A Grueling First Day
“Heh heh…”
This is Dahyun's Snacks. Behind the stall lined with tteokbokki, hot dogs, odeng, and the like.
“Heh heh heh heh…”
I lean on the counter, chuckling quietly to myself. My legs are trembling, and the hand gripping the counter shakes uncontrollably.
“I burned it all white…”
Sizzle—maybe white steam is rising from my head right now. My clothes are already soaked with sweat. For the first time in my life, I realize that if you sweat out all your fluids, you don't even need to pee anymore.
“All the elementary, middle, and high schools are clustered around here, right…”
No wonder they pay 1.5 times the usual wage.
“Heh heh… Yeah, there's a good reason for it.”
Making tteokbokki nonstop, frying hot dogs in the oil, skewering fish cakes, slicing sundae. Now I get how the boss makes tteokbokki so fast. It wasn't that she could make it quickly—it was that she had to make it that fast.
There was no time to meticulously measure every spice like I did. You just have to crank it out. And while doing it that fast, you have to maintain consistent quality.
…It's no easy feat.
“Hura, why don't you sit down?”
The boss approached, wiping her hands on her apron. As she said, there were chairs placed here and there behind the counter for breaks.
“Feels like if I sit, I won't be able to get back up.”
I turned my head to look at her while leaning my upper body on the counter.
“Ho ho, I know that feeling.”
The boss laughed leisurely.
…This woman is a superhuman.
I know the inside of the shop is just as busy as the stall, but she can smile like that without a care? Unlike me, looking like a drowned rat, she doesn't show even a hint of fatigue.
…Just how much stamina does she have?
“Hey!”
“Huh, wha—?”
The boss grabbed me and plopped me down on a chair. My spent legs couldn't hold out and my butt hit the seat like it was collapsing.
As I looked up at her in bewilderment from the chair, the boss grinned and said,
“It's almost 4. Take a break.”
“Oh.”
Sure enough, the clock showed around 3:55. No one was at the counter, just a few customers eating inside the shop. It had gotten a lot quieter than before.
“Phew—already 4? Or should I say, finally 4.”
I slumped forward in the chair, chuckling dryly. Heh heh. Why am I laughing? No idea. Maybe I've just gone a little crazy.
“Ho ho, how was your first day?”
“…A total blur. Insanely so.”
I heard the boss's soft ho-ho laugh.
“Mondays are always busy. You'll get used to it.”
“Tuesdays are slow, then?”
“No? Tuesdays are busy too.”
“Wednesdays?”
“Uh… Wednesdays too.”
“……”
Heh heh—heh heh—a dry laugh escaped me.
“Heh heh… Boss.”
“Yes?”
“How many schools are around here?”
“Hmm… Let's see.”
The boss tapped her lips thoughtfully, then answered innocently.
“There are about 3 or 4 nearby, but lately word's gotten around, so kids come from farther away too.”
“Ha ha… ha…”
A hollow, dry laugh echoed in my mouth. I stared at her with empty eyes.
“Boss, sorry, but I have something important to say—”
Rustle—The boss chuckled uhu-hu and pulled out the contract, waving it like a trophy.
Flutter-flutter—flutter-flutter—my gaze followed the paper as it shook.
“Yes? Go on.”
“…Well, Boss.”
“Yes, Hura? I'm listening~ So, what were you going to say?”
“…I'll work hard.”
That familiar smile played on her lips. Weird. It's the same smile, but why does it feel so chilling right now?
The boss neatly folded the contract away and patted my shoulder.
“Oh my~ Our Hura is so diligent~”
“……”
“It's 4 now, so head on out.”
“Yes… See you tomorrow…”
“Good work~”
“Yeees…”
I forced my unresponsive legs to move, one step at a time.
…Was gravity always this strong?
“Ugh…”
Stumbling out of the shop, I heard the boss's voice behind me: “Get home safe~ See you tomorrow~”
I bowed vaguely and staggered toward home.
“Heh.”
Son Da-eun, the owner of the snack bar, watched Hura's staggering back with a grin.
“What a lucky find.”
He was a rare young man—diligent, hardworking, polite, and quick on the uptake. His customer service skills might even surpass hers.
She'd worried on his first day and checked on him whenever she had a moment, but it was the first time a newbie didn't need her intervention from day one.
Restaurants are places where unexpected issues pop up in real time. But that didn't mean only Hura's first day had them—no way.
Everyone makes mistakes, especially on day one. It's weirder not to.
Hura's first day was flooded with inevitable newbie errors plus sudden rushes: certain dishes selling out faster than expected, crowds surging at peak times, complaints, miscounts at checkout, and more.
He must've panicked inside, but outwardly, he stayed calm, confident, unflinching—solving issues one by one without missing a beat. He corrected his own mistakes on the spot. Anyone watching would've thought he'd been there six months.
Teach one thing, learn ten, they say. But she hadn't even taught him that—she'd only shown him cooking methods, and he'd figured out the rest himself, handling everything smoothly.
“…He's solid.”
Son Da-eun smiled warmly at his shrinking figure.
Then her pocket buzzed.
Vrrr—
The clock hit exactly 4.
She pulled out her phone, saw the caller ID, and smirked.
“She always calls right on time.”
She tapped the screen to answer.
“Hey~ sweetie.”
-Mom. Did the customer leave?
“Yeah, he did.”
Her daughter immediately fired off questions in a scolding tone.
-How was he? Did he do well? Wasn't too tired? Did he make a lot of mistakes? Well, of course he did. But no big ones, right? How's the tteokbokki? He's good at it? What about the other stuff? The other dishes too? No problem customers? Those Baekrim Girls' High kids didn't show?
Son Da-eun stepped outside, listening to the barrage calmly, gazing up at the shop sign.
Dahyun's Snacks.
She grinned and answered the first question.
“Yeah. He was the best.”
-For real? Really really?
“I said so.”
Dahyun's mother, Son Da-eun, headed back inside, continuing her lively chat with her daughter.
Stagger, stagger.
Late afternoon, the sun lazily slanting its rays. I'm walking home along the main road.
It's a familiar path. Of course—it's the way to the big mart. And the convenience store I used to commute to is on the same route. So this main road connects the convenience store, snack bar, and mart in a straight line. You just dip into alleys for the stores and snack bar, skipping the mart.
The sidewalk's well-maintained, full of joggers bounding along. I want to join them, feel that energized health boost, but I can't run. Just staggering without collapsing is my limit.
“…So that's why office workers complain so much.”
Halfway get it now—that drained feeling heading home. But for me, it wasn't just energy—the kids and their orders sucked my stamina dry too.
You little sprouts, future pillars of the nation!
I went to kick a roadside pebble but nearly tripped instead.
“Shit…”
No energy to get mad. Like a limping zombie, I shuffled into the SU convenience store that loomed ahead.
Jingle-jingle—
“……”
“……?”
“……”
Did I hear wrong? Definitely a bell.
I opened and closed the door again.
Jingle-jingle—jingle-jingle—
The bell above shook, announcing a customer. But that dumb talking potato shows no sign of greeting.
Done tormenting the door, I trudged to the counter, frowning hard.
“Hey.”
“……”
Something's off with him. Mouth agape, eyes unfocused, staring blankly into space. Like he's dreaming, total spaced-out look. Customer? What customer?
I waved a hand in his face.
“Hey, talking potato.”
“…Huh? Oh, welcome!”
His eyes snapped to me frantically, then cooled to ice.
“Oh, it's you.”
“Don't convenience store clerks greet customers?”
“I did.”
“Late.”
“…Mistake.”
“Tch. Show some customer service flair.”
“Customers vary.”
“…Tsk.”
I clicked my tongue in disapproval, grabbed two cold canned coffees, and slammed them on the counter.
“Ring me up, lowly part-timer!”
“Y-yes.”
Working at the snack bar made me realize how easy convenience store gigs are. If I'd stayed, I'd have gotten complacent and sunk deeper. No regrets. Just wanna mess with Mansu.
“1,000 won.”
“Keep the change!”
I tossed a 1,000-won bill on the counter. He snatched it mid-air and stashed it in the register. No complaints.
“……?”
Something's wrong.
“Hey. What happened?”
Pop! Thunk!
I cracked open my can and asked. Mansu popped his and answered.
“What happened…? Yeah, something.”
His face went dumb again. I sipped my cold coffee silently, waiting. He took a swig and spoke.
“Saw a goddess.”
“…What?”
Goddess? What goddess?
“…Dahyun came by?”
“Dahyun-nim is an angel!”
Different categories in potato logic, huh. Fine, I'll play along.
“…She's gotta be a celeb. That beauty defies logic!”
The potato muttered seriously to himself.
…Some pretty girl must've stopped by.
“Good for you. No need for Dahyun intro now?”
“No way!”
“Why not.”
“Angels are angels, goddesses are goddesses!”
“Yeah, sure.”
After that, I let his mutterings go in one ear and out the other, humming agreements vaguely. Sipping my coffee, I pulled out my phone and opened the notes app.
Time to organize my thoughts from the walk home. Lots of shortages, lots of mistakes. But like I said, mistakes and failures are shortcuts to success.
• Line Management: Better to install barriers than chalk on floor. Like bollards.
• Pre-Make Dishes: Don't slack when slow—prep extras for rushes. 3+ hot dogs, half+ tteokbokki.
• …
I jotted down my mental notes one by one, half-listening to Mansu's goddess rant.
-…And she had a hat on, but her face was tiny. No joke, like this small?
“Hmm…”
My furiously typing fingers halted. The blinking cursor hovered over an unresolved thought.
• Tteokbokki Sauce: Tasted it during lulls today. Delicious. Insanely so. Perfect. But something nagged—eyebrow-twitching something. Couldn't pinpoint it.
“Like it's missing 2%...”
Just a gut feeling, but if right, the boss's killer tteokbokki could level up even more.
Wracked my brain on the way home, but it wouldn't come. What was that 2%?
“Ugh…”
…No point brooding now. I sighed, cleared my foggy head, and closed the app.
Mansu was still yapping.
-…She must've been working out—sweat beading on her skin. Bought just one ion drink.
“Uh-huh. Yeah?”
As I pocketed my phone, it buzzed defiantly: zing-
A message. From Dahyun.