feet and entered the conference room. As soon as he stepped in, the monkey slid the door shut behind him and disappeared.

The room was at least 2,000 square feet, painted completely white. Despite its name, it didn’t look like a place meant for meetings. Directly ahead was a long table. Only one man sat behind it.

He wore the same kind of black suit as Jiwon and had horn-rimmed glasses. Behind him was a studio. Its floor and walls, temporarily constructed with plywood, were covered entirely in red silk.

Professional lighting and cameras were set up inside.

So they really were recruiting models?

The thought flickered through his mind for a moment.

The man in glasses looked at Jiwon and said curtly, “Transcript.”

Just one word, but Jiwon immediately recognized the voice—it was the guy who’d answered the phone three days ago.

He pulled the certified transcript from the inside pocket of his jacket and held it out. The man gestured toward the desk, clearly unwilling to touch him. Jiwon placed the document on the desk and stepped back.

Unlike the waiting room, there was no chair here for Jiwon. So while the man scanned the transcript and glanced back and forth between it and a tablet, Jiwon had to stand the entire time.

His anxiety built—what if there was something else on that tablet he didn’t know about?

Finally, the man looked up.

“The first round interview is a nude interview. We’ll be photographing your full body, including genitals and buttocks. If there are any scars or visible defects, we’ll take pictures of those areas too. Of course, we won’t photograph your face. Are you willing to proceed?”

The word genitals made Jiwon flinch ever so slightly—but he nodded without protest.

Right. There was no way they’d pay three million won just to chat.

Was this finally it? His chance?

Jiwon barely held down the rising urge to get ahead of himself.

Jumping to conclusions was dangerous. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful.

“Then place your seal here.”

The man with horn-rimmed glasses tilted his chin, signaling him to come closer.

Jiwon looked over the document the man pointed to. He couldn’t rule out other possibilities. Like, say, selling off his organs for cheap.

Of course, he knew better than anyone that organ trafficking was more urban legend than reality. People assumed it was rampant because of movies and TV dramas, but in real life, it was incredibly rare. What did happen, more often, were scams targeting people in desperate need of fast cash—tricking them with promises of organ sales and then charging them for "organ tests."

He knew all this, but it wasn’t like the chance was zero. A little caution couldn’t hurt.

If anyone’s dumb enough to get caught, it’d be me.

He read every single word on the page without missing a single character. Contrary to his fears, the document read:

“I fully agree to the method of today’s interview and swear to keep all related details strictly confidential. If I disclose any of this, I agree to pay a penalty equal to thirty times the interview compensation, and I will accept any and all disadvantages that may result. I confirm that I have understood the terms of this agreement in full.”

Jiwon wrote his name and resident registration number by hand in the designated spot, then pressed his seal on it.

Horn-Rimmed Glasses immediately handed him a tissue box, as if he'd been waiting for it. Jiwon pulled out two sheets and wiped the ink off his thumb.

The man with glasses collected both the document and the tablet, then moved to another area without a word.