New Terms
“I talked to Oppa Eun-ho on the phone a little while ago.”
The warmth drained from Yoo Eun-seong’s face as if the heat from the grill had vanished.
Had she said something too unsettling?
Hae-som nudged the browned slices of pork to the cooler edge of the grill and continued as if it were nothing.
“His number’s still active. Of course, it can’t actually be Yoo Eun-ho… It isn’t Uncle Gyeong-ho or your aunt, is it?”
“No. It isn’t.”
Clink.
Eun-seong poured himself a shot in a hurry, then tossed it back even faster.
“Whenever things got hard… or when I missed him… I’d call that number. But I’m going to stop now.”
“Why?”
“It’s wrong to Oppa, wrong to me… and it’s a nuisance for whoever owns that number.”
He’d always bristled at even the smallest reminder of Eun-ho, yet now that she was giving it up, he looked for some reason, disappointed. The shadow settled over his face a heartbeat later.
Then the conversation veered somewhere completely unexpected.
“So… are you really dating your chef?”
A conversation from days ago drifted back into her mind.
“You’ve been busy, Hae-som. Working, dating… Is that why you ignored my calls?”
“You were the one telling me to stop living in Eun-ho Oppa’s shadow! Weren’t you saying I should perform some shaman ritual if that’s what it took? So why are you upset now that I’ve actually moved on?”
One lie really did lead to another.
At this point, denying it would only make things worse.
Ironically, the night she’d spent with Jae-geon—emotionless though it had been—made the lie seem far more believable.
“Who told you that?”
“Everyone except you two.”
The rumors spreading through the restaurant about the Head Chef and his trainee had only cemented the misunderstanding.
Too tired to keep inventing excuses, Hae-som quietly topped off both their glasses instead of denying it. Eun-seong accepted his with a puzzled look and emptied it in one swallow.
“Does Chef actually like you?”
“I guess that’s why we’re seeing each other.”
“And you? Do you like him too?”
The question caught in her throat.
She hesitated, lips parting without an answer.
After watching her for a moment, Eun-seong spoke with quiet certainty.
“I don’t think you do.”
“Why?”
“You don’t look at him the way you looked at Yoo Eun-ho.”
Reading her expression wasn’t difficult.
The tension that had built up inside him over the past few weeks seemed to melt away, and he smiled for the first time in days.
“Do you really feel the same way now as you did back then?”
“We spent years together. How could the feelings be the same?”
“Then don’t throw Yoo Eun-ho away because of that old fox.”
“Old fox…? Come on…”
A shadow crossed Hae-som’s face.
She washed the grease from her lips down with another half glass of soju.
The alcohol made her reach for more meat, and the meat made her drink more soju.
Before long, two bottles were empty.
She had so little appetite that she found herself picking the shredded radish out from the kimchi instead. Then—
Clink.
Her chopsticks slipped off the edge of the table and fell.
The clear metallic ring was immediately followed by a familiar deep voice echoing in her memory.
“If you drop your chopsticks, you’re drunk. Eat properly so you don’t end up blackout drunk again.”
The corner of her lips lifted before she realized it.
Maybe because she’d stopped at the right point, she woke without a hangover despite not sleeping much.
Early Saturday morning, Hae-som arrived at Not as usual and immediately sensed someone had beaten her there.
The ingredients that should have been stacked in the lobby were already gone.
The completed order sheets sat neatly in the holder, each bearing Jae-geon’s elegant signature across the bottom.
There were still nearly two hours until official work hours.
No one else would voluntarily come in this early on a Saturday.
It was the perfect chance to talk to him.
After changing into her chef’s jacket, she headed for Jae-geon’s office.
The office door stood wide open.
With every step she took toward him, unfamiliar words reached her ears.
The language rolled gently across the air, soft at the edges, with endings that lingered like unfinished sentences.
Right.
Jung Jae-geon spoke fluent French.
She’d heard he’d graduated from Le Cordon Bleu, but listening to him now, she almost wondered if he was French.
It was unmistakably Jae-geon’s face, yet speaking another language somehow made him sound gentle than she’d expected.
He was checking his calendar with his phone tucked between his shoulder and ear when he noticed Hae-som frozen in the doorway.
He beckoned her over.
Something told her she shouldn’t…
But walking toward him felt inevitable.
He tossed the pen he’d been idly twirling onto the desk, switched the call to speakerphone, pressed mute, then reached out.
Without a word, he gently pulled her wrist and settled her onto his lap.
“…”
“…What?”
Hae-som took a quiet breath.
Even to her own ears, what came out sounded completely random.
“I caught the last train home as soon as I dropped my chopsticks.”
She wasn’t fishing for praise.
She’d only been worried that Hwi’s teasing might have rubbed him the wrong way.
More than anything, she wanted reassurance.
Did he still mean it when he’d told her to come over every Saturday?
If he did…
Could she come tonight?
Jae-geon’s lips curved into a smile.
“You came all this way just to tell me that?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Just as her lips were about to form the words, a deep, dignified voice broke through the speakerphone.
Jae-geon quickly unmuted the call and answered.
A brief reply.
Then the phone returned to silence.
“Then?”
Now that he’d given her the chance, saying it out loud felt embarrassing.
Asking him to help her sleep was, in practice, almost the same as asking him to sleep with her.
Silence stretched between them.
Only the person on the other end of the line continued chatting away.
How much time passed like that?
Eventually the caller seemed to tire of talking alone and hung up.
At last, they were alone.
Jae-geon slipped an arm around her waist.
Each time the bridge of his nose brushed slowly along the side of her neck, her body trembled without control.
It was the familiar warning sign of the countless orgasms she’d experienced with him.
He wasn’t even kissing her.
It was nothing more than casual touch.
Yet her body melted all the same, going limp against his chest.
His sharp eyes softened into a faint smile.
“Sleep over.”
“…”
“We’re leaving for the Farm to Table trip tomorrow. You said you wanted to go.”
Stars practically burst in Hae-som’s eyes.
“R-Really?!”
“If you’d rather not, forget it.”
She shook her head so hard it was almost frantic.
For some reason, Jae-geon looked even less pleased.
“N-No! That’s not what I meant, Chef. I’ve wanted to visit the farm for ages.”
He let himself sway as she grabbed his arm in excitement, the corner of his mouth curling upward like a hook.
Hae-som was too flustered to notice.
“So… a farm tour is more exciting than sex?”
The irritation in his voice wasn’t fake.
Apparently he still hadn’t forgiven her for running off after taking only what she wanted.
Straightening his crooked smile, Jae-geon gently cupped her right cheek and turned her face toward his.
“Seong Hae-som.”
“Yes, Chef.”
Without thinking, she slid her arms around his neck.
The scent of pine wrapped around her.
“There are plenty of ways to help you sleep besides sex.”
“You don’t remember?”
The moment he whispered those words, sleep washed over her like instinct.
Jae-geon’s declaration stayed with her the entire day.
She finished service in a daze, followed him home almost on autopilot, and by the time she came to her senses, she was standing alone in his shower.
Trying to clear her head, Hae-som carefully retraced her memories.
It was true that she’d slept more deeply than ever after they had sex…
But even without an orgasm, simply touching Jae-geon made her insomnia disappear as though it had never existed.
Almost as if his body gave off some kind of biological signal.
Maybe sex was the most effective cure…
But maybe it wasn’t actually necessary.
For some reason, realizing they might not have sex tonight left her feeling a little disappointed.
At this rate, she had the strange feeling she’d end up pouncing on him before he ever made a move on her.
Hae-som shut off the faucet and shook her head in defeat.
She dried herself carefully before changing into the clothes Jae-geon had left for her.
His fitted white T-shirt hung on her like an oversized dress.
It covered well past her hips.
Heart pounding, she stepped into the living room.
Jae-geon was still in the kitchen, wearing the same clothes he’d left work in.
Seeing him in casual clothes felt somehow new.
She found herself staring until he noticed first.
“Finished?”
The man who’d just finished an entire dinner service somehow looked fresher than the person who’d just taken a shower.
There wasn’t the faintest trace of food on him.
Only that clean scent of pine.
She already knew it, yet her heart still skipped a beat.
“Yes. Is there anything I can help with?”
She doubted she’d actually be much help, but asked out of courtesy.
Jae-geon politely declined and nodded toward the living room.
“Sit on the couch. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes, Chef.”
A bottle of wine.
Two wine glasses.
A cheese platter with crackers.
A small appetizer plate sat beside them, a fork resting across it for the accompaniments.
Still…
Did alcohol really help people sleep?
After barely sleeping despite drinking with Eun-seong the night before, the answer seemed obvious.
Then why—
The television flickered on, neatly cutting off her train of thought.
Jae-geon walked over with practiced ease, a bowl of cherries in one hand and the remote in the other.