By Zephyria 
Seo Chi-young gazed at Jang Ui-geon’s profile. He stared intently, as if trying to pierce through him—a man who, in this moment, would never dream of looking anywhere else.
At some point, it seemed as though Ui-geon’s gaze shifted ever so slightly, and he appeared to grit his teeth bitterly. But it was only for a fleeting second. Soon, Jang Ui-geon pulled the earphones from his ears and leaned precariously out the window, shouting.
“Hey, Kwon Kang-hee! How much longer are you going to practice! Let’s go! Can’t you see Jun-young’s been waiting for a while!”
The cheerful voice lacked any trace of the shadow that had just flickered across his expression. Smiling as brightly and vividly as the sun, as he always did, he waved his hand and climbed down from the windowsill. As he left the classroom with a low hum, he tossed a brief “See you next week” toward Seo Chi-young—a formal remark that would have been the same regardless of who was standing there.
Until his retreating figure—descending the stairs at the end of the hallway—vanished from sight, dust kicked up wherever his light footsteps landed, fluttering and sparkling in the sunlight. Seo Chi-young stood rooted to the spot amidst that dancing dust, like grains of light. He remained there until the dust settled quietly and no longer sparkled in the air.
The time when even the dust sparkled ended that day.
The days that followed continued, unchanged from before. After a short break of a few days, the second semester began, and with the college entrance exams only a double-digit number of days away, there was no longer any room for useless rumors to circulate among them.
Far removed from such anxious and turbulent atmospheres, Jang Ui-geon continued to spend his time cheerfully with his friends, and Seo Chi-young spent his time with his own. There were no points of contact, and there was no particular reason for their attitudes to change. They were classmates who never spoke unless something happened—nothing more, nothing less. This continued until the final day of high school arrived with the turn of the year.
However, on that final day, Seo Chi-young could not go to school.
Around the time college acceptance letters were released, his father’s business went bankrupt, and Seo Chi-young’s home was destroyed overnight. His father and mother, whose foundations of life had crumbled to the point where they could not even support themselves, let alone their children, each fled to the provinces to escape creditors and search for work. Seo Chi-young ended up staying at his auntie’s house, but soon even that became untenable.
Seo Chi-young gave up on the university he had been accepted to and stepped away from the daily life he had known toward the end of that winter. The burden that landed on his shoulders overnight was far too harsh for someone on the boundary between adolescence and adulthood to bear; since then, he had not even been granted the luxury of thoughts unrelated to the practicalities of survival.
And so, his childhood ended.
“Hmm?”
“Oh…”
Seo Chi-young stopped his hand, which had been opening the refrigerator to put away side-dish containers, and looked at the person who had lifted the plastic curtain and stepped inside. It was already past midnight, and the guests for the day had left at the appropriate time, so he was just about to close up.
He had sold almost all the ingredients prepared for the day, making it a perfectly productive day of business. After finishing the day’s work, cleaning the shop, and scrubbing the griddles and dishes clean, all that was left was a bit of tidying up before heading home. It was then that the man entered with a face worn thin by exhaustion.
“….We’re closed for the day…”
Though he hadn’t finished putting away the side dishes, Seo Chi-young hesitated and spoke while first closing the refrigerator door. The man looked around at the clean griddles and the tidy interior of the shop, and finally cast a gloomy gaze upon Seo Chi-young, and then at the side-dish containers at his feet. His face was so drenched in fatigue and looked so dismal that it almost made one reluctant to speak to him.
The man frowned slightly on his expressionless face and checked his watch. He knew that this shop closed at midnight unless something unusual happened. It was slightly past midnight, and the customers were already gone.
He could have simply said, I’ll come tomorrow, and turned around, but the tired and disgruntled-looking man stood there motionlessly. Seo Chi-young, crouching in front of the refrigerator, faced him awkwardly.
This man was a new regular who had recently begun visiting the shop very diligently. He came so often that Seo Chi-young even knew his name—though it was a name he had known even before the frequent visits.
Today, he had arrived later than usual. Since it was close to midnight, not only was the timing late, but sometimes the ingredients ran out, so he usually came by ten o’clock at the latest. Today, Seo Chi-young had wondered why he hadn’t arrived yet and had assumed he wasn’t coming.
After waiting for a while, Seo Chi-young watched the man, who showed no sign of leaving and was staring at the empty griddle with longing eyes, and spoke hesitantly.
“Besides, we’re out of the ingredients prepared for today…”
“…….”
The man’s expressionless face grew even more desolate. Seo Chi-young waited a bit longer, but the man remained standing still with no sign of moving, so he scratched his head awkwardly.
“If you don’t mind… I could stir-fry what was left over from yesterday, but it might have a bit of a gamey smell.”
The man seemed to deliberate for a few seconds, but soon pulled out a plastic chair and sat down. As soon as he sat, he took a pair of chopsticks and neatly placed them in front of himself. He really must love gopchang. It felt like a lie that he had said he didn’t particularly like meat when he first came.
Seo Chi-young took out the gopchang from the refrigerator that he had left to make his own side dishes. He poured half of it into a bowl and retrieved the vegetables, seasoning, and glass noodles he had already put back in the fridge.
In front of Seo Chi-young, who poured alcohol onto the heated griddle and began stir-frying the gopchang, the man stared intently at the griddle like a child watching a fire show. Seo Chi-young glanced at him.
Contrary to the impression given by his cold expression and brusque manner of speaking, this man tended to reveal his thoughts and emotions honestly. Moreover, he could be stubborn like a child—such as just now, standing his ground silently without expressing his intent.
Without realizing it, Seo Chi-young let out a small smile.
He never would have imagined the man had this side to him in the past.
“You came late today.”
“Ah… I was held up at school since yesterday and just got back. I was stuck in the lab because the professor caught me.”
What a stubborn old geezer, he muttered with a cold face; the curse sounded strangely out of place. Seo Chi-young gave him a curious look—for although he had grown somewhat accustomed to it, the man still diverged greatly from the image in his memories. Sensing the gaze, the man looked up at Seo Chi-young, and Chi-young quickly lowered his head.
This man, who had been exceptionally brilliant back then, said he was now working in a university lab and lecturing at a college. His life seemed relatively disciplined, and the times he visited the shop were generally consistent. Among those, the day he almost always visited was today, Tuesday.
He visited on other days occasionally, but he always came on Tuesdays. The time was also consistent: shortly before 10 PM. And although the timing was different today and he had come alone, he always had companions when he visited on Tuesdays. One or two people.
Still close. Unchanging emotions.
“…….”
Seo Chi-young realized anew that they weren’t the only ones who remained the same. The emotions he thought he had completely forgotten and buried at the bottom of his heart over the course of a decade remained exactly as they were.
In truth, he had been waiting for them to arrive. From the moment it passed nine o’clock, he had been glancing at the clock repeatedly, his mind filled with thoughts that it was time for them to arrive, that they should be here by now. It was only when midnight came, the customers had left, and it was time to close that he realized he had been waiting for them until the very end, and he had let out a bitter smile.
And just as he had resigned himself and was preparing to close the shop, this man arrived alone. Although the person Seo Chi-young had waited for most did not come with him, it would be a lie to say he didn’t feel a faint sense of welcome.
Yes, he was glad. Rather than being glad to see this man, with whom he hadn’t been close and for whom he had no particular like or dislike, he felt a poignant longing for the past he had encountered again after ten years, as if he had obtained a projector to look back at old times.
He had no intention of making himself known to them. Simply capturing their figures in his eyes from time to time allowed him to reminisce about old memories and emotions, leaving his heart aching with a longing, bittersweet feeling.
When Seo Chi-young placed the dish in front of him, the man, who had not taken his eyes off Chi-young’s fingertips, quickly picked up his chopsticks. Eating heartily and diligently enough to make any observer feel pleased, he didn’t look at all like someone who had said he didn’t like gopchang until recently. Furthermore, he cleaned out all the accompanying vegetables and noodles, not appearing to have the picky or limited palate he had overheard about.
But that was only the thought of the uninformed Seo Chi-young; it seemed to appear differently to those who had known him for a long time.
“…..”
Suddenly, Seo Chi-young recalled a memory and smiled unconsciously. Not long after those two first visited the shop, there was a time when they happened to encounter each other here. After that, this man, who visited almost every two or three days, had come alone to eat gopchang when he—Jang Ui-geon—happened to arrive.
Meeting the eyes of the man, whose cheeks were puffed out and mouth was chewing, Ui-geon had stared at him, speechless for a moment.
‘….Yoon Jun-young. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m a regular here.’
Having come after being introduced by him, and despite not having visited for long, the man—Yoon Jun-young—replied brazenly as if he had been coming for a hundred years. Ui-geon looked at him with even more surprised eyes.
‘A regular? You don’t even eat gopchang.’
‘…. Yeah, that’s good. There are plenty near your school, so it’ll be great since you can eat it often.’
‘The other places taste bad.’
Jang Ui-geon, who had been silently watching Yoon Jun-young speak dissatisfiedly as if he had already tried them, suddenly burst into laughter.
‘The guy who said he hated it because he doesn’t even eat meat… ahaha. Boss, give me one more serving here. And a bottle of beer.’
I should become a regular too. Hearing those words, Seo Chi-young’s heart had raced. He had said the same when he first came, but the one who actually came often like a regular was Yoon Jun-young, and this was the first time he had returned. But this time, just as he said, Jang Ui-geon became a regular. Though he only stopped by on Tuesdays, the day the other man always came.
He could see him once a week. This week—today—he had missed him, but he would be able to see him next week. He didn’t know when the man would grow tired of the taste or if something would happen to stop his visits.
‘Should I move into your place?’
When was it? It was nearly midnight when he had suddenly said such a thing. They were the last customers occupying the shop, and their conversation reached the ears of Seo Chi-young as he picked up empty bottles rolling on the floor.
Jang Ui-geon spoke in a complaining tone, it was unclear whether it was a joke or a serious suggestion. It was a phrase that could be taken as a joke, but depending on the answer, it could become serious at any moment.
‘You live alone anyway, so you have a spare room. Just give it to me.’
‘Why are you talking nonsense again? Did you get scolded by your auntie again?’
‘She says a child over thirty should either get married or move out… her nagging has been getting worse lately.’
‘She knows you’re gay.’
The moment Yoon Jun-young replied nonchalantly, Seo Chi-young, who was placing empty bottles into a crate, paused for a second. However, Jang Ui-geon replied calmly.
‘To be precise, she knows I’m bi—though these days I mostly hang out with guys—. But she just pretends not to know and keeps pestering me about when I’m getting married. …..Sob sob, if I brought you along and said we were dating, my mother would love it. My mother likes you, Jun-young. How about it? Think about it again. Won’t you marry me?’
‘I like your auntie too, but I refuse a guy as promiscuous as you.’
Hmph, Yoon Jun-young replied with a snort and locked eyes with Seo Chi-young. Seo Chi-young, who had been watching them unconsciously, awkwardly turned his head away after their eyes met.
‘Other people are getting surprised because you’re saying useless things. ………Don’t be surprised. He doesn’t look like it, but he’s the type to make these kinds of jokes often.’
When Yoon Jun-young, who had sharply reprimanded Jang Ui-geon, spoke to Seo Chi-young, Chi-young shook his head as if to say it was fine and slowly added.
‘You’re… very close… relatives.’
He had known them as friends, but he hadn’t known they were maternal cousins. However, when Seo Chi-young said that, both Yoon Jun-young and Jang Ui-geon made strange faces.
‘Relatives? …..? Ah. No. Our mothers are close, so we just call each other “Auntie,” but we’re completely unrelated strangers. Not a drop of blood shared.’
‘…Jun-young, for some reason, you’re saying it as if it would be extremely unpleasant if we shared even a drop of blood…?’
‘I don’t want to be related to a notorious womanizer.’
‘What are you talking about? Despite how I look, I actually dream of a pure, devoted love, looking at only one person for a lifetime.’
Jang Ui-geon gave a playful, mischievous smile. That quiet and warm gaze was directed toward Yoon Jun-young, who was sipping beer without even looking at him.
They’re still the same, Seo Chi-young thought once more, and turned his gaze away as if he had seen something he shouldn’t have.
‘So, how about me?’ Like a joke commonly shared between friends, Jang Ui-geon was confessing his heart. But that confession reached Yoon Jun-young only as a joke.
‘I believe romantic feelings cannot develop between people who have known each other since the days of playing in the creek with their privates out and crying after being pinched by a crayfish. You know, there’s research on that. That the brain functions to prevent romantic feelings toward people you’ve known since you were very young.’
‘That’s a lie, just look at me.’
Seo Chi-young pretended not to see the faint, bitter smile that flickered across Jang Ui-geon’s face as he laughed out loud, replying as if it were a joke.
‘Come to think of it, that creek was around here. It was covered up a long time ago. Now let’s see. Whereabouts was it…’
As Jang Ui-geon stroked his chin as if thinking and lifted his gaze, his eyes met Seo Chi-young’s. Seo Chi-young answered instinctively.
‘It would have been across that intersection. Where the parking lot is now. The stream flowed that way.’
Ah, right, it was, Jang Ui-geon exclaimed, lightly clapping his hands, and asked Seo Chi-young with a smile.
‘Do you live around here?’
‘Yes, well…’
‘Haha, I used to come here often to play when I was young too. Because Kang-hee—that rugged friend who comes by occasionally—lives around here.’
Seo Chi-young nodded vaguely. He thought of their other friend, who had only visited the shop a couple of times. That man with the fierce impression, who he couldn’t imagine having any profession other than one involving his fists, had a face even colder than in high school.
‘Was that so? I only met him after entering middle school.’
Yoon Jun-young suddenly muttered. Seo Chi-young looked at them with slightly envious eyes and said, “You’ve known each other for a long time.” That unwavering relationship was, yes, enviable in some ways.
‘Right. It’s already been almost twenty years for me and Kang-hee. For me, in a bit more time, it’ll be a thirty-year bond.’
Ugh, Jang Ui-geon laughed happily, even as he shivered as if disgusted. He glanced at the silent Yoon Jun-young and gave his foot a light tap under the table.
‘Twenty years, thirty years, it’s nothing. Look at Kang-hee; now that he’s got a girlfriend, his visits have become sparse. Have we even seen that guy properly four or five times in the last few months?’
Yoon Jun-young did not respond to the grumbling Jang Ui-geon, who was counting on his fingers, and silently drank his beer. Then, he suddenly muttered in a low, bitter voice, as if talking to himself.
‘Rather than because of a woman, it’s probably because it’s awkward for him to see me.’
Jang Ui-geon fell silent. Yoon Jun-young also silently tilted his beer glass. While silently pouring beer into Yoon Jun-young’s empty glass, Jang Ui-geon said nothing for a long time.
“…..”