Paralysis

Mukashi had spent the last two weeks trying to piece together what he was supposed to do. The 'Miyashi' idol ship had ballooned in popularity, so that it was now number one in most rankings. Director Sang-Ki had told Mukashi he'd been doing a great job so far avoiding compromising situations in public, and Mukashi had thought as much.
     After Miya went to her bedroom, he lingered outside her door for a few moments, then walked through the hallways of Zygeist Media's third floor towards the elevator. He looked at his phone. It was nine pm. He had eight hours before Miya would need him again. 
     He checked the schedule. He'd already filed all the necessary paperwork ahead of time. The travel arrangements had been made. The meals for tomorrow were already paid for. He stepped onto the elevator.
     The off-season was much too easy, in his opinion.
     There was very little for him to do. He would set up large blocks of time for her to manage her social media, exercise, practice, record advertisements, attend fan meet-ups, and go to photo shoots, then he would simply watch her go about her day. 
     The time limit was much looser as well. Recording sessions would often be delayed by an hour or two, and fan meet-ups were rescheduled practically once a month. 
     The elevator arrived on the first floor of Zygeist Media, and Mukashi walked alone towards the front entrance. He passed by a male intern who was rushing past him towards the elevator. There were two women discussing something about a mutual friend. The woman at the front desk was typing away at some company document on her computer. 
     Mukashi felt his shoe press against the sidewalk outside of Zygeist Media's offices. 
     Cars drove slowly by.
     There were hundreds of other people in suits strolling on the sidewalk around him. 
     Across the street, there was a tiny coffee shop. It wasn't particularly busy. 
     He walked down the side of the road quietly, joining the crowd of people. 
     He walked with them for a few minutes, his expression as blank as it always was. There was nothing special as he walked. The night sky was too illuminated by the lights of the city for him to be able to see the stars.
     After traveling with the crowd, he broke off from the group and walked down a side street. It was compact and small, but there weren't nearly as many people on it as there were on the main street. He reached a door that was made of metal and glass. There was an intercom installed on the side of the door. Next to the intercom, there was a list of names that included his own. He pushed the button on the machine.
     "Name and apartment number."
     "Il-Sun, apartment fourteen."
     "Let me see." There was a pause. "Come in."
     There was an audible click as the metal door opened. Mukashi stepped inside. 
     The first floor was cramped, small, and clean. His shoes clicked satisfyingly against the tile floor of it before he reached the stairs. The apartment building had an open floor plan, meaning he could look up the stairs and see all the other floors above his own. There was a modern lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling. He walked slowly up the stairs until he made it to the second floor. He walked to the lefthand side of the floor and passed by two more apartments before he reached the door that belonged to him. 
     There was a window at the end of the hallway. 
     It faced directly towards another building. 
     Mukashi stepped into his apartment, got himself a glass of water, drank it, then sat down on the couch in the small living space. There was a door that led to his bedroom, and another one that led to the bathroom. 
     The window had no curtains. 
     The glassware consisted of one cup, one plate, and one bowl. His silverware was one fork, one spoon, and one set of chopsticks. His cooking utensils were minimal, with a very cheap set of knives that had barely ever been used and three plastic spoons. The bottle of dish soap next to the sink was almost full. The sponge beside it was mostly firm. The refrigerator was empty. 
     Mukashi didn't enjoy being in his apartment.
     There was nothing to do there except think; think, and remember; think, and remember, and sleep. He looked at his phone again. 
     It was ten minutes after nine pm.
     He put his phone back into his pocket and stared directly at the wall across from his couch. There was nothing on the wall.
     He remembered the day he'd arrived in the apartment very clearly.
     "Make sure you call us once in a while!"
     "Yes, father."
     "We're just twenty minutes away; make sure you visit us too!"
     "Yes, mother."
     "I think you're closer to Sando than we are. You should go see him while he's at work."
     "Yes, father. Goodbye."
     "Goodbye!" 
     Once he had hung up the phone, he had sat down in the couch. 
     The same couch he was sitting in at that moment.
     In the same apartment.
     It had been nine years since that day.
     The dish soap bottle had been replaced ten times; the sponge had been replaced fifteen times; the bedsheets had been replaced twice. The air conditioner had been fixed by the landlord once. The floor had been mopped more than three hundred times. The windows had been cleaned almost four hundred times as well. He'd dusted the entire apartment at least two hundred times. 
     It did not take much effort for Mukashi to keep everything shiny and silver.
     Yet despite how pristine everything appeared, it was the same.
     Dull and gray.
     He stood up from the couch. He remembered that he had to try and talk to Chi-Hun. He put on his shoes once more, drank another glass of water, and stepped outside the front door. He pulled out his phone and quickly scrolled through all the numbers as he walked back to the stairwell. He didn't have Chi-Hun's phone number. His brow furrowed as he reached the first floor. He passed by a young couple that were walking past him, up the stairs.
     He made it to the bottom of the stairs and to the front door, but he stopped.
     "I love you." Said the man, and just from the way his voice sounded, Mukashi could tell he was smiling. 
     "You need to calm down; you won't have any love left for me by the time we're fifty at this rate." Replied the woman. Mukashi could hear the playfulness in her voice.
     Then he heard them open one of the apartment doors, and he heard it shut.
     His hand was stuck on the doorknob of the front entrance.
     He stepped outside, back onto Seoul's streets. 
     Before too long, he was back inside Zygeist Media. He walked up to the front desk and looked at the woman calmly.
     "Where is manager Chi-Hun? I need to speak with him about a matter relating to our respective idols." He asked coolly.
     "Sir, I'll need to see your employee identification."
     Mukashi showed it to her.
     "I see." She nodded and clicked on her computer. "Hm. Manager Chi-Hun is currently off the clock. It's the off-season for his idols, it seems. He should be here tomorrow morning at around four am though. Would you like to try and schedule a meeting?"
     "No. I appreciate your aid." He said calmly, then walked back to the elevator. He got into it again and began heading for the fourth floor.
     He got off the elevator and headed straight towards the employee lounge. He needed to pass through the cafeteria and a few hallways to reach it, but it didn't take a very long time. Inside the lounge, there were a few tables and chairs, as well as a few vending machines and a restroom. 
     Chi-Hun waved at Mukashi from one of the tables.
     "Il-Sun, good to see you again." He said with a tired smile.
     Mukashi looked seriously at the older manager. He walked towards Chi-Hun's table and sat down across from him.
     "Chi-Hun, have you heard about a trend that involves me online?"
     Chi-Hun smiled and his eyes crinkled.
     "Honestly Il-Sun, I don't have much time to monitor anyone's internet presence other than my own." He said awkwardly. 
     "Have you heard of the idol ship 'Miyashi' recently?"
     "I don't think so. Why do you ask?" The older manager replied innocently as he pulled out his phone and began tapping away on it absently.
     Mukashi spoke calmly.
     "There are photographs of me and Miya online that only could have been taken by someone within Zygeist Media."
     Chi-Hun nodded.
     "Well... I can't help with that." He sighed softly. "But I'll keep an eye out, okay?" 
     Mukashi stood up and bowed.
     "Thank you." 
     "Of course. Good luck."
     Mukashi left and checked his phone. It was nine thirty pm.
     He stood still.