HMN C38

Chapter 38

“When’s the next volunteer event?”

Mondays were brutal for everyone, but for Ahn Daeyoung—who had worked through the entire weekend—they were downright merciless. Wonjung’s first question as soon as he entered the lecture hall barely registered in his ears. Propping his chin on one hand, Daeyoung sipped his coffee and gave a half-hearted shrug.

“Why?”

“You didn’t see the message? The club got invited to a preview screening.”

“When?”

“Friday evening.”

“I’m not working then.”

“Perfect.”

The café where he worked changed schedules every week or two, which suited him well. For someone who juggled a lot, flexibility was everything. It really was the ideal part-time job—if only it weren’t for the owner’s nephew.

“Hey, did you see the trending post yesterday?”

As soon as class ended, Hae-gyeom came bounding over with the latest gossip. Daeyoung groaned inwardly. I’m tired. So tired. He rubbed his face and shook his head. Of course, it was about someone else’s love life.

‘I fell for you.’

The words echoed in his ears again, making him grimace as he stuffed his things into his bag. He hadn’t been able to shake them off since hearing them before his weekend trip home. It didn’t help that the idiot who’d said them—half drunk, no less—hadn’t contacted him once since.

Taking advantage of a moment as they left the classroom, Daeyoung pulled out his phone and opened his messages. No new notifications. No “Go Chiwoo.”

So he’d just been messing around? It was hard not to think that. If that were true, well… honestly, it’d be a relief. But the problem was, Chiwoo didn’t strike him as the type to play such a complicated prank. He clamped his mouth shut and walked out of the building. Behind him, Hae-gyeom and Wonjung exchanged a look and shrugged—whatever was on his mind, it had clearly sunk him into some deep, gloomy funk.

“Work again?”

Hae-gyeom slung an arm over his shoulder. The touch snapped him out of his thoughts, and Daeyoung nodded.

“Yeah.”

“I heard the staff there are all lookers.”

“Ugh.”

He winced. They were probably referring to the café staff in general, but everyone knew “the staff” really just meant Go Chiwoo. He was the kind of person who drew people in effortlessly—like a mascot in a costume that attracted attention wherever it went. Except instead of hustling like the others, Chiwoo lounged near the counter, hogging the air conditioner in summer and the heater in winter, only moving when absolutely necessary.

Seeing Daeyoung’s reaction, the two burst out laughing and changed the subject.

“Oh right, we need to set a day for our group project.”

“I’m good after eight in the evening. You two pick a day and let me know. If my volunteer shift gets scheduled, I’ll tell you right away.”

“Okay.”

He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulders. Complaining about assignments together with classmates who were equally overworked was one of the few things that made Mondays bearable.

“Hae-gyeom, you’ve got your club meeting. Wonjung, you not eating dinner either?”

“Gym day.”

Wonjung patted the strap of his duffel bag. Daeyoung and Hae-gyeom, both familiar with the mountain of protein tubs in his room, recoiled in mock disgust.

“Gross. You’re gross, muscle freak.”

“If you built some muscle, you wouldn’t need pain patches anymore.”

Daeyoung frowned.

“Yeah right. People who work out always end up breaking something anyway. They wear those braces and everything.”

“That’s just to improve performance.”

“Whatever.”

The pointless bickering continued until they reached the main gate. “See ya.” “Mm.” It wasn’t like goodbyes mattered when they saw each other every day. They waved lazily and split off.

He checked his watch—twenty minutes left before work. He probably should’ve eaten at the cafeteria instead of loitering like this. After hesitating for a second, he ducked into the small snack shop near the café.

“One roll of gimbap, please.”

Clatter.

Instead of going inside, he pulled out one of the plastic chairs outside and sat down. The scratched stainless steel table gleamed faintly, freshly wiped down, still drying in spots.

“Here or to go?”

“Here.”

A single gimbap roll felt just right. He eyed the array of tteokbokki, fish cakes, and fried snacks while waiting, and soon enough, a long plate of gimbap was set before him. He picked up his chopsticks and popped a piece into his mouth.

“Mmm…”

What assignments did he have this week? Setting the chopsticks down, he tugged his backpack around to the side to unzip it. He only meant to grab his notebook, but his wrist twinged sharply, and a heavy textbook slipped out, thudding onto the ground.

“Mmgh.”

The sound he tried to make—something like “oops”—was muffled by the gimbap still stuffed in his mouth. As he leaned down to grab the book, more pens rolled out from the half-open zipper. One thing after another. He could feel the stress stacking up—why is everything annoying today? Clutching his bag to his chest, he started to stand, but before he could, someone bent down and picked up his pen.

“…Oh.”

It was Go Chiwoo. He scooped up the pens and the fallen textbook, then approached him. The timing was too weird for any kind of greeting, so Daeyoung just hurriedly chewed and swallowed.

“…Thanfsh.”

It came out garbled, but better than nothing. Chiwoo slid into the chair beside him.

“One roll of gimbap, please.”

The same order. While the other’s meal was being made, Daeyoung tucked the rescued items back into his bag and zipped it shut. He knew there were things that needed to be said, but this—sitting across from the shop owner, eating side by side—wasn’t the time or place.

“……”

Why’s he sitting here? It was their first time seeing each other since that “I fell for you” talk before the weekend, and the atmosphere was stiff. No, I’m fine. He’s probably just here to eat. But he never eats with people, right? He shut down the thought, pressing his eyebrows together as he picked up his chopsticks again.

“Where’re all the guys you usually eat with?”

Chiwoo broke the silence first.

“They had plans. I like eating quick anyway.”

After that, silence again. He really did just eat, one bite at a time. Which meant Daeyoung could at least glance through his notes while he ate. Still, it wasn’t exactly… comfortable.

“……”

It was so uncomfortable. Chiwoo wasn’t even pretending not to stare—he watched him openly, like someone watching TV over dinner. Is he insane?

Eventually, Daeyoung snapped his notebook shut with a soft thud.

“…What. What is it. What.”

It was weird to just sit there staring without saying anything. When he demanded an answer, Chiwoo merely tilted his head, unimpressed.

“At this point, it’s not your wrist that’s the problem—it’s your brain. Go see a doctor.”

The words were rude, but he was clearly referring to the bandages and patches plastered across Daeyoung’s wrist. It wasn’t a serious injury—just soreness from helping out non-stop all weekend.

“It’s not that. I was helping my parents at their restaurant.”

So that’s why he’d been staring? Over nothing? Daeyoung shoved another piece of gimbap into his mouth.

“……”

“There are staff, sure, but I know the place best, and I’m the youngest. It’s easier if I handle the heavy stuff myself.”

The restaurant wasn’t short-staffed—there were just always more customers than hands. Why am I explaining this to him? He closed his mouth quickly, annoyed at himself.

He’d been ready to snap, to tell Chiwoo off for bothering him over such nonsense, but before he could, the guy finished his food in silence. He didn’t speak again—not even while walking with him toward the café afterward. Still, his constant presence beside him, like a persistent NPC, grated on his nerves.

Jingle.

“Oh, you’re here! How was your weekend?”

“Good evening.”

Bowing politely, Daeyoung went straight to the back room to change. When he emerged with an apron tied around his waist, he was carrying something in both hands.

“Boss, I brought this for you.”

He set two small boxes of popular snacks—bought from a shop near the bus terminal—neatly beside the register.

“What’s this?”

“You gave me fruit last time, so I picked these up on my way back from my parents’. They’re not expensive, but they’re really good.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to spend money on this, kid. Thank you. But next time, just say thanks and leave it at that, okay? You don’t need to bring things.”

“I can’t promise every time.”

Their conversation was light, friendly. As he reached back to tie his apron strings, something brushed against him. He looked up—Chiwoo was standing right there, expression flat, almost sulky. What now? You ate just fine, why’re you hovering?

“…One’s for you.”

Of course. With three people behind the counter, it would’ve been awkward to only bring one for the boss, so he’d bought two. Whatever.

He hadn’t expected a thank-you. Chiwoo was the type to accept things wordlessly—and sure enough, he stared at the plain, unwrapped box for a moment, said nothing, and took it, slipping silently into the back room.

Daeyoung turned his head slightly, watching his shoulder brush past before the storage door shut.

“…What the hell.”

Something was off about that guy.

He tilted his chin toward the now-closed door. It stayed shut.