Between People (3)

"I'd be grateful if you would."

The old man clasped both of my hands tight.

It was his answer to my proposal — that I would remodel this place into a restaurant and put it to use.

He even went further, out of consideration for me.

"You're not forcing yourself into this because of me, are you?"

"No. I told you already, didn't I? I don't have anywhere else to go."

My heart was full of gratitude. Even so, I could feel perfectly well that he hoped this wasn't for his sake alone.

So I laid out the situation honestly — and in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠return he offered words that felt like a blessing.

"Heh heh. It isn't that you have nowhere to go. Fate is simply guiding us this way."

"Sir!"

"Thank you. Truly. I mean it."

"You've worked so hard."

The two of them patted me on the back again and again.

Then they swept their eyes around the inside of the factory. The look they wore, staring blankly into that space, seemed less like they were looking at a factory and more like they were looking back over the years of their lives.

"Then I'll clear out the interior for you — including these machines."

Even at the end, he was thinking of me.

My answer to that was already decided.

"No. You don't have to clear anything out."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to keep as much of it as I can. This scenery."

I meant to protect this view — the landscape of the factory he had devoted his whole life to.

"Heh heh. You said you were going to run a restaurant."

"I am. A restaurant. That's my dream."

"And with this scenery?"

A factory ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and a restaurant.

It was an utterly strange combination — a landscape that should not have fit together at all.

"Within the bounds of what the law allows, of course."

"Heh heh. I have no idea what that even means. Do you, dear?"

"I don't either."

"Just trust me this once."

If I looked hard enough, there would be a way. This wouldn't even be the first time someone had renovated an abandoned factory and made something of it.

Let's do this.

The two of them were half convinced, half doubtful.

"Well, if it's you saying it…"

"If it really won't work, just say so. We'll clear it out somehow."

And even so, they cheered me on.

Their warm support.

That alone was more than enough. Whatever the job turned out to be, the will to do it rose in me.

The very next day, I brought the three of them over.

The coffee truck owner, Boss Jang — and Jinwoo, who had shamelessly tagged along. He insisted he had to see the place where he'd be working part-time, and there was no leaving him behind.

"Whoa. It really is huge."

"It used to be a factory, after all."

"If Ramenkase takes the center, we can take the left and right."

"Like a kind of food court?"

"A food court? Oh! Right. That could work."

The picture came into focus at once.

With my shop at the center, coffee would be sold on the left. On the right, Boss Jang would set up the Hong Kong home cooking he was preparing. Something about the last competition had stuck with him hard. In the long run, holding on with snacks alone would be tough — so it was the right direction.

Meanwhile, Boss Jang was fretting over one big thing.

"But will we even get the zoning change approved for this place?"

"When they built Shinsigaji, the city already reclassified some of the surrounding land, so it should be possible."

"Oh. That's a relief!"

Worries about the change of use. Fortunately, I'd looked into that in advance.

It was possible. There were even abandoned factories nearby that had already been turned into cafés — so it was almost certain.

The real problem was putting it into practice.

"But… can we actually build this while keeping as much of the factory look as possible?"

"That's the concept. A food court — but a factory food court."

"Right. And we'll have to be careful not to run afoul of the health codes."

"Which is why," I said, "I gave it some thought."

I pulled out the thing I'd prepared in advance from inside my jacket.

"Huh? Is that a floor plan?"

"Boss Kim, you can read blueprints?"

"A minor talent. Anyway — take a look."

It was a floor plan, with reference photos and materials laid out on top of it for comparison. Even without knowing how to read blueprints, it didn't matter. The references stuck alongside were arranged carefully enough that the whole thing would form in your head just by looking.

The two owners and Jinwoo studied it intently.

"Whoa…"

"If it turns out like this, it'll be incredible!"

"Hyung, you actually made this yourself?"

"I did."

"Man… this is insane. Seriously."

The existing scenery and the new shops that would move in, all in harmony. It looked convincing enough that what came back was pure admiration.

They wandered around looking at this corner and that, as if the image in their heads had already unfurled right in front of them. They were genuinely moved by the landscape taking shape in the future.

Now I just had to haul these three back into reality with me.

"But even if we keep as much of this space as we can, fixing it up is still going to take a lot of time, right?"

"Yeah. Construction crews these days don't work nights, either."

"Right. And even if they did, we couldn't handle the cost!"

"So what should we do, then?"

I asked with a broad smile.

"Huh?"

"Why are you looking at us like that?"

"Don't tell me…"

The three of them sensed something. I drove the point home.

"We do it ourselves, of course."

"Uh…"

"Huh."

"Ah…"

We would do it ourselves.

All right. Construction starts now.

Even calling it construction — aside from me, none of us were professionals. If we forced our way into too many jobs, the actual contractors could have grounds to give us a hard time.

So most of what we did was limited to residual work: cleaning, hauling materials, bringing in equipment early. Even so, it took a lot of strength. That meant working into the night.

And of course, the most important thing — the main job — couldn't fall by the wayside.

We opened for business.

And business kept booming.

"We're open! Please come up by number!"

There were plenty of people who did the early-morning open-run for us. I had to bring more number tickets than I'd prepared before. That meant prepping ingredients late into the night — but still.

I've got energy for this.

This work that had come to me like fate only gave me more strength the more I did it. Whatever else might tire me out, this never did.

"Welcome!"

"One bowl again today!"

"Coming right up!"

Especially when I saw regulars like these. Even though they ate every day, there wasn't a trace of boredom on their faces — only anticipation. That expression gave me strength.

"It's been a while — I'll make it with konjac noodles as a special today!"

"Whoa…! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Yes, please."

There was no such thing as a hassle. For the so-called two-faced Janus customers, konjac noodles. For the elders who had given us this good place, I set aside something gentler on the stomach.

And I didn't let the advertising slip, either.

"You know we're moving soon, right?"

"Of course! Shinsigaji — that's a really good area, isn't it?"

"It is a good area. But it might not be the kind of place you're picturing."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. When you come by later, you're going to be surprised."

"Now I'm looking forward to it!"

"Haha. I'm doing everything I can to live up to that expectation."

"I like that!"

Less than a month left until the food truck closed. Whenever I got the chance, I spread the word about the new business that would follow.

"I'm working hard too, so please come!"

"Is Jinwoo going with you?"

"Yes. Wherever hyung — I mean, the boss — goes, of course I'm going too."

"Heh heh. All right. I'll definitely come!"

"That's a promise!"

Jinwoo was full of drive. He already smelled like someone in the industry. Watching him pick things up one by one during construction, and even throw out suggestions that accounted for kitchen flow on top of that—

Food service really does seem to suit him. And his chemistry with my cooking is good, too.

Jinwoo was born with talent optimized for this line of work. He seemed to know it himself and was still wrestling with the thought — but ever since that last difficult visit, he hadn't said anything more about it.

Someday he'll tell me first.

I knew this wasn't the kind of thing that got resolved by pushing.

"Jinwoo! Next customer!"

"Ah! Excuse me — see you next time!"

For now, I just pointed him at the work in front of him. If I waited, he would eventually say the things he hadn't managed to say last time.

And so I kept running a happy business.

Every time we wrapped up, I was rewarded with growth to match. It was a perfect virtuous cycle, the first one in a long while.

"Good work today. See you tomorrow."

"Yes!"

"Oh, right. You haven't forgotten about this weekend, have you? You're coming?"

"Of course. I'll be there for sure."

"Good. Head on home!"

Inside that virtuous cycle, we were also planning something to celebrate one another. That was this weekend.

The food truck business would wrap up soon. We were planning a modest party to mark the occasion.

My head was full of dishes.

Jinwoo likes noodles, so maybe I'll make jjolmyeon this time. And I should gift the coffee truck owner some new beans.

For Jinwoo, who loved firsts, a new dish. For the coffee truck owner, a bean connoisseur if there ever was one, a custom roast.

And for Boss Jang, who for some reason had looked a little down lately, I had a gift as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠well.

Ah, right. I should teach Boss Jang a Hong Kong dish.

Hong Kong cooking. I planned to pass on one dish I had in mind. For the record, it was one of the recipes I'd learned in my previous life.

That guy had a rough life too.

He'd loved Hong Kong food so much he went there to study — and then the Apocalypse hit. After that, determined to get back to Korea, he had crossed the entire length of China. He used to grumble that he loved cooking as much as I did, so why was he a knife fighter instead of a chef.

He was a real master with a blade.

When it came to prepping ingredients, he was better than me — and I was the actual cook. If he hadn't gone out so hollowly back then, he might have survived longer than I did.

…Thank you. I lived because of you.

The Hong Kong cooking I'd inherited from him then. I planned to pass that on to Boss Jang. He was going to be stunned when he received it.

I can't wait.

I was thinking of the look on his face when I shut the door to close up for the night.

A small presence stirred behind me.

"Hmm…?"

There were no customers at this hour. A presence, all of a sudden, here?

Tense, I turned around.

And I couldn't help but jump.

"What are you doing there?"