“Uh, um…”
As Haon squinted at the familiar man’s face, the door clicked open. The man who had paid the taxi fare stepped forward and opened the door himself, waving Haon over.
“Come on, get out.”
Haon quickly grabbed his coat, gave the taxi driver a polite nod, and stepped out. The man held the door open until Haon was fully out of the car.
“You didn’t leave anything behind, right?”
“No, thank you.”
As soon as he got out, Haon bowed his head toward the man in gratitude. He recognized him now—he was the youngest cook in the kitchen at the restaurant where Haon had worked during the week. But what was he doing here at this hour?
“Hey! Jung Haon! What the hell is going on?!”
Just then, Tae-hwi burst out of the building, a few steps late, shouting in alarm. He had three crumpled ten-thousand-won bills in his hand, likely pulled hastily from Hyung-cheol’s wallet after finding his card had insufficient balance.
“Tae-hwi hyung, I’m so sorry…”
Haon stammered, glancing back and forth between the man and Tae-hwi, repeatedly apologizing in a fluster. Even though the man said it was fine, Haon kept bowing.
“I’ll pay you back right away. Please just leave me your number.”
“No, it’s okay. You can take your time. We’ll be seeing each other a lot anyway.”
The man scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile, then threw a glance at Tae-hwi, silently asking him to explain the situation.
“He filled in for you yesterday.”
“Filled in for me?”
Haon blinked, clearly taken aback.
“Yeah, we were out drinking, but the place got so slammed I dragged him in to cover for you. You should be thanking him.”
Tae-hwi clapped the man’s back, explaining how he’d saved him during the busiest time of the night. Haon’s jaw dropped, and he bent even lower in a deeper bow.
Saturdays were brutal. Even losing one person caused a huge disruption. Slow service meant drunk, cranky customers—and complaints always followed.
“Thank you so much.”
“Nah, I was actually looking for a weekend gig anyway. Thanks to that, I landed a new part-time job!”
“He was so good the boss hired him on the spot,” Tae-hwi added, gently pulling Haon up from another deep bow.
“Ah…”
So that meant… there was no place for him anymore. Haon nodded slowly, his expression sinking in disappointment. The man, noticing this, quickly jumped in.
“I’m working in the kitchen! I do some serving too, but they mostly want me helping in the back!”
Wait—did that mean he hadn’t been fired?
Holding onto a sliver of hope, Haon glanced cautiously at Tae-hwi hyung.
“You’re not fired, so relax.”
Tae-hwi, noticing Haon’s worry, gently patted his narrow shoulder.
“What happened to your face?”
He frowned as he took a closer look at the bruise blooming across Haon’s left cheek. The other man’s expression also darkened.
Even without asking, it was obvious—Haon had been beaten. Given his personality, it was unlikely he’d gotten into a fight, so it must’ve been one-sided.
“Did you report it?”
“Which bastard did this? And you—weren’t you feeling really sick? Why’d you even come into work?”
Haon floundered under their barrage of concern, not knowing how to respond. The unfamiliar attention made the tips of his ears flush red, and he tilted his head at Tae-hwi’s comment.
“How did you know I was sick…?”
“Your hyung called, apparently.”
“M-My hyung?”
Haon’s eyes widened at the sudden mention of a brother he didn’t have.
“That’s what the boss said. Your hyung called to say you weren’t feeling well. Said they got the call about an hour before opening.”
Inho’s face flickered through Haon’s mind. It must’ve been him—he must have called while Haon was still asleep.
But then… why didn’t he say anything? Inho hadn’t mentioned the part-time job even once while they drank the night before, not a word. He’d even gone so far as to make the call himself.
“Wait… don’t tell me it was that guy? The one with the Lamborghini?”
“Lamborghini?”
The man, who’d been silently listening to Tae-hwi and Haon’s exchange, suddenly chimed in. It wasn’t surprising—anyone would perk up at the sudden mention of a luxury foreign car.
“Hoyoung, go finish prepping for open, yeah? I’ll come in after I talk with him for a sec,” Tae-hwi said, giving the man a few solid pats on the back.
‘Hoyoung… so that’s his name.’
Haon quietly committed it to memory. Based on the way Tae-hwi had called him “younger,” he figured Hoyoung must be younger than him. Maybe twenty?
“Jung Haon.”
Tae-hwi clicked his fingers together sharply, snapping Haon out of his daze.
“Say it now, before customers start showing up. You’re living at that guy’s place, right?”
His voice dropped a note, sharp and serious. He stared at the bruise on Haon’s cheek with intensity, urging him to spill the truth.
“Was it that Lamborghini asshole who hit you?”
“No! It’s not like that! He helped me!”
Haon quickly waved his hands, almost frantically, in denial. Tae-hwi’s gaze narrowed, skeptical.
“It’s true. I got slapped by someone else because I made a mistake, and he handled the whole thing for me.”
“You made a mistake?”
Tae-hwi, who knew Haon’s personality all too well, wasn’t convinced. There was no way someone like Haon—who always smiled sweetly and spoke kindly—would ever do something to deserve getting hit.
“There were… circumstances. But I swear, he wasn’t the one who hit me. Don’t worry about it. He’s a good person.”
When Inho was misunderstood, Haon—feeling it was unfair—spoke up sincerely. Perhaps that sincerity got through, because Tae-hwi let out a deep sigh and clicked his tongue.
“How hard did they hit you for your cheek to be this fucked up… Shit… Did you take any meds?”
“Yes, I did.”
“The boss isn’t coming in today. He’s at a relative’s wedding. So just start coming in next week.”
Knowing Haon wasn’t scheduled this week anyway, Tae-hwi gave him a nudge to send him back.
“Ah, you don’t have any cab fare, right? Here, use this. I borrowed it from Hyung-cheol, so pay it back next week along with what you owe Hoyoung.”
“Since I’m already here, I’ll just work today.”
Haon dodged Tae-hwi’s hand and hurried to the entrance of the restaurant. He didn’t plan to take any money—he’d caused enough trouble already. As long as they let him help.
“Forget it, man. What are you gonna do looking like that?”
“Um… then I’ll at least do the dishes. I can do that.”
Anticipating Tae-hwi would try to stop him again, Haon slipped inside. Just then, the first customer of the day came in, and Tae-hwi had no choice but to leave him be.
Haon headed toward the storage room. He heard the customer placing an order and quickly reached for an apron—but then paused. Inho came to mind.
‘Ah, I should’ve sent him a message.’
In his rush, he hadn’t even thought to grab his phone, let alone contact him. He didn’t know when Inho would get back home, but if he returned to an empty place, he’d probably worry… Or maybe he wouldn’t.
“You’re working today?”
Hoyoung’s voice came from behind as Haon stood there, lost in thought. He had come in to refill hand towels and smoothly pulled a box from the shelf with his long arms. With his broad frame, he managed the large box effortlessly.
“Yeah, I’m just going to work a bit. I’m not getting paid or anything.”
“Why?”
Hoyoung exaggeratedly widened his eyes, clearly unable to comprehend why someone would work on a weekend for free.
“It was really hectic yesterday because of me. I’ll take care of cleanup tonight, so you can head out early, Hoyoung-ssi. And about the money I owe—”
“You know my name?”
Hoyoung momentarily lost grip of the box before catching it again. Clearing his throat, he looked a bit flustered, perhaps because his voice had cracked mid-sentence. His ears turned slightly pink.
“I heard earlier. They called you Hoyoung.”
“Ah, right—yeah, I’m Hoyoung. Nam Hoyoung. Feel free to just call me that.”
He introduced himself briefly, saying he was twenty years old. Then, holding the heavy box with one arm, he suddenly stepped in close. Because the storage room was cramped, the two of them ended up nearly shoulder to shoulder, and Haon instinctively took a step back, a little flustered.
“Also, if you don’t mind, here.”
Hoyoung pulled a black face mask from the front pocket of his bag and offered it to Haon.
“I wear them all the time when I ride my motorcycle, ‘cause of the wind. Oh, and don’t worry—it’s brand new.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t have to speak formally with me. Tae-hwi hyung already dropped the honorifics.”
The moment Tae-hwi’s name came up, he called out like clockwork, shouting for Hoyoung to hurry up and bring the boxes.
“Yes, sir!” Hoyoung shouted back, dashing off without hesitation.
Just like Haon had sensed during their first conversation, he really did seem like a good guy—easygoing and cheerful.
So he was twenty after all. He was even younger than Haon had guessed, which surprised him a little.
With a soft smile, Haon tightened the strings of his apron and stepped out of the storage room. For the first time, he felt like he might be gaining a younger friend he could be close with.
He hadn’t lost his weekend job after all, and thanks to Hoyoung, he hadn’t caused as much trouble for his coworkers as he feared. That brought him some relief.
Meanwhile, at that very moment, Haon’s phone was steadily filling up with missed calls.
All from one person—Inho.
