Another plant he’d been raising died. Eunha stood on the terrace holding a watering can, looking down at the flowerpot with a serious expression. This place faced south with an open view, with a parking lot and wide alley right next to it and no tall buildings around.
Bright sunlight streamed in every day. When the sun seemed too strong, he could unfurl the awning to control the amount of sunlight. On humid days, he went to the trouble of laboriously moving the plants inside the cafe. He managed them every day without fail and strictly adhered to the recommended amount of water. And yet it died. What could be the problem? He had absolutely no idea.
Eunha was devoted to gardening. It was a hobby he’d been continuing for over a year now. At first, his heart had been light about it. Growing them hadn’t even been the main purpose from the start. He’d simply adopted them for ornamental purposes. It was because the terrace landscape after finishing the interior design was quite different from the vague picture he’d conceived.
It was clean but bland, and there was a strong feeling that something was missing. One spring when he was twenty-seven, Eunha stood between the tables, troubled, and thought that if verdant plants decorated the space, the overall appearance would become much nicer.
After deciding, execution was quick. Since the opening date was just around the corner, there was no time to dawdle. He went around large flower complexes, putting in the legwork, and began buying them one after another. Things that looked cool and beautiful.
The terrace decorated with plants to his liking boasted scenery that had indeed become much nicer. The fresh green hues brought a psychological sense of refreshment and stability all at once. Eunha praised his own eye and was pleased. He was quite satisfied. Everything was like that. It was a time when the cafe he’d just opened was sailing with the wind.
And it didn’t even take two months to realize that this was a very temporary satisfaction. It was because the plants withered away one after another as if they’d been waiting for it.
He did know that each plant had different cultivation guidelines, but honestly, he’d never bothered to look up such things one by one. He’d just thought that as long as he let them get good sunlight and gave them plenty of water, it would be fine. Because plants live on light and water.
Complacent ignorance produced perfect failure, and Eunha realized his rashness while tasting bitter frustration at the same time. What came simultaneously was a sense of self-blame. Seeing the disastrous results brought about by his careless choice made him feel very unpleasant. That’s when it started. When Eunha became serious about plants.
His hobby life of pouring his heart and soul into study after study had already passed a little over a year. Now Eunha had developed what you could call a discerning eye. He’d definitely surpassed the beginner level. But still, despite all that, the plant died.
Can’t be helped. Eunha, who had been regretfully stroking the completely withered leaves, picked up the flowerpot and placed it in front of the storage door in the corner of the terrace.
He checked once more thoroughly on the ones that were still doing reasonably well, and only after repeatedly reviewing whether he’d missed anything did he come down to the first floor. Since it was just past 9:30, the interior was quiet. With no customers lingering, the only activity was students attending morning classes occasionally getting takeout.
Jeongho, who had skillfully finished preparations on the counter side and was mopping the spacious first-floor area, spotted Eunha and made a puzzled expression. Eunha touched his cheeks. His face must not have looked very good.
“What’s wrong?”
“A plant died.”
“Ah… Which one? When I saw it last week, one of them was all withered. The Australian flower or something? That one?”
“That’s it. Australian waxflower.”
He’d resolutely ignored its gradually withering appearance, and only today had he issued the death sentence. He never wanted to acknowledge the fact that another one had died. He’d really thought he could raise it well this time.
As he stood there feeling troubled, Jeongho, who had propped his elbow on the end of the mop handle and rested his chin on it, tilted his head.
“But boss.”
“Yeah.”
“Aren’t there plants with low difficulty? Like that kind? When I looked up the species on the terrace before, they were all difficult ones to raise. And whenever they wither, you always bring back the same species again… I’m curious. Why you take the hard road.”
“Why do I engage in meaningless futile effort?”
“No. No, no. Ehe, when did I ever. That’s not what I meant.”
At the joke, Jeongho hurriedly waved his hands. His flustered gestures were fully imbued with youthful naivety. Jeongho was twenty-one years old. Eunha smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders.
“Just. I want to raise them well. Because I chose them. After choosing them because I liked them, giving up because they’re difficult would be kind of bad, wouldn’t it.”
“Ah… That’s a really cool reason.”
“Is it.”
“Yes. You’re responsible, and you have enough financial power to back that up too.”
“…Mm.”
“When I searched back then, I looked at the prices too… They cost more than I thought? Like tens of thousands of won for one, some were even over a hundred thousand won each… If you add up all the ones that withered and were disposed of so far, just how much that must be…”
“You’re starting again.”
“You don’t deny it either, boss. The theory that you’re a second-generation chaebol.”
“If you’re going to talk nonsense, go finish cleaning.”
“Hey, it’s not nonsense when I know how many cars you have. In the first place, to open such a large cafe—”
“Jeongho.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Jeongho, who swallowed his teasing and answered deferentially, moved away. Eunha cast him an indulgent look as if to say “as if.” His movement quickly resuming cleaning every corner of the cafe was enthusiastic.
Jeongho was a part-timer hired when opening the cafe. When just reading his resume, he hadn’t particularly caught the eye. Because he was just twenty years old and had no noteworthy experience.
However, taking note of the small details shown during the short interview, he changed his mind, and ended up choosing him over the two experienced candidates he’d originally been considering.
In conclusion, it had been a good choice. Jeongho was friendly and positive. He was personable, so no matter how illogical a troublemaker barged in, he never once frowned. People with that kind of personality regardless of age were uncommon. On top of that, his hands were quick and his head was good, so it was comfortable working together.
Befitting his early twenties age, he had a cheerful and fresh side, so being together with him, it felt like that bright inner nature was contagious, which was also something he liked.
The feeling that I too could become that bright.
Just then. A customer came in along with the doorbell. Eunha stopped Jeongho, who was about to head to the counter, with a look and went to stand there instead. Two or more part-timers were assigned per time slot, but only the relatively quiet opening time was handled by Jeongho alone.
There were few customers, but that didn’t mean there was little work to do, so Eunha would come to work early every day to manage the plants and help watch the counter. Then when the next shift’s part-timer arrived, he would rest on the second floor while tending to the plants or go out on errands.
Before long, Jeongho, who had finished cleaning, returned to the counter. Eunha greeted customers together with him. When it was quiet, they would also exchange light small talk. Time passed that way until around 10:30. At the sound of the doorbell, Eunha casually looked toward the entrance.
Ah. That man.
“Welcome.”
Eunha, who spoke out of habit, stood at the front of the counter, leaving behind Jeongho who was making drinks. He looked over the approaching man expressionlessly. His gaze went first to the long-shaped eyes. Jet-black pupils, the mole beneath them, several piercings that fully assisted the overall cold impression.
He had stood out from the first time he saw him. It was an appearance that made that difficult not to happen.
So his first impression seemed to have been not too bad either…
Briefly, he made eye contact with Eunha. With an emotionless face, he slowly opened his mouth.
“Hello.”
There weren’t many customers who bothered to give a greeting when ordering.
If it was a customer who visited every day for over a month without exception and greeted him every day, this customer was the only one.
These days, Eunha found that irritating.
