Chapter 7: EPISODE 7 – 'Double Shift”

Chapter 7: EPISODE 7 – “Double Shift” EPISODE 7 – "Double Shift" The morning haze still clung to the edges of the city like a sleepy fog refusing to let go. Gray clouds floated lazily overhead, hiding the sun but not the heat. The sidewalk shimmered faintly, soaked in yesterday’s humidity and sweat. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed. Seoul, even in its laziest hours, never truly slept. Kim Do-hyun (김도현) tugged at the collar of his oversized shirt as he approached the rust-covered gates of the logistics center. His nerves were tight, his stomach a tangle of tension, caffeine, and cheap ramen from last night. Next to him stood his "cousin brother," John Dong. Tall, chubby, silent, with eyes that didn’t blink much. That was the clone. His expression was blank, but that wasn’t new. Emotion wasn’t something Number 1 was programmed to care about. "All right," Do-hyun whispered, keeping his voice low as a small delivery truck rumbled by behind them. "Simple words. No full sentences unless you’re forced. Don’t talk too much. Don’t smile. Actually... forget that. Just be cold. Pretend like you hate people. You’re John Dong today, got it?" The clone turned his head slowly and gave the smallest nod. His face didn’t change. It never did. "Say your name." "John Dong." "Good. You’re hired." The gate creaked open before he could pat himself on the back. Out walked a short man with a round belly and silver sideburns that curled toward his jaw like sea waves. His eyes were sharp, though — sharp and familiar. "Yah!" the man barked, squinting. "You... I know that face!" Do-hyun froze. That voice hit like a slap. It was Oh Deok-su (오덕수), nicknamed "Diocho" back in the neighborhood. One of his dad’s drinking buddies from way back. They used to roast sweet potatoes in a rusted barrel and talk about fishing trips they never went on. "Uncle?" Do-hyun choked. Diocho’s eyes widened. His mouth hung open for a second before he burst into laughter that shook his belly. "What the hell happened to you?" he said, clapping a hand on Do-hyun’s shoulder. "Where’s the rest of you? You were like a rice sack with arms the last time I saw you!" "It’s... I’ve been working out," Do-hyun said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Clearly! Damn. You look like someone pressed fast-forward on your body. Come, come inside. Bring your cousin." He didn’t question the clone, but Do-hyun could tell from the way his eyes lingered that something about John Dong’s presence unsettled him. The office was small, packed with mountains of paper and the smell of instant coffee. A dusty fan oscillated in the corner, clicking every time it turned. The walls were yellowed, the light dim — the kind of place where hard work left a physical stain. Diocho pushed some documents toward Do-hyun. "Fill these out," he said. "Name, age, school, emergency contact, blood type, all that jazz." Do-hyun glanced at the papers and scribbled fast. Meanwhile, the clone stood near the door like a stone sculpture with a name tag. "John Dong... foreign name?" Diocho asked. Do-hyun laughed nervously. "Yeah. His mom’s... Canadian." "Makes sense." Two hours later, Do-hyun regretted everything. The warehouse floor was a concrete jungle of endless boxes, sweating walls, rusty trolleys, and echoing curses from the older workers. His body screamed with every lift, each box filled with what felt like bricks soaked in lead. Meanwhile, the clone — John Dong — was a machine. Box after box. No breaks. No water. No sighs. Just perfect, calculated movements. Fast. Clean. Unstoppable. The other workers started to notice. "Hey," whispered one man to another, wiping his forehead with a filthy towel, "that guy... John? He hasn’t even sat once. You see his back? Perfect posture. I think he’s some kind of elite soldier or something." The whispers turned into glances. The glances turned into full stares. Do-hyun, on the other hand, was already leaning against a wall, his vision blurring, lungs on fire. His arms felt like jelly trapped in wet clothes. His back felt like it was carrying an invisible mountain. Then he felt it — a cold can pressed into his hand. He blinked. Diocho stood there, grinning, holding out a Pepsi Twist like it was a golden elixir sent from the heavens. "You look like you’re about to die, nephew," he chuckled. "Here. Take it." Do-hyun accepted it like a starving dog would take a steak. "I thought I was gonna pass out," he muttered, sipping the cold soda. The sugar hit him instantly. Diocho leaned against the wall beside him, his gaze drifting toward the clone, who was still calmly stacking boxes like it was a hobby. "Your cousin’s built different," he said. "Most rookies cry before lunch. You... you look like your soul already left your body." "Yeah," Do-hyun said, half-smiling. "He’s... motivated." "I like both of you," Diocho nodded. "Good work ethic. Rare these days." Do-hyun tried not to laugh. "We try." Then Diocho turned to him with a squint. "What university you go to again?" Do-hyun froze. For a second, he forgot the fake backstory he prepared. Then it popped into his head. "Dae-yongo Guk University," he said. It was a school he’d seen on a flyer last week. Sounded smart. Diocho’s eyes widened. "That place? That’s a hell of a school. You must be a genius." "Nah, I didn’t study much," Do-hyun shrugged, playing it cool. "Kinda just walked into the exam and winged it." "Pfft! You young people," Diocho chuckled. "Smart and lazy. Dangerous combo." Then his eyes gleamed with sudden interest. And he said, leaning forward, "I got an idea. You need another part-time job?" Do-hyun blinked. "Uh... another job?" Diocho nodded. "Something easier. No lifting of boxes. Pays decent." He hesitated. "What do you mean by job?" Diocho grinned. "My daughter is in high school. Best school, but math is murdering her. English too. I have been seeking a tutor. A young, bright, and not too costly person. You are a genius who barely studies and passes everything, so you are perfect." Do-hyun opened his mouth. His head shouted, No. He did not know how to teach. He was not very good at math. He did not even know the grade of her daughter. And then he thought of his wallet. Seven hundred won. That was what he had. Not even to have a good meal and a ride in the subway. Well, he grinned and said, "Yeah. I would be glad to assist." Diocho slapped him on the back. "Great! We will discuss details later. She is about your age. You will do all right." Do-hyun again screamed in his head. And like that, the boy who could not even pick up a box without his soul falling apart had gotten another job. Meanwhile, his clone kept on shifting boxes without a wink, without a pause, without a break in character. Here was another brick in this odd duality of life he was constructing. One body. Two lives. Perhaps even more. But this was sufficient at present. He leaned back, took the final mouthful of the Pepsi, and gazed at the clone, his other self. The one who was able to work without doubting, without fatigue. This was to be his secret weapon. Not only to survive, but to win. To create the life that nobody could. Because, when other people had to decide what to make of their one body, their one life... Kim Do-hyun (김도현) had two.