Satin started to say something again but stopped. Cain’s lowered eyes and subtly twitching lips made him look like someone struggling to say something difficult.
The sharp edge in Satin’s heart softened a little. He waited for Cain to speak.
Finally, Cain opened his mouth.
“I don’t even know how I feel anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Honestly, I don’t like the idea of you seeing someone else. But that doesn’t mean I want you to be alone, either.”
“So, what—are you saying I need your permission to see someone?”
“That’s not it, I just…”
Cain fidgeted, wiping his damp hands on his pants. Staring down at the puddle forming on the floor, he spoke again.
“I know I matter more than that sparrow-like bastard.”
“Sparrow-like… You mean Cole?”
“Yeah, him.”
Satin briefly considered which part of Cole resembled a sparrow. That chatty voice that hadn’t yet deepened past puberty did have a birdlike quality to it.
Cain had never been great at calling people by their names. That hadn’t changed. Maybe he even had secret nicknames for Rita and Edward too. Something ridiculous, like “flamingos,” maybe?
While Satin was getting distracted by his own thoughts, Cain continued, his face clouded with gloom.
“And that woman who looks like a possum—she’s not as important as I am either.”
By “woman,” he probably meant the neighbor lady they occasionally interacted with. But… what does a possum even look like?
‘Does he actually like animals or something?’
There was a time Cain hated people so much he’d said all humans deserved to die. But now, thinking he might have a soft spot for animals made him seem almost… cute.
Satin involuntarily twitched his lips, and Cain’s eyes narrowed into angry triangles.
“Why are you smiling? This is serious.”
“I wasn’t smiling, it was just… a spasm.”
“A spasm?”
Startled, Cain leaned closer, and Satin quickly changed the subject.
“No, not a spasm, I mean—whatever, it’s nothing. Just keep talking.”
Still suspicious, Cain continued anyway. He clearly had a lot to get off his chest.
“I don’t like seeing you around a bunch of people.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t. What if there’s a kid among them, and that kid ends up in danger or something…”
Cain trailed off, mumbling. Now that Satin had started to find him cute, even this roundabout way of expressing himself felt endearing.
He stifled a laugh and asked,
“Cain, just say it properly. What about the kid?”
“You like kids. You’d risk your life for them if you had to.”
“Don’t you think that sounds a little weird when you say it like that?”
“You see someone weak, and you can’t help yourself. Isn’t that right?”
“What? No, not to that extent.”
“Sure, sure.”
Anyone with basic decency would be more concerned for the elderly or children than able-bodied adults. That’s just common morality.
But Cain didn’t give him a chance to argue. He stepped closer until their noses nearly touched and poured out his worries.
“I hate situations I can’t control. You think I can just send you off into a crowd of humans, not knowing what could happen? What if there’s a fire? What if some lunatic kidnaps you? What if you lose your memory in an accident? What if you forget how to get back?”
‘Okay, that last one’s a bit much. I’m not an idiot.’
“You’ve been lucky so far, but what if that luck runs out? What if I can’t find you for even longer than those four hellish years? What if I never find you again?”
‘Oh god, he’s spiraling into panic.’
Satin pulled Cain into a sudden hug. Cain fell silent. Satin patted his back in a calming gesture. It didn’t take long before Cain slowly wrapped his arms around him in return.
‘Yeah, that’s more like it.’
Satin felt a flicker of relief, thinking Cain had finally calmed down—but it was short-lived.
‘Nope, not yet.’
Cain’s hand slid from Satin’s back down to his waist, tugging at the hem of his shirt. Satin immediately shoved him away, just as Cain’s fingers were about to graze bare skin.
With zero shame, Cain scowled and protested.
“Why?”
“Why? Did you seriously just ask why?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I’m comforting you, and you—you try something so shameless.”
“I didn’t even touch you! How is that shameless?”
“Saying stuff like that is what’s shameless!”
Satin shouted, then hastily changed the subject.
“Anyway, your worry is pointless.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’re coming with me.”
“What?”
Cain’s eyes widened. The expression was so adorably surprised, it was hard to believe this was the same man who’d just tried to pull something indecent.
But now wasn’t the time to compliment how cute he looked. Satin planted his hands on his hips and scolded him.
“Were you seriously planning to stay home while I ran the pancake stand?”
“I get to come too?”
“Of course. How else am I supposed to run the thing by myself? I’ve never done it before—ah.”
Before he could dodge, he was pulled into another hug. Satin didn’t get what was so exciting about being used as manual labor, but hey—at least Cain was relieved.
Satin let out a small chuckle and patted Cain’s back. That was the plan, anyway.
—Hero! Your friend is trying to undress you again!
“You little—!”
***
A few days later, the Night Market finally opened.
As usual, the regular vendors spent the day selling as they always did. But the moment the sun went down, they brought out their small night stalls and set up shop out front.
‘Don’t they have skewers?’
It was practically a universal law of the fantasy genre that night markets must have grilled skewers.
He’d taken it for granted they’d be there. The fact that they weren’t left Satin strangely disappointed. Clicking his tongue, he headed over to the food supply stall run by Cole’s parents.
Thankfully, Cole’s parents had already finished setting up and greeted Satin with warm smiles and a wave.
“Teacher! You’re here early.”
They’d always been kind, but ever since Satin started tutoring Cole, their warmth had leveled up.
After helping them with some final preparations, they excused themselves. Apparently, they weren’t participating in the night market because something had come up at a relative’s house. Satin hadn’t asked for details, but it didn’t seem to be anything bad.
It wasn’t long before the night market officially opened. Unlike the Peace Night Festival, there wasn’t a flood of customers all at once. People trickled in little by little. Watching the slow flow, Satin double-checked his ingredients one last time.
‘Good. Everything’s ready.’
Spicy red peppers, dried shrimp, minced pork—three types of toppings were prepped and ready.
When they’d tried them at home, Cain had claimed to like all three. Though, to be honest, Satin got the sense he wasn’t that into the spicy peppers. Still, Cain insisted he did, so Satin chose to believe him.
‘I should be able to sell all of these, right?’
Over the past few days, he’d been pan-frying green onion pancakes nonstop as practice, which left him with just enough scallions for about twenty pancakes.
He wasn’t in it to make a fortune—this was just for fun. As long as he sold that much, Satin would be satisfied.
He planned to buy chickens with the money. White and brown chickens were cheap, but gray ones were pricey. If he sold out today, he could afford two gray chickens.
“What’s got you so happy?”
Satin must have looked way too pleased with himself, because Cain—sitting on a folding stool—poked him in the side.
Grinning, Satin replied, “I was thinking about what I’d do with the money if I sold everything.”
“If you need money, I’ll give it to you.”
“I don’t need it. What matters is that I earned it.”
Hearing that, Cain furrowed his brow. Satin wanted to ask what that expression was about, but the first customer arrived, so he shelved it.
The customer was a young man, probably stopping by on his way home from work—he was still in his overalls. Looking over the waist-high stall, he asked,
“What are you selling?”
“Green onion pancakes.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s like a batter made with flour and scallions, then pan-fried. You can add meat, too. It’s really good. We’ve got spicy shrimp, dried chili peppers, stuff like that. Kinda like a pancake. But savory.”
It was a hurdle.
Satin had practiced cooking green onion pancakes plenty, but he hadn’t thought much about how to handle customers. Now he wasn’t even sure he’d spoken clearly.
‘Did I say it right?’
If only he had some kind of rewind magic, he could check. But since he didn’t, he decided not to dwell on it.
‘In times like this, just smile, right?’
He stretched his mouth into the friendliest smile he could manage. The man let out a noncommittal “hmm,” hesitated for a moment, glanced around as if unsure—and walked off.
Satin deflated.
“Was he not into it? Do people around here not like scallions or something?”
Worried, he turned around—and for some reason, Cain had his hand over his mouth.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?”
As Satin leaned in to check his face, Cain suddenly burst into laughter.
“What the—why are you laughing?”
Still snickering, Cain waved a hand in dismissal. Maybe something funny had happened nearby? Satin glanced around, but nothing stood out.
After finally calming down, Cain cleared his throat and said,
“Just relax a little. We’ve still got tons of time left.”
“Well… yeah, I guess.”
The market had only just opened. There were still hours to go. No way would they get zero customers, right?
But an hour later, Satin realized how naïve he’d been. Running a food stall wasn’t easy.
“How is it possible we haven’t sold a single one?”
In every fantasy novel he’d read, things never went like this. Whatever the protagonist made would sell out in a flash. Everyone would gush about how exotic and amazing it tasted. There were even people who begged to go into business with them.
‘Should I have picked something besides green onion pancakes?’
Kalguksu? No way. Who brings knife-cut noodle soup to a night market? It’s not something you can walk around with. Although… if he were planning to assassinate someone with scalding broth, it might be worth considering.
Tteokbokki? That could work—if he could just make the rice cakes properly. Personally, Satin preferred fishcakes, so he didn’t really get the appeal of tteokbokki without them.
Bulgogi? A tried-and-true Korean dish that foreigners loved. That would’ve been ideal—except they had no soy sauce. So, impossible.
Either way, it was far too late to change the menu now. Satin had to figure out how to sell green onion pancakes in this barren, scallion-hating wasteland.
“Cain.”
“Yeah?”
Cain sat relaxed, people-watching without a care in the world. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the lack of customers. If anything, he might’ve preferred it that way.
“Go stand out in front for a bit.”
“Why?”
“…Thinking about using the pretty-boy tactic.”
