The King Cutlet and the Childhood Friend
“...Are you kidding me?” Choa narrowed her eyes, glaring at the kiosk screen. Her gaze was fixed on the red text that read: [SOLD OUT]. Truly, unfortunately, I had been the last one. The moment I placed my order, the Monday lunch special—the king-sized pork cutlet—had sold out.
“My king cutlet...”
“Order something else.” Choa raised one eyebrow, shooting me a look of pure dissatisfaction. Then, she reached out toward the meal ticket I was holding.
“Not a chance.” I had anticipated this, so I pulled my hand back just in time to dodge her.
“Give me the king cutlet.”
“You’re a total thief.”
“I’m a girl, though?”
“This is my king cutlet. Yours is sold out.”
Choa let out a sigh, as if she couldn't believe my audacity. “Hurry up and pick something. People are waiting behind us.”
“Sigh... life is...” In the end, Choa settled for a chicken mayo rice bowl. We received our food and sat down. Choa, whose absolute favorite food in the world was pork cutlet—specifically the old-school gyeongyangsik style—stared intently at the king cutlet in front of me. She gulped, clearly dying to have a bite. I covered the cutlet with both arms.
“Wow... you’re so stingy, seriously.”
“Just realizing that now?”
“You can’t eat all that by yourself.”
“I can.” I picked up my fork and knife in each hand and began to slice the cutlet.
“You pig.”
“Oink oink.”
“Eating your own kind.”
“My own kind is umai.”
At my childish retort, Choa gave me a rotten smile and began her meal. I continued cutting the meat. There are generally two types of people when it comes to eating pork cutlet: those who cut it piece by piece as they eat, and those who cut the entire thing beforehand. I am the latter. Before I start eating, I cut the entire cutlet into bite-sized pieces, put down the fork and knife, and eat with chopsticks. This time was no different. Piece by piece, I cut the cutlet into perfect, bite-sized portions, then set my utensils down.
“Here.” I pushed the plate to the center of the table. Choa, who had been chewing her rice, looked up at me with wide eyes.
“I can’t eat it all by myself. Let’s share.”
The pout that had been on Choa’s face—as if she were a child upset over a single cutlet—vanished, replaced by a wide grin. “See? I told you you couldn't eat it all by yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Smugly, Choa picked up a piece of the cutlet with her chopsticks.
“Mmm~!” As soon as she put it in her mouth, she let out a blissful sound, looking genuinely happy. Did she die in a past life because she couldn't eat pork cutlet? I’ve felt this way since we were kids; she just loves it way too much. Even when the mala-tang craze hit, she’d say, “With the money for that, I could go eat spicy pork cutlet,” and off she’d go. When the tanghulu craze hit, she’d say, “With the money for that, I could go eat sweet pork cutlet,” and off she’d go. It’s a wonder she doesn't get sick of it, but since it’s a man’s soul food, I had no complaints.
“You have some of this, too.” Choa pushed her chicken mayo rice bowl to the center of the table. We shared the two dishes. It wasn't exactly strange to share food, but in a university cafeteria where everyone usually sticks to their own 1-person-1-menu rule, it might look a bit odd. Still, I didn't care about the surrounding gazes. Worrying about that kind of thing is just exhausting.
“Choa!” It was while we were busy sharing our food. Two girls holding trays approached us. Since they were calling for Choa, they obviously weren't my acquaintances. Looking at their faces, I recognized them as the girls who frequently appeared in the photos on Choa’s social media stories. Since we don't usually talk much about each other’s friends, I knew nothing about them other than that they were Choa’s friends.
“You ran off saying you had something to do...” The girls glanced at me. They checked out my face. Their eyes went round in surprise, and then they started wearing sly, knowing smiles.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“No.” Choa answered with a look of disgust. “He’s just a guy friend.”
That answer was a little disappointing. In terms of literal meaning, "guy friend" isn't wrong, but I wished she had introduced me as her childhood friend. I had introduced her to my underclassmen as my childhood friend, after all.
“Hello. I’m Park Siho, a sophomore in Chemical Engineering.” I gave a simple, formal introduction. Choa’s friends introduced themselves as well: Han Yesol and Oh Hyena. They were in the same year and department as Choa.
“Can we sit here?”
I nodded. “Sure. It’s not like we own the place.”
Han Yesol giggled as if she’d heard a funny joke and sat down next to me. “Were you two sharing?” She pointed at the two plates gathered in the center of the table.
“No, not really. We were just swapping bites.” Choa pulled her dish back in front of her. Choa, who had been stuffing her face until her cheeks were puffed out like a hamster’s just a moment ago, suddenly started eating like a bird, taking tiny, dainty bites. It was hilarious to see her acting so demure in front of her friends.
“Ugh...!” When I let out a snicker, Choa kicked my shin under the table.
“What’s wrong?” Han Yesol asked, startled, as I shifted in my seat while eating.
“Oh, nothing. It’s nothing.” I brushed it off and went back to eating. I looked up and glared at Choa. Our eyes met. Since she was wearing a skirt today, she couldn't kick my shin, so instead, she pressed down hard on my foot with her small shoe. I didn't back down and kicked her shin in return. We were busy playing a childish game of footsie instead of eating.
“So, how did you two meet?” Han Yesol asked Choa.
I really wished they would just eat in silence. But what can you do? They say women, unlike men, don't just focus on the food when they eat; they eat for the sake of chatting.
“We were in the same group for a liberal arts class in our freshman year.” That wasn't a lie. We actually did take a liberal arts class together in the second semester of our freshman year and were in the same group. That wasn't how we actually met, though.
“Which class?”
“Understanding Greek Literature.”
“Ah, the one where you had to prepare a presentation for the finals?”
“Yeah.”
The conversation topics shifted rapidly, jumping around in a disorganized mess. It was a kind of chatter I found hard to follow. To begin with, I had no intention of joining in. If I were a social person who enjoyed hanging out with girls, I might have chimed in to keep the flow going, but that’s not my personality. I could socialize if I had to—I’m well-adjusted enough for that—but why bother right now? There was no reason to join the conversation and suffer mental fatigue. So, I let the three girls' chatter go in one ear and out the other, silently finishing off the pork cutlet. They were so busy talking that they hadn't even finished half of their meals.
“I have a class next, so I’ll be heading out first.” I had thought about going to a PC bang to play a game after lunch, but looking at the situation, that was out of the question.
“Okay.”
“Yeah, see you next time.” After receiving their farewells, I looked at Choa.
“Bye.” Choa gave a light greeting. Usually, she would have said, “Later,” or “Yeah, get lost.” But in front of her friends... well, everyone has an internal self and an external self.
“Yeah.” A light greeting for a light farewell. I picked up my tray, stood up, and left the table.
***
On the way out of the cafeteria after lunch, I asked, “Choa, what are you doing after this?” Monday classes only went until the morning.
“I’m going home.”
“Home? But the weather is so nice?” People think I’m an outdoor type because I go out and play here and there, but I’m actually an indoor type. I love lounging at home and playing games. I was planning on going home and grinding some ranks. If I climbed just a little higher, I’d hit Diamond for the first time in my life.
“Let’s go to a cafe. I found this aesthetic one.”
“Let’s go, let’s go.” The atmosphere was already set for us to go.
“Fine, a cup of coffee won't hurt.” We decided to go to the cafe and headed toward the bus stop. On the way, while chatting about cosmetics, Yesol suddenly changed the subject.
“Choa.”
“Yeah?”
“Earlier... was his name Park Siho...?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you two close?” Her tone was cautious. Even without her saying it explicitly, I knew what she was getting at. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve heard something like this... I call him an ugly bastard every day, but Siho is actually handsome. He doesn't look like an idol or an actor, but he has a warm, pleasant impression. He started working out right after the college entrance exams, and with the visual buff, he’s become even better looking than he already was. Maybe it’s just because I’m wearing rose-colored glasses, but seeing the way other women try to find any excuse to get a taste of Siho, it’s probably not just my bias. There are quite a few women who recognize Siho’s potential. Even now, just from a brief encounter, a girl was already showing interest.
“We’re... okay.” If I said we were close, she’d definitely ask me to set them up. That’s one of the reasons I don't introduce Siho to other people as my childhood friend. If I say "childhood friend," they’ll assume we’re close and ask for an introduction. That won't do. Sorry, but Siho is mine, thought the coward who had been harboring a one-sided crush for four years.
“But aren't you close enough to eat lunch alone together?” Yesol seemed determined to get an introduction one way or another.
“Why? Want me to set you up?” When I teased her, Yesol’s face lit up with excitement. But it was only for a second. She quickly regained her composure, as if holding back a laugh. “No... I didn't ask for that reason...”
This girl. No matter how much of a friend she is, I can't stand seeing her act like this. “But... he was handsome. Kind of like that ‘church oppa’ style?”
“Huh?” I had to admit it. Wearing those horn-rimmed glasses and dressing neatly, he really did have that vibe of a church oppa from a webtoon. And while he’s cold when it’s just the two of us, he’s the kindest, gentlest person in the world in front of others.
“You think so?” I played along. That’s how conversations between girls go.
“I think it would be nice to get to know him... does he have a girlfriend?”
“No.” Siho is a lifelong solo. And a virgin. It’s impossible for him to be dating someone behind my back. He has the ability to get a girlfriend if he wanted to, but Siho is completely indifferent to romance. I don't know if I should be thankful for that... It’s a relief that he doesn't fall for other women, but considering he doesn't feel romantic feelings for me either, it’s not entirely a good thing.
“I’ll ask him if he wants to grab coffee next time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I didn't need to hear his answer to know what it would be. If it’s Siho, he’ll indifferently refuse. Last year, a few people asked for introductions, and I set them up, but Siho turned them down flatly. He even refused to meet them once.
“Thank you!” Yesol was overjoyed, clearly having taken a liking to Siho at first sight. Sorry. I’ll apologize in advance, Yesol.