Page 6 of Break Room
‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. We’re fairly certain that you’ll all find them,’ Il-Kwon replied, his tone enigmatic.
‘That’s tricky,’ Tumbler muttered in a deliberately lowered voice.
‘Also, moving forward, the cameras set up around yourdesignated areas will replace the watchful gaze of our production team, as we take a step back and begin our filming. If you need anything, speak directly to the cameras. Have a great, normal day. Hopefully, one with a bit of fun.’
As Il-Kwon disappeared into the elevator, the hallway was left silent, save for the calming background music that replaced the breakfast playlist. It was that familiar violin arrangement ofTräumerei, easing the tension and tempering the subtle competitiveness simmering among us.
When the clock struck nine, Monologue headed back to his flat. The rest of us, however, made our way to the break room instead. It felt like everyone was more focused on figuring out how to earn a hint card or watch each other’s behaviour than on getting on with their work.
Compared to my quick glance from last night, a closer inspection now revealed just how meticulously the break room had been prepared for the players. The freezer contained an ice-cube tray filled with frozen Coca-Cola, and in the fridge was a large yellow cake box with a Post-it that read: ‘Cake’s cake. Do not touch.’
There was also a cleaning checklist for the break room attached to the fridge with a magnet, showing all five of our nicknames. We were apparently to take turns completing various tasks, marking each with an ‘O’ to show it had been completed, or an ‘X’ if it hadn’t. Tumbler spotted the list and immediately pulled it off the fridge, scrutinising it under the fluorescent light as if searching for a hidden message. When the lighting didn’t seem sufficient, he casually asked if anyone had a lighter, perhaps intending to hold the sheet over a flame to uncover concealed writing. Fortunately, no one did, and he quickly lost interest, carelessly slapping the list back on to the fridge.
Just then, Monologue appeared in front of the fridge. He hadquietly made his way back to the break room without anyone noticing. He grabbed a can of energy drink and a packet of nuts from the snack basket. He seemed visibly uneasy about being in the break room with all of us at once.
‘This place is too crowded. The air’s too stuffy,’ he murmured, gasping heavily as if the room were indeed suffocating. His words, spoken without making eye contact with anyone, were loud enough to sound like a complaint, as though he wanted everyone to hear his ‘monologue’.
‘All that could be an act, right?’ Coffee Mix tilted her head and whispered to me the moment Monologue was out of earshot.
I nodded slightly, agreeing with her. The attributes we’d been assigned were clearly based upon people’s comments from the survey, each distinct enough to make it easy to perform our roles. I doubted whether the production crew would have cast a seasoned actor as the mole. That would’ve been too obvious; even if no one among us recognised them from another show, someone watching at home might have easily identified the mole from the very first episode, spoiling the entire show. To maintain the mystery, I reasoned, the mole was probably just an ordinary office worker like the rest of us, playing their role diligently to blend in and deceive both us and the viewers.
‘I got this tumbler from the very first Starbucks in Seattle. I’ll never forget that trip – I got to meet with so many inspiring environmental activists there,’ Tumbler said, lining up all the personal tumblers he had brought in next to the sink. There were fifteen in total, each a different size and design.
Every time he spoke, his yellowed teeth stood out even more against his pale complexion. ‘When you focus on the big picture, these little trivialities mean nothing,’ he added, gesturing towards the cameras placed around the room. ‘You know, people get jealous when we aspire to do big things. That’s how I ended up here.’
I had to admit, going on a special trip to Seattle just to collect tumblers felt like a big deal.
Tumbler was speaking to me and Coffee Mix, but his eyes kept drifting towards Cake, who was standing by the fridge. She took out her cake, scrutinised it, and placed it back inside.
‘Were those cakes for your birthday?’ I asked, recalling her characteristic from the survey:A villain who clutters the shared fridge withCakeboxes they never take home.
‘Not necessarily for my birthday, per se,’ Cake replied, her voice carrying a mix of defensiveness and regret. ‘I keep telling them I’m not comfortable accepting these cakes, but some people always . . . insist. I’ll come to work, and out of nowhere, they’re forcing these cakes on me. So I end up with a stack of cakes I can’t even take home. I know it’s a pain for everyone else, but I don’t know what else to do.’ Her thick eyebrows drooped slightly, adding a hint of guilt to her expression, as if she genuinely felt bad.
‘Are you saying the cakes are gifts from your admirers?’ Tumbler interjected.
‘Oh no, I wouldn’t go that far!’ Cake waved her hands in a flustered motion.
‘No, of course not. It’s nothing to fuss over, right? It’s just a cake,’ Tumbler said, his voice hinting at condescension. ‘But if I were them . . .’ He paused to clear his throat with a dry cough before adding, ‘I’d be more considerate.’
I watched Tumbler with interest. He seemed to be a self-proclaimed environmental activist, with a rather smug attitude that hadn’t wavered the whole morning. It struck me that if someone’s behaviour felt too one-dimensional, lacking depth or complexity, they might be putting on a performance – and that made them a prime suspect for the mole.
Meanwhile, I started opening every cabinet, big and small,tapping each one to check for hidden compartments. Coffee Mix walked over to a toaster on the counter next to me, holding a slice of bread as if to toast it, though her attention was clearly elsewhere.
‘Hey, Ice Cube,’ she called out casually.
‘Yes?’ I responded, trying to keep my tone cool and indifferent, though I was secretly thrilled that she’d chosen to start a conversation with me.
‘How about we share anything we find out with each other? Just between us. I think Tumbler and Cake have already made a pact.’ Coffee Mix nodded discreetly in Tumbler’s direction.
I followed her gaze. Tumbler was shamelessly flirting with Cake, praising her ‘classically beautiful’ eyebrows and suggesting she’d look even better on screen if she tied her hair back into a bun, all while subtly trying to touch her face.
‘Definitely looks like it,’ I agreed.
‘So, let’s share whatever we find out,’ Coffee Mix continued. ‘But we shouldn’t appear to be too close – we don’t want others to suspect us.’
Without waiting for my response, she abruptly walked over to Tumbler, just as Cake exited the break room.
‘So, what do you think of her? Cake?’ she asked.
