The fall of his second year.
Seokjun had taken on a major role at his uncle's job sites. When his uncle prepared the estimates and scheduled the work, Seokjun led a team and moved from site to site. Rather than splitting up one room each with Hyungsik, Seokjun handled two or three rooms on his own. He had gotten faster, and there were no defects.
The owners of client companies began to recognize Seokjun.
"President Yoo, that young guy's good. Send him with us next time, too."
His uncle didn't pass those words along to Seokjun. Seokjun heard about it from Hyungsik later.
"You know the boss never praises you, right? But whenever the clients bring you up, the corners of his mouth start lifting."
Seokjun smiled. His uncle was that kind of person.
One evening, Seokjun opened his notebook in the small room at his aunt and uncle's house. He had started writing in it a month earlier. A list of client accounts, unit rates by film brand, labor-cost calculations per installation area, and the business registration process. Ever since his uncle had told him to get ready, Seokjun had been organizing everything whenever he had a spare moment.
The numbers scared him. Business registration wasn't difficult. The problem was what came after. Where would he get work? What would he do if he had no sales his first month? How would he secure tools and film inventory? And the vehicle.
Seokjun closed the notebook. He shut his eyes.
He thought back to when he had started kendo. Third grade in elementary school. When he first went to the dojo, the bamboo sword was too heavy for him to lift. His instructor had said, "Hold it until you can lift it." So Seokjun had lifted it. Every day. His arms trembled, his palms blistered, the blisters burst, and eventually turned into calluses. Then one day, the bamboo sword felt light.
It was the same now. You had to lift what was heavy before it could feel light.
The next morning. Inside the truck.
"Uncle."
"What?"
"I'm going independent."
His uncle's grip tightened around the steering wheel. He kept his eyes on the road. For a long while.
"When?"
"Next month."
"That's soon."
Seokjun didn't answer. His uncle continued.
"Are you ready?"
"I'm going to register the business next week. I've got my own tools, and I'll have to buy whatever I'm missing. As for a vehicle—I’m looking at used Porter trucks."
"What about client accounts?"
Seokjun paused for a moment.
"...Not yet."
"That's the most important part."
"I know. But I can't take your client accounts with me."
His uncle looked at Seokjun. Two or three seconds.
"Of course not. If you take my clients, what am I supposed to live on?"
Seokjun nodded. He knew. He had learned under his uncle, so taking his uncle's client accounts would be wrong. Seokjun had to build his own client base from the start.
"But."
His uncle spoke.
"I can give you some introductions. Not my clients—people I know. Owners of interior design companies. You greet them, prepare your own estimates, and win the jobs yourself. I'm not handing you work."
Seokjun's eyes grew hot.
"Uncle, thank you."
"For what? If you can't do it, you'll make me look bad. You know that, right?"
"Yes."
"Do well."
Seokjun knew those two words were the greatest encouragement his uncle was capable of giving.
That evening, Seokjun called Doeun.
"Doeun, I'm going independent."
"Independent? Are you starting your own business?"
"Yeah. Interior film installation. Under my own name."
Doeun was quiet for a moment on the other end of the phone. Then she said,
"Seokjun, I believe in you."
Seokjun tightened his grip on the phone.
"Thanks."
"But make sure you eat properly. Don't live on cup noodles."
Seokjun laughed. Doeun laughed, too.
After hanging up, Seokjun opened the notebook again. Business registration. Business name. Seokjun picked up his pen.
What should he call it? He thought for a long time. He didn't want anything grandiose. Seokjun moved his pen across the page.
"Seokjun Moon Interior."
His own name. His uncle had said that if he wanted to last in this trade, he couldn't tarnish his name. Then he'd put his name on it. He'd do it under his own name.
Seokjun drew a line beneath the name.
The real beginning was tomorrow.