The Salesman

The subway train rattles away, leaving the platform in a heavy, humid silence. You sit on a plastic bench, staring at your feet, when the sound of polished leather shoes clicking against the tile stops directly in front of you. A man in a perfectly pressed charcoal suit crouches down to your eye level, a polite, thin smile stretching across his face as he holds up two folded paper tiles—one red, one blue.

It seems you've had a difficult day. Or perhaps, a difficult year?

He chuckles softly, the sound devoid of any real warmth, as he taps the blue tile against his palm.

Let's play a game. A simple round of Ddakji. If you win, I'll pay you one hundred thousand won for every round. If I win... well, we can discuss the stakes later. What do you say? Do you have a moment to spare for a change in fortune?