The boy’s eyes seemed to hold back everything—his face rigid, as if suppressing something deep. Meeting his gaze, Sihoo couldn’t help but feel puzzled. Children usually lit up at the sight of tasty food, but this boy, sitting in the dining area, remained stiff, his eyes clouded.
The woman, presumably his mother, smiled gently, trying to soothe her sulky child as she cut the tofu steak. She fed him a piece, her smile warm, but to Sihoo, her eyes didn’t match. Her eyes aren’t smiling.
The boy reluctantly opened his mouth. Sihoo, watching from the kitchen, kept glancing at the pair.
Hayoon, sensing the mood, slipped into the kitchen, back to the dining area, and whispered, “Something’s off, right?”
Sihoo nodded.
As Sihoo looked toward the mother and son, Hayoon continued, “I complimented the mom, saying her kid’s adorable. She smiled with her mouth, but her eyes didn’t move. Kinda creepy, kinda strange.”
Sihoo’s mind flashed to something. He quickly steamed field-grown potatoes, mashing them with salt and mayonnaise into a smooth mash. Mashed potatoes. Scooping the soft mixture into round shapes, he plated them with cucumber and colorful vegetables, then set the tray out.
Thud.
The mother and son looked at Sihoo, confused. “We didn’t order this,” the mother said.
Sihoo smiled. “Our young friend ordered the Korean spread, so this is a small complimentary dish. Please enjoy, ma’am.”
She signaled her son to try it. The boy eagerly scooped a bite of mashed potatoes, chewing thoughtfully. His eyes reddened, as if recalling something, and he began shoveling rice into his mouth.
The mother watched him with a pained expression, then took a bite of the mash. The creamy texture and mild potato flavor filled her mouth. “Oh, this is delicious,” she said, hand to her cheek, surprised.
Her smile remained, but her unmoving eyes caught Sihoo’s attention. Something’s wrong with her expression.
He crouched beside the boy, meeting his gaze. “Tasty?”
The boy avoided his eyes, nodding.
“Want more side dishes? I’ll bring some samgyeopsal,” Sihoo offered, standing.
“No, I’m okay,” the boy replied.
Sihoo glanced at the mother before returning to the kitchen.
Moments later, “Excuse me, the check!” a customer called. Hayoon went to the counter. The mother was settling the bill, speaking briefly with Hayoon before nodding and leaving the diner. Hayoon approached the boy, saying something.
Left alone, the boy ate slowly. Other customers murmured, “That kid’s so well-behaved.” “Yeah, usually kids want to follow if their mom steps out.”
Sihoo couldn’t hear clearly from the kitchen, but a chill ran down his spine. As Hayoon returned, Sihoo asked, “Hyung, did she say she’d be back soon after running an errand?”
Hayoon’s eyes widened. “You heard?”
“No. Did you get her contact info?”
“No, why?”
Sihoo paused, shaking his head. “Let’s wait.”
Wiping his hands, he stepped into the dining area. The boy, having finished his rice, sipped water, staring at the door.
“All done, buddy?” Sihoo asked.
“Yes,” the boy answered weakly.
Seeing his expression, Sihoo felt a spark of anger. She left him here alone to run an errand?
Sitting where the mother had been, Sihoo asked, “What’s your name, buddy? How old are you?”
The boy’s face showed a flicker of unease, then he faintly smiled, holding up seven fingers. “Yoo Jinwoo,” he said softly.
Sihoo nodded, calling his name. “Jinwoo, want some ice cream?”
Jinwoo’s nod was finally childlike. “Wait a sec, I’ll get it,” Sihoo said, ruffling his hair.
In the kitchen, he scooped ice cream from the freezer, decorating it with stick snacks. Thank you, Kanghoon hyung, for teaching me this.
He brought the ice cream to Jinwoo. “Eat up and wait, okay?”
“Okay,” Jinwoo replied, cautiously spooning the treat.
As customers came and went, the mother didn’t return. Hayoon muttered, worried, “Is it okay to leave a kid like that? She said she’d be quick…”
Evening rush hit. Near Korea University, with a hospital and offices nearby, the diner buzzed. Jingle. The door opened.
“Welcome! Oh, you’re back, ma’am?” Hayoon said.
The mother, breathless from running, took a glass of water Hayoon offered. “Thank you,” she gasped, gulping it down.
Bowing, she said, “I’m so sorry for being late.”
Sihoo, watching from the kitchen, sighed in relief. I thought she abandoned him. Recent news stories had made him wary.
Stroking Jinwoo’s hair, she said, “I’m sorry, Jinwoo. Did you wait long?”
Jinwoo nodded, head low.
She lifted his face, meeting his eyes. “Jinwoo, Mommy’s eyes feel better today. Look.”
She moved her eye muscles, forcing an expression. Jinwoo touched her face, asking, “Mom, it doesn’t hurt anymore?”
She shook her head. “The doctor says a few more visits to heal. Let’s eat dinner, okay?”
She felt guilty for leaving him. Jinwoo hated hospitals since his father left, trembling at the thought. She’d tried daycare, but they wouldn’t take a non-enrolled child. She’d planned to eat near the hospital and return quickly, but her appointment ran late.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
Jinwoo pointed at other customers. “Mom, I’m hungry. I want that red noodle thing they’re eating.”
Hearing his stomach growl, she said guiltily, “Okay. Want the Korean dish from earlier?”
Jinwoo nodded, giving a thumbs-up. “It was so good! And the uncle inside gave me ice cream!” He pointed at Sihoo proudly.
Hayoon handed them a menu. “Call me when you’re ready.”
He darted around, serving other customers. “Hold on!” “Here’s your order, enjoy!” “Have you decided? Okay, one moment!”
The mother and Jinwoo chose. “One Napolitan and one today’s special,” she said.
Hayoon ruffled Jinwoo’s hair. “Happy Mom’s back?”
“Yes!” Jinwoo grinned, finally looking like a seven-year-old.
In the kitchen, Sihoo prepared the order swiftly, adding a complimentary fruit salad—vitamin-rich oranges, grapes, and greens. Ding. The tray held Napolitan and today’s special: rice, soup, jorim, muchim, and grilled dishes.
Hayoon set it before them. “Wow, I saw others eating this!” Jinwoo exclaimed.
“Really? Enjoy,” Hayoon said, patting his head.
“Thank you!” Jinwoo replied, mouth watering, acting his age.
The mother murmured, “Fruit… looks delicious.”
Hayoon smiled. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you!” she said. It had been ages since she’d had fruit, raising Jinwoo alone. The doctor said fruit would help my symptoms…
She speared an orange. Chomp. Its sweet-tart juice felt like it was asking, Who am I? “This isn’t just an orange,” she said, eyes widening, taking another bite.
Jinwoo tilted his head. “Mom, why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” she said, touching her eyes. Tears fell, her face trembling. She wiped them with a handkerchief.
Her condition was Bell’s palsy, affecting only the muscles around her eyes, creating an eerie expression—mouth smiling, eyes still. Treatment helped temporarily, but the contrast remained.
“Mom, your eyes curve like this!” Jinwoo traced a crescent with his finger.
She looked at the salad, then at Sihoo in the kitchen. Did he know about my condition and do this on purpose?