HMN C17

Chapter 17

Tok.

“Two lattes, two Americanos are ready.”

In just a short moment, after wrestling through a round of sweat-inducing orders, Daeyoung placed two cups on the pickup counter, then grabbed a bunch of garbage bags and stepped out through the café’s back door. Crack. His back screamed in protest, but even a one-minute break felt like a luxury he couldn’t afford.

He should’ve just agreed earlier when his uncle suggested adjusting the event hours. Daeyoung genuinely regretted it now.

Commuters getting off work and students finishing their last classes all flooded into the city center. Every corner and alley was packed with people. Some even entered the café, only to leave again after seeing the long takeout line. There wasn’t even a second for Daeyoung to sit down. As soon as he dusted his hands, he had to head back inside through the rear entrance.

“Daeyoung, here, what was it, two lattes.”

He could almost see sweat gushing down the boss’s back. Shaking out his aching wrist again, Daeyoung only nodded and rushed back to the machine.

“Do we need another part-timer….”

“Yes. Not your nephew, but a real employee.”

Honestly, for a store this size, in this location, especially when holding events like this, they needed at least three or four staff members. Instead of debating, he just tossed out that answer and got back to the drinks. At the front, the boss’s face darkened as he received the next order.

“Four Americanos, two cappuccinos, two strawberry smoothies, one grapefruit black tea.”

“Yes.”

He swallowed hard as he looked at the order slip. The drinks weren’t uniform, but they weren’t difficult either. Keeping his mouth firmly shut to focus, he worked only with his hands to save efficiency.

“Boss, we’re out of tea bags.”

“Ah, in the storage. In the storage.”

The tin of tea bags was empty, though they hadn’t even used that many today. Complaining about not having restocked before opening was yet another luxury he couldn’t afford right now. He’d hold that lecture in until closing time. Without hesitation, he opened the storage room door behind the counter. The pantry-style shelves were stacked high with boxes, many still unopened and unorganized. Wincing at the disorienting sight, Daeyoung closed his eyes briefly before scanning the labels one by one.

“Ah.”

Of course, the box he needed was at the very top, labeled black tea. Climbing onto a step stool, he stretched out his arm. His fingertips barely touched it, but at least it wasn’t heavy. Tugging at the bottom, he eased it forward slowly until it was halfway out.

Srrrrch.

But the weight inside the box must have been uneven. It suddenly tilted forward, making him stumble back in surprise. The step stool wobbled, his balance gave way. It happened in an instant.

“Ah!”

Thud!

He toppled onto the disorganized pile of boxes on the ground, rolling across them. The box he had just pulled free then dropped heavily onto his thigh, crashing down to join him in the heap.

“Ah! Tss.”

His wrist and tailbone throbbed from how he had braced his fall. His tailbone bore the brunt of the impact, but after all the strain his wrist had endured for days, the pain this time was sharp enough to bring tears to his eyes. His face twisted as he groaned, and outside the storage room his boss’s voice yelled, “What on earth was that noise!” His back ached too, likely from landing on something uneven.

Tick.

“Bossss….”

Squeak.

The storage room door opened. Expecting to see his boss checking the commotion, he elongated his words, but instead, an entirely unexpected figure stood there.

“Is falling your hobby?”

“…Haah.”

Of course. Who else would witness him in this pitiful state but Go Chiwoo? Shame had already passed into full resignation. Letting out a deep sigh, Daeyoung pushed his leaning torso upright.

“Ah.”

The moment he lifted his wrist from the floor, the pain told him this was not simple. It may have been pushed beyond its limit these past few days, but it felt like this was the real breaking point.

Rustle.

Go Chiwoo stepped closer and bent down. For a moment, Daeyoung thought he might remove the box pinning him down. But of course not. Instead, Go Chiwoo merely picked up the apron that had fallen beside him, shook it off briskly twice, and turned around. Daeyoung remained buried among the boxes, utterly ignored.

“Finish tidying this up and come out.”

Click.

With that, the door shut behind him. A stream of curses leaked out between Daeyoung’s clenched teeth.

Why did this guy always have to appear at the worst possible timing? Sure, his boss must have called him to help out on a busy day, but did it have to be right now? No doubt some divine force meddling again, determined to lock the two of them into an antagonistic fate.

Slowly, he forced himself upright, realizing he’d only fallen on a pile of empty boxes. Someone must have cleared out their contents earlier and neatly stacked them in place.

“I could’ve really gotten hurt….”

Dragging the box aside so it was out of the way of trash disposal, he lifted the dropped tea box back into place, massaged his sore wrist, and stepped out of storage.

By the machine, Go Chiwoo and the boss stood side by side. The loud noise had surely piqued their curiosity, but the boss’s full hands had kept him from leaving post. Now he kept stealing glances at Daeyoung instead, while the tall one tied on an apron. It was hard to tell whether having extra help in this chaos was fortunate… or whether it was simply misfortune that this particular bastard had shown up.

He hated that he’d have to work alongside Go Chiwoo, especially in a café where their fellow university students came all the time. Muttering complaints under his breath, he dragged the box out behind the shop. As he slipped back through the rear door, hands finally free, the boss came rushing over apologetically.

“Daeyoung-ah, are you all right? Sorry about that. I left those there to sort through later….”

“I’m fine. I didn’t even trip over the boxes—it actually cushioned my fall.”

While wiping his hands, he glanced over to see the two standing behind the counter together.

Ding.

“Welcome.”

Right. Think positive. Think positive. Exhaling deeply as if clearing his mind, Daeyoung greeted the new customers at the counter. His wrist still throbbed, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

At least with one more body on hand, things might ease up. He even clung to the hope that splitting tasks might give his wrist some rest. But that hope barely lasted thirty minutes before shattering completely.

“What’s this.”

“What do you mean ‘what’? The recipe’s right here….”

“I don’t know how to make it.”

Go Chiwoo was utterly, hopelessly useless. Sure, if he’d never worked in a café before, it was understandable he wouldn’t know how to pull a shot of espresso. But he showed no will to even try, which was another problem entirely.

“Ugh, just go do the register.”

“I don’t know how.”

“……”

Daeyoung’s eyes narrowed. What on earth did the boss believe in, to toss this guy into the store like he was their final ace? What gave him the confidence to plan such events with staff like this? Breathe, just breathe, he chanted inwardly.

“Have you ever worked part-time before?”

“Do I look like I have?”

“Not at all.”

Go Chiwoo smirked smugly and even nodded.

“So what, you just live off allowance?”

“Just use my credit card.”

“……”

The image of this pampered prince, apron suited on him annoyingly well despite never having calluses on his hands, made Daeyoung’s blood boil even more. But with a group order already queued, he had no time to teach from scratch. So he shoved the tall idiot into a corner and threw himself into the drinks alongside the boss.

“Go Chiwoo.”

Only after finally managing to push through twelve drinks did Daeyoung turn his head. The guy was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking like some mascot of the café. Irritated, Daeyoung dragged him over to the cash register. He was so busy, sweat had dampened the tips of his hair, something sharp enough to briefly catch Go Chiwoo’s eye.

“I’ll teach you this first, so just watch.”

Rather than risk him ruining drinks, it was better to stick him at the register. Tapping at the POS with his finger, Daeyoung started explaining.

“See, the menu’s all here. This one’s discounts.”

His instructions were long. And once again, Go Chiwoo’s gaze lingered—not on the screen, but sliding past his finger to the wrist. It was slightly swollen and red.

Watching Daeyoung fall over was nothing new to him. He had seen it countless times already—so often he’d lost track—collapsing, tumbling, stumbling.

To be precise, he didn’t really hate Ahn Daeyoung. He just happened to laugh when Daeyoung constantly tripped, fell, and embarrassed himself in such ugly ways right before his eyes. It wasn’t out of malice—he never tripped him on purpose or engineered those situations.

Daeyoung always ended up doing it first. Wherever Go Chiwoo went, he somehow encountered him, who would then launch into his ridiculous antics and furious bluster.

At first, Go Chiwoo thought maybe this idiot was doing it deliberately. But he realized soon enough that wasn’t the case. From there, it became a curiosity: just how worthless could someone make their good looks? That was all. He’d never intended to get too involved, nor did he feel any strong urge to fight the narrow glares Daeyoung threw his way. Sure, sometimes he reacted, but only a little.

His reason for coming to help out at the café was entirely because of his uncle—not because of Ahn Daeyoung. The fierce scowl Daeyoung pulled whenever he laid eyes on him might have added a tiny grain of motivation. But more than that, Go Chiwoo had always been close to his uncle, second only to his grandmother. He even knew his uncle had deliberately opened the café near his university for him. So helping out when things got hectic once in a while was something he had no problem doing.

“Press this here….”

Daeyoung’s hands moved during his explanation, drawing Go Chiwoo’s eyes back to his injured wrist. If only he stopped collapsing like an idiot, his body wouldn’t be falling apart like this. Tilting his head, Go Chiwoo’s dark pupils traced from the wrist back up to Daeyoung’s face. His features were compact, crowded together, his brows knit tightly in concentration. With a scoff to himself, Go Chiwoo wrenched his gaze back to the register.