By Zephyria 
At some point, Jang Ui-geon asked abruptly. Seo Chi-young hesitated before nodding. Jang Ui-geon’s smile tightened slightly.
“Is that so? I’m not sure. Whether I truly like that guy.”
Jang Ui-geon poured liquor into his empty glass. He remained silent, perhaps lost in thought, until he had slowly emptied the glass three, then four times. Only then did he set the glass down and speak.
“I want him to be happy. I’ve thought that since we were kids. That I’d do anything for Jun-young. Those feelings are definitely sincere. I hate seeing him suffer, and I want him to achieve what he desires. …And yet.”
After a brief pause, Jang Ui-geon whispered as if talking to himself.
“At the same time, I find myself wishing that things would stay exactly as they are now. Watching the two of them from the seat right next to him.”
Seo Chi-young stared blankly for a moment before dropping his gaze. He looked down at his fingers, fidgeting with them while interlaced.
The person closest to Yoon Jun-young right now was Jang Ui-geon. He was the one who had known him the longest, and the one to whom he opened his heart most freely. Regardless of who Yoon Jun-young held in his heart.
“Sometimes, I wonder where my place is.”
The story Seo Chi-young suddenly brought up was incredibly random. Even he felt it was out of place the moment he said it, his face flushing.
However, Jang Ui-geon merely arched an eyebrow and did not interrupt, so Seo Chi-young continued haltingly.
“I don’t know where it is, but I believe there is a place assigned to me somewhere among people. I’ve never sat in a spot where I was someone’s most precious or closest person, but still… like a single stone in a stepping-stone path, even if everyone just passes over it without a second thought, just by being in that spot, some meaning is created…”
As he spoke, he felt an odd sense of embarrassment. He felt as though his words sounded like he was chasing clouds, or perhaps like some pathetic attempt at sounding poetic.
But he truly did think that.
He wished there were someone who truly cherished him, and that he had someone he could truly cherish.
After spending days harboring such thoughts, he now hoped that he could be the reason such a thing happened for someone else. If he could be a small help or a catalyst in a relationship where two people were a great meaning to one another, where they absolutely needed each other—whether as friends, lovers, or anything else—wouldn’t that alone give his own life some meaning?
If, because of me, someone encountered a significant meaning, even if they didn’t realize it. Just as I have encountered so many people that way.
‘Even if time passes and I no longer meet them and am forgotten, there was definitely a meaning to me being in that place at that time, that’s how…’
Seo Chi-young murmured as if to himself. If that was the place assigned to him in his relationship with that person, that would be enough. He only hoped that the place had given something better to that person.
His interlaced hands had unconsciously clenched into fists. Looking down at his fists, Seo Chi-young fell silent. He felt awkward and found it hard to lift his head. Then, after a long silence, a laugh that sounded like a breath escaped from above him.
“You have no greed.”
Hearing those words, spoken with a laugh that sounded slightly bewildered, Seo Chi-young slowly raised his head. But you’ve never been greedy either, he thought. You’ve only ever watched from afar, cherishing him. Even though that’s all you can do, you only regret not being able to do more in your heart.
“I don’t particularly like that kind of self-consolation,” Jang Ui-geon said flatly in a low voice. Seo Chi-young dropped his gaze, nodding or perhaps not.
“But it’s not bad.”
However, at the words Jang Ui-geon added next, Seo Chi-young flicked his eyes up. Jang Ui-geon was smiling. The smile held a distinct softness, signaling that his words were sincere.
“Unexpectedly, I feel a bit better. Thank you.”
It was the first time a smile directed at a specific person, rather than a public-facing one, had been aimed at him. Only now was Jang Ui-geon truly looking at Seo Chi-young. Seo Chi-young stared back at him blankly and simply shook his head quietly.
That a moment passed over without knowing could hold an unforgettable meaning for someone—Seo Chi-young had learned that from this man a long time ago. Just like now.
“Then I should probably be heading out. The bill here…”
Looking down at his watch, Jang Ui-geon stood up, and only then did Seo Chi-young stand up as if suddenly remembering.
“Come to think of it, earlier, Mr. Kwon… I mean, your friend paid too much. There’s quite a bit of change left… here…”
Seo Chi-young hurriedly pulled out the container from under the counter and took out the money. Jang Ui-geon, who had been taking out his wallet, murmured “Ah,” and seemed to hesitate for a moment before putting his wallet back. However, he lightly waved his hand, showing no intention of taking the money Seo Chi-young offered.
“Alright. Then when Jun-young comes, please deduct it from that. He must have really liked this place; he’s at the point where he’ll suddenly grumble ‘I want gopchang’ even when we’re somewhere else, so he’ll be back soon.”
Jang Ui-geon chuckled, as if recalling that memory. Seo Chi-young looked down at the money awkwardly, but nodded reluctantly. It didn’t seem like Jang Ui-geon was going to take the money anyway.
“Thank you. For liking the place.”
Still, he was happy that they liked his shop, so Seo Chi-young smiled shyly. To this, Jang Ui-geon smiled and said, “Not at all.”
“I should be the one thanking you. For making it so delicious. That picky eater rarely finds anything he enjoys. Well, it’s always a good thing when the things one likes in life increase.”
Jang Ui-geon smiled as if it were his own happiness. Just as he used to smile silently while watching Yoon Jun-young diligently move his chopsticks.
Suddenly, his heart throbbed. A feeling of pity gripped his heart and passed through.
Jang Ui-geon. And Yoon Jun-young. Regardless of which one, a poignant and bitter feeling pierced him.
And so, Seo Chi-young murmured without realizing.
“If I were that person, I would have liked the customer.”
It was almost a monologue. Rather than words intended for Jang Ui-geon to hear, it was a mutter born of lingering regret.
But the moment those words fell.
The smile vanished from Jang Ui-geon’s face as if wiped away. A frozen, cold light took the place of the softness in his eyes. And Seo Chi-young realized he had made a mistake.
The fact that those words clearly implied—that Yoon Jun-young did not like Jang Ui-geon. Furthermore, someone like Seo Chi-young could never be Yoon Jun-young.
“………”
It lasted barely a second or two. The moment Jang Ui-geon looked at Seo Chi-young with icy eyes was very brief. After that, he soon smiled as before and said, “Thank you,” and his face was no different than any other time.
To Seo Chi-young, whose mouth had frozen and who could only stare silently at Jang Ui-geon, he added nonchalantly as he pushed aside the vinyl curtain to leave.
“But you aren’t Jun-young.”
Leaving only those words with a calm smile, Jang Ui-geon turned away. The vinyl curtain fluttered and hung loose. Like that curtain, a line had been drawn right before his eyes.
As he stepped under the massive roof, it felt as if the temperature dropped a few degrees. Even though it was a clear day and morning before lunch, the area under the livestock market roof was covered in a cool shade. The only thing lighting up the shade were the red fluorescent lamps.
Perhaps because it was excessively wide, or because it wasn’t a bustling time, the spacious interior of the market felt somewhat empty. Until recently, there had been a large slaughterhouse within walking distance behind this livestock market, but now the slaughterhouse had moved to the outskirts, leaving only the market.
In the past, Seo Chi-young used to visit the livestock market in person, but since he started receiving goods from a wholesale broker last year, he hadn’t been here for a while. However, even though the year had changed, the people remained the same, so it didn’t feel unfamiliar despite the long absence.
“Here. I put in extra because I’m glad to see you in person after so long.”
Seo Chi-young took the large styrofoam box handed to him by the owner of a regular shop located in a somewhat secluded spot away from the main road at the back of the livestock market, loaded it onto his handcart, tied it down, and bowed his head.
“Thank you. Here…”
Seo Chi-young pulled an envelope from his back pocket, counted the amount, and handed it over. The owner, confirming the amount in front of him, wrote out a receipt.
“I shouldn’t say this about someone who went down to their hometown for a funeral, but it’s still good to see your face in person after a while. Tae-hun said he’d be here next Monday, right?”
The grey-haired owner looked at the calendar while reciting the name of the broker he had dealt with for over ten years. Because the broker who delivered ingredients to Seo Chi-young every day had suddenly left due to the death of a close relative, Seo Chi-young had come to the livestock market in person for the first time in a while. Since the broker would only be away for the remaining three days of the week, he would buy plenty today to get through the week, and from next week, the broker would resume deliveries as usual.
Nodding “Yes,” Seo Chi-young gripped the handcart. Looking at his watch, it was nearly lunchtime. He had set out early in the morning, but time flew by. He had to get back to the shop and prepare, or he’d be late.
“Then I’ll be going…”
Just as he was about to say goodbye, Seo Chi-young paused, seeing the reddish chunks of meat that the owner’s son, who helped at the shop, was taking out of a box delivered by a refrigerated truck. The owner, noticing his gaze, looked back curiously.
“What? Ah, duck?”
“….You handle duck too?”
“No, my uncle runs a farm, but not enough to sell to just anyone; he just does a bit for people he knows who ask. Quite a few people look for it, but the volume is small, so I don’t put it out for sale. Why, do you want some duck for something?”
“Huh? No, just…”
Staring at the chunk of meat the size of a small pillow, Seo Chi-young finally waved his hand and gave a thin smile. It wasn’t for him, but he had simply thought of someone who might run a shop handling duck. Perhaps it was because just the other night, while visiting with Yoon Jun-young and talking, that man, Jang Ui-geon, had clicked his tongue and mentioned it.
‘Anyway, as you run a shop, you won’t be able to source all your volume from one farm, so you’ll have to increase your trading partners, but if possible, I wanted to open a deal with that farm, even if just a little. But they don’t seem to care much about money, and it seems an elderly couple sells it almost as a hobby only through people they know.’
‘Why don’t you just buy the whole farm? Unless you’re planning to quit after a few months of business.’
‘I’ve thought about that too, but the first few months after starting are important. Especially in the food business.’
Jang Ui-geon, who had been exchanging words with Yoon Jun-young, met the eyes of Seo Chi-young, who had been sitting quietly in front of the counter watching them as usual, and smiled brightly, asking, “What do you think, CEO? Isn’t that how it is when you run a business?” Seo Chi-young, not expecting the conversation to suddenly turn to him, was slightly flustered and stammered, “I’m not sure, I haven’t run a business that many times…” Jang Ui-geon laughed cheerfully, saying, “See, I told you,” and turned back to Yoon Jun-young.
Even after that night—the night Seo Chi-young had made the slip of the tongue—Jang Ui-geon visited the shop several times. As before, he would sit side-by-side with Yoon Jun-young, enjoy a plate of gopchang and a drink or two, and then leave. His treatment of Seo Chi-young was also the same as before. He smiled, spoke, and joked as if nothing had happened.
However, that was the ‘attitude used when dealing with general acquaintances.’ He treated Seo Chi-young with the same usual demeanor that brought out a pleasant and refreshing atmosphere for anyone, even a stranger. He didn’t suddenly create distance or show signs of displeasure.
But Seo Chi-young knew that an invisible line had been clearly drawn between them.
… It wasn’t that he specifically expected anything. At this point, he didn’t think about forming a friendship that he hadn’t been able to build in high school. He didn’t wish for more than the distance between people who know each other moderately.
However.
He couldn’t help but be bothered. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jang Ui-geon, whose mood had clearly soured and who had turned away that night. Even if because of that, Jang Ui-geon didn’t say anything to him or overtly change his attitude.
“…..”
Seo Chi-young sighed quietly.
But what could he do?
It was difficult to suddenly say he was sorry. Sorry for what, and how? He thought about it carefully, but he felt that attempting a hasty apology might instead result in making the other person’s mood even worse.
So, even though he faced Jang Ui-geon several times as he visited with Yoon Jun-young, he spent his time burying the incident as if nothing had happened.
Practically, it was fine to let it pass. Nothing changed. Things would continue as they had been. But despite that, what he missed were the smiles he had seen in fleeting glimpses. He missed those brief moments when a soft, crumbling smile had been directed toward him.
While Seo Chi-young was lost in silent, somewhat gloomy thoughts, the owner talked on and on by himself and then frowned with a troubled face, deep in thought.
“My uncle always says it’s not enough, but since it’s you and not just anyone, I might be able to do something if you need it.”
As if he had been talking about the duck all along, the owner handed over a piece of paper, saying in a slightly boastful tone, “This is my uncle’s business card; it’s not like anyone can just call and get it.” Seo Chi-young, who had been distracted, felt it would be awkward to say he had only asked out of curiosity now, so he quietly accepted the card. However, upon seeing the name of the farm written on the card, he murmured, “Oh,” without realizing it.
It was a familiar name. There was only one farm name that would be familiar to Seo Chi-young, who had nothing to do with ducks.
“Not many people know because they don’t advertise much, but those who know, know. This place’s ducks are really decent.”
Nodding to the owner who was tapping the card, Seo Chi-young stared at the card and hesitantly asked, glancing at the owner.
“…Would it be possible to buy a lot? Regularly?”
“What?”
“I’ll go there now.” When that answer came back readily, Seo Chi-young was slightly surprised, even though he was the one who had made the call.
Calling Jang Ui-geon wasn’t that difficult. He had Yoon Jun-young’s number—since there were days when Jun-young, who was held back at school until late, would call just before the shop closed and say, ‘I’ll be there soon, so don’t close the door and save one serving for me.’ When he asked for Jang Ui-geon’s contact information, Jun-young had given it to him readily without even asking why.
After a short call with Yoon Jun-young, who didn’t seem curious or puzzled and simply asked, ‘Is that all you need?’ before hanging up, Seo Chi-young hesitated for a moment and then dialed Jang Ui-geon’s number. In truth, if he hadn’t brought up the duck with the butcher first, he might have stopped himself from calling.
However, his hesitation was in vain; Jang Ui-geon did not answer. Is something happening? Does he not pick up unknown numbers? Thinking this, Seo Chi-young waited until the ringtone had sounded nearly twenty times. Just as he was about to give up and hang up, the ringing stopped the moment he pulled the phone away from his ear. “Hello,” a familiar voice sounded, and he quickly pressed the phone back to his ear.
“Ah, uh, Mr. Jang Ui-geon… is that correct?”
It was the first time he had heard his voice over the phone. The voice, which felt both strange and familiar, made him slightly nervous. From the other end of the line, a soft but polite question returned: “Yes, that’s correct. Who is this?”