Sihoo waited for Kanghoon’s voice to return.
“Sorry, it was noisy. Told them to quiet down,” Kanghoon said.
“Cool. Hyung, how’s cooking? Fun?” Sihoo asked.
“Yeah, learning’s a blast,” Kanghoon replied.
Sihoo recalled the thrill of mastering Korean cuisine, though the diner’s relentless pace made him shake his head. Kanghoon, hearing through Hayoon that Mom’s Place was causing trouble, noted Sihoo’s silence on the matter. He’s hiding it to not worry me.
Kanghoon listened patiently, waiting for Sihoo to mention the neighbor. When he didn’t, Kanghoon prodded, “Sihoo, trouble with next door?”
“Trouble? Sure, but it’s not a big deal,” Sihoo said.
“Not a big deal?” Kanghoon asked.
“Yeah, if they lose customers, they’ll crash on their own,” Sihoo replied.
Kanghoon was floored. That confidence… It stemmed from Sihoo’s faith in his food and service—unshakable. When Kanghoon stayed silent, Sihoo continued, “Hyung, I just keep making food with care for every customer.”
Kanghoon felt his work stress melt away. Sihoo echoed his own philosophy. If he were here, I’d hug him. “Man, when did you grow up? I’ll give you a big pat when I’m back in Korea.”
“No need for that. Just cook me some Japanese food,” Sihoo teased.
Kanghoon froze. Japanese food… “Deal. When I’m back, it’s on.”
“Really? I’m holding you to it!” Sihoo’s excitement lifted Kanghoon’s mood. Like a nephew.
“Gotta go, work calls,” Kanghoon said.
“Hyung, hearing you made my day. Stay healthy,” Sihoo said.
“You too. Don’t overdo it like before with that eating disorder,” Kanghoon warned.
Sihoo’s face flushed. “I’m fine. Thanks for worrying.”
“Get some rest,” Kanghoon said.
“You too, hyung.” Sihoo hung up, warmth spreading through him. Kanghoon was a rare gem—caring, supportive. Leaning back on the sofa, he closed his eyes.
Kanghoon, ending the call, turned as someone approached. It was his assistant, Sama Yoon.
“Finished your call, sir?” Yoon asked.
Kanghoon eyed him. “Eavesdropping?”
“No, you just looked happy. It was nice to see,” Yoon said, standing tall, his sharp gaze almost intimidatingly competent.
“About 56804’s neighbor issue, we’ve taken steps,” Yoon reported.
Kanghoon glanced at the documents on his desk, his expression darkening. Yoon added, “Chairman Koo of Yoorim Foods has arrived.”
Kanghoon nodded, adjusting his clothes. They left the office.
Sihoo, dozing on the sofa, checked the clock and headed to the basement. He needed a hefty harvest from the field. Downstairs, the field’s vibrant glow greeted him. Stepping in, he noticed rain falling. “Rain, huh?”
It was his first time seeing rain in the field. The soft, muddy soil sank underfoot as he grabbed a basket and began picking vegetables and fruits.
Chirp. The same bird sound from before. Despite the rain, a massive bird glided overhead. Sihoo recalled a high school documentary about eagles hunting. Must be eyeing prey. He moved to a fruit tree, picking carefully.
Whoosh. A gust knocked him down, his pants soaking in mud. “Ugh, ruined my clothes. Shower time.”
Flap, flap. A huge shadow loomed. Sihoo ducked, goosebumps rising. Whoosh. The wind stilled. Looking up, he saw nothing. Chirp. “No way…” Did it think I was prey?
Rustle. Sihoo turned toward the sound. Scamper. Something fled. “What was that?” He scanned the area, finding nothing, and resumed harvesting. Another rustle turned his head. The eerie sound grated his nerves. Something’s here.
Giving up the search, he headed back, then froze. Fresh footprints marked the mud—clawed, like a magpie’s, but larger, not mammalian. Something special lives here. I’ll find it next time. He nodded firmly, carrying his harvest back.
Thud. Shaking off mud, he grabbed a broom, sweeping the dirt back toward the field. “Enough for tomorrow, despite the rain,” he muttered, staring at the field before slinging the sack over his shoulder and heading upstairs.
Days of relentless work and harvesting blurred together. Glancing at the calendar, Sihoo sighed. “School… what do I do?” Running 56804 meant considering a university leave or dropout.
Sigh. Pulling the handcart to the diner, a voice called, “Kang Sihoo?”
A petite female student clutched textbooks, looking up at him. Never seen her before. “Yes?” Sihoo asked.
She smiled. “Hi, I’m Hong Mirae. The department TA said you’re not answering calls. Asked me to pass a message if I saw you. Said the line here’s always too long to come in.”
Sihoo nodded, realizing he’d forgotten to contact the TA amid the chaos. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Mirae relayed, “The TA said come to school or call by this week.”
“Got it. Thanks,” Sihoo said.
Mirae bowed, rushing toward campus. Sihoo watched her go, then headed to 56804. The door was already open. Jingle. Hayoon was cleaning the dining area and organizing the commercial fridge.
“Hyung, you’re early,” Sihoo said.
“You’re twenty minutes early yourself,” Hayoon teased.
Sihoo chuckled, checking his watch. “Let’s prep and eat.”
Hayoon asked, “What about school?”
“A classmate just told me the TA’s looking for me,” Sihoo said.
Hayoon nodded, understanding. “Why even carry a phone?”
Sihoo had no reply. His smartphone was just for searches, time, alarms, and rare calls. Hayoon laughed at his sheepish look. “Your TA’s friends with mine. Mine mentioned you too.”
Sihoo sighed. “Guess I need to decide soon.”
Seeing Sihoo’s troubled expression, Hayoon called softly, “Sihoo.”