Huiwon nodded without resistance. Just as he’d expected. The suggestion had been an offhand remark to begin with. It wasn’t as though Huiwon liked Deep Red either. He had no desire to wander in and out of a gay bar ten times with Hyeonho, who was straight.
He’d simply wanted to watch the composed, gentlemanly Kang Hyeonho squirm with embarrassment. That goal had already been accomplished. He wouldn’t lose any sleep over not seeing him again after this.
Right. Huiwon was about to open his mouth. But Hyeonho spoke first.
“Then I’ll just buy you ten meals instead.”
Huiwon sat in his chair and looked up at Hyeonho, who stood considerably taller than him. Hyeonho was still standing by his seat, tipping his beer back steadily as if to cool himself down.
Still a strange person. He’d followed him to a gay bar tonight, catered to his every whim, and even gotten rid of that nuisance of a person — by any measure, he’d already done more than his share. And yet he was willing to take responsibility for something Huiwon had said on a whim.
Fine. Let’s see just how far he’ll go. Huiwon’s eyebrow twitched.
“Alright, give me your phone.”
Hyeonho set down his beer bottle and pulled his phone from his back pocket, holding it out to Huiwon. Huiwon carefully pressed in his number, hit the call button, then handed it back to Hyeonho.
“Do Huiwon.”
Hyeonho already knew Huiwon’s name from the case file, but seeing Huiwon announce himself without so much as glancing his way drew a short, helpless laugh out of him. It was a little like watching a much younger cousin.
“Kang Hyeonho.”
What an ugly name. Huiwon muttered it loud enough to be heard as he saved Hyeonho’s name into his phone.
[I want to eat jjajangmyeon.]
Sender: Do Huiwon. A week had passed since they’d exchanged numbers. No greeting, no preamble — his very first message was a blunt declaration about jjajangmyeon. Hyeonho checked the message and stilled the chopsticks he’d been busily working with. He’d happened to stop by a Chinese restaurant for lunch, and the jjajangmyeon had just arrived — he’d barely started mixing it.
What timing. Hyeonho replied to Huiwon’s message.
— Today?
The number 1 vanished almost immediately, and a reply came not long after.
[Yes.]
Fine. Even if he ended up at a Chinese restaurant again for dinner, he could always order something different. I’ll get fried rice. Hyeonho quickly found his middle ground. He’d never been someone with strong opinions about these things. He sent Huiwon a message saying he’d come by when Huiwon’s shift ended, then went back to mixing his jjajangmyeon.
Before long, the sweet and sour pork arrived for the team to share. The thick, sticky sauce came alongside it.
“Pour it over or dip it?”
The Violent Crimes Unit 1 Team usually just poured the sauce on to eat faster. Hyeonho, the youngest on the team, had already instinctively lifted the sauce bowl to pour it when one of his teammates said something that made him pause. The teammate waved his hand up and down as if to say go ahead and pour. Hyeonho followed the gesture and poured the sauce over the pork, then set the empty bowl aside.
“Why are you suddenly asking about that?”
It was exactly what Hyeonho had wanted to ask too. Satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten, the teammate who’d posed the question burst out laughing.
“Well, I went on a blind date recently. And I just couldn’t figure out what to talk about, you know? Apparently stuff like this is great for keeping the conversation going.”
So he just wanted to talk about his blind date. Most detectives in the division were bad at dating, but the Violent Crimes Unit 1 Team was particularly infamous for it — which made the fact that he’d brought up a blind date first, even if indirectly, a pretty good sign that it had gone somewhere.
“Stuff like this?”
“Yeah. Things that get people bonding over food preferences, you know? Pour-it-over versus dip-it, which end of a fish-shaped bun you eat first — that kind of thing. My date this time said she was a dipper, so I quickly said I was too, and she was thrilled. After that, the whole conversation just flowed.”
His teammates were exactly as bad at jumping to conclusions as they were at dating, so he might very well be crying about it by that evening, but Hyeonho drew on his social experience and said warmly, “That sounds great, sunbae.”
“Whether you pour it or dip it — what does it even matter?”
Jaeho dismissed the teammate’s excitement with indifference and took a large bite of sweet and sour pork. Hyeonho privately agreed with Jaeho. As long as it tastes good, does it really matter how you eat it?
“Come on, do you think it’s really about the sauce? It’s a conversation starter. If they say pour-it-over, you say pour-it-over too. If they say dip-it, you say dip-it.”
“Just eat.”
“God, you’re no fun. You can just eat it off the floor for all I care.”
The teammate shot Kim Jaeho an irritated look, then shifted his gaze to Hyeonho, who had been eating quietly, and shaped his brows into a look of pity.
“Don’t go picking up his habits just because you’re always hanging around Kim Jaeho. You’re at the age where you should be dating. Listen to your sunbae. When you’re eating Chinese food, this kind of talk is basic table conversation. People also love talking about blood types, zodiac signs. Lately it’s MBTI or whatever — make sure you ask about that too.”
“In an age where forensic science has come this far, and we’re still talking about blood types.”
Tsk. Kim Jaeho clicked his tongue and threw another bucket of cold water over the conversation. Hyeonho agreed with Jaeho on this one too. He’d always thought it was pointless to sort people’s personalities into only four categories based on blood type. Unaware of Hyeonho’s silent agreement, the teammate launched into a rundown of personality traits by blood type, telling him to take notes. Hyeonho responded on autopilot and kept shoveling jjajangmyeon into his mouth.
“What do you think of this? I’m thinking of adding it to the spring lineup.”
“Wow, it’s gorgeous. Can I take a picture?”
Spring was, without question, the season of strawberries. Huiwon had baked a light, fluffy génoise, made a cream from cream cheese, vanilla extract, lemon juice, and strawberry purée, spread it over the top, then piled generously sized fresh strawberries — fragrant and ripe — on top of it all, before presenting it to the part-timer.
The part-timer cut it into a bite-sized piece with a fork, popped it in all at once, and gave a thumbs-up. Even in the face of her exaggerated reaction, Huiwon kept a straight face and tasted the cake himself, letting it roll slowly over his tongue. The rich cream cheese and fresh strawberry melted together in his mouth. It was undeniably a fail-safe combination.
But this spring. Even as he’d been putting out new items one after another — strawberry tart, strawberry fresh cream cake, strawberry roll cake — something hadn’t felt quite right. The customer response was good, and sales were solid, but there was something missing — that particular quality that made it Tesoro. Any cake shop worth its salt could make something like this.
Better to hold off for now. There were already too many similar things out there.
When Huiwon set down his fork, the part-timer looked at the remaining cake and glanced at Huiwon cautiously.
“Can I have the rest?”
The way she was licking her lips — it had clearly hit the mark as far as her taste went. Huiwon nodded. He watched her savor the cake with a look of pure happiness, and still felt something was lacking.
Café Tesoro was busy. As always. Huiwon was deeply grateful for this relentless rhythm. Coming in before dawn to bake, set out the display, welcome customers, bake again in between, then close up. It was physically demanding, but he would’ve gladly let his body fall to pieces. As long as he could keep this ordinary life intact. He wanted to cling to a normal existence with everything he had.
The crowd of customers thinned out, and the afternoon part-timer clocked off, and Café Tesoro’s door swung open just as Huiwon was beginning to close up for the night.
It was Kang Hyeonho. Huiwon had texted him that morning saying he wanted jjajangmyeon, and here he was, right on time.
“Should I wait outside again today?”
Huiwon shook his head at Hyeonho, who had already taken hold of the café door again, and gestured toward the corner seat with his chin. Back then, he’d done it to mess with him — but no matter how much Hyeonho annoyed him, he wasn’t cruel enough to leave him out in the cold every time. Even that first time, his intention had been more to tell him to just give up and go home.
“It won’t take long. Wait over there.”
Hyeonho looked visibly relieved at not having to stand in the cold and settled into the seat Huiwon had pointed to with what appeared to be quiet satisfaction.
“Try this while you wait.”
Huiwon placed a slice of the new strawberry cake — the same one he’d presented to the part-timer and regulars that morning — on the table in front of Hyeonho. Hyeonho stared blankly at the slice of strawberry cake that had appeared without warning, then gave an awkward smile.
“Oh……. It looks delicious. Like a cake straight out of a cartoon.”
He’s lying again. Despite his words, Kang Hyeonho picked up his fork slowly, cut off a small piece of the cake, and brought it just barely to his lips. He took the tiniest possible bite, and the sweetness melting at the tip of his tongue made him visibly shudder.
“What do you think?”
“……Uh……. Well…….”
Huiwon crossed his arms and waited for Hyeonho’s review. He’d known from the start that Hyeonho wasn’t someone who liked cake, and had offered the tasting with full awareness of that. It wasn’t to torment him — while feedback from people like the part-timer and regulars who enjoyed cake was certainly useful, people like Hyeonho who didn’t like cake often picked up on things that others missed.
“Be honest.”
