Chapter 90: Unsecured network (4)

Part 8

It hit me, in a way. Maybe I’m just overly anxious, and the world isn’t as complicated as I make it out to be. Maybe I don’t need to overthink everything—just accept and live with what comes, as it is.

It wasn’t a refreshing sense of resolution, but rather a deflating feeling. The heavy and light worries that had plagued me for nearly two months seemed to suddenly become irrelevant. Crying while drinking, getting comforted by a stranger, causing a scene at the hospital—I’d done all sorts of things. Why had I acted like that? The question lingered.

As if indifferent to my mood, the morning rushed on, urging me to keep up. Like my parents, trudging off to work, I had to prepare to leave for my part-time job, dragging my heavy feet to sustain my livelihood. It felt like the numbers on my phone screen were mocking me, saying, “See? All that navel-gazing changes nothing. Quit it and get ready for work.” Being rushed, in any form, was never pleasant.

I tied my hair up reflexively, grabbed my cap as usual, and left the house. By noon, the warmth made it hard to believe it was spring, almost stifling. Yet mornings and evenings were still chilly, so I stuck to long sleeves and pants. The weather hadn’t shifted to short-sleeve season yet.

Time seemed to pass. Something, somewhere, had surely changed. Someone had definitely changed. But my unchanged clothes and steady routine created a strange disconnect. Shaking off the thought, I stepped out.

Riding the bus no longer scared me. It took an unnecessarily long time to realize the world was more indifferent to me than I’d thought. The bus was the same, before and after my change—utterly unchanged.

Maybe that’s it. The only thing I can change is myself. I don’t have the power to change the world, yet I feared its changes. How foolish. How arrogant. Hmm.

I crossed the quiet street, bathed in the soft morning sunlight.

“…What?” I said.

The peaceful corner of my day was interrupted.

“I mean, you probably don’t need to come to work anymore,” the bakery auntie said brightly.

And just like that, I was unemployed again.

Chapter 9

“…You scared me! I thought I got fired for messing up,” I exclaimed.

“Oh, dear! Yoonseo, we’ve told you from the start—you’ve been a lifesaver. You’ve gotten quietly famous, and thanks to you, we’ve had way more customers lately,” she replied.

The sudden firing stunned me briefly, my mind racing with worry. But as the auntie ushered me into the bakery, saying she’d phrased it poorly, I followed her to the baking room, chatting. It didn’t seem like I’d made some huge mistake. Her hands, patting my shoulder as she spoke, carried the faint scent of bread, likely from kneading dough all morning.

“If it’s you, Yoonseo, I figured you’d be too busy to keep working here and would be thrilled to hear you could stop,” she said.

“No way. You and uncle have been so good to me. The work’s fun, and the bread’s delicious,” I said.

“Hehe, that’s sweet of you! How about learning to make cookies when you have time?” she suggested.

We crossed the short hall and passed another brief corridor. As expected, I saw Youngjin and the uncle sweating over dough. Baking, huh? Isn’t that a bit more ‘feminine’ than cooking?

“I’ve actually been wanting to try confectionery, even if baking’s tough,” I said.

“You should’ve said so! We’d have taught you anytime! With your dexterity, I knew you’d be great,” she said.

Youngjin, glancing over, looked exhausted but gave a slight nod in greeting. He looks extra tired today. Bad day? Guess I can’t count on him covering my shift.

“So, did you explain to her?” the uncle asked.

“Was just about to,” the auntie replied.

“You were yapping the whole way here and still haven’t told her?” he teased.

“I was getting to it,” she said.

I exchanged a quick glance with the uncle, like with Youngjin, as a greeting. His words shifted to the auntie, likely about the reason for my “firing.” That had to be it—nothing else made sense.

Suppressing a nervous flutter, I stood awkwardly. The uncle, perhaps noticing, turned to me before the auntie could speak, as if it were break time. Youngjin’s arms, working the dough, slumped as if relieved. My hands, on the other hand, tensed up.

The uncle’s lips parted, moving in slow motion to my heightened senses, braced for impact.

“We found a new part-timer. You don’t have to push yourself to help us anymore,” he said.

“…What?” I replied.

“Working five days with only two off looked exhausting, especially on weekends. We planned to keep you until the semester started, but we found someone quickly,” he explained.

His chuckling words were so unexpected it took me a moment to process. I let out a dazed “Huh?” My blank stare regained focus, eyes widening as the meaning sank in.

“What?! No, it wasn’t that hard,” I protested.

“You’re not exactly healthy. You can’t hide that by pushing through. It’s obvious to us who’ve watched you,” he said.

Laughter followed. Was it that obvious? I thought I’d been enjoying it lately, but maybe four straight days—Friday through Monday—was too much. No one had said anything, but perhaps the uncle, with his long experience here, saw something I didn’t.

“Anyway, we’re the ones who asked for help, paid you weekly, and now we don’t need to borrow your time. If you want to quit, we can’t exactly stop you,” he said.

They weren’t the type to bring up contracts or labor laws. As he sank into a chair he’d pulled from somewhere, his slightly regretful expression made me realize how lucky I’d been with this job. Where else could I find a gig like this? The new hire would probably realize their luck too, eventually.

“…The semester’s starting soon, and keeping up like this might be tough,” I admitted.

“Exactly—” he started.

“But if it’s okay, I’d like to cut back to Friday through Sunday,” I said.

So, whether it was too much or not, I decided to cause a bit more worry. They’d made this call because I seemed fragile, but I wasn’t ready to give up so easily.

At my words, both the uncle and auntie froze simultaneously. A brief silence followed, then soft laughter filled the baking room.

“You want to keep helping?” the auntie asked.

“I need to learn confectionery from you. And I need pocket money,” I said.

“Saying you need money but want fewer days—guess you were tired, huh?” she teased.

“It’s to respect uncle’s kindness…” I replied, half-joking, half-serious.

Her playful tone met my own lighthearted response.

“We were just saying we’d talk after you got here and ask if you could come out to meet the new hire. Want to say hi?” she asked.

“Our shifts probably won’t overlap much,” I said.

“Still, working at the same place, it’s good to at least know each other,” she said.

Her warm voice made me nod lightly. Fair enough.