Invisible to Others

Mukashi walked through the halls of Zygeist Media with a purpose. He arrived at the elevator and pressed the call button. The elevator arrived and he stepped onto it. As soon as the doors opened on the fourth floor, he marched out of it and headed straight towards the normal area of the cafeteria. His eyes were sharp as he swiftly approached the young man who was running the dessert station.
     "Do you have any yakgwa?" He asked curtly. 
     "Yes sir." Said the young man, almost surprising Mukashi with his collected tone. "How many servings do you need, sir?" 
     "One. How quickly can you have it prepared?" 
     "Within two minutes, sir."
     Mukashi nodded, went to one of the nearby tables, and sat down. 
     As he sat there, Chi-Hun took notice. 
     Chi-Hun was older than Mukashi, and had been working with Zygeist Media for nearly fifteen years. He'd joined their managerial staff at the age of twenty three, but in all his years of employment, he'd never been as successful as Mukashi. 
     In Chi-Hun's opinion, he'd never received the respect and attention he deserved. As he stared at Mukashi from across the cafeteria, he realized that for most of his life he'd considered the lack of attention a bad thing; a sign that he was nothing in the grand scheme of things.
     Chi-Hun retrieved his cellphone from his pocket and turned on his camera, discreetly angling his phone so that only he could see the screen. The camera was pointed at Mukashi, and Chi-Hun began recording a video. 
     However, Chi-Hun had come to understand something within the last three years that made him appreciate the fact that he was often overlooked. He glanced casually at the cameras that were placed throughout the cafeteria, then adjusted his seat so that he was in one of the blind spots behind a decorative pillar.
     People, fans especially, would pay through the nose for information on the real life of idols and those associated with them. Of course, the bigger the idol, the more money people would pay to receive information about them. 
     Chi-Hun recorded Mukashi as he waited for yakgwa. He caught, with his camera, Mukashi's quick and snappy response to hearing his order called out. Chi-Hun, despite looking bored, was practically shaking with excitement. He stopped recording the video as Mukashi stepped onto the elevator at the end of the cafeteria.
     He consulted the notes he'd taken on his phone.
     He'd taken various notes over the years about his peers and the idols he'd managed. He'd done so ever since he started working at Zygeist Media, using it to keep track of who was who; however, after he'd come to understand that information like that was potentially worth hundreds--sometimes thousands--of dollars, he'd been taking notes much more vigorously. 
     He went to the page that had Mukashi's information. 
     Zygeist Media was powerful; when it came to lawsuits, they'd crush their opponents mercilessly. In advertisement they were second to none. When it came to collaboration with other companies, they were practically always the largest one involved in the deal. From the outside, it was nearly impossible to learn anything real about the idols, or really, about any of Zygeist Media's many employees. 
     Chi-Hun, through careful observation of Mukashi, had learned several things. Mukashi spoke Korean with a hint of a Japanese accent, and that information, when combined with Mukashi's physical appearance, made it clear that he had some Japanese heritage. Chi-Hun also knew, from the various times he'd seen Mukashi eat, that Mukashi never ate sweet foods; furthermore, he only ever ate Japanese food. 
     Chi-Hun stood up and walked over to the dessert station, tucking his phone into his pocket. 
     "Excuse me, but may I have the same thing your previous customer had?" Chi-Hun asked politely. 
     The young man behind the counter nodded sharply.
     "Yes sir; how many servings of yakgwa do you need, sir?"
     Chi-Hun chuckled affably. 
     "Just one, please." He smiled warmly at the young man. "And I appreciate your formality. A young man with such respectable manners will no doubt go places."
     The young man looked caught off-guard by the compliment, then nodded and smiled. 
     "Your order will be ready in two minutes, sir."
     "Thank you so much." Chi-Hun said, then went to the table Mukashi had sat at and opened the notes on his phone again.
     Yakgwa was a Korean dessert. 
     Chi-Hun opened his notes on Miya; there weren't many, since she wasn't his charge, but he'd managed to deduce several things about her based on his limited sightings and how Mukashi spoke of her and managed her schedule.
     The old manager stifled a gasp as he realized that what Mukashi was doing was not part of his regular schedule. 
     Every Thursday at three pm, Mukashi would go into the cafeteria and retrieve a standard meal for Miya. Chi-Hun didn't know what Mukashi ordered, but he did know that Mukashi was ordering food for Miya, since the only times he'd ever seen Mukashi eat were late at night. 
     Which meant that, usually, at around three pm on Thursdays, Mukashi was retrieving lunch for Miya. Chi-Hun looked at the clock on his phone.
     It was four thirty in the afternoon, which meant Mukashi was still on the clock.
     He had ordered a dessert, which clearly wasn't for him, based on the fact that he never ate desserts and that he only consumed Japanese food.
     Chi-Hun smiled softly, almost innocently, as he typed the last few notes into his phone.
     Mukashi was clearly getting a dessert for Miya, and he was deviating from his normal schedule to do so. Furthermore, Chi-Hun knew from firsthand experience that Mukashi viewed anything other than the 'bare necessities' as 'spoiling the idol.'
     Chi-Hun realized that Mukashi, by his own stated standards, was spoiling Miya.
     "Sir, your order of yakgwa is ready." Said the young man. 
     Chi-Hun stood up, bowed and thanked the young man for the food, then went back to his seat. He smelled the honeyed scent of the yakgwa and sighed contentedly. 
     The story of a manager falling for his idol would fetch him quite the pretty profit.
~~~
     Mukashi stepped into Miya's room holding the container of yakgwa.
     She was sitting on her bed, sniffling slightly. 
     He walked over to her, opened the box, and handed it to her quietly. She accepted it with a silent nod, then stared at the food. The honeyed, fried cookies were still warm, and she could smell the caramelized sugar. Her mouth and eyes watered.
     She gingerly took one of the cookies, blew on it slightly, then put it into her mouth. The honey syrup mixed with the fried bread of the cookie melted in her mouth. She could feel it on her tongue; there was a hint of ginger with a small pinch of cinnamon in the cookies as well. She ate it  slowly, with each chew taking longer than it strictly needed to.
     It took her almost an entire minute to eat one of the cookies. 
     There were about seven cookies still in the container.  
     Mukashi watched in silence as she ate. The smell of the yakgwa filled her bedroom. 
     She took another cookie and bit into it with a sad smile. Then she chewed it quickly. Mukashi watched, lost in thought, as she tore through the next two cookies. Little flecks of syrup stained the sides of her lips. 
     Miya was nine years old again, eating fresh yakgwa with her grandpa. 
     Mukashi remembered being six years old, watching Sando eat a ball of onigiri with a huge smile on his face. 
     Eventually, there weren't any cookies left. 
     Miya stared at the container quietly, then snickered. She smiled. She took one of her fingers and swiped some of the remaining syrup from the bottom of the container with a huge, childish smirk. Mukashi watched, eyes wide, as Miya licked the syrup off her finger.
     She laughed as the last dregs of slowly-cooling syrup entered her body. saltwater fell from her eyes.
     After a few moments of silence, she closed the container and looked at Mukashi, her moist amber eyes filled with a distinct purpose.
     "Mukashi, I want to write a letter to one of my fans." She had her arms crossed over her lap.
     He blinked rapidly.
     "What?" Mukashi almost couldn't understand what she'd said.
     She breathed deeply and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.
     "I want to write something in response to one of the letters that I read today." She said. Mukashi detected something he hadn't heard in her voice in a long time.
     Genuine excitement.
     "Miya, I can't allow you to do that." He said, doing his best to remain professional. "It wouldn't-"
     "Just this once Mukashi." She interrupted sincerely.
     He looked into her amber eyes. 
     When her bangs weren't obstructing them, he could stare into them forever. 
     "Please."
     There was no reason he couldn't let her write one letter.
     "Only because this is your day off." He sighed.