HMN C9

Chapter 9

Bzzz.

“Hello.”

— Where are you? Come out so we can grab food.

“I’ve got a part-time interview.”

The call from Wonjung came while Daeyoung was home resting after an early-finished morning class the next day. It was the first week, so beyond add/drop and orientations, there wasn’t much actual coursework.

— Interview? Where?

He’d just woken from a short nap, washed up, and was getting dressed. Running his fingers through still-damp hair, he grabbed his jacket.

“Cafe by the main gate.”

— Ah, that place. Heading now?

“Yeah. The interview’s at one, so if I leave now I’ll be right on time.”

Click.

Beep.

He shut the front door; the door lock chimed behind him. By the time he rode the elevator down and stepped out, cold wind seeped in through the gaps of his outerwear.

— Got it. Let’s catch a movie Friday. One opened that I wanted to see.

When they were together, Daeyoung often seemed the more childish of the two, but the one who actually pestered to make plans was always Wonjung. Easygoing either way, Daeyoung usually just went along. This semester’s schedule might as well have been whatever Wonjung drafted.

“Friday? Depends if the job starts right away.”

— If they say start immediately, you will?

“Yeah. Ugh, the wind.”

A sharp gust made him hunch and quicken his pace. The cafe wasn’t far, but the alley was narrow and dark—a wind tunnel every winter. The snow from a week ago still lay piled on one side; the shaded spots were staying shaded.

— Oh, right, and after the movie—

“Ah, I see the cafe. Hanging up.”

— That was fast. Okay.

He rounded the corner of the alley and ended the call, shoved the phone into his pocket, and approached.

He hadn’t looked closely while passing by before, but the interior had been refitted quite stylishly. Maybe they’d knocked through to next door during renovation—the space was larger than expected. True to a place pre-opening, boxes were stacked in and outside the entrance.

Jingle.

Even with the shop still in disarray, a tiny bell was already hung over the door. Finding it cute, he smiled slightly and stepped in.

“Hello.”

No sooner had he greeted than a face popped up behind the counter. The man, hair rumpled, straightened with a tap-tap to his lower back—he’d clearly been organizing under the counter.

“Student who applied for the part-time?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Aigo, whose kid is this, looking so handsome. One sec, let me wash my hands… Sit there. I’ll get you a coffee.”

With wiry-curly hair and a squared jaw, small eyes set under a bold nose, wide mouth, and even a cleft in the chin, he was a manly kind of handsome—though his look suited a gym more than a cafe. His speech mixed Seoul standard and dialect; tall and muscled, he looked almost comically dainty in a snow-white apron. But wasn’t that apron… small for his frame? The waist tie looked overtaxed. Eyeing the taut horizontal creases of the mini-apron with grave interest, Daeyoung gave a tiny nod.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Polite, too… Bet the elders dote on you?”

“Not really…”

Shk. Shk. Shk.

The sound of running water was loud enough to pass for slaps to a cheek. A moment later, after a burst of clatter, he approached with a mug.

“Here we go. I learned this to open the cafe—espresso. Try it.”

“Thank you.”

Black coffee sloshed in the mug. It definitely wasn’t an espresso, but he said nothing and sipped. As expected—an Americano.

“Let’s see here.”

Putting a cozy rhythm in his voice, the man scratched his chin and skimmed the resume on his phone. In truth, he barely glanced; he gulped coffee with satisfaction, apparently pleased with his own brewing.

“Worked at cafes before?”

“Before discharge, that’s where I worked longest. Franchises and independent shops both.”

All of it was in the resume, but he didn’t seem like the type to read closely. As if hearing it fresh, he widened his eyes and clapped those pot-lid hands.

“Perfect, just perfect. Honestly, I sort of jumped into this cafe thing, so there’s a lot I don’t know.”

“Oh, well, I’m happy to help however I can.”

With that, the terms fell into place quickly. The hourly pay was pretty good compared to other cafes, and the days and hours were flexible—oddly smooth for a negotiation.

“Till we’re settled, I’ll be here most of the time. There’s another part-timer, but on different days, so when you’re on, it’ll be you and me. Ah, when it’s busy, my nephew will help.”

One thing grated: the family. “The owner’s nephew” helping usually meant he’d shoulder the work alone—that was what data from many gigs said.

“If we’re short, we’ll bring on more, so don’t worry too much… To tell the truth, I’m a little scared…”

Built like a famous movie’s Artbox boss and calling himself scared didn’t land, but he even made tiny shivering fists, blinking. The way the wavy sideburns slipped down was almost cute.

“I’ll come next week, then. If anything changes, please let me know.”

“Got it. For the record, I like you a lot, so if someone else calls, tell me first.”

He didn’t say that he had nowhere else to go even if he wanted to. He nodded as the owner wished and stood, straightening his clothes.

The “interview” lasted barely ten minutes. As soon as he stepped out, he opened the group chat with the other two.

I start next week

We’ll see how it is, but the owner seems chill for now

Nice congrats

But dude’s muscles are insane—one punch and I’d fly to Jeju… better behave

Ask what protein he’s on

Good news. The unread count vanished at once, and Haegyeom sent an ugly emoji as congratulations. Wonjung chimed in a little later with one line:

Good you found a job

“Sss.”

He drew in a lungful of the still-cool air. It was a dusty day—not exactly fresh—but just resolving one nagging thing felt satisfying.

Landing a single part-time gig cleared days of muddled mood in an instant. Now it finally felt like life after discharge, like being a working adult. It was starting over. Professors who thought their class was the only class and drowned students in assignments, midterms and finals, trials for job prep, relationships that couldn’t be coasted through, and part-time work where he’d have to pull his full weight and earn the wage—

Truly, the semester had begun in earnest.

Bars lined the streets in front of campus. Among them, an indoor pojangmacha, famed for cheap, heaping anju, hit the students’ sweet spot. There was a reason for the price: instead of pricey first-floor rent, you climbed a steep concrete staircase in an old building. This place was no exception. Through the window you could see a line of worn leather sofas in a row. Standing before the building, glancing up, Daeyoung wore a “are you serious” expression.

“Are we really going in?”

“Why? Do we… look too much like broke, grungy returnees?”

Wonjung’s brows bounced with the same unease.

Normally, this wouldn’t be so awkward. The club’s first general meeting had been at 6 p.m.; the time stamp on Wonjung’s call to Daeyoung was exactly six.

‘Hello…’

— What the—Ahn Daeyoung, did you seriously sleep? You idiot, aren’t you going to the club room?

‘Ah, f—!’

The first-week problem. Normally he would have gone to the student union right after the last class, but with so much empty time thanks to early dismissals, he’d gone home and napped—and missed the window.

‘I slept… You go ahead.’

— Can’t. I just woke up too…

‘……’

So instead of stepping into the club room, the two stood outside the bar where the after-party was underway, looking up once more. Puffy-eyed from a hefty nap, they were a matched pair. Hands buried in his jumper pockets, Daeyoung flexed his fingers.

“…Should we just go home.”

He already felt sheepish about rejoining as returnees, and showing up only for drinks without attending the meeting felt shameless. Anyone would peg them as upperclassmen who came just to booze.

“…Daeyoung. Let’s go somewhere else, just us. I’ll smooth it over with Min-hye.”

Wonjung seemed to be thinking the same thing. He nodded slightly and turned away.

“Daeyoung!”

So this was what it meant to be stopped by a voice. He turned; Min-hye was coming down from the second floor, beaming and waving.

“I thought you weren’t coming, but you made it! Thank goodness. I told them a few more were coming, so we waited.”

“…Oh, really?”

Face-to-face with a bright, delighted person, saying “We feel awkward, so we’re going home” required more courage than expected. And more to the point, courage was precisely what Daeyoung lacked.

“Let’s go up, friend.”

Thump.

He patted Wonjung’s back lightly and took the lead. His stride looked bold enough, but inside he was shrinking with embarrassment; behind him, Wonjung and Min-hye exchanged greetings. Daeyoung quickened his pace.