Around 2 PM, the restaurant looked like a battlefield left in the aftermath of war. Tables were still cluttered with dishes, and the kitchen rang with chaotic noise.
The people responsible for the mess had likely moved on to a café for round two.
Outside the window, an office worker hurried along with a coffee in one hand, clearly heading somewhere important.
“……”
In stark contrast to the bustling scene, a man in worn-out track pants and slippers sat idly in the restaurant, looking completely out of place. He stared out the window with a look of longing, then quietly raised his hand.
“Ajumma. One of the challenge menu, please.”
Without even opening the menu, he ordered from the event special plastered in large letters on the wall.
The place was a humble noodle shop. Noodles, after all, were quick to make and even quicker to eat.
Perhaps that’s why the owner was doing well—there was a special challenge menu called King Noodles. If you finished ten servings within twenty minutes, you’d win 100,000 won.
The man pulled out his phone and asked one of the employees, who was clearing tables, if he could film. The employee gave a casual thumbs-up, clearly used to this.
With a bored expression, the man set up a tripod and fixed his phone in place, checking the screen. Since the video would focus on the food anyway, he didn’t care much about how his face looked.
Once he adjusted the camera so only his lips would be in the frame, the steaming King Noodles arrived right on cue.
The employee set a stopwatch on the table and gave the man a brief glance.
Pale skin and full lips tinged with pink gave the man a youthful appearance. He seemed tall when standing, but his lean build made one question if he could actually finish all that food.
He held the bowl up to the camera for a brief moment, then silently tapped the stopwatch.
Beep.
Without bothering to cool the noodles, he began eating—not like someone taking on a food challenge, but like someone simply having lunch.
With his pretty features, it was hard to tell whether he was eating banquet noodles or pasta.
“Oh my gosh, did you see that student? I thought he wouldn’t make it, but he’s already eaten half!”
“Oh, he must’ve made it all the way to our place.”
“Boss? Do you know who he is?”
“He’s been making the rounds lately, clearing out all the food challenges with prize money around here.”
“Huh? Isn’t he just some random YouTuber?”
“YouTuber or whatever, I don’t know. But to me, he just looks like…”
The owner trailed off as he saw the man place down the now-empty bowl, not even a drop of broth left. He began preparing the prize money at the counter.
“…just a hungry bum.”
The man’s name was Kwon Ho-eun, and he was a perfectly average 25-year-old who had just graduated from university.
The navy track suit he wore was practically his second skin now—his trademark. Back in college, he used to dress decently, but after graduation, the freedom of wearing comfy sweats anytime became too convenient to resist.
His classmates were either job hunting or already employed. Ho-eun was neither. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, nor how he was supposed to live from now on. His future was murky at best.
Thwip.
‘The sky really did look gloomy today.’
Thunderclouds heavy with rain now blanketed the sun. Raindrops began to fall one by one onto the damp alleyway before cascading into a fierce downpour.
“Haa…”
Stuffing the envelope of cash into his pocket, Ho-eun got caught in the sudden rain and was bumped around by others scrambling for cover. He darted under an awning to escape the downpour.
He brushed water off his clothes with his hands. The people who had been running around without umbrellas were now gone, replaced by a crowd of colorful umbrellas floating down the street.
Waiting for the rain to lighten, Ho-eun quietly stood and stared across at a tonkatsu restaurant. But a presence he’d felt for a while made him subtly turn his gaze to the side.
“…?”
At some point, a man who looked at least 10 cm taller than him had appeared.
The man was decked out in all black—as if every ounce of color had been stolen by the umbrellas outside. Black helmet, black jacket and pants, even black shoes. He looked like he was wearing some kind of tactical gear, as if filming an action movie nearby.
The man didn’t move a muscle, staring straight ahead. Whether he was admiring the rain or, like Ho-eun, looking at the tonkatsu place was unclear.
‘Don’t tell me… he’s starving and has no money?’
Ho-eun reached into his pocket and fingered the crumpled envelope, lost in thought.
Yeah, that must be it. The rain halted filming, and the director told him to wait. With nothing else to do and a growling stomach, the man wandered off set. Lured by the mouthwatering smell, he made it all the way to the front of the restaurant—but oh no! He’d only brought his phone.
‘To not even have money for a tonkatsu… how pitiful!’
Of course, all of this was entirely in Ho-eun’s imagination. Somewhere along the way, the man had become Nameless Extra #1 Without Lunch Money.
Although unemployed and not even working part-time, Ho-eun—who was often told he had a meddlesome nature—was worrying about someone else even in this situation.
“Uh, do you… want some tonkatsu?”
His hand, raised without thinking, touched the man’s shoulder. Before he could even react to the sudden jolt of static electricity that sparked at his fingertips, his eyes met a pair glowing like golden amber inside the helmet.
Thump.
His heart dropped straight to the floor, then slammed back into place. Thump-thump. It pounded so hard, it almost hurt.
“You. What are you?”
“……!”
The man’s voice was cold enough to lower the surrounding temperature. His hand, still extended, was swatted away reflexively, left awkwardly suspended in the air.
As Ho-eun staggered back from the sting in his hand, the rain struck him hard, mercilessly drenching his body.
His red lips parted, then closed again as the rain streamed down his face and over his head.
He wanted to fire back—wanted to ask who he thought he was to reject someone’s kindness so harshly. But then he noticed how the man’s lips, now tinged blue, trembled so pitifully. The words caught in his throat.
Just as he summoned the courage to ask if the man was okay, a gust of wind surged through the alley, heavy with heat.
“Urgh…”
Raising an arm to shield his face, Ho-eun lowered it once the wind settled—only to find no one there.
“…Huh? Where’d he go? Hello?”
The man had vanished in the blink of an eye, like he had never existed at all. Ho-eun blinked in disbelief, half-wondering if he had dozed off while standing there.
But the black long umbrella lying on the ground told him it hadn’t been a dream.
***
Ho-eun returned home, soaked to the bone. He slipped the still-folded umbrella into the stand by the door without a word.
He didn’t even know why he’d picked it up. But every time he thought about the man, he could still feel the spark in his fingers, still hear the thundering beat of his heart. Maybe that’s why he brought the umbrella home.
Not wanting his office worker parents to know he’d been out, he crammed his wet clothes into the washing machine and rushed into the shower.
Any parent would be disappointed if their child was doing nothing a full year after graduating from college.
Given the looks he got at home, sometimes Ho-eun felt desperate enough to take any job. But his parents—who had bent over backwards to pay for tutoring and send their not-so-bright son to a four-year university in Seoul—surely didn’t want him to settle for just anywhere.
That was why Ho-eun didn’t take part-time work. Instead of wasting time at a part-time job, his parents insisted he prepare for civil service or NCS exams, even if it didn’t suit him at all. He had no choice but to force himself back into studying.
“How’s studying going today?”
“Same as usual.”
Dinner with his parents always made him feel like he was going to choke. Ho-eun loved food and could usually eat anything, but every time they asked about his day like they were checking homework, it got harder to swallow.
It was only natural. He wasn’t studying, and instead of a part-time job, he was earning pocket money through YouTube and prize-eating challenges. Of course he felt guilty.
Maybe it was time to quit pretending and look for something that actually suited his physical strength better than studying. Something like… that man in the bulletproof vest.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice booming through the house.
“How long do you plan to keep pretending to study? Did you submit your resume for the spring recruitment round or not?”
“I think I did.”
“No follow-up calls or emails?”
“Nope.”
“What? What kind of garbage did you write in your self-introduction that nobody’s contacting you?!”
Still thinking about the umbrella’s owner, Ho-eun answered half-heartedly—until a shout sharp enough to pierce his ears made him drop his spoon.
“What have you been doing for a whole year?! How did you get rejected by every single one?!”
“N-no! I have an interview!”
The moment the words slipped out, Ho-eun realized he’d blurted a lie. But it was fine—he could just say later that he didn’t get it.
“Really? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I was going to mention it after the interview.”
“When is it?”
“Uh… tomorrow.”
As his eyes darted around, he muttered that it was tomorrow. Just as he expected, the barrage of scolding stopped at once. His parents’ lips pressed into a thin line.
“Tomorrow? Then you better manage your condition. Are you ready for the interview?”
“Ah… I was just about to start.”
Wearing a strained smile, Ho-eun picked up his empty plate and left the table. The sound of his parents talking about laying out a suit and shoes echoed behind him, but he let it pass through one ear and out the other.
Even though the lie pricked at his conscience, it wasn’t entirely false. Ho-eun had, in fact, thrown his resume out to various public institutions and large corporations during the spring recruitment season—albeit at random.
After receiving his fifth rejection text, he hadn’t even bothered to check the results from the remaining companies.
He didn’t need to. He already knew the answer.
‘Even if I’d somehow gotten an interview, I’d have failed anyway.’
He tacked on another lie about having to leave early the next day and retreated to his room. Maybe it was the rain, but exhaustion hit him like a wave.
***
Waking up early the next morning to prepare for a non-existent interview, Ho-eun deeply regretted lying. The entire process—putting on a stiff, ill-fitting suit and styling his hair with wax—was annoying beyond belief.
“Son, do you want a ride? When are you heading out?”
“I’ve got time, I’ll eat first and go. You go ahead, Mom.”
Once his parents were out the door, he planned to ditch the suit and mess up his hair again. As he saw them off—who were more nervous than he was—Ho-eun returned to his breakfast, ready to resume eating.
“HO-EUN!!”
Bang! The front door flung open again, startling him so badly he dropped his spoon.
“Someone from the company’s here to pick you up!!”
“Huh?”
“They said they’re from the Guide Corporation?”
He hadn’t scheduled any interviews. It was all a lie. It was supposed to be a lie…
“Stop eating and come out already!”
His mom had even set his dress shoes neatly by the door.
Still dazed, Ho-eun stepped outside, muttering, “This doesn’t make any sense…”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kwon Ho-eun.”
Standing before him was an official from the Guide Corporation—here to escort him to an interview.
