HMN C30

Chapter 30

“……”

Come to think of it, something similar had happened earlier.

‘This one?’

Just a while ago, when Daeyoung had reached out to take down a large glass jar of grapefruit syrup, Go Chiwoo had gotten there first—lifting it down, then putting it back in place.

‘Move aside.’

And about thirty minutes before that, he had taken something down from an upper shelf that Daeyoung had been reaching for—though that time, instead of saying ‘move,’ he had said ‘come out.’

“……”

Of course, incidents like that weren’t unusual when working at a café. Moving back and forth in a tight space meant paths often crossed, so it was easier for whoever was closer to just grab the item and step aside. But what made it feel strange this time was that such things had never once happened before.

Go Chiwoo had always been terrible at his job. Partly from inexperience, but mostly from lack of motivation. After being taught how to use the register, he’d seemed to manage decently—but he couldn’t even wipe tables properly by himself, and all he knew about the coffee machine was how to press a few buttons.

So rather than being any help, he was more like half a worker—just 0.5 of a person’s worth—and, with his large frame blocking the narrow counter space, a level-one-grade useless mob obstructing the way. And it wasn’t as though they ever went out of their way to make things easier for each other. It wasn’t just Go Chiwoo—Daeyoung was the same. If something he needed happened to be in the other’s reach, he might step aside, but he would never grab it for him. Because he couldn’t stand that smug, irritating attitude.

So yes—today really was strange. Seriously strange. He must’ve eaten something bad or had a brain malfunction. Otherwise, perhaps…

“Daeyoung, what’s wrong? Something happen?”

“Huh?”

Lost in thought, Daeyoung jolted at the sound of his boss’s voice right in front of him. He shook his head quickly, insisting it was nothing, and lifted the completed drink onto a tray.

“One hot Americano is ready.”

As he called out, Wonjung approached the pickup counter and handed something over from his pocket.

“Hey, I found this at my gym.”

“No way.”

It was a peach-flavored candy—the kind Daeyoung loved. Back in their first year of university, Wonjung had brought some back from an overseas trip. The taste had been unforgettable; Daeyoung had mentioned it several times since.

“You got two?”

“Yeah. I was gonna grab more, but the rest were other flavors.”

“Thanks, man.”

He quickly unwrapped one and popped it into his mouth. The sweet peach flavor spread warmly across his tongue.

“Like it?”

Daeyoung nodded with a smile at Wonjung’s teasing tone. It was just as delicious as he remembered. Determined not to lose it again, he slid the torn candy wrapper into the pocket of his apron, planning to look it up online later. Wonjung picked up his cup and returned to his seat.

“Don’t just stand there getting in the way.”

The cold voice came from above. Startled, Daeyoung automatically muttered an apology and stepped aside. But then—this jerk didn’t even pass by in front of him. He walked off in the opposite direction.

So much for the slightly softer tone from earlier—it had turned back to that infuriatingly rude edge again. Of course. He’d been imagining things. Narrowing his eyes, Daeyoung shook his head.

“Good work today. I packed a little fruit for you—take it when you head home, Daeyoung.”

“Thank you.”

By the time it grew dim outside, it was closing hour. Bowing politely, Daeyoung accepted the bag his boss handed him. Inside were a few apples, a mango, and some tangerines—precious vitamins for a student living alone. Delighted, he went into the storage room, took off his apron, and put on his jacket. Just then, the light filtering through the half-closed door dimmed as someone blocked it.

“…What?”

Daeyoung, midway through putting his arm into his jacket, turned toward the entrance. Go Chiwoo stood there, staring silently. When Daeyoung asked why, he only responded by taking off his apron and stepping inside. Daeyoung moved deeper into the room, crouching slightly to make space while tucking the fruit bag into his backpack.

“You and that guy—what were you two doing?”

The sudden question cut through the quiet air.

“That guy? You mean Wonjung?”

They rarely talked about anything personal, so the question came out of nowhere. Daeyoung looked up at him, still suspicious, before returning to pack his bag.

“What else would we do? We went home.”

“Together?”

“No, separately. He’s got his own house.”

What kind of conversation was this? They were talking, technically, but the rhythm was completely off. Pausing midway through zipping up his bag, Daeyoung straightened his knees.

“…You’re not under hypnosis or something, right?”

His expression said, surely not.

“Why? You hoping I’ve fallen for you?”

At the quick reply, Daeyoung’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s not what I meant. I just regret not being able to get you suspended.”

“There’s nothing to suspend me for.”

Of course.

With a glance at that unchanging expression, Daeyoung slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out of the storage room, walking quickly before Go Chiwoo could start spouting nonsense about “trying to make him fall in love again.”

“Boss, I’ll head out first!”

His cheerful voice echoed behind him as he left. From outside the storage room, a faint reply followed. Go Chiwoo set down his apron and leaned forward to peek out. Through the café windows, he saw Daeyoung leaving with that guy—Wonjung or whatever his name was. As they opened the door, the potato-faced friend turned back to glance at him.

What are they, seven-year-olds? Sticking to each other like glue. What kind of friends hang around each other’s workplaces like that? As he leaned against the counter, his uncle approached, patting him on the back.

“Chiwoo. Got something to tell me?”

It was his uncle—and the café owner—Choi Muchang. He looked at his nephew with a mixture of sympathy and concern. To outsiders, the boy’s life might not seem lacking, but underneath it all, he was missing something vital. That was precisely why Muchang had quit his business and involved himself in Chiwoo’s college life—to stay close, even a little.

“Seems like you’re the one with something to say, Uncle.”

Slipping his bag over one shoulder, Chiwoo glanced at the coffee-stained apron Muchang had just removed. The older man gestured lazily with the phone in his hand.

“I know you’ve been looking for your grandmother. I told you before—that’s something your father and I should handle. If that old woman’s decided to disappear, not even Buddha himself could find her.”

Chiwoo’s expression soured as he cut him off.

“Even if you’re right, Father doesn’t seem interested in looking for her. So what’s the point of bringing it up again? I’m leaving.”

Muchang sighed softly. Chiwoo moved toward the café door, opened it, then paused halfway through. Turning back, he said—

“By the way, Uncle.”

“Yeah?”

“Can someone suddenly start finding another person beautiful—even though they’re exactly the same as before?”

The question caught Muchang off guard, his face turning unexpectedly serious.

“Did they get plastic surgery?”

“No. Same features. I just… suddenly realized it.”

Chiwoo had a sharp eye for detail; he would’ve noticed if anything had changed. And honestly, if a doctor had designed that face, that doctor was closer to a god than a human. As he reached the conclusion that he didn’t even understand his own thoughts anymore, Muchang clapped his hands together with a grin. As if he’d found the answer.

“Then it’s love.”

“What?”

Chiwoo’s face twisted in disbelief. What nonsense. Love? The word wasn’t even funny. Waving the idea away, he stepped out of the café.

Dding— The bell above the door chimed.

Love? If he were ever going to like Daeyoung, it should’ve happened long ago. If he were going to fall for him, it should’ve happened then. He’d seen that face ever since the first day of university—so why now, all of a sudden?

‘When I count down from ten, you’ll find yourself wanting to treat Ahn Daeyoung with growing affection.’

The voice slipped through the cracks of his thoughts, and Chiwoo froze at the building entrance beside the café.

“……”

‘You will feel an uncontrollable fondness for Ahn Daeyoung.’

His brows drew together sharply. Thinking back, that face had caught his attention since the basement. Of course, he’d always been aware of certain facts—that Daeyoung had pale skin, smelled good, and had not a single flaw in his features—but it was only then that those details had become a feeling: an undeniable impression of beauty.

And whoever stood beside Daeyoung had never mattered before. He’d always had someone hanging around—like a keychain, one on each side—but today, for the first time, he truly registered that friend, that potato-faced one. And every small thing he did was irritating. Like… jealousy.

Jealousy?

Above him, the motion sensor light flicked on, illuminating the ceiling. It felt almost symbolic, like a spotlight revealing something within himself he hadn’t wanted to see. But Chiwoo merely furrowed his brows once, erasing the thought, and walked to his car parked in its designated space.

Enough. Just go.

Though his apartment was right above the café, that wasn’t where he was headed.

Ever since his mother’s death, it had felt wrong to call that place “home.” In a sense, it was still a refuge—but one stripped of warmth or comfort.

With practiced ease, he turned the wheel and pressed down on the accelerator. He needed to clear his head before going there.