Mornings at Eldorado began the same way every day. For Kim Ji-won, this was always his morning—a space where the entire world stepped aside to let him pass. The corridors of the shopping mall held the cool air of the conditioners and the faint, lingering scent of expensive perfume. Ji-won was used to entering any space as if it had belonged to him from the start. His strides were measured and confident; his polished leather shoes struck the marble floor firmly, and his expensive suit fit flawlessly, emphasizing his status and power. He ran a hand through his hair in a practiced, habitual gesture.
The executive corridors of the Eldorado headquarters operated by their own unspoken rules. Employees lined up on both sides, bowing their heads in a collective greeting.
"Good morning, Director Kim."
"Hello, Director."
"Director Kim, we are honored to see you."
The words followed one after another, merging into a steady, familiar background hum. Ji-won did not acknowledge a single greeting. His gaze was fixed straight ahead—looking through the people as if they were merely part of the interior. He accepted this attention as his due, never considering that behind every bow stood a living person.
Lee Yeo-jun opened the door, ushering Ji-won inside. He was accustomed to anticipating his boss's desires before they were even voiced. His bows were impeccable, his voice steady, and his face calm; only rare, fleeting glances from under his brows betrayed what he refused to show openly. The office greeted them with silence and the cold gleam of glass walls. Yeo-jun pulled out the chair, and Ji-won sat down without deigning to look at him. The secretary bowed.
"Today's schedule," he said, approaching the desk.
The man opened a folder and placed it before his boss. For a moment, his eyes flickered up—briefly, cautiously. Ji-won didn't notice. He clasped his hands, resting his chin on them as he stared first at the papers, then at the man standing before him.
"At nine-thirty, the opening of the new boutique in Eldorado. At twelve, lunch with the foreign partners. Afterward, a meeting with Mr. Park. Also, Mr. In called; he requested a meeting again."
"Leave everything as is," Ji-won replied lazily. "As for In… schedule him for the twenty-sixth."
Yeo-jun frowned almost imperceptibly.
"But Director, that is two weeks from now. You have already postponed this meeting several times."
"If it's important, he'll wait."
"Yes, Director."
Yeo-jun folded his hands and bowed his head. Ji-won leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and stared at him silently for a while.
"Get me a coffee."
A few minutes later, a cup of coffee appeared on his desk. But it was too hot. The next was too cold. The one after that—too sweet.
"Bring me tea."
He didn't even taste the tea; he simply pushed it aside.
"Take it away. I don't want it anymore."
Yeo-jun removed the cup without a word. A shadow of exhaustion flickered across his face, only to vanish instantly behind his habitual mask of composure.
In the corridor, several employees watched the scene furtively.
"Poor Secretary Lee…"
"To endure that every day."
"Our Director is handsome, of course, but his personality…"
"I guess it's true: perfect people don't exist."
The boutique opening was bustling. Ji-won stood among the guests, smiling at those who approached to greet him. Yeo-jun remained close behind, an unshakable shadow.
"Director Kim," an elegantly dressed older woman addressed him. "We are delighted you found the time to attend."
"How could I miss such an event?" Ji-won replied, his eyes darting briefly toward Yeo-jun. The secretary subtly mouthed her name.
"Ms. Kang," Ji-won continued seamlessly, "I am certain this store will be a successful investment."
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, but the moment the woman walked away, the smile vanished from his face as quickly as it had appeared.
He greeted people, nodded, and exchanged rote phrases.
"Yeo-jun," he said quietly, turning toward his secretary. "Let's wrap this up. My face is cramping from all this smiling."
"We'll have about thirty minutes to spare if we leave now."
"I'll rest in the car."
Yeo-jun nodded, and they both headed toward the service exit where the car was parked to avoid the crowds.
When they stepped outside, the heat hit them full force, and the mask of politeness fell away completely. Ji-won loosened his tie, his shoulders tensed with irritation—he finally allowed himself to be disgruntled. It was stifling. He took a deep breath.
"Get me something to drink."
Yeo-jun walked away, and Ji-won remained standing, staring ahead, lost in thought. He simply stood there, basking in the familiar comfort of his position—until something disrupted that order.
An old man in a simple, worn janitor's uniform stumbled directly in front of him, clutching a bucket of mop water. The water sloshed over the rim, and several large drops splashed onto Ji-won's perfectly polished shoes. The man recoiled sharply in a mix of shock and irritation.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, old man!" he snapped, trying to shake the water off.
"I am sorry, Sir!" the old man stammered, his hands trembling as he gripped the bucket.
Ji-won looked down in disgust at the wet marks on his shoes, then fixed a cold, teeth-gritting stare on the man.
"Do you have any idea how much these cost? You couldn't earn enough to buy them in a lifetime!" he said, his voice laced with a quiet threat.
"I am sorry, Sir…" The old man bent down, reaching out to wipe the wet spots with the sleeve of his old jacket. "I'll fix it."
"Don't," Ji-won said, stepping back. "Your rags are even filthier. If you can't walk straight, stay home."
The old man froze and bowed slightly, but offered no defense. Ji-won turned his gaze back to the horizon. To him, this moment meant nothing: no guilt, no empathy, no second thought for the other man. All that mattered was the clean, unobstructed order of his world—and his own comfort.
Yeo-jun, spotting the scene from a distance, came running immediately.
"Director, what happened?" He looked from his boss to the elderly man.
Ji-won didn't answer. Heading toward the car, he merely threw a cold command over his shoulder:
"Handle this."
Yeo-jun helped the old man up, apologized, asked if he was alright, and only then hurried to catch up with Ji-won.
In the car, silence reigned for a long time.
"Do I have spare shoes?"
"In the trunk."
"Throw these out. They're ruined."
The car pulled away.
The old man, who had remained in the same spot, raised his head and watched the receding car. His gaze was calm and piercing—far too attentive for a simple passerby.