Her Flirting!
Sizzle.
Thick cuts of pork belly seared over high-quality charcoal, the clean fat rendering out in glossy streams as the meat cooked to perfection. Crisp on the outside, tender within—the kind of grill work that looked almost like a skill activation. The aroma alone was outrageous.
Snip, snip.
I sliced the long-cooked strips into neat, bite-sized pieces with the scissors.
“Taewoong, do you work part-time at a barbecue place?”
“Huh? Why?”
“Your grilling is perfect. Even the size is just right for eating. I can feel the experience in it.”
I was at a samgyeopsal restaurant with Pro An Hyeonju—no, with nuna. She was treating me after I had helped her out of a sticky situation. A nuna who buys dinner is always right. I had money of my own, of course, but you couldn’t buy the easy atmosphere she created just by showing up. And after everything that had happened, simply saying goodbye would have felt incomplete.
Nuna sat demurely across from me, watching me work the grill. When she had fallen into my arms earlier, I had been startled—like waking up to find a sweet strawberry cake already in my mouth. Before the scandal hit, she had ranked among the top three most beautiful women on the professional golf circuit. It wasn’t just her face. Her figure was kind in every way that mattered. The feeling she had given me then was one I doubted I would forget for the rest of my life. Hard to put into words, really…
So this unplanned dinner had come together. A samgyeopsal place tucked into a Cheongdam-dong alley, the kind only regulars knew. The sign was modest; the interior, with its drum-barrel grills, was surprisingly solid. Nuna said she came here often. Charcoal-grilled pork belly that had earned its reputation as a true taste destination.
My grilling skill had history. Special Forces, then always the youngest at every company—whenever we hit a meat place, the tongs and scissors were mine. I had never actually worked a barbecue job, yet I had been good from the start. Watching other people enjoy the meat I cooked was more fun than eating it myself.
Pork belly grilled to a perfect golden brown, fat gleaming. I picked up a piece with my chopsticks.
“Nuna, ah~”
The first bite of samgyeopsal is best plain—no ssamjang, no salt, no bean powder. You need to taste the meat itself. This was Jirisan black-pig belly; no gamey smell at all. Origin matters with everything. Cattle and pigs raised in clean water and clean air simply taste better. Cheongdam prices were steep, but that didn’t matter.
“……”
Nuna accepted the bite with a shy flush coloring her cheeks. It reminded me, unbidden, of dating my ex. Gu Hyejin. She had loved the meat I grilled too. Said I had a good hand for it or something.
“……!!”
An Hyeonju nuna’s eyes flew wide as she chewed.
“Good, right?”
“What the…? Why does it taste different?”
She finished chewing, swallowed, and her eyes went even rounder. Genuine surprise.
“A pinch of love and a pinch of care. That’s the secret recipe.”
“Th-that so?”
The word “love” flustered her a little. The expression was cute.
“Nuna, how old are you this year?”
“Why? Twenty-four.”
“Good age.”
“Hey… Taewoong, that’s not something you get to say.”
I was a man who had already lived through his thirties and come back. Twenty-four was the perfect time for anything—an unfinished stretch of youth that I now knew was truly good.
“Life isn’t lived by numbers. It’s lived by depth. Some pretty famous philosopher said that.”
“Well… I’ll give you that.”
Her personality was genuinely good. She didn’t push back; she just nodded and agreed. That light, easy response was rare in a woman with an S-line figure overflowing with charm. This was why living in a world that used stereotypes as its measuring stick was so exhausting. One look at a young, voluptuous body and people decided she must know every worldly trick, then cut her down to size. That was the delusion of people who had already gotten older. Through eyes that had lived the thirties, Pro An Hyeonju still looked closer to an innocent girl. Her aura proved the purity. Clearer than any of the kids in my class. A light so clean you couldn’t even put her next to certain others.
“How about I mix us a proper soju-beer?”
“Somaek? You know the ratio?”
“Just watch. I’ve got a patented manufacturing technique.”
“What??”
I had mixed the stuff endlessly during my working years. I knew the golden ratio that made everyone happy once they tasted it. Back in Special Forces, even the regimental commander had been blown away. Hard to believe that had earned me leave, right? My exclusive, patented somaek technique.
Whoosh.
I spun the soju bottle with a snap of the wrist, creating a vortex until it was perfectly blended and uniform. Soju first into the shot glass. Then beer halfway up a beer glass, and the soju poured in.
Swirl, swirl.
I gave the glass a light shake and set it in front of nuna.
“Try it.”
“What about you?”
“I’m in a school uniform. The owner’s staring a hole through this table.”
Just in case I so much as sipped, the owner and the part-timer kept their eyes glued to us, fretting. Legally an adult or not, I was still wearing the uniform, so I held back. Instead I filled a glass with cola until it foamed. My heart wanted a cold somaek poured straight down, but not while dressed like this.
“Thanks for today. Really.”
“Same here. Really!”
“Huh?”
An Hyeonju nuna didn’t catch my meaning; her eyes went round as she asked with a look.
“Drink up~. Cheers!”
Glasses clinked. I drained the cola in one go.
“Keup!”
Nuna let out a short gasp of pleasure.
“Good, right?”
“Wh-what? The somaek is sweet!”
“Golden-ratio manufacturing secret is a trade secret.”
“You’re not lying—this is actually delicious!”
“That’s the know-how.”
“But… don’t you need to study for exams? Your school is insanely tough.”
It was midterms for the first semester of second year. Of course she knew. Yet I had been at a driving school, then delayed going home to sit here on a samgyeopsal date with nuna. Only a lunatic would do that during exam period. Cheonghwa High’s tests were rumored to be harder than those of science high schools or foreign-language high schools—Tier 1 difficulty among every high school exam in the country.
“I already told you exams are taken with ordinary ability. Don’t worry.”
“You’re not… giving up, are you?”
“I’m scheduled for first place in the written exams this time.”
“First place? Pfft.”
She couldn’t hold it in and laughed.
“You don’t believe me?”
Of course she didn’t. First place at Cheonghwa High meant first place in the entire nation.
“If you really take first, I’ll grant you one wish.”
“A wish?”
“Yeah! Just one thing you want!”
This nuna was making a mistake.
“Let’s swear on it.”
I quickly stuck out my pinky.
“Swear~”
She snorted a laugh and hooked her pinky with mine.
Got her.
In the warm, lively atmosphere we finished the pork belly and even the fried-rice dessert.
“Ugh.”
Nuna had already emptied several glasses of somaek with ease. She let the full-stomach signal escape her lips. Her cheeks, flushed like ripe persimmons, looked good.
“Somehow…”
“What is it?”
“I ended up overeating. I have to manage my weight.”
She had a perfect cola-bottle figure packed with solid muscle, yet she was fretting about gaining weight. A feeling I had never gotten from my ex. Even this side of her was pretty.
“Do you know when a person is heaviest?”
I had wanted a joke that fit a teenager. Reality, however:
“When they eat a lot like me?”
“No.”
“Then…?”
“When they grow up and get sense.”
“When they get sense?? What?? Puhahahahahaha.”
It had turned into an ajussi joke. Thankfully nuna burst into full-blown laughter, the kind of refreshing energy that blasted away every stress of the day. Watching her, a smile spread across my own face. Happiness viruses are highly contagious.
“Taewoong.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Why do you keep feeling like an older brother?”
Years of social experience apparently couldn’t be faked. My body might be stuck in high-school-kid mode, but my mind was the thirty-something office-worker version that had weathered more than a few storms. To me, a nuna in her early twenties was still at the level of a brand-new company hire—a social fledgling who needed kind guidance and a little attention to help her adapt.
Our eyes met.
Softly.
An Hyeonju Pro nuna’s face flushed as if the joke hadn’t been a joke at all. Beautiful like a flower just beginning to bloom. Her clean cheeks, pink from a few drinks, looked soft enough to press.
“Taewoong… I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
“What are you doing Sunday?”
She was asking about my weekend schedule. Was this an actual formal date request? Even while speaking she hesitated a little.
“I’m free.”
“Really?”
Her face lit up brightly. Those round eyes sparkled.
Then:
“Then… want to come get your hair done with me?”
“What??”