DHG Ch 22

It seemed the boss had been visiting the kitchen frequently since that day.

“Shall I get you an energy juice?”

“Later.”

Heewoo asked as if it were a familiar routine, and the boss replied in kind.

Daol remained silent. Suddenly, an unidentifiable feeling began to creep up on him. He was so displeased that if it weren’t for the boss’s presence, he might have let out a derisive laugh.

Gnawing on his lip, Daol bowed his head toward the boss and abruptly left the kitchen. It was then that Heewoo, belatedly noticing him, set aside the juice Daol hadn’t taken.

Jang Seungyung, who had been leaning leisurely against the stainless steel counter cluttered with side ingredients, reached out his hand. His large palm covered Heewoo’s forehead, just as it always did.

“You really don’t have a fever now.”

The hand that had been checking his temperature moved down and gently cupped his cheek. Other than his grandmother, no one had ever touched him like this. Heewoo almost looked up to meet the man’s eyes.

“What a shame. Well, it’s a relief, too.”

The man’s soft, low voice resonated.

Suddenly, Heewoo felt awkward about letting the man hold his cheek. Although he didn’t turn around, he could feel the attention of the kitchen staff shifting toward them. The sounds of grilling and chopping had subtly quieted.

“Thank you for your concern.”

He took a step back. Thankfully, an excuse came to mind. Today was the day when a large shipment of sauce containers arrived, a monthly occurrence. It would be good to get that work done in advance.

As he stepped out the back door leading to the storeroom, Jang Seungyung followed as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but it was better than being in the kitchen.

“Damn… the wind is blowing like a motherfucker.”

The man grumbled. From seeing him several times, Heewoo was certain the man was quite sensitive to the cold.

Regardless of his personal feelings, Heewoo had grown used to seeing Jang Seungyung. Walking down the back alley under the dark blue evening sky with the grumbling man, memories from their time together sprouted like seedlings after a rain.

The time he got his necklace back, the first time he made him an energy juice, the mischievous face that confronted him asking why he wasn’t wearing the clothes he’d gifted, the hand that had suddenly lifted his chin, telling him to stop looking at the floor.

And finally, the overly trivial memories, like how the rickety transport cart had one day been replaced with a sturdier, cleaner new one.

…The pheromone showers were also still a constant.

Heewoo silently held his breath as the pheromones suddenly enveloped his entire back like a vast curtain.

Ah.

A verdant pheromone, reminiscent of a life-filled thicket of flowers that went beyond a simple fragrant impression, washed over him. Even if one were to break off and hold an armful of blooming vines, freshly watered, the scent wouldn’t be this piercing.

Barely keeping his shoulders from hunching up toward his ears, Heewoo recalled Daol’s words.

‘You… you’ve been smelling like flowers lately.’

It seemed Daol thought there was something going on between him and the boss because of this pheromone shower.

Even though it was absolutely not like that.

Whether it was interest or curiosity, he didn’t know what the boss saw in him, but it would fade faster than the frost that appears for a fleeting moment in late autumn. It takes two to tango, so if he didn’t react, it would probably end even sooner.

He opened the storeroom door. Inside, large-volume sauce containers, left by the supplier’s owner, were stacked like paint cans. He turned on the light and, as usual, started by checking the inventory. After confirming everything was in order, he was about to take out the amount needed for the kitchen.

“Aren’t you taking the CSAT this year?”

Jang Seungyung, who had insisted on helping and was now moving a can of tomato purée with gloves on, asked.

It wasn’t a completely random question. The College Scholastic Ability Test (CSAT) was approaching, and you couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing about it. Jang Seungyung had also occasionally seen Heewoo solving workbooks.

“I’m planning to take the qualification exam first next year.”

At that answer, Jang Seungyung’s eyebrows rose slightly.

He had heard Kwon Heewoo only had a middle school diploma. He was twenty this year, turning twenty-one next year, which meant that in the four years since he was sixteen, he must have had plenty of opportunities to take the qualification exam, even if not the CSAT.

Having grown up in an orphanage and clawed his way up from the bottom, Jang Seungyung, who would achieve whatever he wanted no matter what, had a hard time understanding a certain type of person.

“Are you one of them too? The type who procrastinates and finds comfort in the possibility?”

It was a question asking if he hadn’t even tried because he was afraid.

“……”

Heewoo couldn’t really answer. For a moment, only the small noises of moving items filled the storeroom, which was noticeably chilly due to the early winter air.

As if he hadn’t expected a reply, the man leaned against the wall with a bothered expression. Under the dim light characteristic of storerooms, his emotionless gaze stood out as he stood there slanted.

Heewoo ignored the eyes fixed on him and organized the various seasonings for broths. At the same time, he recalled past events related to the qualification exam. The exam was held twice a year, in April and August. He had managed to register every year since he was eighteen, but he had never once set foot in the examination hall.

It was because Kim Jinhwan would lock him up on every exam day.

Unable to endure it any longer, at nineteen, when he registered for the third time, he had run away with Pyo Mingeon’s help. It was the day before the exam. And when he was caught and brought back by Kim Jinhwan’s men, who were disguised as ordinary people near the test site…

‘You’re the one who did this to the Chink.’

‘…….’

‘From now on, this bastard’s life is in your hands.’

Heewoo had been confronted with Mingeon, beaten to a bloody pulp and half-dead at Kim Jinhwan’s feet.

After that, he never tried to run away again. He was locked up each time, accompanied by Kim Jinhwan’s sneer. On the exam day this April, after he had become an adult, it was a little different. He had sex with him in the small room all day. He knew Kim Jinhwan did it on purpose, toying with him like an insect he wouldn’t kill.

The most recent exam day was this past August. It was three days after Benny’s was attacked. He had been locked up then, too. Not by Kim Jinhwan, but by the man in front of him.

Still, he would probably be able to take the next qualification exam.

“……”

When bad memories surfaced, physical labor was the best remedy. Heewoo diligently moved the seasoning containers. He systematically sorted and earnestly organized them in silence.

All the while, an uncomfortable gaze clung to him. The eyes, set deep within the man’s three-dimensional facial structure, followed Heewoo’s every move.

For whatever reason, the man had a fine line etched into his smooth brow. A quiet but unignorable gaze.

Heewoo attributed his flushing face to the heavy sauce containers. While he was struggling alone, the inscrutable man slowly rejoined the work. Jang Seungyung stacked and moved several containers at once, and thanks to him, the job was finished quickly again.

“We just need to move this much. Thank you.”

On the way back through the alley, a thought suddenly struck Heewoo.

It was Friday evening.

The day of the week Yoonguk usually visited for business entertainment.

He couldn’t quite remember if the last time Yoonguk had come to the front of the kitchen was last Friday or the Friday before, but there was a small chance he might visit Benny’s today. It was also unfortunately close to opening time.

However, the boss, who had arrived as a guest first, showed no signs of leaving right away.

“You have to give me my juice.”

Jang Seungyung demanded with half-lidded, inscrutable eyes.

Heewoo straightened his gaze, which had been about to turn toward the kitchen entrance, and washed his hands, putting on gloves. The feeling he always had regarding Yoonguk was just a slight discomfort, but strangely, a sense of anxiety was now added to it.

Driven by this nameless emotion, Heewoo added more nuts than the standard amount.

He poured the finished juice into a cup and handed it over. As the man took the juice, his fingers lightly brushed against his, and for a moment, Heewoo forgot to breathe.

“…Enjoy.”

“I will.”

“Get home safe.”

Thankfully, Jang Seungyung didn’t linger and savor the taste as he usually did. He immediately left the bustling kitchen, where waiters were coming and going for the opening.

It was a baseless worry, after all. Just as Heewoo felt relieved, a waiter who had been loitering by the corkboard where order slips were pinned approached him. A customer memo pad from Benny’s counter was placed in front of him, and the waiter quickly disappeared.

—Come to Room 12.

A familiar handwriting.

They had just started taking orders, so it was a time with no depleted ingredients or dishes to wash. Heewoo took off his apron. Normally he would have ignored it, but he was worried Yoonguk might come looking for him personally if he did.

He went to the small room. Yoonguk was with another person.

“Oh, Heewoo. You came quickly.”

Yoonguk, who had been talking with his companion, said with wide eyes. The companion, who looked to be about Yoonguk’s age, glanced at Heewoo.

“Who’s this?”

“Um… my friend?”

Yoonguk replied in a dubious tone. The companion examined Heewoo’s shabby attire, which even the modern decorative lighting in the room couldn’t hide.

A hoodie with faded patches of fabric, black jeans barely held up by a belt. Thanks to his rather pretty face, it could have passed for an old-school look, but in any case, he definitely did not look like a customer.

“Uh, was it Mr. Siwoo?”

The companion vaguely recalled the name Yoonguk had called him. Instead of introducing the two to each other, Yoonguk swirled his on-the-rocks glass and corrected him.

“It’s Heewoo, not Siwoo.”

“Ah, sorry. Close enough, though. Can you let it slide as a metaphor?”

The companion chuckled, picking up the whiskey bottle. Heewoo didn’t feel the need to respond. The companion, who had taken a small sip of the high-proof liquor without ice, asked.

“Mr. Heewoo, what do you do for a living?”