I only slept for three hours, and I need to get ready to go to the airport. Already? I exhale deeply, and check my phone. A message from Jongdae, timed a couple of hour ago. He said he was back to the hotel, and asked what time I’d be going. I answer his message with the time, and throw my phone to the bed.

          I finish showering, and there’s a reply. He told me to wait in the lobby before departing, and I stare at the screen. Yeah, this is just going to end like this.

          I’m waiting in the lobby, and I stand up in an instant when Jongdae appears from elevator. “How’s your camera?”

          “I need to wait for two days.” he answers shortly.

          “Please inform me when it’s finished.”

          Jongdae sighs. He takes out something from his pocket and gives it to me. It’s a memory card. “Yesterday’s photos.”

          “Oh. Let me turn on my laptop real quick so I can copy—”

          “No need to. It’s a spare memory card, you can just keep it. There are not many photos of yesterday.”

          I timidly take the memory card, and nod.

          “Also, I’m sorry I can’t accompany you for the rest of the time because something comes up. In five minutes, there’ll be a taxi ordered under your name outside the lobby, and it’ll take you straight to the airport.”

          I grit my teeth, remembering his offer to take me there yesterday. He officially hates me now.

          “It’s been a pleasure working with you. Be careful on your way. Then… Good bye.”

          He reaches out a hand, and I take it for our last handshake. He forms a polite smile, and I almost can’t bring myself to give mine.

          He helps pushing my suitcase outside where the taxi is waiting and puts it on the trunk. He gives me one last goodbye before closing the door for me, and he waits on the taxi’s side until it starts moving.

          I look back, and I see him entering the hotel immediately. I see the road in front again, and sighs loudly. Everything goes upside down in less than a day.

*

          I’m back to my cubicle in Tokyo, and Mr. Kiseki’s head appears on top of his box border. “Asahi.”

          “Yes.” I answer shortly, and drag myself to his space. He’s organizing a few sheets of paper, and I recognize it as my drafts of the travel book.

          “Sit.” he says. “I’ve added my corrections to the Jeju and Busan parts, just a little, seems like you’re suddenly awkward writing in Japanese after being in Korea. But the real problem is—the latter part of Seoul, here. Your sentences don’t seem Japanese at all. It’s a mess.”

          He gives me the papers, and they’re the draft I revised after I got back to Tokyo. “I will fix it immediately.”

          I leave his cubicle and put the papers in my table before going to the bathroom. I sit above the closed toilet lid, and stretch my neck. It’s the middle of summer already, and I’m back to my boring routine at work.

          Sometimes I’m still thinking about Kim Jongdae and his camera. It’s like I broke two things at once. I e-mailed him once, asking about the camera, but he hasn’t replied until now.

          I go to the HRD, and approach Sakura. “Did the photography studio from Seoul say anything else after payment finalization?” I ask.

          “Nothing. Then it means they had nothing more to ask.” Sakura says. “No word from the photographer?” she lowers her voice. She’s the only one who knows about the incident.

          “No. I just want to know if I can take responsibility, and we’ll move on with our lives.” I sigh.

          “It’s confusing though. The legal department should’ve stated firmly about properties usage in contracts next time.”

          My legs feel heavy as I take the stairs to my work unit, and I sit in front of my computer dejectedly.

          I reload my mail homepage, expecting nothing changed but my eyes widen when a bolded line at the top of my inbox appears. It says “Jongdae Kim” on the sender column and it replies to my last message.

          With thumping heart I click the e-mail, and the main body consists of two short lines.

                              Dear Miss Nanami Asahi,

                              I’m very sorry to have taken a long time to answer your message.

                              As for my camera, it’s fixed, and it’s functioning well. Please do not be concerned by the fee.

                              Regards,

                              JONGDAE KIM

                              BAEK Professional Photography Studio

                              114, Seolleung-ro 190-gil, Gangnam-gu

                              Seoul, South Korea

          I put my palm on my forehead, and sigh. Yeah, this is exactly what I wanted, no?

          But it still feels unsettling.

*

          Some time passes, and I’ve been promoted to the digital content department. The Spring travel book is in the final stage of publication, and even though I didn’t get the Summer or Fall project, I’m still thrilled to have something I wrote published to the mass.

          The office phone rings, and I pick it up. “Asahi speaking.”

          “Your former boss here. Come to my office.” Mr. Kiseki’s flat tone sounds weighty.

          “If it’s about helping you to do online shopping again, I won’t climb three floors to see you.”

          “It’s about your book. Just come.”

          I smile hearing ‘your book’ and I hang up. I show up in front of him, and I try not to gasp seeing a book with soft pink cover and shiny laminated outer on his hand. He hands me the book, and I stare at it in disbelief. Huge letters arranged to be “SEOUL: in Spring” is on the center of the cover, with a main photo of cherry blossom trees, and Namsan Tower peeking from afar.

          “It’s the dummy.” Mr. Kiseki says. “Your boss is not in the office, right?”

          “Huh? Yeah, Mr. Tanaka is on vacation until next week.” I answer, my eyes can’t leave the book. The pages are printed in gloss papers, enhancing the color of the high definition photos. I trace my finger on the pages, a mix of emotions whirling inside of me.

          “I’ve been told to tell you a few things from the latest meeting.”

          I lift my head and focus on him.

          “The book is ready to be distributed on late November.”

          “Wonderful.”

          “You are the company’s representative for a four-day literature conference in Seoul in the beginning of December.”

          I close the travel book with a loud flapping sound. “What?”

          “The conference will be mostly in Korean so we think you’d be just right.” Mr. Kiseki shrugs. “And there’s an additional mission from the CEO.”

          “What is it?”

          “The CEO wants you to personally hand the published book to the photographer who worked with you. He asked the HRD to add a dinner in your itinerary, a day before the conference.”

          “What?” my voice makes him flinch a little.

          “Why? What’s wrong?”

          My heart is thumping fast, and I don’t even know why. “I—I mean—must I? Can’t we just send it to his studio?”

          “Say it to the CEO, and you’d be demoted to the packing department.” Mr. Kiseki says. “The CEO likes the photos, and he wanted to show his gratitude through the dinner.”

          I realize what I said, and close my eyes. “Sorry.”

          “Why are you like this? Is there something between you and the photographer?”

          “Nothing.” I instantly answer. “It’s—I think it’d be awkward to meet again, that’s all.”

          Mr. Kiseki looks at me rather suspiciously. “There’s no such thing as being awkward at work.” he lets me leave, and I clutch the dummy book on my chest.

          On my way back, I see Sato Sayaka exiting the women’s bathroom and I slightly bow to her. She’s a bulky lady, four inches shorter than me, in her mid-thirties (though she looks older than that in reality) with bob cut light brown hair that doesn’t match her skin tone. She scans me from head to toe behind her red framed glasses. She glances at the book, and audibly scoffs. “I read the book, and you’re such a dramatic, cheesy little kid.”

          I shrug. “It’s going to hit the bookstores soon, anything you say is irrelevant.”

          “As irrelevant as your name that’s not anywhere in the book except on that unseen corner near table of contents?”

          I smile and narrow my eyes. “I’m still getting paid and receiving bonus which almost amounts to your pay if only you picked this project. Oh wait—you were dropped.”

          Her forehead wrinkles. “All you young people care about is money, very closed-minded.”

          “Says someone who were dropped from this project because of that very reason.” I walk past her.

          “You said in your book Korea is beautiful to live in. Why don’t you stay there? Oh, because you’re branded as a traitor.”

          I stop walking, and quietly inhale deeply before turning back to face her. “Yeah, but this traitor is going back to Korea to represent her company in a conference. Also, thanks for reading my book in detail.”

          I continue going, knowing Sato Sayaka hates to hear about other people’s achievements, just as much as I hate bumping onto her in the office.

          I go back to my cubicle, and sit still for awhile. The book is going to be published. I’m going to Seoul for a conference, representing my company. I’m going to meet Jongdae again.

          The latest part makes my heart drop, and I shake my head. It’s just a dinner. Just give the book, eat, and leave. And apologize.

          I take a closer look at the book, and the layout department did a magnificent work. Texts and photos are put side by side with precise and eye-friendly ratio, and it makes me feel like I’m absorbed to the locations.

          Memories flood as I open page by page, and I reminisce quietly. It’s on the first day, with breakfast on the street—and it’s when we visited Jogyesa Temple—oh, this is the pop up street market in Busan…

          I exhale, and open the book from the very first page. After the preface, I spot two lines on the bottom left corner of a page, and I stare at them in silence.

Words by: Asahi Nanami

Photos by: Kim Jong-dae

          I close the book, and put it on my lap. I don’t know what to feel.