Chapter 23: New Allies and Old Scores

Sihoo rubbed his chin at Hwijun’s words.
“So, they promise good coverage but ask for backdoor money?”

Reading Sihoo’s expression, Hwijun continued, “Yeah, but big places can’t get away with it. Still, with their huge followings, even saying the food’s bad can do real damage.”

56804, the diner Sihoo took over from Kanghoon, couldn’t afford a hit to its reputation. After a moment’s thought, Sihoo called Hayoon.

Ring, ring. Click.

“Hey, what’s up? You’re calling me?” Hayoon said.

“Hyung, did you set a meeting with that ‘Fact Check’ YouTuber?”

“Yeah, next Tuesday before we open.”

“Got it,” Sihoo said.

“What’s up? Something wrong?” Hayoon asked.

Sihoo glanced at Hwijun, who was rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, staring at the ceiling. “Just checking if you made the appointment.”

“Alright. Oh, I looked into takeout container suppliers…” Hayoon continued.

Sihoo listened quietly. “Hyung, what if we ask customers to bring their own containers for takeout?”

Hayoon’s voice rose, surprised. “What? Isn’t that a hassle?”

“It’s a bit more work, but not much beyond that.”

“Really? We’re already slammed… Shouldn’t we hire someone?”

Sihoo looked at Hwijun, still rubbing his eyes. Smirking, Sihoo said, “I’ll think about hiring.”

“Good. It’s busy, and I’ve got writing too,” Hayoon said.

Sihoo felt a twinge of guilt. Hayoon handled cleaning and odd jobs. “I’ll find someone fast.”

“Great, thanks, boss,” Hayoon teased.

Sihoo chuckled, drawing out his reply. “Yup.”

Hanging up, Hwijun jumped in as if he’d been waiting. “Ddakddaguri’s visiting the diner?”

“Yeah, my coworker said Tuesday before opening.”

Sihoo turned to Hwijun. “What about school?”

“Me? I’m at a university in Gyeonggi-do.”

“What were you doing at Haran Market?”

“Oh, a restaurant there hired me to film and do a live stream while eating.”

Sihoo grinned. “With that face, you’re done streaming for a while, huh?”

Hwijun swung a fist at the air. “You jerk, what if you’d hit my face?”

“I aimed for your ribs, but you dodged. That’s why I brought you home and gave you eggs.”

Hwijun sighed. “My classmates are gonna roast me.”

Sihoo teased again. “No class today?”

“If I had class, would I be wandering around like this?”

At Hwijun’s words, Sihoo’s eyes curved into crescents as he smiled. “Wanna be my palace chef?”

“…”

“You jerk, stop it. I’m stuffed.”

Hwijun had eaten until his stomach felt like it would burst. When Sihoo had hit him back at the empty lot in Cheongsan, Hwijun let him out of pity, knowing Sihoo had had a tough time. Though he didn’t say it, Hwijun had been ostracized in his senior year of high school for saying the wrong thing. He knew how brutal that kind of isolation could be, so he took the hits. Sihoo’s face had come to mind back then.

But this guy’s hands were vicious.

Hwijun dodged, thinking he’d die if he took any more. Pow. He hadn’t expected a fist to the face. Sihoo’s expression after landing the hit was something else—Hwijun had never seen someone who’d thrown a punch look like that.

This guy’s a lunatic but still has that innocent vibe, Hwijun had thought, sizing Sihoo up.

Now, he realized that was a mistake.

Food kept coming, no matter how full he said he was. This is the last one, Sihoo would say, only to bring another last dish when Hwijun tried to rest.

“I kept eating because you said it was the last…”

It felt like a gym trainer: “Last one, really the last! Just one more, you’re doing great, final one!”

Sihoo’s food was genuinely delicious, so Hwijun kept eating until his stomach felt like it would explode. Eventually, just looking at food made him nauseous.

Hwijun covered his mouth and turned away. Seeing this, Sihoo held up a tray. “Hey, people line up at my diner for this food! Think of it as a foodie pilgrimage!”

Hwijun raised both hands in surrender. “Just hit me instead. That’d be better.”

“Too bad, this is the real last one.”

Clink.

A dessert appeared on the table—not Korean food, but ice cream topped with strawberries and grapes, looking delicious.

Hwijun really wanted to stop eating, but his hand reached for the spoon beside the bowl. “Ugh, I’m so full…”

Grumbling, he took a bite. Mmm. The soft sweetness melted on his tongue, and Hwijun couldn’t help but curse. “What the—? Is this ice cream?”

It looked like ice cream, scooped softly with a spoon, but in his mouth, it felt like shaved ice made from frozen milk and fruit.

To Hwijun’s question, Sihoo replied, “It’s ice cream, but I made it by quickly grinding frozen milk and fruit juice. How’s the taste?”

“It’s obviously good, but—huh?”

Hwijun tilted his head mid-sentence. The bloating agony from moments ago vanished after eating the ice cream, and, absurdly, he craved more of Sihoo’s food. He couldn’t believe himself.

“What’s with this dessert? Did you put a super-strength digestive in it?”

Sihoo shook his head. “You think I’d drug my food? Didn’t I tell you I don’t do that?”

Sihoo raised the tray as if to hit him.

“But seriously, my stomach feels fine now. Like I downed a bottle of digestive.”

Hwijun started eating the food left on his plate again. Sihoo watched, his eyes narrowing. The ice cream contained “apple grapes” from the field, which aided digestion.

Apple grapes help with digestion?

Nom, nom. The sound of Hwijun eating continued.

Watching him, Sihoo said, “Hey, wanna work part-time?”

“Part-time? If there’s a spot, I’m in. I’ve got no classes some days.”

Sihoo grinned wickedly.

A few days later, Tuesday at 6:30 a.m., the day of the YouTuber’s visit.

Sihoo arrived at 56804 with a handcart full of supplies and saw a man standing stiffly in front of the door. Recognizing him, Sihoo said, “You’re here.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect to be called at dawn.”

“You said you’re free today, right?”

Hwijun nodded, faintly regretting his choice. Swayed by Sihoo’s part-time job offer while eating ice cream, he’d shown Sihoo his schedule when asked.

Looking at 56804’s sign, Hwijun sighed softly and glanced at Sihoo. “This is where you work?”

“Yup, let’s go in.”

The two entered, moving Sihoo’s supplies to the kitchen.

Jingle.

The door opened, and Hayoon’s greeting followed. “You’re early—oh?”

Hayoon looked curiously at the man beside Sihoo.

Sihoo introduced them. “This is my senior from school who handles front-of-house here. And this is my middle school friend who annoyed me and got thoroughly beaten up.”

Hayoon extended a hand to Hwijun. “I’m Joo Hayoon. You got hit by Sihoo?”

Hwijun smiled awkwardly, shaking hands. “Yeah, I did. I’m Yoo Hwijun.”

Hayoon’s eyes glinted oddly. Before the silence grew awkward, Sihoo clapped. “Let’s hustle. Lots to cook. Hyung, Hwijun’s helping you from today.”

“What? A part-timer?” Hayoon asked.

“Yup,” Sihoo said, quickly cleaning the kitchen and prepping ingredients.

Chop, chop. Clang, clang. Slice, slice.

As Hwijun learned cleaning and showcase tasks from Hayoon, the kitchen sounds turned their heads.

“Nice rhythm, huh?” Sihoo said.

“Yeah. Uh, hyung, don’t be so formal. I’m Sihoo’s age,” Hwijun said.

Hayoon grinned. “Got it.”

“But, hyung, does everyone prep that fast?” Hwijun asked.

Hayoon shook his head. “Just him.”

Hayoon shot Sihoo a proud glance. Hwijun learned quickly, noting tasks. Hayoon found him impressive.

“But, did Sihoo really hit you?” Hayoon whispered.

Hwijun’s answer made Hayoon’s eyes widen.