Sihoo met Hayoon’s gaze. The usual calm was gone, replaced by a serious expression. Sihoo braced himself, unsure what Hayoon would say.
“I’ll support whatever decision you make,” Hayoon said.
Sihoo’s eyes widened. The words, simple yet profound, meant Hayoon would back him no matter what. Gratitude warmed Sihoo’s chest, his ears turning red. Kanghoon felt like a father, Hayoon a brother—not bound by blood, but by unwavering support. How many people would stand by me like this?
“Thanks, hyung,” Sihoo said softly.
“For what? I’m starving. Let’s clean up, eat, and get to work,” Hayoon replied.
Sihoo smiled, heading to the kitchen. Hayoon watched him move swiftly, chuckling. That honesty of yours—it’s why Kanghoon hyung and I root for you.
As lunchtime wound down, a notice appeared on 56804’s door: “Closed early due to ingredient shortage.”
Disappointed customers turned away. Hayoon clicked his tongue. “So many people. How many groups asked already?”
Sihoo checked the ledger. “Compared to Kanghoon hyung’s time, business is up over double. So, yeah, more customers.”
Hayoon’s jaw dropped. “That much?”
“I’ve been feeling it too. It’s been tough lately with the crowds,” Sihoo admitted.
“You? Tired?” Hayoon teased.
“You think I’m made of steel?” Sihoo pouted.
Hayoon grinned slyly. “You’re in your early twenties. Shouldn’t you be chewing through iron?”
“Hyung, got any corn to pop? I’ll chew that instead,” Sihoo shot back.
“You little—!” Hayoon’s eyes narrowed, but he saw the worry behind Sihoo’s retort. Patting his shoulder, he said, “Hurry up and go to school. I’ll handle the rest.”
“I’ll call you tonight,” Sihoo replied, cleaning the showcase.
“Sounds good,” Hayoon said.
Sihoo changed and left 56804.
At the department office, the TA greeted him enthusiastically. “Look who it is! Korea University’s youngest restaurateur!”
Sihoo recognized her as an occasional customer, offering an awkward smile. “Hey, been well?”
“Every time I try to visit, the line’s insane,” she said.
Sihoo scratched his cheek, bowing. “Sorry for coming late.”
“Is your phone just a toy?” she teased.
Sihoo had no defense. Missed calls, texts, messages through classmates, and Hayoon—she had every right to rib him. Seeing his expression, she smirked. “You know you’re famous around here, right?”
“Me?” Sihoo asked, surprised.
The TA nodded. “Most students have been to 56804. Even professors know you’re a student here through them.”
Sihoo looked away, flustered.
“Professors try to visit but often leave because of the wait. Don’t you know?” she added.
“Uh, really?” Sihoo said.
“Especially our department head. He went once, proud you’re one of ours, but keeps running out of time. He’s been grumbling about no takeout,” she said.
Sihoo listened, embarrassed.
“The department head wants to meet you. He’s waiting,” she said.
“Really?” Sihoo asked.
“Go see him,” she urged.
Leaving the office, Sihoo’s head spun. The TA was tough, and now the department head? He hadn’t done anything wrong, but his steps felt heavy.
At Professor Han Kwontae’s office, Sihoo knocked. Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Sihoo entered, bowing. “I’m Kang Sihoo.”
Bookshelves brimmed with chemistry texts and papers. A nameplate read Han Kwontae, Chemistry Department. The professor stood, approaching Sihoo. “Sit. We’re not talking standing up.”
“Yes, sir,” Sihoo said, sitting on the sofa. Han sat opposite, studying him. Sihoo tensed, expecting academic talk.
“Why no takeout at your diner?” Han asked.
Sihoo blinked, tension easing. “Huh?”
The unexpected question made him feel guilty. “Other professors brag about eating there, but I haven’t made it. Takeout would’ve let me try it through someone else,” Han said.
Sihoo nodded, understanding. Other professors had eaten at 56804, but Han hadn’t, and as the owner, Sihoo was a natural target for his frustration.
“Sorry, sir. We’re planning takeout soon, but I came today for another reason,” Sihoo said.
“I know. You looked tense, so I brought up takeout to lighten the mood,” Han said.
Sihoo relaxed, sensing Han’s consideration. Known for never speaking casually to students or colleagues, Han’s warmth surprised him.
Han leaned forward, voice low. “Kang Sihoo, tell me about your plans for the semester.”
Sihoo steeled himself. “Some say you can succeed without a degree.”
Han nodded. “Those who say that—skilled, capable people—often still have degrees.”
“Go on,” Han urged, leaning closer.
“I considered dropping out. Balancing the diner and school felt impossible. But my coworker said he’d support any decision I make, so I want to do both,” Sihoo said.
“Both school and the diner…” Han rubbed his chin, arms crossed, studying Sihoo’s determined gaze. “What about the diner?”
“I’ll cut operating hours and start takeout to meet customer demand,” Sihoo said.
“And school?” Han asked.
Sihoo clenched his fist, summoning courage. “I’d appreciate your help, sir.”
Han’s eyes gleamed. Few students dared ask him for help so boldly. He tapped his arm, intrigued. “I’ll think about it.”
As Sihoo left campus, Han called the TA. “Kang Sihoo’s first-year grades?”
“Mostly A’s in majors, B’s in general courses,” she replied.
“Labs?” Han asked.
“He excelled. Maybe because of cooking, he grasped experiments well and had great focus,” she said.
Han stroked his chin, deep in thought. The TA sensed he was strategizing to guide Sihoo toward graduate school.
“Sir, about Kang Sihoo…” she began.
Han cut her off, eyeing her. “Have you eaten at his diner?”
“Yes,” she admitted, nodding.
She launched into a detailed account. “It’s like chemistry in taste—perfectly balanced. The tongue’s taste receptors pick up chemical compounds, and the brain interprets them. 56804’s flavors awaken those receptors, creating ecstasy.”
Han nodded, amused. “So, you’re saying we should go tomorrow?”
The TA froze, then grinned, clenching her fist. Free meal secured.
“Sir, you’ve said you couldn’t visit due to time. Let’s go early tomorrow,” she said.
“Alright,” Han chuckled.
That evening, Sihoo received a text from Han—a schedule of professors’ lecture times. He replied, [Thank you for your care, sir.]
Soon after, a reply: [:)]
Sihoo laughed. “He’s a fun guy…”
Studying the schedule, he marked courses to take. With the semester nearing, he brainstormed adjusting 56804’s hours and menu.
Buzz, buzz, buzz. His phone vibrated repeatedly. “What’s this?” he muttered, checking the flood of messages.