9화 언어의 가면

2층 복도 끝. 헤드 셰프 오피스.

문이 닫히자 아래층의 환호성이 벽 하나 너머로 멀어졌다. 방음이 잘된 방이었다.

원목 책상 위에 서류가 놓여 있었다. 다니엘은 책상에 반쯤 기대선 채 펜을 내밀었다.

"세 장. 하단 서명란."

한결이 서류를 넘겼다.

3일차 기록. 오리 가슴살 건은 '파트 간 협업 대응'으로 적혀 있었다. 감점이 아니라 가점 항목이었다. 누군가 문장을 그렇게 만들어 놓은 것이었다.

그리고 담당자란에 이름이 있었다.

**Han-gyeol Seo — Sauce Section.**

본사 기록에 남는 종이였다. 5년 만에 처음으로 자기 이름이 붙은 문서였다.

한결이 서명했다.

"끝났습니다."

"수고했다."

다니엘이 서류를 받아 정리했다. 그게 전부였다.

한결은 잠깐 서 있었다. 뭔가 더 있을 거라고 생각했던 자신이 우스워졌다.

업무가 아니면 사흘 동안 두 걸음 자리에서 멈추던 사람이었다. 창고에서 열세 번째 조항을 만들겠다던 사람이었다. 그런데 A+가 나온 날 저녁, 그는 서류만 받고 책상을 정리하고 있었다.

"먼저 내려가 보겠습니다."

한결이 돌아섰다.

"펍 간다고 했나."

"……네. 리암이 오라고 해서."

"그래."

그것도 전부였다.

한결은 문손잡이를 잡았다. 손잡이가 차가웠다. 아래층에서 누군가 웃는 소리가 벽을 타고 올라왔다.

이상한 게 목 안쪽에 걸렸다. 화도 아니고 서운함도 아닌데 정확히 그 두 개를 섞은 것 같은 무언가였다.

그는 문을 열지 않고, 한국어로 아주 낮게 말했다.

"……뭐야, 진짜."

말이 나오기 시작하자 멈추기가 어려웠다.

"창고에서 사람 숨도 못 쉬게 해 놓고. 손등은 왜 만졌는데. 얼굴을 관리한다느니 하는 소리는 왜 했어."

목소리가 조금씩 낮아졌다.

"근데 오늘은 쳐다도 안 보고."

"……나만 이상한 사람 됐잖아."

방 안이 조용했다.

한결은 손잡이를 돌렸다. 다 뱉었으니 됐다고 생각했다. 여덟 달 동안 이 언어가 그의 유일한 숨구멍이었고, 오늘도 제 역할을 했다.

"이상한 사람 아니야."

한결의 손이 멈췄다.

한국어였다.

발음이 매끄러웠다. 억양이 정확했다. 호주식 영어를 하던 사람이 흉내 낸 게 아니라, 원래 그 언어를 쓰던 사람의 것이었다.

한결은 손잡이를 잡은 채로 움직이지 못했다.

돌아서면 안 될 것 같았다. 돌아서는 순간 방금 들은 게 사실이 되니까.

등 뒤에서 구두 소리가 났다. 두 걸음.

"돌아봐, 한결."

이름이었다. 성이 아니라 이름을, 정확한 발음으로.

한결이 천천히 돌아섰다.

다니엘이 바로 앞에 서 있었다. 표정에는 장난기도 승리감도 없었다. 오히려 뭔가를 오래 참았다가 놓아 버린 사람의 얼굴에 가까웠다.

"언제부터……"

목소리가 갈라졌다. 한결이 다시 삼키고 물었다.

"언제부터 알아들었어요."

"처음부터."

한결의 머릿속이 하얗게 비었다.

*존나 워커홀릭에 깐깐하네.*
*왜 저렇게 무서운 소리를 하면서 사람을 올려 줘.*
*미친 인간. 직장 상사면 다야?*
*질투면 질투라고 하든가.*
*손등은 왜 만졌는데.*
*재수 없는 줄만 알았더니, 일할 땐 좀 멋있네.*

여덟 달치가 아니었다. 첫날부터 전부였다.

"어머니가 한국분이셔."

다니엘이 말했다. 여전히 한국어였다.

"집에서는 한국어만 썼어. 영어는 밖에서 배웠고."

"……그럼 워크인에서도."

"들었어."

"창고 문틈에서."

"들었어."

"오늘 아까, 주방에서도."

"들었어."

한결이 두 손으로 얼굴을 감쌌다. 열이 목까지 올라왔다.

"미쳤어, 진짜……"

"그것도 지금 들었고."

다니엘이 한 걸음 더 다가왔다.

한결이 손을 내리자, 눈앞에 그의 얼굴이 있었다. 업무가 아니면 사흘 동안 두 걸음 자리에서 멈추던 사람이 처음으로 그 선을 넘어와 있었다.

"왜 말 안 했어요."

한결이 물었다.

다니엘이 대답하지 않았다.

"왜 여덟 달 동안."

"……아직 여덟 달 안 됐어."

"그런 뜻이 아니잖아요!"

한결의 목소리가 처음으로 높아졌다.

다니엘의 시선이 잠깐 흔들렸다. 사흘 내내 맥켄지 앞에서도 흔들리지 않던 눈이었다.

그가 입을 열었다가, 한 번 닫았다.

말을 고르는 시간이 필요한 사람처럼.

English

The end of the second-floor corridor. The head chef's office.

When the door shut, the cheering downstairs faded behind one wall. It was a well-**soundproofed** room.

Papers lay on the wooden desk. Daniel held out a pen, half leaning against the desk.

"Three pages. The signature line at the bottom."

Hangyeol turned the pages.

The day three record. The duck breast matter was written up as 'inter-section collaborative response.' It was not a **deduction** but a credit item. Someone had shaped the sentence that way.

And there was a name in the box for the person in charge.

**Han-gyeol Seo — Sauce Section.**

It was paper that would stay in the head office record. For the first time in five years, it was a document with his own name on it.

Hangyeol signed.

"It's done."

"Good work."

Daniel took the papers and squared them. That was all.

Hangyeol stood there a moment. He felt **ridiculous** for having thought there would be something more.

Except when it was work, this was the man who had stopped two steps away for three days. The man who had said, in the storeroom, that he would add a thirteenth clause. And yet on the evening of the day the A+ came, he was only taking the papers and tidying his desk.

"I'll head down first."

Hangyeol turned around.

"You said you were going to the pub."

"...Yes. Liam told me to come."

"Right."

That was all, too.

Hangyeol took hold of the door handle. The handle was cold. From downstairs, the sound of someone laughing came up through the wall.

Something strange caught inside his throat. It was not anger and it was not hurt. It was something that seemed to mix exactly those two.

Without opening the door, he spoke in Korean, very low.

"...What is this, seriously."

Once the words started, they were hard to stop.

"You made it so a person couldn't even breathe in the storeroom. Why did you touch the back of my hand. Why say all that about managing faces."

His voice dropped little by little.

"But today you don't even look at me."

"...So I'm the only strange one here."

The room was quiet.

Hangyeol turned the handle. He had said all of it, and that was enough, he thought. For all eight months of his visa, this language was to be his only breathing room, and today it had done its job again.

"You are not strange."

Hangyeol's hand stopped.

It was Korean.

The pronunciation was smooth. The intonation was exact. It was not an imitation by a man who spoke Australian English. It was the voice of someone whose own language it had been.

Hangyeol could not move, his hand still on the handle.

It felt like he must not turn around. The moment he turned, what he had just heard would become real.

Shoes sounded behind him. Two steps.

"Turn around, Hangyeol."

It was his given name. Not the family name, the given name, with exact pronunciation.

Hangyeol turned slowly.

Daniel was standing right in front of him. There was no **mischief** in his face and no triumph. It was closer to the face of a man who had held something back a long time and then let it go.

"Since when..."

His voice cracked. Hangyeol **swallowed** and asked again.

"Since when have you understood."

"From the beginning."

Hangyeol's mind went blank.

*Total workaholic, so damn particular.*
*Why does he have to sound so scary and still move me up like that?*
*That crazy man. Just because he's my boss?*
*If it's jealousy, then just say it's jealousy.*
*Why did you touch the back of my hand.*
*And here I thought he was just insufferable, but he's actually kind of impressive when he works.*

It was not just a stretch of it. It was all of it, from the first day.

"My mother is Korean."

Daniel said it. Still in Korean.

"At home we spoke only Korean. I learned English outside."

"...Then in the walk-in too."

"I heard it."

"In the gap of the storeroom door."

"I heard it."

"Earlier today, in the kitchen too."

"I heard it."

Hangyeol covered his face with both hands. The heat climbed all the way to his neck.

"I'm losing my mind, seriously..."

"I heard that just now, too."

Daniel came one step closer.

When Hangyeol lowered his hands, the man's face was right in front of him. For the first time, the man who had stopped two steps away for three days, except for work, had crossed that line.

"Why didn't you say anything."

Hangyeol asked.

Daniel did not answer.

"Why—for eight months."

"...It hasn't been eight months yet."

"That's not what I meant!"

For the first time Hangyeol's voice rose.

Daniel's gaze wavered for a moment. They were eyes that had not wavered even in front of Mackenzie for three days straight.

He opened his mouth, then closed it once.

Like a man who needed time to choose his words.