A Name More Memorable Because It's Old-Fashioned

"It's not like I'm asking you to do anything together right away. I just… wanted to hear your thoughts."

"I know," Ara replied briefly. Then she tilted her head slightly. "But, boss."

"What."

"You're really scared right now, aren't you?"

Chi-yeol didn't laugh or deny it right away. The question had hit too close to home. In the end, he answered honestly.

"I'm not scared."

"Of what the most?"

Chi-yeol thought for a moment, then didn't beat around the bush. "Whether I can actually pull this off."

Ara nodded. A beat later, she asked something unexpected. "And besides that?"

"Huh?"

"Of course that's scary. Everyone's scared of that. But from the look on your face, it seems like there's something else you're scared of too."

Without realizing it, Chi-yeol looked away. He pretended to watch the cars passing beyond the café window. Eventually, he muttered, "Hiring people."

"Part-timers?"

"Yeah."

Ara let out a small laugh. "Ah, so that's what came up first."

"Don't laugh."

"It's not that it's funny. It's just so like you. The store doesn't even exist yet, and you're already worrying about employees."

Chi-yeol looked slightly indignant. "You can't run a chicken shop alone."

"True. But you haven't even signed the contract yet."

"I know. But that's the part I'm worst at."

"Bossing people around and giving orders?"

"Yeah. I end up feeling guilty for no reason, or walking on eggshells. Who am I to…"

As he spoke, he felt ridiculous himself. Here he was talking about starting a chicken shop, yet the biggest thing coming out of his mouth was "I'm scared to talk to part-timers." But Ara listened more seriously than he'd expected.

"That's actually a good thing."

"What is."

"It's better than being the type who just orders people around. Working under someone like that is exhausting."

Chi-yeol snorted. "Don't try to sugarcoat it."

"It's true. On the other hand, you're the type who'd lose out because you're too sorry for them, so you should fix that part."

Ara's tone was light but accurate. Chi-yeol let out a short sigh.

"That's why I wanted to hear what you think."

"My thoughts?"

"Yeah."

"About what?"

"People, the location, the name… everything."

Ara's eyes widened. "You've already decided on a name?"

Chi-yeol immediately regretted it. He'd said too much, but it was too late.

"I have one I've been thinking about."

"What is it?"

"I'm not saying."

"Why not."

"It might sound childish."

"Now I'm even more curious. Come on."

Ara leaned forward, urging him on. Chi-yeol took a pointless sip of water. He didn't know why this trivial moment felt so embarrassing. But they'd come this far—it would be strange to hide it now. He cleared his throat once.

"Chiyeolhan Chicken."

Once the words were out, his expression stiffened. It sounded too obvious, even to himself. The air in the café seemed to pause for a moment. Ara blinked, then didn't laugh like he'd expected. Instead, she rolled the name around in her mouth slowly.

"Chiyeolhan Chicken."

"It's bad, right?"

"No."

"Your face says otherwise."

"No, really. It's a little funny, but… it sticks in your head."

That was better than he'd hoped. Chi-yeol looked at her with a subtle expression.

"What do you mean, funny?"

"It's a bit old-fashioned, but I like that. It doesn't feel like a brand. It feels human."

Only after hearing that did Chi-yeol feel some of the tension leave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his shoulders. Just knowing someone hadn't completely rejected the name in his head was oddly reassuring.

Ara set down her straw. "Have you looked at locations yet?"

"There's one I'm leaning toward."

"Where is it?"

Chi-yeol roughly described the alley's location, the store's size, and the atmosphere. Ara asked questions in between—how many tables would fit in the hall, what the evening foot traffic was like, what kind of businesses were nearby, whether he'd taken photos. The more he answered, the clearer his head felt. What had only seemed "not bad" when he thought about it alone suddenly required criteria when he tried to explain it to someone else. As those criteria organized themselves in his mind, his feelings did too.

"I took a few photos."

"Show me."

Chi-yeol pulled out his phone and showed her the pictures. Ara studied each one carefully as she scrolled. Her eyes looked different when she was looking at the screen. He wondered if she'd looked the same way while filming her mukbang videos—not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just seeing, but measuring what would fit in the frame and what would catch people's attention first.

"Hmm…"

"What."

"It's not bad, but…"

"But?"

"The sign needs to be more visible, and the interior lighting definitely has to be brighter. Also, don't leave the hall too cramped. Chicken shops can look even smaller because of the smell."

Chi-yeol reflexively opened his notes app. Ara saw and chuckled.

"You're actually writing it down."

"I might forget."

"You like this kind of thing, don't you, boss? Organizing."

"It's not that I like it. I just get anxious if I don't."

"That's what liking it means."

Ara said this while scrolling through a few more photos. Then she suddenly looked up.

"Now I get why you called me."

"What do you mean?"

"You're really going to do this, boss."

Those words landed quietly in Chi-yeol's chest. He couldn't answer right away. Ara hadn't laughed or teased—she'd simply stated a fact. "You're really going to do this." It felt like someone had finally acknowledged the weight in his heart. Not seeing it as a whim or an escape, but recognizing him as someone who was hesitating yet still stepping forward.

Chi-yeol lowered his gaze and said quietly, "Probably."

"Not probably. It already looks that way."

"Does it?"

"Yes. People who aren't going to do it don't even come up with a store name."

At Ara's words, Chi-yeol finally laughed. She was right. People who weren't going to do it didn't come up with store names. They didn't jot notes on the back of business cards or stand in front of empty storefronts for that long.

A brief silence fell. From inside the café came the sound of the espresso machine, and every time the door opened, a bit of the early evening air drifted in. Chi-yeol stared at the melting ice at the bottom of his cup.

"So."

"Yes?"

"If… later, when I actually open the store."

He stopped there, hesitating again. Ara waited without speaking. Sometimes you became more honest in front of someone who waited. In the end, Chi-yeol finished the sentence.

"Would you consider working part-time?"

The moment the words left his mouth, his ears burned. It was too soon. He hadn't even signed a contract yet, didn't know when he'd start. And here he was already trying to hire someone. It was ridiculous, even to himself. But Ara didn't brush it off with a laugh. She looked surprised for a moment, then thoughtful. That made Chi-yeol even more nervous.

"Officially?"

"No, I mean… not officially. I'm just asking for now. If I open the store, that is."

"Hmm."

Ara pressed her lips together and thought for a while. Then she answered honestly. "I can't say yes right away."

Strangely, Chi-yeol didn't feel disappointed by that answer. He actually liked it. It wasn't just something she said to be nice.

"I know. Of course."

"But I think I could help."

"With what."

"Looking at locations, giving feedback on the menu from a customer's perspective, thinking about how things will look on screen. That kind of thing."

Chi-yeol took a breath and nodded. "That's already a huge help."

"And later, once you actually have a store and the timing works out… I'll think about the part-time job."

That carried more weight than he'd expected. It wasn't a firm yes, but it wasn't empty words either. Chi-yeol spoke seriously without meaning to. "Thanks."

Ara looked at him and slipped back into her playful expression. "But if you hire me, you have to pay well."

"The store doesn't even exist yet and you're already negotiating wages."

"Of course. I'm someone with value, you know."

"How much is a YouTuber's value these days?"

"If you feed me well, I might knock a little off."

They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠both laughed at that. Once they stopped, some of the tension that had been clinging to them eased. Chi-yeol suddenly thought ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that calling Ara had been the right move. Not because he'd secured labor in advance, but because he'd told someone his plan and hadn't felt completely foolish. Having even one person to share your thoughts with was more powerful than he'd realized.

By the time they left the café, the sky had already darkened. Signs along the alley were flickering on one by one, and people on their way home hurried past. Ara had her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets.

"Boss."

"What."

"If you're really going to do this, don't try to carry it all by yourself."

Chi-yeol slowed his steps for a moment. "Do I seem like that type?"

"Very much so."

"That bad?"

"Yes. Anyone can see you're the type who'd research everything alone and then have a meltdown."

That made him laugh again. He laughed, but couldn't argue. Ara had read him exactly right.

"Got it."

"And."

"What else."

"I think the store name is fine."

Chi-yeol looked away for no reason. "Whatever."

"Really. It's a little old-fashioned, but that's why it sticks in your head. I like it."

"Do you have to keep emphasizing the 'a little old-fashioned' part?"

"That's what makes it accurate."

Ara said this, waved, and walked off in the opposite direction. Chi-yeol watched her retreating figure for a while before slowly turning toward home. His steps felt light, but there was a heavier corner in his heart. Talking to someone made the plan clearer. And clearer meant harder to run away from.

When he got home, he immediately opened his notebook. He wanted to write down what had happened today before he forgot.

First part-time candidate: Jo Ara

Not a confirmed yes

But willing to help

Good eye for locations/menus/screens

Need to pay well

"People who aren't going to do it don't even come up with a store name."

The moment he wrote the last sentence, Chi-yeol paused. People who weren't going to do it didn't come up with store names. That line kept lingering in his mind. Yeah. Maybe he'd already come pretty far. He still hadn't signed a contract, hadn't started, and didn't have enough money—but his heart had clearly moved past where it used to be.

He added one more line at the bottom of the page.

You can't do everything alone. So you have to meet the right people.

He read the sentence slowly. He'd gotten tired of people at the company, yet to run a business he'd have to think about people again. Life really was ironic. But even in that irony, there was a small comfort: the person he'd met today hadn't taken his plan lightly.

The room was quiet. Outside the window, the sound of a motorcycle passed briefly. Chi-yeol set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. Today, strangely, he felt less anxious. He still had nothing, but at least now he had one picture he could imagine together with someone else.