“You know I granted your wish, right?”
The sudden statement came out of nowhere, prompting Han Ju-oh to glance over.
“You were desperate to go into the Gate with me, weren’t you? That’s big enough that I’ll generously count it as ten wishes.”
Han Ju-oh’s eyes said What the hell are you talking about?, but Seo-ha shamelessly puffed out his chest. Honestly, he’d made a bunch of wishes here and there before and forgotten about them, so there were still 98 left.
He really wanted to whittle that number down quickly, and now he had the perfect excuse.
“You said I could deduct them however I wanted. So I’m doing just that—don’t go back on it now.”
He deliberately provoked Han Ju-oh. If he annoyed him enough, he’d just say Fine, do whatever you want.
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
Seo-ha couldn’t tell what kind of “sure” that was. Han Ju-oh looked down at him with a cold stare.
“There’s no better word for scammer than you.”
“…Did you just call me a scammer?”
No way. Seo-ha waved his hands, chuckling. But Han Ju-oh didn’t deny it.
“If that’s how you’re going to deduct them, then I’ll do the counting myself.”
“Wait. Hold on—at least give me a chance to speak.”
Seo-ha hurriedly raised both hands to stop him, sensing that Han Ju-oh would start tallying wishes with strict rules and no mercy.
“This time, it really seemed like you desperately wanted me. Like you longed for me and couldn’t stand it.”
“So you took advantage of it?”
“No, no. That’s not it. I just read your feelings and—generously responded…”
His voice gradually lost steam. Honestly, he had acted like a punk. Guilt was poking at him, so he couldn’t push further. In that moment of hesitation, Han Ju-oh struck firmly.
“Then I’ll wish for something else.”
“I’m not a genie, so keep it within reason. I can’t make you rich or anything.”
Han Ju-oh scoffed.
‘Was that a laugh? A mocking one?’
“You got a lot of money or something?”
Seo-ha asked with a defiant glare. But Han Ju-oh’s returning look was laced with condescension, and Seo-ha was stunned.
“No way…”
“That house you mentioned earlier.”
He meant the company housing.
“If I’m bored, I could buy one just for fun and forget about it.”
Seo-ha’s jaw dropped. Before he could even admire Han Ju-oh’s financial status, all he could think was how obnoxious he was.
“Wow. Must be nice.”
Good looks, top-tier abilities, and now even an overflowing bank account—talking to someone who had it all was exhausting. Seo-ha turned to Han Ju-oh with a tired expression. The day had already felt long, and now Han Ju-oh had drained the last of his energy. All he wanted was to go home and rest.
With that in mind, he trudged out of the guild, only to stop when he came face-to-face with the Gate and the people running around it. All the joking and light-heartedness from earlier blurred away. Looking at the Gate—something he’d been deliberately avoiding—dragged him back into the swamp of reality.
Three-month grace period.
In that time, he had to raise his match rate with Han Ju-oh enough to get inside there. The thrill he’d felt earlier from the sudden spike in energy sobered up instantly. It was time to get serious.
“How much can I raise it…?”
He wasn’t even sure what his target should be.
***
“One wish.”
The moment they got home, Han Ju-oh dropped the line. Seo-ha froze mid-way through opening the fridge. Han Ju-oh slowly walked over, glanced inside, and shook his head.
“Something else.”
“I was planning to grill meat tonight. You don’t want that?”
He said it like he wanted to make a different dish than yesterday’s, but truthfully, it was going to be the same. Han Ju-oh responded by closing the fridge door in firm rejection.
“What the hell. Then what do you want to eat?”
Seo-ha’s tone turned gruff. He’d been planning to dip grilled meat in ssamjang and wrap it up in lettuce. He even wanted to dip cucumbers too, but Han Ju-oh wasn’t having any of it.
“As long as there’s no beef, ssamjang, kimchi, rice, or lettuce.”
“And you say you’re not a picky eater? Liar.”
Seo-ha muttered as he walked into the kitchen. His hands moved roughly as he washed up, still trying to figure out what to make.
“Isn’t this two wishes? Or should we count one per side?”
He sneakily glanced over at Han Ju-oh, hoping to reduce his wish count a bit, but of course, the man didn’t let it slide.
“Call me when it’s ready.”
Watching Han Ju-oh settle onto the living room couch, Seo-ha looked at him like he couldn’t believe this was real.
***
“Come sit down.”
Seo-ha had made curry. The smell alone would’ve been enough for Han Ju-oh to figure that out, so Seo-ha didn’t bother explaining. When he saw Han Ju-oh casually stroll over and sit at the table, Seo-ha dropped a spoon in front of him with a clink.
“I figured you couldn’t live without rice and kimchi, so I put them out. If you’ve got a problem with it, don’t eat.”
He’d already done more than enough by not grilling meat. That was his line, as he sat down with his own spoon. Han Ju-oh looked down at the table.
Rice, curry, kimchi, flying fish roe rolled omelet, soft tofu, and bean sprout kimchi soup—quite the spread for such a short prep time.
“I don’t like spicy curry.”
Seo-ha said it as he started mixing rice into his own curry. Everyone had different tastes; sure, Han Ju-oh might prefer something else—but the cook had final say.
Han Ju-oh followed suit, mixing curry with rice and taking a big bite. The curry was smooth, the texture of the potatoes was perfect. The bean sprout soup left a clean, refreshing aftertaste.
The soft tofu, seasoned with sauce Seo-ha had made himself, was anything but bland. The rolled omelet popped with bursts of roe that added a fun texture.
Not a single dish was off. Han Ju-oh’s expression gradually softened.
“I knew you’d like it.”
Watching him eat so eagerly, Seo-ha gave a satisfied smile. Maybe he should’ve cooked for him sooner?
“…I’m not even your personal chef. Why am I feeling proud?”
Just the thought that Han Ju-oh was eating well made him happy. Even he found that funny.
“Isn’t it a good thing that I eat well?”
Han Ju-oh rolled up some rice neatly on his spoon as he spoke. Seo-ha shook his head.
“Just eat.”
No point in saying more if he wasn’t going to explain everything. Thankfully, Han Ju-oh didn’t press and simply continued alternating between his spoon and chopsticks.
While making sure not to interrupt him, Seo-ha mumbled around his own chopsticks.
“About that wish thing.”
Han Ju-oh looked up at him with just his eyes.
“I don’t think I can keep track of them all myself.”
Seo-ha pointed to the fridge—not with his finger but with his chopsticks. Han Ju-oh followed the direction and noticed a strange piece of paper stuck on the fridge. As he stared at it, Seo-ha added in a casual tone.
“I made something. What do you think?”
“A bunch of grapes?”
In response, Seo-ha put down his chopsticks, walked over, and pointed at what he’d made—a wish tracker designed like a grape cluster, reminiscent of an old Chinese restaurant promotion.
“You know how every household had one of these like twenty years ago?”
Han Ju-oh looked like it was the first time hearing of it, but Seo-ha pushed ahead undeterred.
“Each time I grant a wish, one gets colored in. Sound good?”
Three of the grapes were already filled in with pen. As he glanced at Han Ju-oh for a reaction, Seo-ha casually tried to color in a fourth one.
“Stop.”
Caught mid-fill, Seo-ha froze and gave a shrug.
“Whaaat? What the…”
He babbled nonsense like he had no idea what the issue was.
“You said you’d only color them in when a wish is granted.”
Han Ju-oh shot down Seo-ha’s little scam like it wasn’t even worth considering.
“Tch, stingy. Anyway, once this bunch of grapes is full, that’s the end of it, right?”
Seo-ha plopped back into his seat, shooting him a look.
“You act all generous, but you’re petty as hell. Seriously.”
Han Ju-oh pretended not to hear, quietly eating his food. Meanwhile, his bowl was steadily getting emptier.
Seo-ha resumed eating as well, occasionally glancing over at the grape tracker. The real reason he’d made it wasn’t just because it was hard to remember all the wishes.
Time.
The three-month deadline that lingered in his head roughly matched the number of grapes. He figured a visible calendar like this would help, so he made it under the pretense of being a wish chart.
‘The day that grape cluster is fully colored in…’
Seo-ha’s eyes dimmed for a second—then snapped back to normal.
“If all the grapes are filled, will you grant me a wish?”
Instead of getting serious, he lobbed the question at Han Ju-oh like a joke. Even when Han Ju-oh’s face darkened, Seo-ha just blinked at him with bright, innocent eyes.
“I mean, I’m granting you a hundred wishes. Can’t you at least grant one of mine? Honestly, after all that, you could say yes even if you don’t mean it. Even those old restaurants gave you sweet and sour pork if you filled up the grape sheet…”
Seo-ha grinned as he spoke, but Han Ju-oh flat-out ignored him.
“Yeah, and look how you ended up.”
“…”
Seo-ha, who had fallen for that exact kind of joke and gotten caught before, felt the sting all over again.
