Kanghoon couldn’t believe the customer’s claim. Staring at the scale’s numbers, he rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “What? Was she right?”
His chef’s life—exercise through labor, a nightly beer with his “brothers,” and a bottle of wine before bed—used to pack on three kilos a month. Looking in the mirror, he noticed his jawline sharper, his face more defined. Since Sihoo started cooking staff meals, his stomach felt oddly at ease. Tasting dishes before serving customers often left him bloated, but that feeling had vanished. Even his persistent skin troubles had cleared up.
“Since I started eating Sihoo’s food?” Kanghoon’s eyes glinted with curiosity.
Rustle, rustle.
Sihoo descended to the basement field with a basket, harvesting beans and vegetables. Korean cuisine, often called the food of care, transformed ingredients with every meticulous touch. Filling the basket with beans, he returned to the kitchen and soaked them in the field’s pump water.
While the beans soaked, Sihoo stepped into the courtyard. “Better pull the cabbage and radish before it’s too late.” With a kitchen knife, he sliced a cabbage at its base, twisting it free.
Snap.
The cabbage, grown from quality seeds, was firm and full. He brought the cabbage and radish inside. Not much, so should I make kimchi now?
After a moment’s thought, he scored the cabbage base to help it pickle better. In a large basin, he dissolved salt in warm water, coating the cabbage evenly and standing it upright to cure thoroughly. “Cabbage is set. Time for the seasoning.”
Sihoo moved swiftly, blending field ingredients in a mixer for kimchi paste. Dabbing a finger to taste, he froze. “What’s this?” A sharp spiciness and umami burst forth, unlike anything he’d tasted. This kimchi will be amazing once the cabbage is ready.
Checking the clock—nearing midnight—he cleaned the kitchen, showered, and retreated to his room. Before bed, he glanced at his parents’ photo. “Good night.”
Swish, swish.
Sihoo coated the pickled cabbage with seasoning, arranging it neatly in a container. Only a few heads, but enough. Sipping barley tea, he sighed, “Refreshing.”
His routine now began each morning in the basement field. The fresh air washed away the previous day’s fatigue. He fetched well water in a jug, completed house chores, and headed to 56804.
Opening the door, he found Kanghoon and Hayoon chatting in a corner. “Morning!”
“Hey, welcome!” Kanghoon grinned.
“Sihoo’s here!” Hayoon added.
After greeting them, Sihoo headed to the changing room. Hayoon followed, leaning in quietly. “Sihoo, where do you get those ingredients?”
“Uh…” Sihoo’s eyes flicked right. Can’t say it’s the basement field. “My parents told me about a vegetable vendor who delivers at dawn,” he said, dodging.
“Hmm, really?” Hayoon pressed.
“Yeah,” Sihoo replied shortly, turning to avoid more questions. Hayoon’s head tilted, curious.
In the kitchen, Kanghoon cleaned a frying pan. “Sihoo, I’m making staff lunch today. Want anything?”
Sihoo named a dish he’d been eyeing. “Spicy shrimp pasta.”
“Got it. Hayoon!” Kanghoon called.
From the dining area, Hayoon shouted, “Same as Sihoo!”
“What, you too?” Kanghoon chuckled, tossing pasta into a boiling pot and grabbing shrimp from the fridge. Sihoo watched Kanghoon’s precise movements, learning from every gesture. Kanghoon glanced at him. Those sparkling eyes.
He whipped up the spicy shrimp pasta and plated it. “Let’s eat.”
“Alright,” Sihoo nodded.
As they ate, Kanghoon and Hayoon stole glances at Sihoo. “Those ingredients you bring…” Kanghoon started.
Sihoo choked on his pasta. Cough, cough. Hayoon patted his back, and Kanghoon handed him water. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Sihoo gasped.
After a few coughs, Kanghoon asked, “Where do you get them?”
Sihoo repeated his vague answer. “The vendor leaves them at the gate at dawn, so I don’t get a chance to see them.”
Kanghoon and Hayoon opened up. “I’m asking because I had gastritis, you know?” Kanghoon said.
Sihoo nodded, listening quietly.
“Since eating your food, my gastritis is gone, and my belly fat’s down.”
Sihoo’s eyes narrowed. “No way, you’re joking.”
Hayoon chimed in. “No, it’s true. I lost five kilos too.”
Their claims sparked suspicion about the field’s crops. Do dishes made with field ingredients taste better and have added effects?
Buzz.
“My phone,” Kanghoon said, stepping outside with it.
Sihoo cleared the plates and started prepping side dishes for customers. Kanghoon returned, calling, “Sihoo.”
“Yeah?”
“I said I’m heading to Japan in two months to close the diner, right?”
“Yes.”
Checking his phone’s calendar, Sihoo added, “About a month left now.”
“Yeah… but Japan needs me sooner. Let’s finalize the diner’s transfer in two weeks.”
“What?” Sihoo’s mind spun. Not enough money yet. Take over the diner? “The menu’s not even set,” he stammered.
Smack.
Kanghoon clapped Sihoo’s back. “Snap out of it. I’m not saying tomorrow. We’ll talk after closing. Customers are coming.”
“Okay,” Sihoo said, refocusing on work.
Ding.
“Welcome! Dining alone?” Hayoon greeted.
“Yes, one,” the customer replied.
“Take any seat you like.” Hayoon brought water and a menu.
The customer scanned it. “Can I get the three-dish set meal?”
“That’s a weekend-only menu.”
“Oh, really? I loved it last weekend. Shame. I’ll take the tofu steak then.”
“Coming up.”
Hayoon entered the kitchen. “Sihoo, one tofu steak.”
“Got it.”
Sensing the mood, Hayoon glanced at Kanghoon, who shook his head, mouthing, Talk later.
Hayoon nodded and went to take another order.
After closing, Sihoo walked to his alma mater, Korea University, to clear his mind. The sudden shift to two weeks for Kanghoon’s Japan trip left him frustrated and confused. He said he’d finalize his culinary school registration in Japan and explain the rest when he’s back. Told me not to worry.
But worry gnawed at him. How would he run the diner? It felt daunting. Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. “Worrying won’t solve it. Gotta keep moving.”
At the library, a librarian recognized him. “Oh? You’re a student here?”
Sihoo realized she was a 56804 regular. “Hi,” he greeted.
Searching for books on restaurant management, he found one and approached the counter. The librarian eyed the book. “The tofu steak at your place…”
“Yes?” Sihoo braced himself.
“It’s amazing. You must use great tofu.”
She smiled. “I’ve tried similar dishes elsewhere, but yours is unmatched.”
Sihoo relaxed, waiting for her next words, fearing a complaint.
“It’s so full of care. I can’t eat tofu steak anywhere else now. Your other dishes too—my palate’s gone gourmet.”
Sihoo laughed. “Thank you.”
Looking at his book, she asked, “Opening a restaurant?”
“Soon, hopefully.”
“Wow, impressive! Let me know when you do—I’ll visit. What’s the menu?”
“I’m planning Korean dishes everyone can enjoy.”
“How about fusion Korean?”
“Fusion Korean?”
“Yeah, like a croquette with yukhoe inside, topped with yolk and wrapped in pear.”
“That’s a great idea. Thanks for the suggestion.”
Sihoo had been considering fusion Korean dishes, but her input surprised and inspired him. He thanked her sincerely.
Leaving the library, he headed to the main gate when a voice called, “Don’t move!”
Recognizing it, Sihoo chuckled, raising his hands. “Hyung, not home after closing?”
It was Hayoon. “Saw a good junior heading to school with a serious face, so I got worried.”
Sihoo nodded, feigning envy. “That junior’s lucky to have your love.”
Hayoon scoffed, “Yeah, showering him with love.”
Sihoo felt Hayoon’s warmth, grinning. “So you followed me?”
“Half right, half wrong.”
“Half wrong?”
“Yeah. A department junior needed to talk, so I came up.”
“Hyung, after Kanghoon hyung hands the diner to me, will you keep working there?”
Hayoon’s face clouded, and his next words made Sihoo’s eyes widen.