Chapter 15: The day before planting (9)
Part 17
“Hyung, your eyes are gonna pop out.”
“Watch your mouth, kid.”
Even as they growled at each other, both men’s gazes stayed glued to the woman who’d just entered the shop.
They were trying their best not to look like drooling idiots, but whether she’d appreciate their effort was anyone’s guess.
“…Yo, for real.”
“I know what you’re gonna say, and you’ll get sued if she hears.”
“What do you think I’m gonna say?”
“What else would you say in this situation?”
Grumbling, the man couldn’t argue with his junior.
They were speaking softly, far enough that she wouldn’t hear, but his junior was right.
“She’s seriously gorgeous, though.”
“Then why’re you saying it?”
“You’d have said it five times cruder, and you know it.”
Once again, the man could only concede, muttering, “…Maybe not five times…”
It was too early for lunch, a time when restaurants rarely saw customers.
Normally, the two idle part-timers would be lounging in the lingering kitchen heat, but today felt different.
No sudden manager inspections, just the usual post-task downtime, yet both were fussing near the counter, pretending to be busy.
They even adjusted their clothes—something they’d usually ignore—all because of one person: the girl who walked in at this odd hour.
“…What if she asks for a menu recommendation?”
“No way that happens.”
– Excuse me?
“Yes?!”
Shoving aside his junior’s skeptical grimace, the man practically leaped toward the customer.
As he got closer, her delicate features came into sharper focus, and he realized her petite frame was deceptively balanced by long legs.
Her legs are insane.
He barely swallowed the exclamation.
“I’m taking these to eat later around lunch after storing them in the fridge. Can I just microwave them?”
“…Oh. Uh, yeah, that’s fine. You don’t need oil—just heat them lightly on low, and they’re good.”
His gaze, which had been glued to her legs, snapped up at her voice.
Honey-colored hair, naturally uniform from root to tip, not dyed.
Blinking curiously, her slightly tilted head made him think, She’s not a doll.
His part-time experience kicked in, and his mouth rattled off the right responses on autopilot.
“Any recommended items?”
“The spicy fish cakes and vegetable ones sell well. Also…”
He belatedly felt a jolt for glancing downward.
Had she noticed?
Was she ignoring it?
She followed his guidance without comment, leaving him unsure whether to be relieved or worry about a future complaint.
All he could do was keep up the polite service.
“Can you pack the broth ones too?”
“Of course. We use a heat-shrink packer to seal the broth in plastic containers.”
“Heat-shrink packer…?”
“You know, the thing that covers it with plastic and presses it shut—”
He felt his junior’s glare, as if warning him not to get too friendly, but he ignored it.
Anxiety was one thing, work was another, and opportunity was opportunity.
Her slender fingers brushed her chin thoughtfully as she scanned the recommended menu—a habit, perhaps.
To the socially awkward man, she was charming enough to justify a bit of overreach.
Calling her doll-like felt cliché, but her perfectly proportioned, almost artificial presence, breathing and moving, stirred a celebrity-like awe in him.
“Then, 5,000 won each of spicy, vegetable, and broth fish cakes, please.”
“Order confirmed.”
Grabbing tongs from near the display, he stole one last glance at her, as if it were his final chance.
“…Could you repeat that?”
“No?! No, I got it. Spicy, vegetable, broth, 5,000 won each, right?”
Their eyes met at the worst possible moment, locking in midair.
Was this someone’s prank?
Should he thank or curse them?
He couldn’t decide.
“…Um, by the way.”
“Yes?”
In that fleeting, frozen moment, her deep honey-colored eyes captivated him.
Despite reason’s protests, impulse pushed him to stammer out words he knew he shouldn’t.
“…Do you live around here?”
A brief silence.
Only the rustle of him packing fish cakes into a bag slithered through the awkward air.
I’m screwed.
If she sues for this and staring at her legs, it’s over.
Visions of his family or a bleak future didn’t haunt him as much as the shop owner’s furious face.
He felt a quiet sadness.
“Yeah, I live near the intersection, in an apartment.”
“…Oh, got it. Haha! Thanks.”
“Thanks? No need for that…”
As he fumbled, the rest blurred by before he could process it.
The payment was done, and the girl, bag in hand, was already leaving with a casual “Thanks for your work.”
“I kept signaling you to shut up and work.”
“…What do I do now?”
“I know nothing. If a complaint comes, you’re on your own.”
Hearing the dull thud of the glass door, he stared vacantly at her retreating figure.
The faint memory of her soft skin brushing his as she handed over her card lingered in his mind.
“She lives nearby. She’ll come back, right?”
“Not after that, I bet.”
“…How old is she?”
“Whatever her age, you’re old enough to be called a creep if you try anything, so snap out of it.”
“It’s just a dream… Can’t I at least dream?”
“Dreams are beautiful because they’re dreams, Hyung. Besides, why would someone like her go for you?”
Another customer didn’t come, but a fight between them was inevitable.
Part 18
“Friendly kid, that young clerk.”
Probably 22 or 23 at most, but his customer service was quite polite.
Most get worn down by repetitive routines and half-ass it.
“Might have to come back.”
Youth means inexperience, but also passion, perhaps?
I haven’t lived long enough to say such things casually, but whatever.
Thoughts are free.
“…Though, there might be another reason.”
Adjusting the bag, I glanced at my legs.
My slim frame didn’t make jeans look tight, but I knew my long legs, disproportionate to my height, were decent.
I’d been a guy before, after all.
“…Is my face more appealing than I thought?”
Reflecting, the stream reactions were pretty good too.
It’s not my taste, but maybe this cute look works better than I realized.
“…Wonder how the guys will react.”
I pictured my friends, probably getting ready to head over.
A few grim scenarios of awkwardness flashed through my mind, but I shook them off.
It’d be nice if they just freaked out and yelled, “I prefer 2D!!!”
“Just like old times, laughing, joking, then going our separate ways…”
Something silly.
A red light at the crosswalk stopped me.
The roar of passing cars was loud but empty.
The sidelong glances from people around pricked like faint needles, unsoftened by the city’s clamor.
“…Hoo.”
From leaving the house to visiting the shop, every moment reminded me I wasn’t the old me anymore.
I’d accepted it, so I wasn’t going to lose it and deny it.
But I wasn’t ready to just embrace and enjoy it either.
“It’d be nice if my heart could catch up with my head.”
I thought I was fine.
I was fine.
But loving myself as I am, like before, still felt a bit too soon.