By Zephyria 
Seo Chi-young gave a bitter smile to Yoon Jun-young, who murmured with an expression that made it impossible to tell if he was joking or serious. The words “It really will collapse soon,” murmured listlessly, vanished inside his mouth. Suddenly, a dark shadow cast over his heart.
He knew the shop was included in the redevelopment zone. Even back when Seo Chi-young first opened the shop here several years ago, consent forms had already been circulating for quite some time. He had frequently heard that progress was slow because the consent rate was low in the commercial area, and that there was often noise coming from the association.
At first, he worried whenever he heard such things, but since it had been stagnating for years, he had reached a point where he simply brushed it off whenever the topic came up.
To Seo Chi-young, who had practically forgotten about it, the landlord mentioned it in passing a few days ago when he went to pay the rent. He said it had been finalized, so he would have to vacate by the end of this year or early next year at the latest.
A wave of worry rushed in along with a sense of bewilderment, but there was nothing Seo Chi-young could say. Since it was a story that had been circulating since he first rented the place years ago, there was no particular way to complain now. In truth, it wasn’t that the news was entirely new; it was just that he had lived forgetting about it, and now that it had suddenly resurfaced, he felt at a loss.
In a short while, he would have to move the shop or close it down.
On his way back, he looked at the papers posted on real estate offices and searched through local information guides, but the rent in this area was exorbitantly high. No matter how hard he tried to save, the numbers written there were beyond the reach of Seo Chi-young’s meager savings.
The end of this year, or early next year at the latest.
He had been racking his brain lately, wondering how much he could save by then, but it didn’t seem like it would be easy at all to secure another spot in this neighborhood. If things didn’t work out, he would have to look for a completely different neighborhood and move, but then the foundation he had built up until now would go to waste.
That, too, was a significant loss.
“…I think it’s a bit under-fried.”
Seo Chi-young, who had been agonizing while running a calculator in his head again, snapped back to reality at the dissatisfied voice. Looking at the plate that had been pushed toward him a moment ago, Seo Chi-young clicked his tongue. Yoon Jun-young preferred his food fried a bit longer than usual, so he usually grilled it a bit more golden-brown, but he had forgotten while spacing out.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll do it again for you.”
Seo Chi-young quickly took the plate back and poured the contents back onto the griddle. Get it together, he cautioned himself internally.
For now, the priority was this. He had no choice but to put this aside and diligently save money. Worrying about it right now wouldn’t achieve anything; since there was still some time left, he had no choice but to save as much as possible until they actually told him to leave.
Seo Chi-young took a deep breath and diligently responded to the occasional calls coming from here and there, such as “Please bring some more water here” and “One bottle of Coke over here.” In the midst of that, he plated the golden-brown tripe again and presented it to Yoon Jun-young.
Yoon Jun-young, who had been staring blankly at the street as if lost in thought, didn’t even notice the plate being placed in front of him. Only when Seo Chi-young, after glancing at him for a moment, spoke up saying, “Um, it won’t taste good if it gets cold,” did he finally turn his head. He gave a short reply, “Ah, yes,” and his chopsticks moved slower than usual.
“…Is something wrong? You look like you’re in a bad mood.”
When Seo Chi-young asked cautiously, Yoon Jun-young remained silent for a moment before shaking his head. “Not really,” he replied bluntly, his voice lower than usual. Seo Chi-young said nothing.
Just then, the people sitting at the tables in the back of the shop stood up. After thanking the departing customers and telling them to come again, Seo Chi-young picked up a tray and a rag to clear the tables, but he stopped and looked back at Yoon Jun-young.
“Um… by any chance, is your friend coming later? If so, it might be better to move your seat to the back…”
Yoon Jun-young, sitting in the corner of the outer seating area which was already full, tilted his head ambiguously.
“I don’t know. We didn’t make plans, but there are times when he shows up even without plans. I don’t know how he knows…”
That was likely because Jang Ui-geon always passed by this area just in case. Sometimes he would enter the shop, murmuring regretfully, “He’s not here today,” and drink a couple of glasses of alcohol before leaving. Yoon Jun-young didn’t know that.
Looking down at the nonchalantly murmuring Yoon Jun-young, Seo Chi-young gave a silent, bitter smile.
“You two must really be close.”
Yoon Jun-young, who was pouring beer into his glass, looked up. He stared at Seo Chi-young without a single word of agreement. Meeting those black eyes that gazed at him with an expression that betrayed no thought, Seo Chi-young wore a slightly awkward, puzzled smile.
After staring at Seo Chi-young in silence for a while, Yoon Jun-young suddenly spoke, as if he had just remembered something, or as if the words had forced their way out of his throat despite his lack of intention.
“Don’t you hate me?”
Seo Chi-young fell silent. It was an unexpected question.
Blinking at Yoon Jun-young, Seo Chi-young replied, “I don’t hate you,” and Yoon Jun-young stared at him with an unreadable expression before murmuring to himself, “I see.”
“If the person who took the one I love were in front of me, I feel like my vision would turn bright red, but you don’t seem to be like that, CEO. ….Then again, you were like that in the past, too.”
Yoon Jun-young nodded as if convinced, murmuring to himself. For a moment, Seo Chi-young wore a strange expression and stared intently at Yoon Jun-young. It was because he had a vague recollection of what those ambiguous words meant. Yoon Jun-young spoke casually, barely looking at Seo Chi-young’s face.
“You looked familiar from the start… while thinking about various things a while ago, I remembered. Not so much your face, but your expression is the same. The way you look at people, too.”
“……..”
Seo Chi-young just stood there frozen, staring at Yoon Jun-young. Yoon Jun-young said, “Ah, right, I’ll give you this,” and rummaged through the bag he had set beside him. He then pulled out a small envelope and handed it over.
“I received it today… but I have no intention of going, so I don’t need it. If you’re okay with it, just go and eat. They said it’s a substitute for a meal ticket. Seeing as it even came to me, they must be handing them out to anyone, so since you’re an alumnus, you can go too.”
Receiving the envelope with confusion, Seo Chi-young hesitantly pulled out the contents and fell silent upon seeing the white card inside. It was a wedding invitation. After confirming the name engraved inside—Kwon Kang-hee—he closed the card again.
“He suddenly showed up today asking to have lunch together and left this. Ui-geon will probably get one soon, too. You could go together. …If you don’t want to say you’re an alumnus, I’ll just say I sent you to eat in my place.”
Yoon Jun-young’s voice as he spoke was no different from usual. It was quiet and calm, as always. Seo Chi-young looked at Yoon Jun-young while holding the card in one hand. Seeing this, Yoon Jun-young frowned slightly.
“You don’t have to look at me with such a pitiful face, as if you don’t know what to do. My head is a bit complicated because of various thoughts, but surprisingly, I’m more fine than I thought. It’s unexpected for me too. I guess it doesn’t feel real…”
“…….”
“But while thinking about things from the past and the present, it occurred to me that maybe me and Ui-geon coming to this shop together was unintentionally tormenting someone… I thought about that. ….I had no ill intent, I just did it because the tripe was delicious.”
Yoon Jun-young’s usual indifferent face looked somewhat dispirited. A hint of apology flickered in his gaze as he looked at Seo Chi-young. Having said that much, he silently began to use his chopsticks again.
Seo Chi-young looked down at the white envelope in his hand. He quietly pushed the envelope, which he could neither return nor keep, between the dishes under the table so it wouldn’t be seen.
He knew. Probably from a very long time ago, from a time that even Seo Chi-young was beginning to forget.
“…I actually liked it. …Your friend… Mr. Ui-geon… only opens his heart and laughs sincerely when he’s with you, Jun-young. That kind of face… can’t be seen if you aren’t there.”
Seo Chi-young spoke haltingly. He started by calling him “your friend” as usual, but knowing they were alumni, it felt uncomfortable to call him that, so he corrected it to the name. However, since the fact that they were alumni existed but wasn’t fully acknowledged, calling him by name alone felt awkward, so he ended up using an ambiguous honorific.
But as if the title didn’t matter, Yoon Jun-young stared intently at Seo Chi-young. Seo Chi-young awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and continued.
“Mr. Ui-geon… really likes you, Jun-young…”
But Seo Chi-young stopped mid-sentence. These were not words for him to say. Even if Yoon Jun-young actually knew it as a fact, he was not the person to bring it to light. The only person who could say those words was Jang Ui-geon.
Yoon Jun-young, who had been watching Seo Chi-young standing silently with his mouth shut, let out a short breath.
“You really have a difficult personality… if you like them, just say it; if you want to help, just help. ……I couldn’t even mimic that.”
Murmuring as if to himself, Yoon Jun-young put down his chopsticks. Instead, he picked up his glass and spoke in a casual tone.
“Ui-geon is a no-go. He’s really like a brother to me. There’s no way I could feel that way about a brother. No matter how hard I try.”
From Yoon Jun-young’s short words, Seo Chi-young guessed. Even if Jang Ui-geon hadn’t noticed, Yoon Jun-young might have tried in his own way to respond to Jang Ui-geon’s feelings. He couldn’t have been unaware that it would have been a much easier and smoother path.
But it didn’t work.
Actions can be controlled by reason, but emotions cannot. Seo Chi-young looked at his feet. As Seo Chi-young stood there blankly with his head lowered gloomily, Yoon Jun-young, who had emptied his beer glass, suddenly murmured.
“If it had been you, I might have seriously considered trying to date you one more time.”
Seo Chi-young looked up instinctively. As he looked at Yoon Jun-young with wide, surprised eyes filled with bewilderment, Yoon Jun-young smiled faintly for the first time that day. Realizing that he had made a joke with a face that made it impossible to tell if he was serious, Seo Chi-young sighed and smiled back.
But it was then.
“It sounds like you’re having a dangerous conversation…”
A voice with a cheerful laugh approached.
Clutching his heart, which leaped in surprise, Seo Chi-young turned his head to see Jang Ui-geon walking toward them.
“What, is the CEO hitting on Jun-young?”
“Oh, there are no seats,” Jang Ui-geon said, looking around the shop. Seo Chi-young widened his eyes and shook his head vigorously.
“No, it’s not that, I mean, no, really, …..”
He was so momentarily flustered that the words wouldn’t come out properly. He thought that stuttering like this might make him more suspicious, but the more anxious he became, the more his words blocked.
Jang Ui-geon, who was looking at Seo Chi-young with narrowed eyes, let out a low laugh.
“You said you’re on my side. Don’t try to steal him.”
Only after hearing the laughter-mixed warning did Seo Chi-young realize it was a joke. He froze for a moment with his mouth open and then sighed. “I would never try to steal him,” he murmured, and Jang Ui-geon laughed again.
“There are exceptionally many people today. Is it a special day?”
“Huh? Ah …., no, it’s just that… um, there’s an empty seat in the back, so please move and sit there.”
Seo Chi-young pointed to a spot in the back of the shop, hidden by a wall from the cooking area. Jang Ui-geon picked up the plate, glass, and chopsticks from in front of Yoon Jun-young and walked over there, and Yoon Jun-young followed behind him.
Only after the two had moved to the seat he hadn’t yet cleared did Seo Chi-young pick up the tray and rag he had set down and quickly go there to start clearing the messy table. As he gathered the plates, bowls, and cups containing leftover food onto the tray, Jang Ui-geon, taking off his jacket as he sat down, asked Yoon Jun-young as if he had just remembered.
“Come to think of it, Kang-hee said let’s meet tomorrow. Did he say anything to you?”
Clink, a cup hit a plastic plate, making a small sound. Seo Chi-young, whose hand instinctively faltered, continued clearing the table silently as if nothing were wrong, and Yoon Jun-young, after drinking the beer in his cup, replied shortly, “No.”
“Really?” Jang Ui-geon asked lightly and didn’t bring up Kwon Kang-hee further. He shifted his gaze to Seo Chi-young, who was wiping the tabletop with a rag after putting all the empty dishes on the tray, and spoke with a grin.
“The seat in front of the cooking area is better. It’ll be hard to eat while talking with the CEO today. That’s a bit of a shame.”
“Huh? Ah.., yes.”
As Seo Chi-young mumbled shyly and bowed his head, Yoon Jun-young put down his glass and murmured as if it were strange.
“When did you two get so close? He’s a guy who never uses social pleasantries, even if he pretends to get along with everyone.”
“My, social pleasantries? It’s embarrassing to say such things where people can hear.”
Jang Ui-geon spoke jokingly and laughed, then shifted his gaze to Seo Chi-young.
“No, but it’s not a social pleasantry, it’s true. Besides, how should I put it, as you get older, it becomes rarer to make new friends. ….I wonder if we’ve actually become friends.”
Jang Ui-geon, ending his words half-jokingly and half-seriously, smiled with his eyes. Seo Chi-young hesitated for a moment and then just gave a small bow. After finishing the table cleanup while awkwardly staring only at the tabletop, Seo Chi-young quickly turned and walked away, and a low laugh was heard from behind.
Days continued where they saw each other once or twice a week. And in the midst of that, Seo Chi-young also occasionally felt that his relationship with them was becoming more comfortable and relaxed. Just as he said, as if they had truly become friends.
“……..”
He felt a brief sense of regret when they sat in the back, in a spot not visible from the cooking area, but he thought that today it might actually be better not to be in a position where he had to face them. Today, if he looked at Yoon Jun-young—even if his outward attitude was the same as usual—he felt his heart would remain heavy. Seo Chi-young let out a bitter sigh.
But he couldn’t afford to keep thinking such things. The shop was still crowded, and Seo Chi-young had to respond to the “Over here!” calls coming from everywhere. Perhaps because he looked quite busy, Jang Ui-geon, sitting at his seat, would occasionally give him a slightly pitying look whenever their eyes met as Seo Chi-young bustled in and out of the shop. Each time, Seo Chi-young gave a shy, barely visible nod.
The busy time, during which he didn’t even have a moment to put his backside on a chair, subsided around 20 or 30 minutes before midnight.
Only after the people had mostly left and only a couple of seats remained did Seo Chi-young catch his breath. One of those seats was where the two people in the back were sitting, and although he now had enough leisure to chat with them appropriately, Seo Chi-young stole a glance at them for a moment and then sat in his usual spot in front of the cooking area. No matter how much he felt he had become close with them, it wasn’t a relationship where he would intentionally go to that seat to chat. They were just a shop owner and regulars who got along quite well; nothing more, nothing less.
The outer seat was empty. Seo Chi-young sat alone in that spot, where only the quiet and secluded night air lingered, and let out a quiet sigh.
As soon as he sat in the chair, the forgotten fatigue rushed in. As he massaged his legs, which were swollen from being overworked all afternoon, Seo Chi-young suddenly felt a vibration in his pocket and thought, Ah, a text. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even looked at his phone all afternoon. He thought it had rung a few times, whether it was a text or a call, and although he thought he should check it, he forgot every time, overwhelmed by work.
It’s probably mostly advertising texts, Seo Chi-young thought as he took the phone out of his pocket and was just about to open the folder.
“Hey, Seo Chi-young, I’m here.”
“Huh,” Seo Chi-young stared blankly ahead, still holding the phone in his hand.
He stared for a few seconds at the face of the friend who was sitting in front of him—the spot where Yoon Jun-young or Jang Ui-geon usually sat—and placing a large bottle of alcohol on the table, before he spoke.
“What brings you here without any notice?”
“I sent you a text.”
“…, Yeah. I just saw it.”