Alleyway Night
A few days passed while working the night shift at the alley restaurant. The part-time job at Hongbok Banjeom had quietly settled into a routine. I no longer needed Wang Hong to oversee the ingredient prep. Onion slices at the right thickness, potato edges neatly squared, meat trimmed along the grain—I handled it all at the speed my hands remembered, and she'd peer over, say nothing, and walk away. That was her stamp of approval.
Serving had become second nature too. Navigating the narrow dining hall, carrying dishes out, taking orders, wiping tables—the flow felt familiar, not unlike the structure of how the army's elite mess hall crew served the brass.
The problem was the face that showed up at the same time every day. The bob-cut office worker. The one from the first day who'd demanded my number and gotten shut down by Wang Hong.
On the second day, she came alone. She sat by the window, picked up the menu, then spotted me.
"You're here again today."
"What would you like to order?"
"One jjamppong. But you know, I thought about it yesterday."
"One moment."
"No, really—don't you wanna at least swap numbers? I'm not asking for anything big."
"I don't have a phone."
"Then just tell me your name, huh? Can't keep calling you 'part-timer.'"
I jotted down the order and headed to the kitchen. She kept talking from behind, but I pretended not to hear.
On the third day, she brought a colleague. The two whispered every time I passed by, loud enough to make sure I heard.
"Doesn't that guy look kinda familiar?"
"Yeah. With a face like that, he doesn't seem like the type to just scrape by on part-time gigs."
I set down their dishes, half-listening, half-ignoring, and turned away.
"Enjoy your meal."
Even in my old world, types like these were low-quality. Pathetic guys who'd try their luck with half-baked come-ons, hoping to score. Seeing it flipped by gender here didn't make it any less ridiculous.
On the fourth day, she showed up again. This time, she started talking before even ordering.
"You know I've been coming every day, right?"
"Yes. What can I get for you? Jjajangmyeon? Jjamppong?"
"Hey, that's not the point. I'm here to see you. Are you seriously that oblivious?"
"You had jjamppong yesterday, so jjajangmyeon today?"
"You remember. So you are paying a little attention?"
"You're the one who keeps coming and asking about me."
"So let's meet up outside, just once? How old are you anyway? You look younger than me."
That's when Wang Hong emerged from the kitchen, dishcloth in hand, stopping at the woman's table.
"Ma'am."
"Y-yes?"
"We're grateful you keep coming."
Wang Hong's voice was low and deliberate.
"But our part-timer's out here to serve, not chat."
The woman gave an awkward smile.
"Oh, I just wanted to get friendly with a guy."
"Then you need to go somewhere else. This is just a regular noodle joint."
Wang Hong cut it off and headed back to the kitchen. The woman wolfed down her jjajangmyeon and left quickly that day.
But she came back the next day.
It was lunchtime on the fifth day. The regular pest yelled straight into the kitchen this time.
"Boss, I'm a regular! Can't your part-timer be a little nicer to me?"
Wang Hong just poked her head out.
"He's being nice."
"Not telling me his name or age—that's nice?"
"Yes."
Wang Hong ducked back in. The woman glared at me and muttered low.
"Got nothing to say?"
I refilled her water glass.
"More water?"
She sighed. Ate and left, just like always.
I finished my shift and stepped out a little after six in the evening. It had been a long cleanup day.
--------------------
One block off the main road, down a side street. Streetlights flickered sparsely, and with the evening rush gone, the place was deserted.
As I walked, a voice called from behind.
"Hey."
I stopped. Turned. There she was under the streetlight at the alley mouth—the bob-cut troublemaker. She looked different from earlier. Her suit tie was loose, eyes bloodshot. She clutched a convenience store bag; bottles clinked inside.
Drunk, I thought, just as a chill ran down my spine.
"Been waiting."
"..."
"Why you gotta be so cold? I came every day. Every day."
She approached slowly. I backed up.
"I need to get home."
"Where's home? I'll walk you."
"...No thanks."
"Hey."
Her voice dropped, icy.
"You think I'm a pushover? I saw that look every day, and you never even glanced at me properly."
"I was working."
"I know. But when someone asks your name, you react like a person."
She closed in. Taller than me—this was the build of a 30-something office woman in this world. I tried to retreat, but the alley wall hit my back.
"Wait—"
"Wait's been days. How long you gonna make me wait?"
"I never agreed to meet you."
Her hand clamped my shoulder. Cold, iron grip. My mind raced. No way this frail body could shake it off. Scream? Kick? Instinct said struggling was pointless. In this world, I was the physical weakling.
"Let go...!"
I strained my voice with all I had. She laughed.
"That voice. That's what I like."
Her hand slid from shoulder to arm.
Then—thwack.
A dull thud echoed in the silent alley. Her body flew sideways. I peeled off the wall on reflex.
She stumbled, knees hitting pavement. Someone stood beside her. Running shoes. Shorts. Sweat-soaked T-shirt. A woman, roughly my age, breathing steady. Taller than me, solid shoulders. Her tied brown hair gleamed in the moonlight.
She had the bob-cut woman's arm twisted back with one hand.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Her voice was clear, firm.
The office worker snapped out of it, thrashing.
"Hey, let go! What the hell—"
"Male Protection Law Article 3. Coercion with physical threat. Caught in the act."
She tightened her grip and pulled out her smartphone with the other hand.
"Agh! D-don't break it!"
"Yes, I'll report it. Attempted forced assault on a male in an alley. Caught red-handed. Location..."
She recited the address crisply. The bob-cut woman finally got it, voice shrinking.
"H-hey, wait. I just wanted to talk. No need for cops..."
"Who 'talks' like this?"
She held the arm locked, blocking any approach to me. The woman shut up.
Cops arrived fast. Lights flashed at the alley entrance; two uniformed officers approached. The runner explained succinctly: what she'd witnessed, her intervention, the current state. The troublemaker was handed over, her fight gone.
Criminal office worker now, huh?
I leaned against the wall, watching the patrol car pull away. My heart pounded late, hands shaky. Even a reserve sergeant couldn't suppress this body's pulse.
She turned to me.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
Her bright eyes scanned me carefully, checking for injuries.
"Good thing. If I'd passed a bit later..."
I glanced at her. Mid-run, sweat beading on her forehead.
"Yeah... thanks for saving me."
She waved it off.
"Oh, no big deal. Just the right thing."
Bright tone. Totally different from the steel she'd used on the woman—like flipping a switch.
"Live nearby? You good to go alone?"
"Yeah, fine."
"Oh, okay then."
I almost asked her name, but she didn't follow up. Looked like she might add something, then turned abruptly, like she had somewhere to be. Her running shoes pattered lightly down the alley, veered toward the main road, and vanished.
I stood there awhile. Took time for my heart to settle.
I felt it in my bones now—why men in this neighborhood hunkered down, never out in the open. Back in my original world, living here, security wasn't great, but as a guy, I rarely felt it. Small build kept me off drunkards' radars too. Maybe that careless habit from then had invited this mess.
Streetlight shadows stretched long across the pavement. I knew I was the weak one here—intellectually. But feeling it bodily was different. The wall at my back. That cold grip on my arm. Even in the army, fear had come—in training, at the range, on night watch. I'd just learned to fake it away.
Same now. Don't show it, and you're good.
I pushed off the wall and walked. Toward the semi-basement alley. Passing under a streetlight, her face flashed—seemed my age. No name. No idea where she lived. Just a passerby.
Well, thanks to her, I'm alive.
Hands in pockets, I kept walking. Didn't look back until the semi-basement's iron door came into view.