The Distance Between Chicken and Tteokbokki
A short while later, Jo A-ra opened the shop door and stepped inside again. It looked like she had stopped by on her way back from lunch. The moment she entered, she took one look at Chi-yeol’s face and broke into a mysterious little smile.
“What?” Chi-yeol asked first, instantly on guard.
“You said hello to the person next door, didn’t you?”
“How would you know that?”
“Boss, your face is screaming ‘I just had an awkward first conversation with someone.’”
“There’s a face for that?”
“There is. It’s the one where you look uncomfortable but keep replaying the moment in your head.”
Chi-yeol started to argue, then stopped. She was too accurate. A-ra leaned casually against the counter and asked, “So how was it?”
“How was what?”
“The person.”
Chi-yeol fiddled with the lid of his water bottle, opening and closing it for no reason. “She just… seemed like someone who’s run a business before.”
“Oh.”
“Why do you keep saying ‘oh’?”
“Because it’s funny. The first thing out of your mouth isn’t about her looks but about how competent she seems.”
Chi-yeol lifted his head, flustered. “Who said anything about looks?”
“Exactly. That’s the problem. When you’re talking about a woman you just met and your very first comment is ‘she seemed like someone who’s run a business,’ it means you were paying very close attention.”
Chi-yeol set the water bottle down on the desk with a clunk. “You really have a talent for exhausting people.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“But she was pretty, right?”
The question finally came. Chi-yeol delayed his answer. The very fact that he was delaying already felt like an answer, which made him even more annoyed with himself.
“She was… neat-looking.”
This time A-ra laughed openly. “Aigoo.”
“What now?”
“Boss, you just dialed your description way down. Instead of ‘pretty,’ you said ‘neat-looking.’ That’s a total leftover defense mechanism from your corporate days.”
Chi-yeol let out a long sigh. He didn’t even have the energy to argue. She wasn’t wrong. Saying someone was pretty too easily made him feel like he came across as shallow, but claiming he felt nothing at all would have been a lie—the short first impression kept lingering in his mind. In the end, as always, he pressed his words down a level. Neat-looking. Seems like she’d be good at business. Doesn’t talk much. That kind of thing.
A-ra laughed for a while, then suddenly turned serious. “But you should be careful.”
“About what?”
“If it’s right next door, your businesses are going to be completely intertwined. You don’t even know what kind of place it is yet.”
At those words, Chi-yeol snapped back to reality. She was right. Right now, whether someone was pretty or neat-looking wasn’t what mattered. What kind of shop moved in next door could affect his own business far more than anything else.
“That’s true.”
“You should have asked her later.”
“How am I supposed to ask that in a first greeting?”
“Why not? It’s really important.”
“It is important, but blurting it out right away would be weird.”
A-ra tilted her head. “Boss, the fact that you’re always so sensible in exactly these situations is probably why you end up losing out.”
“Is that really a loss?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
Chi-yeol admitted it to himself. It had definitely been an important question—what was moving in next door. But asking someone he had just greeted, “What kind of business do you run?” felt, by his standards, like crossing a line. The problem was that he was always the type who arrived one beat late because of that line. Both in the company and in life.
After lunch hour passed and A-ra left, Chi-yeol spent a long time strangely conscious of the door. Lee Do-hee continued organizing the interior of the shop next door without saying much. She occasionally dusted the shelves, opened the windows to air the place out, and made brief phone calls to give short instructions. Even though her voice wasn’t loud, it was strangely clear, so a few words drifted through the single glass door.
“Yes, let’s schedule that for tomorrow morning.”
“No, I think the flow would be worse that way.”
“I’ll look at other companies besides them.”
Short, decisive words. It wasn’t the tone of someone trying to impress others—it was the tone of someone trying to wrap things up quickly. As Kang Chi-yeol listened, he felt oddly guilty. It took him three whole days to decide on a single construction company, yet she seemed like the type who made judgments much faster.
Late in the afternoon, while Chi-yeol was sweeping the floor in front of his shop, there was a loud thud from the neighboring storefront. He turned his head reflexively. It looked like Lee Do-hee had been lowering a box from a high shelf when one side tilted and it fell to the floor. Sample booklets and papers inside the box scattered across the ground.
Chi-yeol hesitated for a moment.
Should I help?
Or would that just seem like meddling?
If he jumped in like it was his own problem, it might look strange. But even as he hesitated, his body was already moving forward. He set the broom aside, opened the glass door, and asked, “Are you all right?”
Do-hee, who had been picking up a fallen booklet, lifted her head. “Ah, yes. I’m fine.”
“Let me…”
Before he even finished speaking, Chi-yeol was already picking up several sheets of paper that had flown the farthest. Do-hee glanced at him but didn’t stop him. The two of them gathered the papers and sample booklets together in awkward silence.
Up close, Do-hee looked more tired than he had expected. It wasn’t a heavily made-up face; rather, it was a clean one that seemed almost bare. Yet beneath her eyes lay a very faint shadow of exhaustion—not the kind from a day or two, but the kind that settles into someone who has worked for a long time. For some reason, that bothered Chi-yeol even more.
“Thank you,” Do-hee said first.
“It’s nothing.”
“The box was heavier than it looked.”
“You should support it from underneath with these.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Chi-yeol wanted to slap himself. Support it from underneath? He wasn’t some construction site foreman—what on earth was he saying? Yet, unexpectedly, Do-hee gave a very faint smile. This time it was a little clearer than before.
“You’re right. I should have done that from the start.”
The smile disappeared quickly, but Chi-yeol felt his heart skip a beat a moment too late. It was nothing special. A box had fallen and they had picked up a few sheets of paper. What was so impressive about that?
Do-hee organized the booklets and placed them back on the shelf. After a brief hesitation, she continued, “By any chance… do you know any decent construction companies around here?”
The question came from a direction Kang Chi-yeol hadn’t anticipated. He answered reflexively. “Ah, yes. Would you like the contact for the one I used?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Just a moment.”
Chi-yeol quickly took out his phone, found the number, and showed it to her. Do-hee saved it directly into her own phone. As she did, a single strand of hair slipped down beside her cheek; she casually tucked it behind her ear. Kang Chi-yeol deliberately looked away. He felt a little pathetic that such a trivial gesture had caught his attention in such detail.
“Thank you.”
“Not at all.”
“I really appreciate the help.”
It was a short remark, yet it sounded strangely natural. It felt far more human than when they had first greeted each other. Chi-yeol gathered a bit of courage and asked, “May I ask what kind of shop you’re opening?”
He had asked after all. If A-ra had heard, she probably would have clapped. Do-hee looked at him for a moment before answering.
“A tteokbokki place.”
The words rang out more clearly than he had expected. Inside, Kang Chi-yeol let out a short, silent Ah. Tteokbokki. It wasn’t a business far removed from chicken. In fact, it was too close. A snack that doubled as late-night food, popular with both students and office workers, suitable for delivery or dine-in. The mental calculator in his head started running automatically.
Whether Do-hee noticed his brief silence or not, she added, “It’s still in the preparation stage, but it will probably turn out that way.”
Chi-yeol quickly composed his expression. “Ah… I see.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“No. It’s just… nice to meet you.”
When the word “nice” left his mouth, even he found it strange. Was this really something to be happy about? From a business perspective, wasn’t it closer to something that should make him tense?
Do-hee gave a very small nod. “Yes. Please take care of me from now on, then.”
With that, she stepped back inside. The conversation was over. But Kang Chi-yeol’s mind suddenly became far more complicated. A tteokbokki shop. Right next door. The very tteokbokki that everyone ate with chicken. Right next to him, of all places.
He returned to his own shop and stood there for a long time. His hands automatically tidied the workstation, but his mind had already wandered elsewhere. Thoughts like she’s pretty, she’s neat-looking, or she seems competent were pushed to the back. More realistic concerns rose to the surface instead. Their customer bases would overlap. Delivery times would be similar. Late-night demand would overlap too. Since many people ate chicken and tteokbokki together, it could create synergy—but on the other hand, she could also absorb his customers.
Chi-yeol let out a deep breath. The first impression of the person named Lee Do-hee and the reality of a tteokbokki shop next door collided all at once, making his head feel strangely more tangled. Whether in a good way or a bad way, that woman didn’t seem like she would simply be a passing neighbor.
When the sun had dipped a little lower, Jo A-ra stopped by again. The moment she walked in, Chi-yeol said, “It’s a tteokbokki shop next door.”
A-ra’s eyes widened, then she immediately laughed. “Whoa.”
“Why are you saying ‘whoa’ again?”
“No, this is going to be fun.”
“What’s fun about it?”
“A chicken shop next to a tteokbokki shop. That’s a picture waiting to happen.”
Chi-yeol’s expression turned stern. “A picture? Our businesses overlap.”
“They overlap, but they also go together.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“People usually eat chicken and tteokbokki together.”
At that, Chi-yeol fell silent. It wasn’t that he didn’t know. He knew it too well, which was exactly why it bothered him. A-ra took one look at his face and let out a small snort of laughter.
“What? Why are you already looking so serious?”
“It is a serious matter, isn’t it?”
“From a business standpoint, sure. But somehow your face doesn’t look like it’s only serious about business.”
Chi-yeol immediately denied it. “It’s only about business.”
“Sure~”
A-ra’s reply was clearly that of someone who didn’t believe him. Kang Chi-yeol decided not to say anything more. The more he made excuses, the more obvious it became—and it was always him who ended up exposed.
Even that evening, after closing the shop and walking home, he glanced once more at the shutter of the neighboring store. Do-hee was still inside. A faint light glowed, and her shadow moved from time to time. Kang Chi-yeol walked all the way to the end of the alley, then turned back for no reason. That light strangely kept catching his eye.
When he had worked at the company, seeing someone stay later than him had always stirred a strange sense of kinship. The kind of shared fatigue that didn’t need words—That person’s going to have a tough day too. It felt similar now. The woman organizing things late into the evening next door was still a stranger, a little worrying from a business perspective, definitely neat in appearance, and above all, she looked like someone who worked hard. And for some reason, that fact kept lingering in Kang Chi-yeol’s mind.
Once he got home, he opened his notebook. While writing out the shop operation checklist, he suddenly jotted something in the corner without much thought.
Next door: Lee Do-hee / Tteokbokki shop
After writing it, the tip of his pen paused for a moment. Then, almost unconsciously, a tiny line appeared beneath it.
Looks like she’d be good at it.
The moment he saw it, Chi-yeol wanted to cross it out immediately. What was he doing, writing something like this? He wasn’t a middle schooler. But strangely, he couldn’t bring himself to erase it. Instead, he set the pen down and stared at the words for a long time. Then, in a voice so small no one could possibly hear, he muttered,
“This is going to be trouble.”
What kind of trouble, he still didn’t know exactly. Whether it was because of business, because of the neighbor, or because his own heart had reacted first for no reason. But one thing was clear. The alley was no longer a stage that belonged to him alone. And that fact was shaking him more vividly than he had expected.