By Zephyria 
I don’t know how long I had been spacing out. Seo Chi-young, who had been distracted by the sharp crescent moon that looked like a distinct fingernail scratch against tonight’s exceptionally pitch-black sky, suddenly shuddered and hunched his shoulders as a cold chill pierced his nape.
Just then, from inside the glass door, a voice called out, “One more beer here, please.” Seeing as those customers had been here for quite a while and were ordering more beer, it seemed they weren’t leaving anytime soon.
Seo Chi-young brought them the beer and stepped back outside the glass door to the shabby cooking station. Inside the glass door of the dilapidated makeshift building—constructed of slate—there were only four rusted iron tables and a beverage refrigerator. The cooking station, where the gas stove was lit, was located outside the building, featuring a long bench where three or four people could sit side-by-side, much like a street food stall.
Since winter hadn’t fully departed, the outdoor seating was currently enclosed by a plastic tent, but in about a month, the tent could be taken down. Even though February wasn’t over yet, it was warm enough tonight that standing outside in just a sweater and a thin jumper wasn’t difficult.
“Young man, not done yet? I’m heading out first.”
The owner of the side-dish shop across the narrow alley waved and greeted him as she lowered her shutter and dusted off her hands. Once that shop—the one that stayed open the latest in this market—closed, this was the only shop left open in this side alley.
“Yes, get home safely. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After bowing with a smile, he checked his watch; as expected, it was ten minutes before midnight. The side-dish lady was always precise.
Watching her disappear as she hurried away, clutching her collar, Seo Chi-young also tightened his own collar. It wasn’t particularly cold, but it was still a winter night. Once you started feeling the chill, it was hard to shake it off.
Seo Chi-young glanced back. Inside the shop, only three young women occupied a single table. Perhaps because it was a residential area, middle-aged men and women or young ladies in comfortable clothes would occasionally drop by.
The menu consisted only of gopchang (tripe) and a few alcoholic drinks. He sold a few simple appetizers, but they didn’t exceed two or three varieties. And among those who visited, almost no one ordered anything other than gopchang.
A small radio turned on under the cooking shelf announced the time. Seo Chi-young gazed back at the crescent moon as if entranced.
The shop didn’t usually stay open very late. Because this traditional market was located in the middle of a residential area, unlike a nightlife district, customers became sparse as midnight approached, even for a gopchang place that served alcohol. Thus, he usually closed around midnight, but since he sold alcohol, customers who had settled in often didn’t leave easily. Because of that, there were times he couldn’t close until one or two in the morning.
The bottle of alcohol he had just served the customers wasn’t even a quarter empty. He didn’t know if they would leave once that bottle was gone or if they would order another. Seo Chi-young rubbed his heavy eyelids and blinked his tired eyes. But this wasn’t even considered “hard.” Compared to a few years ago, when he had run around earning pennies without being able to sit his backside down for a single moment from the second he woke up until the second he fell asleep, this was practically heaven.
The debt—which still remained, making his chest feel heavy and stifling his sighs—was still there, but at least he no longer felt like he was suffocating every single moment. He was still struggling just to pay the interest, but he felt he could finally relax his jaw, which had been clenched so tight it felt like it would crumble.
Just then, one of the customers checked their watch and began putting on their coat, saying it was about time to go. “Right, let’s finish this and go,” another customer said, pouring the remaining alcohol into their respective cups. The person who had been preparing to leave sat back down and raised their glass, but it seemed they would be leaving soon.
Seo Chi-young began tidying up quietly so as not to disturb them. Occasionally, when customers wouldn’t leave, he had to stand guard in his spot until three or four in the morning.
As he was closing the lids of the containers holding seasonings, vegetables, and gopchang, the phone in his pocket gave a short beep. Habitually rubbing his dry hands on a towel, he pulled out the phone to find a text message.
‘Bought some Haenam specialty liquor. I’ll stop by tomorrow night when I return to Seoul.’
It was Kim Kyung-chul, a newlywed who had married last month and was currently immersed in the sweetness of honeymooning, though he had been grumbling about being sent on a week-long business trip because his boss, No Chung-gak, was being spiteful. He was one of the few high school classmates Chi-young still kept in touch with. Since he loved alcohol so much, he used to visit occasionally carrying bottles. Since getting married, they had exchanged texts or calls, but they hadn’t seen each other’s faces once.
Seo Chi-young chuckled and typed out a reply.
‘Your wife will be waiting. Go straight home tomorrow and come some other time.’
Not long after sending the text, a reply came back immediately.
‘Thinking of you, the last remaining single friend, weeping alone after I’ve married, makes my heart ache too much to bear.’
It seemed he was determined to come tomorrow. Among his high school classmates, there were no longer any single people left, but he hadn’t had many school friends to begin with, and among other peers he knew, even fewer were married. However, since he could clearly guess Kim Kyung-chul’s ulterior motive—using the excuse of a “aching heart” just to find a drinking buddy—Seo Chi-young simply smiled. Since Seo Chi-young hardly ever drank, Kim Kyung-chul would end up emptying the bottle himself, and that was exactly why the friend loved drinking with him.
Though Seo Chi-young didn’t enjoy alcohol, he enjoyed the time spent drinking with him. Because they were both busy, they couldn’t meet often, but friends from school days, known since childhood, were always missed and precious no matter when they met. Counting elementary, middle, and high school, there were perhaps only three or four friends he was still in contact with. He hadn’t been particularly lacking in friends while attending school, but over the ten-plus years since graduating high school—during which he had lived a grueling life, breathless and struggling—contact had gradually been severed.
“How much is it here?”
The last remaining customers stepped out. “It looks like you couldn’t close because of us,” they said with friendly smiles. Seo Chi-young quickly shook his head, denying it, while calculating the total for what they had eaten and drunk in his head.
Soon, the last customers paid and left, and it was finally time for Seo Chi-young’s day to end. He checked the clock; it was 12:30. Today was a good day.
Seo Chi-young lowered one side of the shutter and began cleaning the shop. Clearing the tables, putting leftover ingredients in the fridge, washing dishes, cleaning, and taking out the trash—that was the general routine.
He had just dumped the greasy dishes into the sink and was stacking the containers to put them in the fridge when he heard the sound of someone lifting the plastic tent.
“Oh, here. Kang-hee said this place was delicious when he passed by before. That guy’s palate is surprisingly picky, so he’s trustworthy… Wow, this place looks like it would collapse if you just stomped your foot once. Haha, places like this are always the tastiest.”
“I don’t know, I don’t really like gopchang.”
“Then should we go somewhere else?”
“No, it’s fine. Doesn’t look like much else is open nearby, and I’m too lazy to search. Let’s just drink here.”
Laughter—loose and cheerful, like a bright afternoon driving away the exhausted night—and a detached, listless voice entered the tent in conversation. Seo Chi-young, who had been bending over to put a container in the fridge, awkwardly straightened up and looked back at them.
“I’m sorry, customers. We’re closed for the day…”
“Oh, really? I’ve been wanting to try this place…”
Beside the man who muttered regretfully, another man, slightly shorter, peered into the alley with a stoic face. He muttered, “Everything’s closed,” as if checking if there were any other open shops.
Seo Chi-young stopped mid-sentence and stared at them without blinking.
What should I do? He watched the two men as they murmured to each other—It’s late, should we just go home? Maybe there are some shops in the next alley, shall we check?—and his gaze must have been too blatant.
The man, who had been scratching his head with a troubled expression, seemed to notice the gaze and gave Seo Chi-young a deep, eye-crinkling smile, speaking amiably.
“We’ll just have one or two beers and leave quickly. Could you just stir-fry one plate for us?”
“……Yes, please sit.”
Muttering awkwardly, Seo Chi-young hurriedly took out the containers he had half-put into the fridge. “Thank you,” the men said, sitting side-by-side on the long bench in front of the cooking station. “Just one beer, please,” they requested. After serving the beer and glasses first and lighting the gas on the griddle, Seo Chi-young remained silent. Usually, when the indoor seats were empty, he would tell outdoor customers, “It must be cold, please go inside and sit,” but he couldn’t even think of such words.
“Kang-hee said this place is good?”
“Yeah. He even told me I had to go. I thought about coming eventually, but I just never had the chance.”
“And he lives not far from here.”
The expressionless man, who was surveying the dilapidated shop with suspicious eyes, spoke, and the other man beside him laughed heartily.
“I always get home in the middle of the night; do you think I’d feel like going out for a snack at that hour? Well, I’ll be a bit more free from now on… Mister, give us a lot. A looooot.”
Glancing at the wrinkles that folded pleasantly at the corners of the man’s eyes when he laughed, Seo Chi-young quickly averted his gaze and silently added another handful of gopchang to the griddle.
“Pushing your way into a shop that’s trying to close… you’re quite shameless, Jang Ui-geon.”
“Oh, really? Everyone likes me. Whether it’s the owner mister or the lady.”
“He doesn’t look much older than you; wouldn’t he hate it more if you called him ‘mister’?”
The amiable man called Jang Ui-geon looked at Seo Chi-young with a “Hmm?” Feeling the piercing gaze, Seo Chi-young instinctively flinched, but he absolutely refused to meet their eyes, staring only at the griddle as he chopped perilla leaves with scissors.
“You’re right… he looks quite young. He must be angry because I called him ‘mister.’ I’m sorry.”
“Then what should I call you?” he asked playfully, but Seo Chi-young said nothing. The man didn’t seem to mind and changed the subject, returning to the conversation with his companion. Seo Chi-young let out a sigh, unsure if it was relief or disappointment.
Even while staring at the gopchang browning in the evaporating alcohol, his attention was focused on them as if his entire body had become a sensor.
They’re still the same.
As if he had traveled back ten years, the two men were no different from the images in Seo Chi-young’s memory. If he looked closely, the years would be etched into their faces and gestures, but they were the same.
Just as they were then, they were still close; that cheerful and generous atmosphere and that detached yet soft-spoken demeanor were still there; and the fact that he was distanced from them was also still the same.
They were classmates from the same high school. Not only that, they had been in the same class for two years. But just as it was natural for Seo Chi-young to recognize them, it was natural that they didn’t recognize him. Even back then, they were famous enough that almost everyone in the vicinity knew them, while Seo Chi-young was nothing more than one of the common students living an ordinary life.
The two of them had been close since high school. To be precise, three of them were close. More precisely, three of them had been close since childhood, even before entering high school.
The smart one, the rich one, the one who was good at fighting. Since three guys who would have been famous even on their own hung out together, they stood out wherever they went. Some found it strange that three people who seemed so unlikely to get along played together, but despite appearing like oil and water, they blended together remarkably well.
It was the same now.
The man with the large, sturdy build and slightly rough but handsome features exuded a cheerful and relaxed vibe that seemed to brighten the atmosphere just by being there. In contrast, the blunt man accompanying him had a slender, neat appearance with a cold expression that made him difficult to approach. They seemed to have absolutely nothing in common, yet the way they tossed conversation back and forth made them strangely well-matched.
Ten years.
It was strange. Suddenly, he felt his heart flutter and shake. Facing two people who hadn’t changed at all, he felt as if he had returned to that time, and the fresh memories and emotions of those days began to burst one by one like flower buds. For the first time, he realized that the moment one’s past self overlaps with one’s present self is a very bizarre and poignant experience.
The moment of realizing that something he thought had been forgotten and vanished long ago had been there all along.
“……”
When Seo Chi-young placed the gopchang on a plate and set it before them, the amiable man smiled with a familiar face.
“Wow, you gave us so much. Do you actually have any profit left?”
Seo Chi-young hesitated and gave a vague, barely perceptible nod.
However, the man picked up his chopsticks without even looking. “This is why the cost-of-goods ratio drops,” he muttered, and his friend gave him a light tap.
“Then at your shop, do you give a tiny mouse-tail amount while charging that price just to maintain the ratio? Don’t say useless things at someone else’s shop.”
“Not our shop, but Hyung’s shop. Look at how picky he is with the ingredients. If you only consider the cost ratio, that place would lose money. …….Oh.”
The man, who had been grumbling with a frown, let out a short sound while eating a piece of gopchang. Seo Chi-young, who had been blankly watching the clean way he handled the chopsticks, flinched when he saw the man raise an eyebrow and tilt his head. Did he chew on some sand? Although he cleaned the gopchang as thoroughly as possible every day, occasionally some residue remained. However, the smile that soon returned washed away Seo Chi-young’s worry.
“It’s delicious. Worth Kang-hee’s recommendation. You try it too.”
“I told you, I don’t really like gopchang.”
“Just try it. It’s really good. It’s cooked perfectly, there’s no gamey smell, and it’s not chewy.”
The man almost forced the chopsticks into his friend’s hand. The friend looked reluctant but took a piece and put it in his mouth, as if just to appease him.
“I’m telling you, the meat itself doesn’t suit my taste. You know that…”
The friend, who had been chewing the gopchang while complaining, suddenly raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. For a few seconds, the man watched him chew in silence with a grin. After tilting his head the other way and swallowing hard, the friend eventually nodded.
“Hmm, …. it is good.”
Saying so with an indifferent face, he began to move his chopsticks slowly but diligently. Looking at his friend with satisfaction, the man turned back to Seo Chi-young.
“It’s truly delicious, boss. This guy is a picky eater, so there aren’t many things he eats well. Has this place ever appeared in any ‘famous restaurant’ guides?”
He asked Seo Chi-young with a generous smile, and Seo Chi-young, flustered and hesitating, shook his head. It seemed he would call him “boss” instead of “mister.” He thought “mister” would actually be better, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it and silently bowed his head.
“I should come here often,” the man muttered casually, but the words echoed loudly in Chi-young’s ears. Seo Chi-young quickly turned around and stood at the sink a couple of steps away to start washing dishes. The sound of water flowing from the faucet mixed with their voices like static.
“Kang-hee must be incredibly busy with work lately. Seeing as he bragged that he’d take care of all the heavy lifting on your moving day but couldn’t make it.”
“I guess so. You worked hard, Ui-geon, doing Kang-hee’s share too.”
“Haha, it was nothing. The moving company people did all the heavy lifting; I just came in the evening to help organize some boxes. You’re the one who should rest for a few days now that you’ve finished moving.”
“Rest? What rest. I have a lecture starting from the first period tomorrow.”
The man laughed, patting the shoulder of his grumbling friend.
“Should I go in your place?”
“What would you even teach the kids?”
Listening to the exchange, Seo Chi-young stole a glance over his shoulder before looking back down at the dishes in the sink.
They’re still the same. Truly the same.
By the time he had washed and flipped over all the dishes and cups that had filled the sink, the two men stood up, just as they had said they would leave quickly after a beer or two.