The Day the Woman Next Door Moved In
The very next day, time suddenly began to speed up. From the following morning, Kang Chi-yeol met with the construction company to discuss the scope of minor repairs and visited a sign-making office to sketch out a rough draft. Money was tight, so everything had to be kept to a minimum. He couldn’t afford to redo the entire walls or replace the floor completely. Instead, they settled on cleaning only the dirty sections, swapping out the lights for brighter ones, removing as much grease as possible, and making sure the hood was properly serviced.
In a chicken shop, he kept thinking, what mattered most wasn’t style but smell and cleanliness. At least for a complete beginner like himself, the basics were far more important than any superficial touches.
On the first day of construction, the moment he rolled up the shutter, a wave of dust hit him. Chi-yeol put on a mask and rolled up his sleeves. Two workers came in to inspect the ceiling and hood while he stood beside them, taking notes. Then one of them asked,
“Boss, how many tables are you planning to put in the hall?”
Boss. The word still felt strangely awkward when it was directed at him so naturally.
“Three… no, about two and a half.”
“Two and a half?”
“Ah, I mean… two for sure, and one smaller one…”
The worker tried to hold back a laugh. Chi-yeol felt his ears grow hot for no reason. The role of shop owner still didn’t sit comfortably on his tongue. Still, oddly enough, he didn’t dislike it. His clumsiness was obvious to everyone, but that clumsiness belonged to him right now.
In the afternoon, he stopped by the sign shop. The walls of the small office were covered with font samples and photos of past work. The owner smiled the moment he heard the name.
“That one’s definitely going to stick in people’s minds.”
The remark pleased him, yet also made him feel embarrassed. Chi-yeol tried to sound as calm as possible.
“I’d like to keep it understated. Anything too flashy wouldn’t suit the place.”
“Shall we go with something clean and neutral?”
“Yes. But… I’d prefer it not to look too much like a franchise.”
After looking at several drafts, he eventually chose the simplest one: white background with deep-colored lettering, no unnecessary flourishes. Since the name itself was already striking enough, there was no need to overdo the sign. He stared at the text on the draft for a long time.
Chiyeolhan Chicken.
The thought that the letters on the monitor would soon become a real sign made his throat feel a little dry. The name was truly going to hang outside now. People would see it as they passed by, remember it, or perhaps forget it without a second thought. All those possibilities somehow filled him with an overwhelming emotion.
Two days later, Jo A-ra came by to see the shop. She appeared in a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers, stopping in front of the shutter with her eyes wide.
“Whoa.”
“What?”
“It’s… it’s real.”
“You think I signed a fake contract?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just… hearing about it is one thing, but seeing it in person feels completely different.”
As Chi-yeol raised the shutter, he felt an unexpected swell of pride. The interior was still under construction and looked messy. One wall showed streaks from half-finished cleaning, and some of the lights hadn’t been replaced yet, leaving parts of the space dim. Nevertheless, A-ra stepped inside and immediately began scanning everything with quick eyes: the entrance, the hall, the counter area, the kitchen, the ceiling, the walls. It was clearly not the gaze of someone who had simply come to look around.
“The smell is better than I expected.”
“We had the hood cleaned once.”
“Good call. But these lights need to be changed quickly. It’s way too gloomy right now.”
“I will.”
“And the entrance should feel more open. First-time customers won’t come in if it looks stuffy from outside.”
Chi-yeol reflexively pulled out his notebook. A-ra saw it and let out a small snort.
“You really write everything down.”
“In case I forget.”
“Boss, even if the shop goes under, you’ll probably leave behind a mountain of memos.”
“Could you stop saying it’ll go under so casually?”
“I’m saying it so you can get sensitive about it in advance.”
Her tone was playful, but her words were always annoyingly realistic. Chi-yeol looked up at the ceiling and asked,
“Still… what do you think, looking at it?”
A-ra didn’t answer right away. She walked a few steps toward the kitchen in the back, came out again, surveyed the hall, stepped outside to look at the entire alley, then came back in. Only then did she deliver her final verdict.
“It’s not going to be huge, but if you do it right, I think it could find its place.”
That single sentence carried more weight than anything he had heard all day. It wasn’t an unconditional “It’ll work” or a flat “It won’t.” If you do it right, it could find its place. For Kang Chi-yeol, that kind of statement felt far more trustworthy.
“If I do it right, huh.”
When he muttered that, A-ra nodded.
“Of course. On the other hand, this alley doesn’t seem bad for someone like you, Boss—someone who gets too scared. It’s not overly crowded or chaotic.”
“For someone who gets scared?”
“Yeah. If you were dropped in the middle of a busy main street, you’d pass out in a month.”
Chi-yeol felt unfairly attacked, yet he couldn’t deny it.
“Is it that bad?”
“It is.”
The two of them talked for a long time inside the shop that still smelled of dust. How many tables would be appropriate, whether the counter should be kept modest in size, how delivery app photos would be crucial in the early days so the lighting had to be perfect from the start. Chi-yeol wrote down everything he heard, and the more he wrote, the more solid his resolve became. He was still afraid, but that fear was no longer a vague black mass. It was slowly turning into a tangible to-do list he could touch with his hands.
While looking around, A-ra suddenly glanced toward the entrance and said,
“By the way, what’s moving in next door?”
Chi-yeol followed her gaze to the neighboring storefront. The space right beside his had been empty for a while. The shutter was closed, and a faded “For Lease” notice still clung to the wall. He answered without much thought.
“I don’t know. It’d be nice if it stayed empty.”
“Why?”
“If a noisy bar moves in next door, it’ll be a headache.”
A-ra nodded.
“That’s true.”
That was the end of the conversation. At the time, he truly believed that would be the end of it.
A few days later, construction was nearly finished. The changes weren’t dramatic, but the impression of the space had completely transformed. The yellowish fluorescent lights had been replaced with brighter, cleaner ones. The stains on the walls had been scrubbed away as much as possible. The hood and ducts had been serviced. The floor couldn’t be made completely new, but at least it no longer gave off a dirty impression. The counter area was kept simple, and he decided to place only the exact number of tables needed, without overreaching.
Chi-yeol went to the shop every day, wiping away dust, measuring positions, and repeatedly setting out and moving chairs. These simple tasks felt surprisingly good. His body was exhausted, but at least the work he did today would remain exactly as it was tomorrow. The tasks he had done at the company existed only inside files and were quickly buried once the next project arrived. Here, it was different. The glass he wiped, the table he moved, the lighting he chose—they all remained in the space. That somehow kept a person alive.
The day the sign arrived was especially windy. While the workers set up the ladder, Chi-yeol stood across the alley, holding his breath as he watched. The deep-colored letters gradually settled onto the white background. The real Chiyeolhan Chicken sign looked far more unfamiliar than it had on the monitor. And far more real.
The sign maker came down and asked,
“How does it look?”
Chi-yeol couldn’t answer for a long time. He simply kept staring upward. It was only a single sign, yet that was when the space finally felt like it had changed from an empty storefront into an actual shop. The fact that his own name was hanging up there still didn’t feel believable.
“It’s fine,” he finally managed, though his voice came out slightly hoarse.
The owner nodded with a satisfied expression.
“Everyone feels awkward at first. In a few days, it’ll start to feel like your own name.”
It was already his name, yet only now did it truly feel like it belonged to him.
That evening, while he was alone inside the shop staring at the floor illuminated by the sign’s light, he heard an unfamiliar sound outside the shutter. The noise of a large car stopping, a door opening, the sound of someone’s heels striking the ground. Chi-yeol turned his head without thinking.
Beyond the glass door, a black sedan was parked in front of the neighboring storefront. Two men in suits got out first. A woman followed them. Her hair was tied back in a long ponytail, and she wore a beige coat that fluttered slightly in the wind. Her steps were confident, without hesitation. The moment she closed the car door, she looked up at the neighboring storefront. Even in the late-evening alley, her impression was remarkably neat and distinct. To anyone watching, she looked less like someone who had come to browse and more like someone who had come to make a decision.
Chi-yeol instinctively froze. Still holding the rag in his hand, he stood inside the glass door and watched the scene. The woman exchanged a few words with a man who appeared to be the real estate agent, then waited for the shutter to rise. There was no wasted movement in anything she did. Her heels struck the ground with absolute certainty. Once inside, she turned her head only once to scan the entire space. Strangely, Chi-yeol could tell from that single brief motion alone.
This person has run a business before. She wasn’t just a pretty face—she was someone who worked. The way she looked at the space was sharp in a completely different direction from his own or A-ra’s.
A moment later, the woman turned and happened to glance in his direction. Their eyes met. It was only for the briefest instant. Yet Chi-yeol found himself gripping the rag tighter without realizing it. The woman didn’t look surprised or avoid his gaze. She simply confirmed that the neighboring shop already had its lights on, then gave a single, purely formal nod.
Chi-yeol came to his senses late and awkwardly returned the bow. That was all. A short crossing of paths with no special words, no smiles, no explanations. Yet somehow, the air inside the shop felt slightly different.
The woman turned her gaze away again and stepped into the neighboring storefront. Chi-yeol remained standing in place for a long time. The sign’s light reflected on the glass door and flickered faintly. He looked once toward his own shop, then once toward the one next door. He still knew nothing. Who she was, what she planned to do, whether she was really moving into the alley. Nevertheless, his instincts spoke to him clearly.
That space next door wasn’t going to stay empty.
And perhaps his business—and even his heart—might become quite complicated with only a single shutter between them.
Kang Chi-yeol slowly set the rag down. Outside, the neighboring shutter rattled upward again with a metallic clank. It sounded like a new light was about to turn on in the late-evening alley.
Still unaware of what was coming, he stood at the entrance of his own shop and murmured very quietly,
“I wonder… who’s moving in next door.”
The moment the words left his lips, the hem of a beige coat brushed past once more beyond the glass door. In that instant, the air in the alley shifted, ever so slightly.