No Beast Rides Autumn Like Man
Men ride the autumn wave harder than any other animal. Street trees shed their green leaves one by one, dyeing them yellow, brown, or red, stripping off the tiresome garb of summer to don fresh autumn fashion. As the weather turns chilly, people bid farewell to their open, carefree summer selves, wrapping up tight like caterpillars spinning cocoons. In the sweltering heat of summer when the discomfort index explodes, folks might've been open but never truly close—sticking together just felt sticky and gross. But come autumn, with no need for overbundling and none of that clammy unease, they suddenly can't get close enough, like they'd never been apart.
A guy in a sleek long coat, sporting a bold waxed-up hairstyle, struts arm-in-arm with a woman fawning at his side. To greet the madness of summer, you first welcome spring's new buds—and to sprout those buds, you endure a cold, lonely winter with someone. That's why men go feral in autumn, pounding on every door in sight. Please, just give me a chance! If not, at least flash me before you go!
"Hongdae draws crowds for reasons far removed from summer's insanity," I muttered. Summer's for the YOLO crowd burning their last embers in oblivion; autumn belongs to those ruled by breeding instincts. It wasn't even lunchtime yet, and the streets were already overflowing.
"One, one, two, one, one, one, one, one, one, six."
One person gets one horoscope, one soul, one personality. Heaven's ticket is one per soul, after all. But this street? It's a den of debauchery where no vice is out of place, luxury and indulgence that'd empty your wallet a dozen times over. While Seoul Station sees steady commuter traffic, Hongdae is pure chaos stew. Only here could a guy draped in dangling chains stroll without a second glance.
"Fucking loaded up like a Christmas tree, that bastard."
I eyed the back of the sharp-dressed long-coat guy who'd just passed me, pretty girl hanging off one arm. Pretty girls with lots of bling? High odds of multiple abortions. Sharp guys with lots of bling? Criminal ties, guaranteed.
Folding my mat, I tailed the picture-perfect couple. They ducked into a cafe—not for dinner or motel sex yet, but to stoke the vibe. Signature magma omelets and tangy-sweet golden apple juice were the draws at this cozy spot. Up on the second floor, they beelined for the prime window corner seat, like it was prearranged.
Business boomed here, so unlike counter-order spots, waitstaff took orders tableside for that "classy" touch. A non-chain cafe hogging a whole two-story building? Yeah.
I slid into a seat just beyond a partition that neatly split us off.
"Oppa seems so different from other guys these days."
"Huh? How so?"
"Modern guys just... piss me off looking at them. But you? I can't stop smiling."
"My face that hilarious?"
"Pfft! If your face is funny, every guy on earth is a comedian. I feel full without eating? Randomly happy? That's the vibe."
"Oh, I thought we saw each other differently~."
"Whoa, you feel that way about me too?"
"Didn't you know? I've been grinning all day."
"Kyaaah! How are you this sweet?!"
As she squealed, the petite waitress climbed up to take their order.
"Weather's turned chilly today, so something to warm my girlfriend from the inside sounds perfect."
"Ah, then I recommend this one. Our boss developed it himself—its flavor and aroma shift over time. Hot or cold, it's a hit..."
The waitress fumbled the menu under his smooth charm, pitching hard.
"Sounds good. Two of those, plus today's couple random slice cake."
Today's random was literal—daily rotating menu, cafe-style omakase. Couples chased stamps; boss's gimmick. How'd I know? I'd been grinding it too. Yesterday's: freeze-dried fruit ice cream cake.
Apple was the best.
Men ride autumn hard.
"Sir, ready to order?"
The waitress eyed me with faint disappointment as I nabbed a random cake and drink.
Last job—fixing Kim Hyeji and Jeong Suji's swapped fortunes—netted fat pay from Suji's grandma. She'd mistaken slimmed-down Hyeji for her granddaughter; locals followed suit. Hyeji kept her name but lived Suji's life incognito. Show granny fat Suji's pic? "That's my granddaughter's friend Jeong Suji."
Fortune ain't everything, but it's a spiritual ID. No way that idle bean-sprout soup slinger paying Seoul rents was broke Hyeji's real grandma.
I smirked bitterly at the world's inequality when the couple behind me resumed chirping.
"I met the folks you introduced—studied together, and it was great. They nailed exactly what I didn't know."
"Right? Good people. Thanks to them, I'm S-Man now."
S-Man: slang for S-Group salarymen, that powerhouse corp.
"Hah, pre-you, I was hopeless. Studied hard, bombed tests, total depression..."
"Still? That's worrying."
"Hmph! Nope. Post-you, everything clicks. People are nice, teach me stuff, dates like this. If I'm still down, it's on me."
"Our Seonyeong overdoes it cutely."
"Hey! Not overdoing—dead serious!"
"Sure, sure~."
"Ugh, for real... Ah! Order's up!"
"I'll grab it—wait here."
Vibrator buzzed; he bolted. Mine followed; I tailed with a pause.
Cafe layout looped corners to stairs—echoey thuds everywhere. But downstairs, thuds cut short. Twenty steps, my count; his stopped early.
"Sorry, coming through."
I thudded loud, brushed past him mid-stair wait. His eyes flashed brief wariness at me. But I grabbed my stuff first, forcing him to follow with the couple set.
I ducked back to partition cover before he crested. He returned to blissed-out couple chat: fall fashion, career advice from "S-Man," endless gossip like sparrows.
Mid-cake-and-drink heaven, shift hit. Girl thunked her head on the table.
"Oppa... too much sweet, sleepy now... food coma...?"
"You okay? Nap in back?"
"Mmm... yeah... think sooo..."
As Seonyeong dozed, untouched-drink-and-cake S-Man propped her up and left. Ah, fresh motel history tonight.
"Today's daily bread wasn't my taste. Amen."
I abandoned my untouched mint choco cake and stood.