“Now, now — you can’t be putting your hands on the staff. The boss is watching.”
Frightened, Yuhyeon could only open and close his mouth without making any move. The manager gave Yuhyeon’s back a push and sent him out of the room. Even as the door swung shut, a sticky gaze clung to Yuhyeon as he left. It was Seongjun’s eyes — fixed on the back of his neck.
Yuhyeon had rarely felt like a coward in his life. But lately he had come to realize just how small his nerve had gotten. It wasn’t fear of the man who had cursed at him and raised his hand against him. It was Seongjun’s quiet, unwavering stare that had overwhelmed him completely.
It’s not like I actually did anything wrong….
The worst offense he could think of was that he’d held onto Seongjun’s engagement ring himself rather than leaving it at the hospital. Surely keeping it as a form of insurance was acceptable. Yuhyeon still had things he needed to collect from Seongjun. With that convenient justification in mind, he scrubbed away the brief, shameful thought he’d had about selling the ring.
❄ ❄ ❄
No matter how unsettled he felt inside, Yuhyeon didn’t slack on his work. By the time the sun had fully set, the crowd had rolled in and every room was packed. It was a Friday — the night most company dinners were scheduled — and a fair number of reservations had been made under corporate names.
Room 3 had been silent the entire time, without a single call bell. If the door hadn’t been firmly shut, it would have been easy to assume the group had already dispersed. What kind of conversation could possibly be unfolding in there? Curiosity would begin to rise in him and then retreat just as quickly. The image of those imposing men lined up in a row was enough to put him on edge.
“Yuhyeon, this one’s for Room 20.”
The head chef slid a freshly prepared yukhoe onto a wide plate and held it out to Yuhyeon. Since Glock was closing as of the very next day, a large number of part-timers had handed in their notice effective immediately. The serving staff was short-handed right in the middle of the busiest hours, and Yuhyeon had been running around hard enough to be drenched in sweat.
Throughout his entire shift, Yuhyeon kept reaching up to touch the back of his neck without thinking. Every time the scratched skin caught against his collar, it stung, and he couldn’t stop himself from touching it. The necklace swaying with each step irritated the wound as well. He would have liked to put a bandage over it, but the scratches were too wide to cover with what they had on hand — mostly just small patches meant for minor cuts.
Maybe if I put some ointment on it before bed it’ll get better.
There was no chance a pharmacy would be open at this hour. Should he pick some up at a convenience store even if it wasn’t as effective — the thought lasted only a moment before his expression went flat. He couldn’t even afford a new umbrella for the landlady. Where was he going to find money for ointment? The poverty that was already a given had grown even more dire, and it gnawed at him. Fatigue accumulated on Yuhyeon’s face as he sprinted endlessly up and down the corridor.
“Yuhyeon, come here a moment.”
“Me?”
Yuhyeon had been pulling a bottle of whisky from the liquor refrigerator when the head chef called him over, and he stretched his neck out in response.
“They’re closing up early tonight. You can head out too.”
“…But there are still customers here?”
It was a somewhat bewildering announcement. If they were sending the part-timers home with the rooms still full, who exactly was going to handle the serving? On top of that, other thoughts gnawed at him. His income was already being cut off, and if they were closing early on top of that, he was losing tens of thousands of won more.
Even setting all that aside, there was another problem. He still hadn’t managed to see Seongjun, which was the whole point. He had planned to catch Seongjun when Room 3 wrapped up. If only the call bell would ring, he could hand over the ring then and be done with it — but that room was still dead quiet.
What do I do?
Yuhyeon let out a long sigh.
“Take this with you on your way out.”
The head chef held out a large bag packed neatly full of food ingredients. The contents were stuffed in so tightly that the bottom had even been taped to keep the bag from bursting. It seemed like everything perishable was being cleared out in preparation for the extended closure. What Yuhyeon received was all items with plenty of shelf life remaining, so at least he wouldn’t have to worry about food for a while.
Normally he would have changed out of his uniform and packed up his things, but today was different. Since all his clothes were a mess anyway, he skipped the step entirely. When it looked like Yuhyeon was heading straight home, the head chef spoke in the tone of a final farewell.
“Will you be coming back to serve when we reopen in two months?”
“…I’m not sure.”
He genuinely hadn’t decided yet, so Yuhyeon shook his head. He would try to find another part-time job in the meantime, but nothing was certain. On top of everything else, this month’s rent was already precarious — if he couldn’t cover it from the deposit, he might have to give up the room. In that case, he’d likely spend time drifting around looking for something cheaper and end up moving far away, and….
Then it would naturally become impossible to come back to Glock.
Either way, there was no scenario with a positive outcome in sight.
“I’ve been reassigned somewhere else. That’s why I brought it up. I suppose today’s the last time we’ll see each other.”
“Reassigned — does that mean another place the boss runs, something like that?”
“Oh, yeah. More or less.”
The head chef left it at a vague answer and dropped his brows with a look of genuine regret. Watching him wave goodbye, Yuhyeon felt something hollow settle in his chest. It hadn’t been one year but three — and to think he might never see this person again. He felt the loss too.
“Don’t go around starving yourself. If you find another part-time job, try to get into one that covers meals. Lots of restaurants these days give their part-timers food.”
“Okay…. I will.”
“Haah, still. We all built up a lot of good memories working together, and now everyone’s scattering. It’s a shame.”
The head chef let out a wistful remark and couldn’t quite shake the sadness from his face.
3. Gambling
The weight in his right hand was heavy enough to make his shoulder ache. He switched the bag from hand to hand, but it was a strain either way. Somehow making it to his front door, Yuhyeon let out a low groan and fished out his key. He finally got inside, set down his things, and checked the time. One of the many inconveniences of not having a phone was how difficult it was to keep track of time.
It’s late now, so…. I can go up tomorrow.
He couldn’t give her a new umbrella, but he could at least pass along some snacks. Yuhyeon began pulling the ingredients out of the bag and sorting through them for anything suitable to give the landlady. Mostly it was the ones that looked pricier — a selection of imported snacks and a dried fruit set. Once he had finished picking them out, he shoved the rest of the food into the refrigerator. Just the sight of freshly stocked meat and vegetables somehow made him feel full.
Last, his eyes landed on the clothes tucked into the bottom of the bag. The outfit he had been wearing when Seongjun, covered in blood, had clung to him — stained and ruined. He had heard somewhere that toothpaste or shampoo worked well for getting blood out. Yuhyeon carried the bundled-up clothes into the bathroom, filled the basin with water, and squeezed out a measure of shampoo.
It would be nice if it came out in one go.
The bloodstained area was wide, so he had to soak the fabric thoroughly. He worked in the shampoo with both hands and scrubbed hard, and the blood began to slowly lift. But the parts that had soaked deeper into the fabric were another matter — the staining remained patchy and uneven.
Refusing to give up, Yuhyeon rinsed away the shampoo lather and then squeezed toothpaste directly onto the fabric, rubbing it in. He scrubbed hard enough that the sharp mint scent stung his nose — and still, the result was the same. The bloodstains had faded somewhat, but not nearly enough to be wearable.
“…It’s not coming out.”
He’d already lost his button-down, and now it looked like the top and trousers were going the same way. Out of sheer stubbornness he tried the same method again — pointless. The thoroughly soaked clothes ended up in the bin. He should have washed them right away when they got bloodied…. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from them. If he had known it would come to this, he would have left his clothes in the locker instead.
Since he was already in the bathroom, Yuhyeon finished up with a shower and changed into comfortable clothes as he came back out to the living room. He didn’t wipe the water off his face — saving the last bit of lotion he had. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall across from him. Looking at the old, yellowed wallpaper had a way of settling even the most tangled of feelings.
It was a method that had always worked — but tonight it didn’t. He exhaled slowly, trying to ease the weight of his distress, and the heaviness remained exactly as it was.
I’ll need a phone to find part-time work….
He mostly looked for jobs through apps, so a phone was essential. He had no computer at home, no internet connection either, and even if he went to a PC café he had no money to pay for it and no way to contact anyone after seeing a listing.
The stress made his head pound. Yuhyeon pressed a hand against his forehead and reached toward the drawer for some headache medicine.
Wait….
The palm resting against his forehead felt warm. A mild fever. The thought slipped through him that this might not be a simple headache. His heat cycle came around every few months even though he was a high-suppressant type. Every time, he would catch the particular shift in the air just before it started — and the feeling right now was exactly that.
The hand that had been searching the medicine box changed course. Yuhyeon tore through the entire apartment looking for his suppressants. Since he rarely needed them, they sometimes ended up mixed in with other things and out of place.
…Only one left?
There was a single pill. A heat cycle lasted roughly a week, and unless he had intercourse with an alpha, he would need to keep taking medication throughout. Suppressants cost around forty thousand won. There was no way he could afford that right now.
