“If Seo Yuhyeon felt uncomfortable, that alone is sufficient grounds to call the security guard.”
“…Yes.”
“From now on, even if you end up in a fight, call the security guard first — then fight.”
“I won’t be getting into any fights.”
“Get into them. At least hit them back.”
Yuhyeon blinked, not quite following, and Seongjun added a brief explanation.
“I want Seo Yuhyeon to value himself more.”
The number of times Yuhyeon had actually spoken with him could be counted on one hand. Sometimes a casual greeting in passing, other times a word or two exchanged in brief. They had never had a conversation this long before, which was probably why the man’s manner felt so unfamiliar.
I must have looked that pathetic to him.
Yuhyeon felt the weight of the tip still in his hand grow heavier. It was only a slip of paper, so logically it couldn’t weigh anything — and yet.
As Yuhyeon’s expression gradually edged toward something miserable, Chae Seongjun emphasized once more.
“You don’t need to treat people who aren’t fit to be called human like valued guests.”
“…People who aren’t fit to be called human.”
Yuhyeon murmured the blunt words back to signal that he’d taken them in. No matter how he thought about it, this was a peculiar owner. Most of the time, when a dispute broke out between a staff member and a customer, it was the employee who got reprimanded — but he was different. Only after receiving Yuhyeon’s acknowledgment did Seongjun jerk his chin toward the door.
“You can go now.”
With the situation resolved, Yuhyeon offered a parting bow and made his way out of the room with small, tentative steps. But the moment he crossed the threshold, he came face to face with Juntae, who had been about to come in from outside.
Juntae had assumed the room was empty since the customers had paid and left, and had come to clean up — only to find Yuhyeon coming out the door and Seongjun still inside. He couldn’t hide his surprise.
“What’s going on? Isn’t that the owner in there? …Were you two in there together?”
The two of them having been left alone together was more than enough to invite a misunderstanding of a secret rendezvous. Whether he hadn’t heard their voices through the wall, Juntae fired off questions in rapid succession while conspicuously darting glances at Seongjun in the distance. Yuhyeon told him he’d explain later and brushed past him. Those eyes, gleaming with a misunderstanding stacked on top of a misunderstanding, were hard to deal with right now — it was still work hours.
Heading back toward the kitchen where the call bell display was installed, Yuhyeon felt a strange prickling at the back of his neck. Even without turning around, he had a feeling he knew who it was. The faint trace of cigarette smell that had been present inside the room lingered just enough to make its source unmistakable.
It feels like the owner is following me…. That must be my imagination.
He tried to write it off as two people happening to take the same path and put it out of his mind.
“Yuhyeon, why did it take so long— eek!”
The head chef, who had spotted Yuhyeon approaching and had perked up happily, suddenly acted as though something had lodged in his throat. Puzzled, Yuhyeon turned his head — and found Seongjun standing stock-still right behind him.
“…Is there something you wanted to say?”
It hadn’t been a coincidence of direction after all — he had followed deliberately. Yuhyeon asked in a tone that came out a little dazed from the tension, then forced himself to swallow firmly and pull himself together.
“You can clock out.”
“Pardon? Clock out?”
That was the last thing he’d expected. Yuhyeon’s eyes went wide and he went through the process of confirming that he’d heard correctly. Seongjun nodded his chin with unhurried ease, as though prepared to answer as many times as needed.
“Take an early day off today. Get some fresh air, change your mood.”
Is he looking out for me right now?
He’d assumed from appearances alone that this man was indifferent and detached — it seemed he’d been wrong. This was, in fact, an owner who took rather good care of his part-timers. In the span of a single day, the image Yuhyeon had held of a boss he’d given little thought to shifted into something positive. Apparently that was all he’d wanted to say, because Seongjun turned and left without looking back. Once the man had disappeared from sight, Yuhyeon stood there scratching his cheek — and the head chef called out to him.
“Yuhyeon!”
Before Yuhyeon could even respond, the head chef grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, looked him over from head to toe with a worried expression, and asked,
“Hey, what happened?”
But apparently finding nothing visibly wrong, the head chef let his hands fall away with a sheepish look. Then he rambled on about how the cold sweat had practically broken out on its own the moment the owner showed up.
“Look at this. I thought we were all about to get scolded, I was just sweating buckets.”
Was it really that bad? The owner did have an intimidating look about him, but there had been genuine warmth in his voice. The head chef, who hadn’t been privy to the exchange just now, wore an expression so full of concern it seemed almost excessive.
“Something happened in room eight…. The owner came and sorted it out.”
“That table that just left — that was room eight? What on earth did they do that made the owner step in himself?”
“Just….”
He didn’t want to get into it any further. Having a customer stuff a tip into his waistband wasn’t exactly a pleasant thing to go around telling people, and it wasn’t a topic he wanted to spend conversation on. Most of all, he felt ashamed and wretched about the fact that he hadn’t thrown the check away — that he was still holding onto it.
Money itself is innocent….
It was a reasonably packaged piece of self-justification. He’d already been through something infuriating; on top of that, handing the money back felt too unfair. It was given — what of it. Yuhyeon pressed idly against the check sitting in his pocket. The faint rustling of paper sent a small pang through the inside of his chest.
“Hmm, then again, this is unexpected. The owner doesn’t usually concern himself with part-timer business.”
“He’s not usually someone who looks out for people?”
Seongjun didn’t come around to Glock often, but from tonight, he hadn’t struck Yuhyeon as someone who was indifferent to his employees. The head chef, however, tilted his head as though Yuhyeon’s words didn’t compute.
“Not a chance. There’s a floor manager for a reason, and there are security guards — why would he bother stepping in himself? This is someone who didn’t bat an eye when a fight broke out right in front of him.”
What followed from the head chef was entirely unexpected to Yuhyeon. It was enough to make him wonder whether the Seongjun he’d met in room eight and the owner the head chef was describing were even the same person.
“I’m going to go get changed first.”
“Oh sure, yeah. And take this with you when you go.”
The head chef was packing neatly cut fruit into a disposable bag as he spoke. Beside it sat a whole raw chicken, still in its unopened packaging. The head chef would often set aside ingredients for Yuhyeon — things nearing their expiry date, or surplus stock from an ordering mistake.
“Wow…. Thank you, as always.”
Ordinarily this sort of thing would be divided among the kitchen staff alone, but the head chef always put Yuhyeon first. It might have seemed like an ordinary gesture to some, but not to Yuhyeon. He was the only person who had ever noticed how often Yuhyeon went to bed hungry.
— Yuhyeon, why do you look like that.
It was about a year ago, maybe. Yuhyeon had come into work at Glock in a completely run-down state after three days of not eating. He’d had to tighten his belt due to lack of money, and it had eventually gone far enough to affect his health. From that point on, the head chef had kept a quiet eye on Yuhyeon, and without making a fuss about it, had started pressing food into his hands. His quiet compassion had made Yuhyeon’s circumstances considerably easier to bear.
In a way, maybe it was fortunate that my situation got found out back then.
He didn’t particularly enjoy having his poverty used as something to be pitied — but since it had reduced his food expenses, the outcome had been acceptable.
Yuhyeon went into the staff lounge and reached for the cabinet with his name on it. He pulled out the clothes he’d folded and tucked into the narrow space, and they came out smelling unpleasant. Since the cabinet was shared among several people, an unpleasant smell seeped in every now and then. He got one arm through the sleeve before the smell became too much to bear — he changed into his regular clothes but draped his coat over his arm instead of putting it on. He was heading out when he suddenly remembered the ingredients the head chef had set aside for him and turned back toward the kitchen.
“Yuhyeon, you like kiwi, don’t you?”
The question reached him the moment he stepped through the kitchen doorway. Thinking perhaps they were going to give him more, Yuhyeon nodded quickly. As expected, a box of rough-skinned kiwis was held out to him. Unlike the fruit he usually received, this looked noticeably fresh. He couldn’t even begin to guess why he was being given this.
“The owner said to send along more of whatever you like.”
“The owner said that himself?”
He was taken aback to hear that it had come directly from Seongjun, not the head chef. The head chef grinned wide, as if to say — who else would have given this?
“Yuhyeon, you are getting completely special treatment from the owner.”
The head chef accompanied the remark about how this was beyond anything he’d ever seen with a series of pokes at Yuhyeon’s arm. Having worked at Glock longer than Yuhyeon, he seemed genuinely delighted by something he’d never witnessed before. Trying to deny that it was anything special proved difficult when the box of kiwis being held out to him effectively shut his mouth. Yuhyeon, now inexplicably flustered, reached up and rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward hand.
