The bell above the door chimed, but Jin-ah barely registered it. Her movements were a practiced blur of efficiency as she wiped down the counter, her mind focused on the small list of tasks she had left before the evening rush. The scent of hot broth and kimchi filled the air, a familiar comfort. The quiet melody of a gayageum from the vintage radio on the shelf was a constant presence, a soft, soothing counterpoint to the clatter of bowls and the sizzle from the kitchen.
Most of the customers were older people, quietly enjoying their meals. It was a place for peace, not for the loud conversations or pop music of a younger crowd. The afternoon wore on with a slow, predictable rhythm. Jin-ah took orders, Areum delivered the food, and from the kitchen, Minji chatted with an elderly woman about the day's special.
"This music is so soothing," the old woman said, smiling at Minji. "It's hard to find places like this anymore."
Minji's eyes softened. "That's why I keep it on. It's good for the soul."
The trio was a well-oiled machine. Minji commanded the kitchen, Jin-ah handled the cooking and serving, and a young woman with soft-spoken charm managed the front, making sure every customer felt welcome.
The woman approached a table where a customer had left a few leftovers in a bowl. "Minji unnie, I will take some of that leftover for the cats around here."
Minji didn't even look up from her work. "Mm, do your usual, Areum."
Jin-ah, focused on a fresh order, smiled as she passed Areum. "Areum unnie," she said, her voice soft but her expression warm.
"Jin-ah, how's the soup base coming along?" Minji's voice carried from the kitchen.
"Almost done, Boss Lady," Jin-ah replied without looking up.
Minji's eyes sharpened. "Jin-ah, I told you not to call me that."
Jin-ah saluted with a grin. "Okay, Boss Lady Minji unnie!"
Minji groaned, but a smile was playing on her lips. Areum sighed playfully as she gathered the food, ready to head outside. The moment of peace descended over the shop as the last of the lunch customers finished their meals and left.
The afternoon bled into evening with a slow, predictable rhythm. The traditional music continued to play from the radio, a constant, low murmur. As the sun began to set and the storefront windows glowed with a warm, golden light, the first of the evening customers started to arrive. They were a mix of regulars—a student studying late, a salaryman grabbing a quick dinner on his way home, a few couples who preferred the shop's peaceful atmosphere over the crowded, noisy restaurants nearby.
Jin-ah's hands were a blur of motion. She moved between the counter, the kitchen, and the tables with practiced ease. Her focus was absolute, her mind a well-organized list of orders, timings, and tasks. She served a bowl of spicy kimchi ramyeon to a young woman, a quick, polite exchange of smiles before she returned to her post.
In the back, Minji was in her element. She cooked with a confident, almost meditative grace, each scoop of broth and sprinkle of spice a deliberate action. She occasionally leaned out to share a thought with Jin-ah or a friendly word with a regular.
Areum's gentle presence was a soothing balm over the entire shop. She moved with quiet purpose, clearing tables and refilling water glasses, sometimes humming along softly to the music.
The final hour before closing was the most peaceful. The shop had thinned out again, and the women began the final cleaning. Jin-ah scrubbed the stovetop. Areum swept the floor with a quiet, steady rhythm. Minji, her head chef's apron now off, was wiping down the front counter.
The small ramyeon shop, with its soft light and old music, felt like a world apart from the busy city streets outside. It was a place of routine and comfort, a predictable rhythm that all three of them relied on. A dream job she had already achieved, working at a ramyeon shop. A simple dream, to be sure, but a fulfilling one.
The bell above the door remained silent. The last of the cleaning was nearly done. It was almost time to close up.
The bell above the door finally let out a soft chime. Beom Seok pushed the door open and stepped in. The air inside was thick with the scent of spices and hot broth. A few tables were filled, but the shop was mostly quiet. The traditional music, played from a small, vintage radio on a shelf, was the only sound.
He walked to an empty table in the back, the far corner that offered a good view of the whole place without being too visible. A young woman with a calm expression came to his table with a menu. He kept his head down, giving his order in a quiet voice.
After she walked away, he glanced up, scanning the room, just taking in the atmosphere. The kitchen door swung open, and a figure emerged carrying one steaming bowl of ramyeon.
And then he saw her.
The steam curled upward, framing her face as she moved with quick, practiced steps. An apron was tied over her hoodie, her frizzy hair pulled back with a scrunchie that looked one wash away from retiring. She set the bowl down with the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times before.
He stopped breathing for half a second.
Of all the ramyeon shops in Seoul, of all the nights to walk into this one—it had to be her.
He settled back into his chair, trying to appear inconspicuous. He tugged at his mask, suddenly very aware of his disguise.
She approached his table, a menu in her hand. "Alright, what—" She squinted. "No way."
He tugged his mask down slightly, revealing more of his face.
"Oh my god, you again?" she asked.
"I could ask the same."
She blinked. "Wait, what are you doing here?"
"Obviously, I was just... craving ramyeon," he said.
"Right."
"I didn't know you worked here," he said honestly.
She cracked a smile. "Same. I don't know why you're here, Bomsok Fanboy." A mischievous grin spread across her face. "Jang Beom Seok, was it?"
He nodded.
She put down the menu. "Still think it's funny you share the same name with that idol guy you stan, Bomsok?" She grinned. "Or was it... Bomb Sock?"
He corrected her. "You mean Bomsok."
"Yeah, yeah, that one," she said, waving it off. "Still hilarious you're a 'fanboy' of someone with nearly the same name. Are you sure your parents didn't name you after him?"
"…We're the same age." Actually, I'm him.
"Oh. So you were both given the same name, then? Hah. Well, at least your name's the real one, not like your bias making his given name a fancy romanji."
His eye twitched. "Thanks?"
She nodded. "Anyway, enjoy your dinner, Bomsok Defender."
"I thought we were done with that nickname."
"Absolutely not."
She turned, walking away. From behind the counter, she didn't glance back again, but a tiny upward curve at the edge of her lips betrayed a tiny smirk.
He quietly tugged his mask down so he could have dinner, then sipped the barley tea she had placed beside him.
Still... what a coincidence.
Or maybe not.
Three times now, they'd crossed paths without trying. In a city this big, that shouldn't happen—not unless something, or someone, kept nudging their paths closer.
Okay, Seokie, your head is just filling with romance drama tropes you usually act. He huffed under his breath. This isn't a drama, and this is not romance. And not some cheesy plot device…
He glanced toward the counter. She was laughing softly at something her boss-he think- said, her head tipped back just enough for a strand of hair to fall loose from her scrunchie. She didn't look his way again.
But he found himself smiling anyway.
He'd only meant to grab dinner. Now, he wasn't so sure he wanted to leave when the bowl was empty.
I want to know her and become friends with someone who isn't part of this world…
Okay… I've hit another romance drama trope again… right?
He laughed quietly, and the sound made Jin-ah pause. He caught her gaze and winked. His hair might be messy for disguise, but even with his nerdy glasses, the charming idol was peeking through. With his medical mask down, he was still undeniably handsome.
Suddenly he spluttered, his voice a soft rush of air. "Wait! Since when were you this close?! Didn't you just walk back to the counter?!"
She blinked, unimpressed while cleaning a table close to him. "We're close to closing time, last customer. So I'm cleaning and going to sit here after you're done. That way, I can clean your place and bowl instantly. No need for many moves, so I'm going to sit here. Continue eating, Jang Beom Seok. I'm going to do my thing while I wait for you to finish. No worries, I won't intrude on your dinner." She finished cleaning, sat down, and opened her phone.
She mumbled to herself, "He's not sick then. Maybe he has some kind of germaphobia? Is that why he wears a medical mask? ...Wait, then why is he fine eating?-"
He slurped his ramyeon too fast, then coughed, and took a drink. Right, my disguise. Dammit, vanity. Yeah, I'm a sick person.
After he coughed, Jin-ah nodded to herself. "-Yep, he's sick."
My vanity almost made me forget I'm a sickly college student.