Chiyeolhan Chicken
The notebook where Kang Chi-yeol had written the name of his first part-time shop stayed on the dining table longer than expected. The moment he woke up in the morning, the first thing he did was look at it. He had wondered if his mind might have changed overnight. The night before, it had only seemed plausible because his emotions had risen for no reason; after a night's sleep, it might look tacky and childish again. Strangely, it did not. If anything, it looked even clearer in the morning sunlight. Chiyeolhan Chicken. If someone asked whether it was sophisticated, he had no answer. But if they asked whether it was his, he could reply. At least it did not look like something he had seen elsewhere, and it carried less of the scent of copying someone else's shop. Above all, the fact that his own name was inside it strangely made him straighten his back. Words like startup or business still felt too distant and frightening, but writing down just a name already felt like dipping a toe into reality.
Chi-yeol closed the notebook and made coffee. He brewed it stronger than the day before. It was a habit that had formed over the past few days. When he worked at the company, drinking coffee too strong upset his stomach, so he had always kept to a moderate line. Lately that moderate line had started to feel ridiculous. Life had not kept to any moderate line, so it felt odd to brew and drink his coffee so meekly. He carried the mug to the table and wrote down the tasks he needed to do today.
Re-check store conditions
Recalculate budget
Check used equipment prices
Book startup consultation
After writing the last item, his fingertips paused for a moment. Things that absolutely cannot be done alone. There seemed to be more of them than he had thought. Even at the company he had been someone who basically endured things alone. No matter who he teamed up with, the small cleanup tasks usually fell to him in the end, and he had no talent for getting others to move. It was not because his personality was strong; it was the opposite. When he had to give instructions, he felt unnecessarily sorry and tended to read the other person's expression first. Someone like that would probably run into "people" first when running a business. Customers were people, but so were the people working alongside him. And a chicken shop was an industry where it was even harder to handle everything alone. Frying, packing, taking payments, dealing with delivery drivers, and serving hall customers—there would clearly be times when at least two pairs of hands were needed.
While thinking this, Chi-yeol suddenly frowned.
"Who am I supposed to hire?"
Once he said it out loud, it sounded even funnier. He had spent his whole life on the side being evaluated by others; he had almost never stood in the position of choosing someone. Even at the company, he had once sat in on something like a junior interview, but even then he had been closer to the role of quietly flipping through documents from the side seat. When questions like "This person seems fine, right?" came up, he had only given safe answers, and the final decision had always belonged to his superiors. Now he had to find people himself. That fact felt more unreal than the word "boss."
He picked up his phone and added a new item to his notes.
The scariest part of being a boss: hiring people
Even after writing it, he stared at the sentence for a long time. It felt strangely honest, so he liked it.
In the morning he made two startup-related consultation calls. One was to a franchise headquarters, the other to a small business support center. The franchise consultant spoke in an excessively bright voice. Sentences like "Chicken is still steady these days," "Even first-time owners can do it if they receive proper training," and "Brand recognition is the most important thing" kept coming without pause. None of it was wrong, yet listening to it strangely made his throat dry. It was too smooth. In contrast, the person at the support center was dry. They only confirmed necessary documents, possible consultation dates, budget scale, and industry experience, one by one. Their attitude—kind but not coaxing—actually put him at ease.
After hanging up, Chi-yeol sat still for a while. There were always different kinds of persuasion in the world. One pushed your back by saying "You can do it," while the other made you come to your senses by asking "How far have you prepared?" What he needed right now was the latter. Words that removed fear were less useful than words that let him walk while still carrying that fear.
Around lunchtime, Chi-yeol was searching for used kitchen equipment on his laptop when his mind went blank. Deep fryers, refrigerated display cases, work tables, ventilation fans, utensils, packaging containers. Each item by itself did not seem like much, but the longer the list grew, the faster it became suffocating. If he only imagined business in the direction where money kept flowing out, there would be no end. He stood up and opened the window. Cold air came in from outside. He stood there with his eyes closed for a moment, then suddenly thought that what he needed most right now might not be equipment, a signboard, or real estate information, but someone who could look at reality realistically beside him.
When that thought came, one face rose first.
Jo A-ra.
He had met A-ra a few years ago. To be precise, it started when Chi-yeol happened to run into her while eating lunch alone at a snack shop near the company. Back then A-ra still looked like a college student, filming something on her phone and editing it while arguing with the owner. She had said things like "Boss, the lighting here is too yellow, so the tteokbokki doesn't come out pretty" with such confidence that Chi-yeol had thought to himself, Kids these days really say everything. A few months later, while browsing the internet by chance, he saw that very tteokbokki from the snack shop uploaded in a mukbang video. On screen, A-ra was eating it deliciously with the same face she had used to complain about the lighting. It had strangely stuck in his memory.
After that he ran into her a few more times—near the convenience store by the company, in front of a street fish-shaped pastry stand, at the neighborhood night market. People who were serious about eating had a way of recognizing each other quickly. A-ra spoke well, picked up on things fast, and above all, she was someone who had both a good palate and a sense for visuals. To Chi-yeol, that combination was quite rare. Eventually they naturally exchanged contact information. They occasionally sent short messages about newly opened chicken or tteokbokki shops, but strangely, talking to her never felt awkward. Of course, that did not mean they were close enough for him to suddenly call her and say, "I'm opening a chicken shop, want to work together?" That would have been ridiculous.
Kang Chi-yeol picked up his phone and put it down again. It felt too premature. He still had no shop, no contract, and not enough money. Thinking about people first in this state felt like losing sight of his own situation. Even so, a few minutes later he found himself opening the message window after all.
Do you have time today?
That was all he sent. He had tried to write more but stopped. Long explanations could come later. It seemed better to meet and see her face first.
After sending the message, his heart inexplicably sped up. At the company he had sent dozens of emails to clients without any particular feeling, yet why did one personal message require so much unnecessary effort? The reply came faster than expected.
Evening works
Why, did you find another good restaurant, boss? lol
Chi-yeol smiled briefly at the last word, "boss." A-ra had always been the type to playfully attach people's titles or speech habits. When he was at the company she had called him "Section Chief," then at some point started calling him "Boss." When he asked why, she had answered, "Section Chief sounds too much like an office worker, it doesn't suit you." Back then he had laughed it off, but now it felt strangely odd.
Chi-yeol hesitated for a long time before replying.
"It's not a restaurant."
"I have something to talk about."
This time A-ra's reply took a little longer. The message that arrived shortly after was shorter than expected.
"Ooh, serious. Is 7 okay?"
"Fine."
Once the appointment was set, the rest of the day strangely felt slower. He walked around the room for no reason, opened and closed his startup materials again, and stared once more at the words Chiyeolhan Chicken written in the notebook. The thought that he would have to say this name out loud to someone made him embarrassed all over again. He had not even fully adapted to it himself yet, so saying it in front of someone else made his face inexplicably hot.
In the afternoon, while organizing the consultation reservation details, he dozed off briefly. It was a very short nap, but he had a strange dream. A deep fryer sat in the middle of the company conference room, and the team leader, still wearing his necktie, said seriously, "This isn't a report, it's fried chicken." Even in the dream Chi-yeol laughed in disbelief before waking up. Even after waking, laughter kept coming. The brain of someone experiencing both unemployment and starting a business really mixed everything together.
Around evening he chose his clothes with a little more care than usual. Meeting someone in just a sweatshirt felt a bit off, so he took out a shirt, then put it back. He was not some company representative now, and dressing up stiffly for no reason felt ridiculous. In the end he compromised with a plain knit and jacket. While fixing his sleeves in front of the mirror, he suddenly understood why he was doing this. It was not a blind date, but after saying "I have something to talk about," he felt like he should at least look presentable. Come to think of it, even though he had never dated in his life, he was just as good as anyone at this kind of pointless tension. That made it even more unfair.
The meeting place was a small café halfway between the neighborhood and the company. A-ra was usually the type to arrive a little early, and today was no exception. When he opened the café door and walked in, she waved first from a window seat. She wore a black hoodie zip-up with a ball cap pulled low, yet somehow that casually dressed look suited her even more. Two drinks were already on the table.
"What, you already ordered."
Chi-yeol said as he sat down. A-ra fiddled with her straw and grinned.
"Boss always gets an americano. This one's mine, that's yours."
"I'm not a boss yet."
"Ah, right. Right now you're the former section chief?"
"That's over too."
"Then Mr. Unemployed?"
Chi-yeol frowned and picked up his cup.
"Hey."
A-ra burst out laughing. Only after laughing did she look at his expression more carefully and drop the teasing tone.
"But seriously, is something up?"
Instead of answering, Chi-yeol took a sip of coffee. The cold, bitter taste spread through his mouth. He wondered where to begin. Should he start with the layoff story, or jump straight into the chicken shop? While he was organizing his thoughts, A-ra quietly asked first.
"Did you quit the company?"
Chi-yeol put down his cup and looked at her.
"Does it show?"
"A little."
"How?"
"Your expression. People who go to work and people who don't have different expressions."
When A-ra said that, strangely, he did not want to deny it. Chi-yeol laughed like a sigh.
"I got fired."
"Ah."
After the short exclamation, there was no particular fuss. He liked that. Lately that kind of reaction suited him better. The attitude of being surprised when something was surprising, but not acting like the world had ended. A-ra fiddled with her cup for a moment before speaking.
"So that's why you were serious today."
"Yeah."
"Was it a big shock?"
Chi-yeol could not answer right away. It had been a shock. But that word alone was not enough. He had felt wronged, embarrassed, hollow, and strangely a little relieved. The fact that the company he had worked at for twelve years could organize him like this hurt, but on the other hand, it also felt like a crack he had sensed for a long time had finally shown itself.
"It was a shock… but it also felt like something that was bound to come finally arrived."
"I hate that kind of talk the most."
"What kind?"
"Something that was bound to come. People who are ruined tend to say that a lot when they're trying to give up on themselves quickly."
At A-ra's casual remark, Chi-yeol closed his mouth for a moment. The expression "fact bombing" fit perfectly. It was annoying, but not wrong.
"So I'm trying not to give up and looking at whatever I can."
"What are you looking at?"
Chi-yeol thought for a moment about the name written in the notebook. Before saying it out loud, he strangely took a breath first.
"A chicken shop."
A-ra blinked. She looked surprised, but she did not laugh or sneer. He was grateful for that first.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Wow."
"What's 'wow'?"
"No, I knew you liked chicken, but… I didn't think you'd actually go that route."
"I didn't know either."
"But it suits you."
Chi-yeol smiled as if questioning the unexpected words.
"What suits me?"
"You, boss. Well, you're not a boss right now. Anyway. You're a bit awkward with people, but you're really sincere about food."
Strangely, those words sounded like comfort. Chi-yeol rubbed the rim of his cup with his thumb and said,
"Can't you say it without the awkward part?"
"If I take that out, it's not fun."
A-ra laughed, but quickly grew serious again.
"So why did you call me today?"
Now they had reached the real point. Chi-yeol straightened his back a little. He felt that if he beat around the bush here, it would only get more awkward.
"Right now I'm looking at store locations, calculating budgets, things like that."
"Okay."
"But while thinking alone, I feel like I'm missing a lot of things."
"Mm."
"You're good at seeing those kinds of things. What people like, the difference between what looks good on screen and what actually sells."
A-ra watched him without saying anything. Chi-yeol could not avoid that gaze and unnecessarily picked up and put down his cup again.
"So I was wondering if you could look at some of it with me when you have time."
A-ra did not answer immediately. Instead, she slowly rolled the straw between her fingers. The more playful a person was, the more serious their occasional silences felt. Chi-yeol unnecessarily added,