Purpose

EP1. Getting Started

May 13, 2010.

Someone who adds an extra shot of 'Americano'. 

Who comes in on Monday and Wednesday of the week.

I'm in a good mood these days. 

When I see Jihoon eating my coffee and liking it, it makes me feel good. 

Today is no different.

"Hi, you're back again, huh?"

Me, putting on my friendliest, most pleasant smile, and he replies.

"Yeah, coffee tastes so good these days."

"Is that why you're living on coffee like a caffeine addict?"

Jihoon, a fierce-eyed man with a good size and a green knit.

It seems that Jihoon has always liked to immerse himself in things. 

The type of person who fills his life by immersing himself in something. 

I like that type of person. 

Because I love Jihoon, and I want to know everything about him.

After lunch, I walk out of the cafe into the warm Seoul sun. 

People are bustling around, heading somewhere in an orderly fashion. 

Where is the focus of my steps?

They may be in summer, but I'm not.

I'm wearing long sleeves, long pants, and high Adidas sneakers. 

I put on my headphones and walk down the street with my hands shaking. 

I can feel people's eyes on me. 

Disgust or pity? 

I wonder if they feel sorry for the headphones perched on the top of my head.

I get on the elevator and push the button for the top six floors. 

A place I must visit, even if it's hot and my mouth is hanging open. 

I hit the 'kickboxing gym' and do some strength training and hit the sparring bag.

 I feel like all my fears and scars have been erased.

Have you ever felt that feeling of everything settling down and your breathing opening and closing? 

At least I have. 

Exercise is the most primal way to do that. 

Maybe practicing is a better word, but there are a lot of people coming and going in the gym. 

From people with tight hairstyles like me to men with long hair like women. 

You can tell when you're in the gym most of the day. 

From the opponent's striking style to their fitness level and the instinctive sense of whether I can beat them.

In the moment. 

The gloves I'm wearing in the ring exist solely to crush my opponent's jawbone. 

My legs are there to crush the calf nerves of the guy in front of me. 

After two laps of these thoughts, I leave the gym.

I'm ashamed of my scars, and I can't wash them here. 

I can't wash them here. I want to go back to the damp, dark place. 

On the way back home, people pass in front of me and behind me without paying attention. 

Their facial expressions, actions, and words are all different. 

I just want to go into the darkness.

I descend the stairs one by one, my body covered in sweat. 

A small, tiny house on the outskirts of Seoul. 

In front of the house, I see the couple Sungju and Minhee.

"How are you, did you go to the gym?"

I said, taking off my headphones.

"What?"

"Are you on your way to the gym?"

"Yes, I work out almost every day nowadays, Mr. Shengju, excuse me, but the noise is getting to me at night, could you please keep it down?"

Min-hee, who looked like a weasel next to him, replied.

Minhee stretched her eyeliner upward and shaded the bridge of her nose.

"I'm sorry, I told you to be careful." Sungjoo glared at me.

He stalks off down the stairs, saying, "Slutty two bitches.

Two slutty bitches. 

The sound of that bitch moaning and that bastard cursing can be heard through the walls.

This shitty villa. 

Roses grow out of concrete. 

I didn't even know their names. 

Just an arbitrary pseudonym. 

I don't even think about how they must have seen me. 

The world revolves around me. It's okay to be a little selfish.

So what if I'm a little greedy so I don't get hurt.

I'm not paying those bitches to look good.

When I got home, I drank a cup of barley tea that was organized in the refrigerator and collapsed. 

Sometimes I'd hear rats scurrying around on the ceiling. 

or the students screaming and fooling around in front of the villa. 

The exhaustion from the morning's café alba and workout is hard to beat.

After about two hours of sleep, I had to go back to work. 

After a cup of instant noodles and barley tea, I head to work. 

Of course, I don't forget to ring the bell once to annoy the couple next door.

What if they freak out?

So what. I just rang the bell. 

There's no CCTV or security here, so sometimes I just knock on the door.

It's 10 p.m. on a Friday. 

While others are rewarded with nightlife and the end of a long week, I'm back in the field.

Today I've been working for about four hours. 

When I go out to the site, I see a variety of people, people who have to trade money for time. 

When I arrived at the scene, a familiar veteran driver said to me.

"Mr. Jung Min, you must have ordered a lot of bottled water at your apartment today, you're going to have a hard time."

That's our regards.

Tired, but still concerned. Mr. Jeon Byeong-taek, whose top hair was almost gone, was worried about me.

"It's okay, apartment 1902 here, whenever I have a chance, I eat kimchi, mineral water, it sounds very delicious."

"Nimi fuck, all the villas I go to don't have elevators, so I have to walk up the fucking stairs, but last time I ordered 50 bottled water and they returned it."

"These assholes complained that I knocked on the door a little too hard last time, so I guess that's why they're doing this."

There are so many weird things in the world. 

Why is there so much anger toward us, the little people? 

If we don't do this, how will everyone get the clothes they bought at the mall and how will they collect the items they traded in.

"Eh, if you keep doing that, I'll talk to the manager and get a dedicated driver, bro."

I wonder why people are so angry. 

He's raising two kids alone because his wife cheated on him. 

His wife cheated on him and he's raising his two kids alone. 

Sometimes, I'm saddened by the crass reality.

These people don't pry and dig into other people's wounds. 

They don't tear open wounds to ask questions like modern people do these days. 

Not once did they show compassion for my grotesque scars and eyes. 

When the small talk is over, we part ways to go to work. 

We'll meet again tomorrow, but for the rest of the day, I'm all alone.

I drive the courier car to the familiar apartment. 

I load the well-packed delivery vehicle into the trunk of a large bus and some boxes into my passenger seat. 

These are important boxes. I'm in the third floor of the Samsung H apartment complex. 

I usually have around 100 to 150 packages to deliver, so the faster I deliver them, the sooner I get home from work. 

Of course, if you deliver late, you'll be late.

Shake off your fatigue and deliver packages quickly. 

It's a lot of hard work, but I do it, imagining the happy faces of the people in the passenger seat when they receive their packages.

On purpose, I don't deliver the precious packages until after 1:30. 

Even though it's only 1:00, that's the rule of the job. 

The ability to make people wait and wait and wait. 1:30.

Room 1501, Building 130, H Apartment Complex 1 

When I go to deliver the package, the owners are waiting for me. 

Like Pavlov's dog, they greet my package with a bow and hug.

In a way, this is the ultimate employee benefit. 

The grandmother, mom, and dad who live there, 

mom, dad, and an old friend of mine all bowed their heads.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Bachelor, for the late delivery, so we didn't have to stay up and wait until the time you texted us."

"Oh, no, Grandma, but you have him deliver every day, don't you?"

"Well, we really want the package to come at night when she's at work, so we tell her to time it accordingly."

"Really? What if the courier comes in the morning?"

"Return it all, cancel it all. We really need you to come and deliver it, bachelor."

It feels good. 

That sense of belonging, of being recognized and sought after, is what makes me do this job. 

Two in the morning. 

I'm sweaty and dripping with gravy, but I smile. 

And on the way to return the car, I blast Michael Jackson songs loudly and laugh out loud. 

His smile is more sinister than Jung Myung-seok's, and he types on his cell phone: "Asshole.

When I get back, I fall into a deeper, cooler sleep than before. 

The room next door is quiet, too. 

It's a pleasant Seoul night.