It's tough surviving in Seoul.
"Sir… can you please leave? You're making the other customers uncomfortable."
"Are you crazy?! Call the owner! How dare you talk to me like this?!"
People here aren't very kind. They cause trouble where there isn't any. And those who speak up? They're expected to shut up and swallow the insult—because standing your ground only creates more trouble for everyone else.
Seoul… surviving here really was a challenge.
"Did you not hear me?! I said call the owner—!"
"What's the problem here?"
That voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
On one side: a drunk man covered in tattoos, reeking of arrogance and cheap liquor, his voice slurred but dangerous. He'd barged in with his gang of rowdy friends, cursing, yelling, laughing too loud, smoking under the No Smoking sign. He didn't care who was watching—not even the children at nearby tables.
On the other side was me. A nobody. A part-time waiter barely 18 years old, with soft brown hair, wide eyes, and a face that screamed pushover.
I'm Nolan Park. Just a kid trying to survive in this city, scraping through debt and misery.
"This little brat's got an attitude," the man said, puffing out his chest. "I'm just here having a good time, and he's the one with a problem. Why don't you teach him some manners?"
The nerve.
He was clearly in the wrong—but like most bullies, he had no shame. The worst kind. Loud. Proud. And so very used to getting his way.
Still… I had hope. This was Seoul, after all. Maybe justice still existed here?
"I understand, sir," said a familiar voice beside me.
Yoon Jae-Woo.
The owner of this place—barely a few years older than me, but someone I always called Hyung.
I looked up to him. Respected him.
I trusted him to stand up for what's right.
"You can rest assured—we'll teach him a lesson. Please accept our deepest apologies for the inconvenience."
He bowed. Low. Humble.
This couldn't be happening.
Why?
Before I could say a word, the man laughed and grabbed his water glass—dumping it over Hyung's bowed head.
"Make sure you do, fucker. Don't forget who runs this place."
Then he turned to me. All eyes in the restaurant followed him. The woman clinging to his arm gave me a scornful glare—though I could feel her eyes undressing me too.
I felt sick.
"The next time I come here, I expect you to know your place, boy."
He uncapped a full bottle of soju and poured it over my head like I was trash. The liquid dripped down my collar, burning my pride far more than my skin.
I stood still.
Trembling inside.
I wanted to fight back. Wanted to swing. To scream.
But I didn't. I couldn't.
This… this was just how it was.
The strong get to humiliate. And the poor? We get to take it. Smile. Endure.
"Remember this, boy," the man said, sneering. "The world isn't kind to your kind."
He walked out laughing, his minions behind him.
My manager didn't move.
Neither did I.
The other customers? They returned to their meals. Whispering. Pitying. Annoyed. Some complained about the "scene," grumbling about never coming here again.
Not a single thank you. Not a single soul defended us.
Just silence. Judgment. And the cold sting of humiliation.
It's tough surviving Seoul.
But even tougher when you can't fight back.
---
"Nolan, you don't need to come to work tomorrow."
The words hit harder than I expected. Like a slap I didn't see coming. I stood there frozen, the sting settling in slowly.
I needed this job. I really needed it. And now I was being punished—for what? For standing up for what was right? For doing exactly what the rules said?
"Hyung… you know I need this job."
I kept my voice low. It was late. The restaurant was quiet, emptied out except for the two of us.
Yoon Jae-Woo was still cleaning up, wiping the same table over and over like it would somehow erase what just happened.
Tomorrow was supposed to be my first day at school here in Seoul. A fresh start. But right now, all I could think about was keeping this job.
"You need me," I said. "This restaurant doesn't have anyone else. And I—"
"You think I don't know that?"
He finally turned to face me.
That's when I saw it—
The weight in his eyes. The slump in his shoulders. He looked… beaten. Not physically, but like someone who'd just lost a battle no one else knew was happening.
This wasn't the man who hired me a week ago.
This was someone on the edge.
I didn't argue. Just let out a quiet sigh.
Yeah, I was frustrated. But looking at him now… he wasn't doing any better.
This place—this restaurant—was all he had left after losing his parents in an accident.
If it shut down, he'd have nothing.
Only the two of us worked here. That's how fragile it was.
"...What happened?" I asked softly. "Why did you let that guy talk to you like that?"
I hadn't known him long, but he didn't strike me as someone who'd roll over for scum like that.
He was tall, solid, a bit awkward—but definitely not spineless.
He didn't answer at first. Just kept wiping that same damn table. But I waited, and eventually, he let out a long sigh.
"I owe him," he said. "Hwang Do-Sik. I took a loan."
I blinked. "...You're kidding."
He gave a bitter laugh. "Wish I was. But I needed money to keep this place alive. And that kind of money… well, it doesn't come clean."
Then he looked at me. And the moment he did, I froze. His eyes were filled with tears.
And then… he bowed.
"That's why… please." His voice cracked.
"Don't come to work tomorrow. Don't get involved with this. Find another job. Somewhere safe."
He looked up, and there was so much pain in his expression, I didn't know what to say.
"You pissed him off, Nolan. And if he comes back, he'll come for you. Not me.
You've got school. A future. You don't want to get dragged into my mess."
And then, again—
"Please. Leave."
He bowed one last time.
I couldn't move. All I could see was… me.
A reflection.
This is what happens when the world beats you down and never lets up. This is what I could become.
If I wasn't careful.
If I kept going down the path I was on.
---
The nightlife in Seoul was… bright.
Especially here in Hongdae, where the streets never slept. Neon lights bled into the dark like fireworks frozen in time. Music pulsed from every bar, every club, and the scent of soju and street food hung thick in the air.
It should've been comforting.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I was just fired. My first job in Seoul—gone, like it was nothing.
The restaurant wasn't much—just a humble diner tucked between flashier joints—but the locals loved it. And Yoon Jae-Woo, the owner, paid fairly. He wasn't rich, but he wasn't stingy either.
I needed that job. With my mom in the hospital, every paycheck mattered. But I understood why Hyung let me go. He was trying to protect me. He gave me a shot when no one else would, and he knew what I was dealing with.
I just hope he survives Seoul.
"Oh? Look who it is. The little pup from earlier. Going home already?"
That voice froze me.
I was near an alley now, off the main street. Empty. Quiet.
Hwang Do-Sik.
He leaned against a wall, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Three of his lackeys crouched nearby, laughing like hyenas. The woman with them—his girlfriend, probably—flashed a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
How cliché.
"Yup."
I kept walking, calm and casual.
There was no point getting into it. Not now. Not after I'd already left the job. Let them bark all they want. I wasn't giving them the satisfaction.
"Hey, now. Leaving already?"
"Guess he lost his spunk after Do-Sik put him in his place."
"Just rough him up. Ain't like anyone can hear screams in this alley."
"Careful, he might cry again."
I ignored them. Hands in my pockets. Not worth it.
They probably planned to make this a slow game—drag it out over weeks. Toy with me every time they saw me. Too bad for them. I was done with that restaurant. There wouldn't be a next time.
Then I heard it.
"Ugh."
Someone was gagging. Violently.
"Oi, Do-Sik. This guy's puking already."
I stopped. Turned. And saw him.
Jae-Woo. Hyung.
He was on his knees, choking, eyes red with tears and snot. Behind him stood a lanky man holding a bowl—its contents unrecognizable, but foul. I knew instantly it wasn't food.
Do-Sik crouched beside him, grinning.
"I'm just making you eat what you cooked, man. Leftovers with a bit of spit and cigarette ash. Can't handle your own food?"
"S-Stop... please..."
"What was that? More? Hey, get another bowl ready."
"No, no—please, I—"
"You want to pay me back, right? Then eat."
"Get your hands off my former boss."
The voice wasn't angry. Just cold.
Even, measured.
It was me.
Every head turned.
I stood there, still, hands in my pockets, my face blank but my eyes sharp.
"You're disturbing the peace. I'll have to ask you to leave." I stepped forward. "Or throw you out myself."
One of the goons scoffed and lunged, grabbing my collar.
"You want a beating, too?"
From the ground, Jae-Woo looked up. His eyes widened when he saw me.
Man, I didn't like that look on his face.
So this is what he meant when he said he didn't want me involved. He wasn't brushing me off—He was trying to protect me.
To keep me from ending up here.
In his place.
Jae-Woo hyung really was kind. The first person who showed me kindness in this city.
I guess I have to repay him, somehow.
"You started this," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?"
"So… I'm calling it self-defense."
Crack.
A jab to the chin.
The man dropped instantly, hitting the ground with a twitch before going still—foam bubbling from his mouth.
Everyone flinched. Do-Sik looked shaken.
I hated hurting people. But if they were scum like this?
I didn't mind slipping back into my old ways.
I smiled.
With my delicate features and soft voice, people often mistook me for gentle—maybe even fragile. That was their first mistake.
"Scream all you want."
"No one's gonna hear you out here."
They did scream. And like I said—no one came.
So, yeah. I was officially fired from my job during my first week in Seoul.
And when my mom wakes up, she's definitely going to yell at me.
---
Surviving Seoul is tough.
But only if you don't know how to fight back.