One Alley, Two Owners
The moment people began framing the two of them together in the same picture happened far sooner than expected. Kang Chi-yeol thought it probably wasn’t all that surprising. That was simply how alleys worked. Even without any major incident, the smallest movement could quickly be woven together, pasted into place, and spun into a story. Who opened their doors at what time, who gave their regular customers an extra side dish, which shop owner looked unusually cheerful on a particular day—those kinds of details spread with strange speed. The city might be wide, but alleys were narrow, and in narrow places the distance between people shrank far faster than any physical measurement could explain.
That morning, the sky was clear. As if yesterday’s downpour had been a lie, bright light clung thinly to the glass door. The air after rain always felt a little cleaner, a little lighter, and for some reason it made even a person’s heart weigh less. Kang Chi-yeol looked over his final pre-opening checklist and crossed off each item one by one. Sticker placement for takeout orders, checking that the hall chairs didn’t wobble, attaching printed menu boards, restocking vinyl gloves beside the register, verifying refrigerator temperature. There was still a mountain of work left, and his body was genuinely busy. Yet strangely, today his fingertips felt a fraction less stiff than yesterday.
He knew the reason, perhaps. That brief smile he had seen beneath the rain-soaked sign yesterday was still warming some corner of his chest. It also felt a little unfair. He was a shop owner on the verge of opening, his bank balance remained dangerously light, and the list of things he had to do was endless—yet the mere memory of one short smile could make an entire day feel a little less anxious. Learning something like this at forty-one seemed rather late, but late or not, he was still learning it. He closed the refrigerator door and straightened the stack of flyers on the counter.
Just then, a slightly excited voice floated in from the alley.
“Boss! Boss!”
The person waving both hands as she half-ran from in front of the stationery store was the neighborhood treasurer. A woman in her late fifties, small in stature but with a voice that could easily carry across the entire alley. Kang Chi-yeol reflexively opened the glass door.
“Yes?”
She didn’t even reach the entrance before calling out in a loud voice.
“Did you hear there’s an alley event this Saturday?”
“An event?”
“Like a spring market. All the merchants are chipping in a little.”
Kang Chi-yeol’s mind went momentarily blank. An event. He hadn’t given the slightest thought to anything like that.
“Ah… I’m still before opening, so—”
The treasurer waved her hand dismissively.
“No, no—even before the official opening, you should show your face. For a new shop, it’s actually better.”
Kang Chi-yeol gave an awkward smile. Just the word “event” was enough to make his breath feel tight. He was still barely getting the flow of movement inside his own store right, and now they wanted him to step outside the alley and deal with people? It was the same category of task he would have avoided back at the company—like suddenly being told to emcee an event.
Then the treasurer added, “The owner next door already said she’d do it.”
The instant those words landed, Kang Chi-yeol turned his head without thinking. The neighboring shop door was open, and Lee Do-hee had paused while organizing the inner shelves and was looking in their direction. She had probably heard the entire conversation. When her eyes met the treasurer’s, she gave a short nod.
“I’ve decided to participate.”
That plain answer somehow pushed Kang Chi-yeol forward. The treasurer immediately clapped her hands as if she had been waiting for exactly that.
“See? The two of you together would make a great picture.”
Together would make a great picture. He didn’t know why that phrase felt both irritating and embarrassing at the same time. Kang Chi-yeol awkwardly touched the back of his neck.
“A picture?”
“Chicken and tteokbokki. Anyone can see that’s a combination meant to be eaten together.”
The treasurer was clearly excited. It was always like that around here. The people on the outside built the picture long before the people actually involved ever did. Kang Chi-yeol glanced toward Do-hee. She showed no particular expression at the treasurer’s words. She simply wore her usual calm face—the one that assessed the situation first.
“I’m fine with it,” she said.
The statement was neither “Let’s do it together” nor “You absolutely must.” It simply meant she had settled her own position. Strangely, that made things even more difficult for him. If he was the only one hesitating, he would just look even more timid. In the end, he answered a beat late.
“Then… I’ll do it as well.”
The treasurer actually clapped.
“Perfect! Then the two of you can take spots on the same side.”
“Same side?”
When Kang Chi-yeol echoed her, the treasurer looked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Aigoo, why would we put you far apart? You need to stick close so customers can see you both at once.”
It was a very practical remark, yet for some reason it carried an extra layer of meaning in Kang Chi-yeol’s ears. Stick close. So customers can see you both at once.
Lee Do-hee briefly lowered her gaze at those words, then lifted it again. He couldn’t tell whether she was uncomfortable. She simply asked in her usual calm tone, “Where will the tables and electrical connections be provided?”
As expected. Even in a moment like this, practicality came before emotion for her. Watching that, Kang Chi-yeol unconsciously straightened his shoulders. Hesitation and embarrassment always seemed to be his share, while actually moving the work forward was something people like Do-hee did first.
The treasurer continued her explanation. They would set up several tents in the small open space near the entrance of the alley. Each shop would participate by selling a small amount of their signature menu or offering samples. It wasn’t a large event—just a neighborhood spring market atmosphere aimed at local residents. Students would come, families would come, and even elderly people out for a stroll would likely stop by.
The more he listened, the busier Kang Chi-yeol’s insides became. He would have to fry, sell, and explain everything directly in front of people. And all of it before opening, while he still hadn’t properly found his own rhythm. He felt anxious, yet for some strange reason he didn’t want to refuse. Because this could be the first chance to let the alley get to know his face—and above all, because Lee Do-hee had already said she would do it. Admitting that fact was a little embarrassing, but denying it wouldn’t make it disappear.
After the treasurer left, Kang Chi-yeol stood in front of the door for a long time. Then Do-hee spoke first.
“Do you dislike events?”
The question was short and plain. Kang Chi-yeol answered honestly.
“I don’t particularly like them.”
Do-hee looked at him for a moment, then smiled very faintly.
“I thought so.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes. When the treasurer came earlier, your expression was a bit…”
“How was it?”
“Like a student who just got called on during morning roll call.”
Kang Chi-yeol nearly burst out laughing. A student caught during roll call. It was an oddly accurate description.
“Was it that bad?”
“A little.”
She didn’t laugh loudly like usual. But her eyes had softened. Seeing that, Kang Chi-yeol felt his own tension ease for no particular reason.
“Do you like events, boss?” he asked in return. Do-hee tilted her head slightly.
“It’s less that I like them… and more that I do them when they’re necessary.”
The answer felt very much like her. A person who looked first at whether something was needed rather than whether she liked or disliked it. Kang Chi-yeol found himself envying that attitude. He was the type whose emotions moved first, and only afterward did he attach reasons to them.
“Then I suppose we should do it,” he muttered. Do-hee answered shortly.
“If we do it together, it’ll be less chaotic.”
Together. The word was clearly a practical reference to event preparations, yet once again Kang Chi-yeol reacted a beat too late.
“Pardon?”
Do-hee explained with a perfectly ordinary expression.
“Electrical connections, table placement, customer flow—that sort of thing. If we’re next to each other, it’ll be more convenient for both of us.”
Ah, of course.Kang Chi-yeol mentally scolded himself. The problem really was with people. No matter what Lee Do-hee said, he kept wanting to tack extra meaning onto the end of her sentences.
“That… makes sense.”
“Yes.”
With that, Do-hee turned and went back inside. Yet even that short conversation had already planted another scene in Kang Chi-yeol’s head: Saturday, beneath the same tent, the smell of chicken and tteokbokki mingling, the two of them standing together among the crowd. The image formed so easily that it left him flustered instead.
After Jo A-ra arrived in the afternoon, Kang Chi-yeol had no choice but to bring up the event. The moment she heard, her eyes sparkled.
“Whoa. Jackpot.”
“What’s the jackpot?”
“You and the owner next door are gonna be stuck together selling at the event, right?”
Kang Chi-yeol put on a straight face.
“We’re not stuck together selling. There’s merely a possibility we’ll be placed in the same section.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It is not.”
“You always get so picky about wording in exactly these situations, boss.”
A-ra already looked like she was dying of laughter on her own.
“No, but seriously, it’s a great picture. Chicken and tteokbokki side by side. People will definitely buy them together.”
Kang Chi-yeol knew that too. The problem was that they matched far too well. It might be good for sales, but if things went wrong, his chicken could end up feeling like a side dish for the tteokbokki next door. The instincts of a shopkeeper and the feelings of a man had tangled together in a strange knot.
“It’s not entirely good,” Kang Chi-yeol said in a low voice. This time A-ra grew a little more serious.
“That’s true. But boss.”
“What?”
“If you do well at the event, you can both draw customers for each other.”
“For each other?”
“Yeah. People don’t usually eat only chicken or only tteokbokki, right? Especially in a festive atmosphere like that, it’s even more true.”