Chapter 5: Our First Shared Table
It was my fifth day living in Haedam Villa. 5:00 PM. I emailed the final draft of the warrior woman cover illustration to President Kim. I set down my stylus and leaned back in my chair. My shoulders were stiff. It was the result of pulling two consecutive all-nighters, and the moment I hit send, the tension drained from my body, replaced by a sudden, sharp wave of hunger.
I should make a proper dinner. Now that the commission was finished, I felt like cooking—a habit of mine on good days.
I opened the refrigerator. There was a bundle of green onions Dain had bought yesterday, eight eggs, half a block of tofu left over from before, some spinach, soybean paste, and assorted vegetables. I also had a pack of stew-grade beef delivered early this morning. More than enough.
Tonight's menu was set: beef soybean paste stew, rolled omelets, seasoned spinach, and freshly cooked rice.
I started the rice cooker. Five servings. Don't ask me why five. It was automatic now. After three years of cooking single portions, my hands had somehow memorized the measurement for five servings in just five days of living in this villa. I was fully aware of it, but I had no intention of correcting it.
I washed the rice and prepped the ingredients: beef, tofu, potatoes, zucchini, green onions, and green chili peppers. I loved the process of lining them up on the cutting board. It felt similar to sketching the rough draft of an illustration.
Drizzling sesame oil into a pot, I began to brown the beef. I added two spoonfuls of soybean paste and sautéed them together. The moment the paste met the hot sesame oil, a rich, savory aroma bloomed in the air. This smell alone accounted for eighty percent of a good soybean paste stew.
I poured in the anchovy broth, then added the potatoes, zucchini, tofu, and green onions in that order. Placing the lid on the pot, I set to work on the rolled omelets. I spread the beaten egg thinly over low heat and rolled it up, repeating the process four times. Next, I quickly blanched and seasoned the spinach.
The kitchen filled with the rich scent of home cooking. I turned on the exhaust fan, but it was no match for this level of aroma. Besides, the ventilation system in this villa seemed to specialize in distributing smells equally to the floors above and below.
I set the kitchen island. One bowl of rice for myself, leaving the rest in the cooker. I picked up my spoon.
Ding-dong. My phone buzzed first.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Guessing the menu just by the smell was actually pretty impressive.
Ding-dong. Exactly fifteen seconds passed between the text and the doorbell. A speed only possible because she lived right next door. I opened the door.
Seojin stood there, holding Yuri's hand. She wore a cream-colored knit dress that fell to her knees, softly tracing the curves of her body. Her brown hair was swept to one side, exposing the elegant line of her neck on the right. Below the round neckline, her collarbones were slightly visible, catching the pale light of the hallway's fluorescent lamp.
"Siu, we're imposing on you again."
"Mister's food!" Yuri squealed, clinging to my leg.
"Yuri, your shoes," Seojin gently chided.
"I took them off!" Yuri yelled, already dashing toward the kitchen. She sniffed the air eagerly. "Soybean paste! It's soybean paste!"
Seojin naturally headed into the kitchen. Since this was her third visit, she already knew where the dishes were kept—the right side of the upper cabinet. Standing beside me, she reached up to open it.
As she raised her arm, the side of her knit dress pulled taut, accentuating the slender curve of her waist. When she brought the plates down, her hand brushed against mine. Her fingertips were warm. For three seconds, our hands lingered. "Oh," Seojin murmured softly, taking the plates from me. The tips of her ears flushed a delicate pink.
I scooped two more bowls of rice. For Yuri, I gave her half a bowl and ladled just the stew's solid ingredients into a small dish, making sure to exclude the spicy green chilies.
"Mister, what's this?" Yuri asked, pointing at the rolled omelet.
"It's a rolled omelet."
"Eggs can roll?"
"Yep. You cook them and roll them up like this."
"Whoa!" Yuri popped a piece of the omelet into her mouth with her fork, her eyes widening. "Mister, your rolled egg is so yummy!"
"I'm glad you like it."
Seojin smiled as she sat down. "Yuri approves of your cooking every single time, Siu."
"And what about you?"
"Me too," Seojin said, lowering her eyes slightly.
Seojin took a bite of the soybean paste stew. She closed her eyes with the spoon still in her mouth. One second. Two seconds.
"It's so rich..." she murmured in low admiration. "Did you put beef in this? The broth has so much depth."
"I sautéed beef and added it to an anchovy broth."
"Ah, that's why it has such a deep, savory flavor..."
Thud. Thud-thud. A knock sounded at the front door. Not the doorbell, but a direct knock on the wood. There was only one person who did that.
Through the gap in the door, I saw Lee Haeun. She was wearing a sleeveless top and leggings, with a towel draped around her neck and sweat glistening on her forehead. She had clearly just finished a workout. A few stray strands of hair from her ponytail clung to her forehead, and beads of sweat ran down her neck to her collarbone, disappearing beneath the neckline of her top.
"Hey," she said.
"...Hey."
"What is that smell? The hallway is practically flooded with it." Haeun's eyes drifted past me. She spotted Seojin and Yuri sitting at the table, and her eyes narrowed. "You have guests."
"This is Seojin from next door."
Seojin stood up to greet her. "Hello, you live in 203, right? I'm Yoon Seojin."
"Lee Haeun." Her response was curt.
Haeun looked at me. She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible sniff, trying to hide it within a fraction of a second, but I caught it. It was the raw, post-workout appetite. "It's soybean paste stew. I made plenty. Want to join us?"
Haeun glared at me. Three seconds. Spending three whole seconds glaring meant her mind was already made up.
"...Wait here," she muttered, turning back toward room 203.
She reappeared thirty seconds later, wearing a half-zipped hoodie over her sleeveless top, revealing the strap of her sports bra underneath. She slid into an empty chair next to Seojin.
"Nice to meet you, Haeun. This is our first time eating together," Seojin said warmly.
"...How do you know my name?"
"You just said it a moment ago."
Haeun shut her mouth, looking slightly annoyed that her name had been remembered so easily.
I fetched another bowl and scooped some rice and stew for her.
"Hey, I can do it myself," Haeun grumbled.
"The soup is hot."
Haeun picked up a piece of rolled omelet and popped it into her mouth. She chewed. Then she paused. Half a second. She resumed chewing.
"How is it?" I asked.
"...It's average."
Despite calling it average, she was already reaching for a second piece. I chose not to point this out.
"Oppa!" a voice called out from the entryway. The door had been left slightly ajar, and Jeong Dain was poking her head through the gap.
"Dain?"
"The smell drifted all the way downstairs! I brought back the rest of the green onions! But—" Dain froze as she looked at the table. Seojin, Yuri, Haeun, and me. Her eyes went wide. "Is this a party?!"
"It's not a party."
"This is totally a party!" Dain kicked off her shoes and bounded inside. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and short cotton shorts, with smudges of navy-blue paint on her bare legs.
"Nice to meet you, Dain. I'm Yoon Seojin from 202."
"Ah, hello! I'm Jeong Dain from 101!"
The problem was the seating. There were already four of us at a four-person table. I dragged an office chair from my workspace to squeeze her in, but with five people seated, we were close enough to bump elbows. The arrangement ended up with Seojin on my left, Dain across from me to the right, Haeun directly opposite me, and Yuri next to Seojin.
The moment she sat down, Seojin's arm brushed against mine. I felt the soft texture of her knit dress, and beneath it, her body heat. We were pressed together from elbow to forearm. "Ah, sorry, it's so cramped—" Seojin murmured, trying to shift her weight, but there was simply no room. Our arms pressed together again.
"It's fine," I said. My heart rate quickened. It was nothing, really—just physical contact born of a cramped space. Yet, every time our arms brushed, Seojin's warmth seeped through, the heat radiating through her knit dress settling onto my skin.
Haeun watched this from across the table, her eyes tracking Seojin's arm pressed against mine. Her gaze lingered for half a second. Her face remained expressionless as she silently lowered her eyes back to her plate, but I didn't miss that brief half-second look.
"Here's your rice, Dain."
"Thank you!" I handed Dain her bowl. With five settings crammed onto the small table, there was barely any empty space left between the dishes.
"Thank you for the food!" Dain cheered.
Haeun picked up her spoon in silence. And so, our first shared meal began.
Dain chattered away about school—complaining about a professor who assigned three projects at once, expressing envy over a classmate who won an art competition, and sharing news about a sale on art markers at the supply store. Her mouth didn't rest for a second. Haeun fired back with blunt, short responses.
"Sure."
"Ah."
"That's your fault."
For every ten words Dain spoke, Haeun offered one. Yet, they fell into a strange, harmonious rhythm.
Seojin acted as the bridge between them. "Dain, since you're an art major, what kind of paintings do you do?" "Haeun, where is your gym located?" She possessed an incredible knack for keeping the conversation flowing naturally.
Yuri reached out and touched Haeun's arm. "Auntie Haeun, this is hard!"
"It's muscle."
"Can Yuri get muscles like this too?"
"If you work out."
"Yuri wants to do it!" Yuri clung to Haeun's arm. Though caught off guard, Haeun lifted her arm, raising Yuri up. Yuri giggled, dangling happily. "So high!"
"Haeun, isn't Yuri heavy?" Seojin asked with a worried look.
"She's light," Haeun muttered. The tips of her ears had turned bright red. She didn't seem to realize it, but it was glaringly obvious under the fluorescent light.
The meal continued with Seojin's arm still pressed against mine. With every movement, the soft texture of her knit dress and her gentle warmth brushed against me.
"Hey, Han Siu."
"Yeah?"
"Give me more rolled omelet."
"Should I make some more?"
Haeun paused. "What?"
"I still have eggs left. I can whip up another batch."
Haeun's mouth opened and closed. She was clearly swallowing whatever she had been about to say.
"...Do whatever you want," she mumbled, turning her gaze toward the window. It was her way of refusing to look at me.
I stood up, prepared another rolled omelet, sliced it, and placed the plate in front of her. Haeun stared down at the dish. One second. She picked up a piece with her chopsticks and ate it, still staring out the window.
"..."
"How is it?" I asked.
"Shut up."
Seojin smiled warmly. Dain whispered, "Oh my gosh, that's so cute."
Yuri set her spoon down and cheered, "Mister's food is the best!"
The table fell silent for a second at the five-year-old's pure, honest exclamation.
Seojin stroked Yuri's hair. "Right? Mister's food is delicious, isn't it?"
Dain raised her hand. "Yuri, I think so too!"
Haeun silently shoveled rice into her mouth, but the corners of her lips had curled upward. It was incredibly faint, but it was the first time I had ever seen her smile like that.
"Siu," Seojin said, looking at me from our close, arm-touching distance. "It's delicious. Truly."
"Thank you."
"I'm the one who should be thanking you."
The meal drew to a close. The pot of soybean paste stew was scraped clean, and not a single piece of rolled omelet remained. As I moved to do the dishes, Seojin stood up first.
"I'll do them." Her tone left no room for argument. Dain quickly stood up beside her. "I'll help too!"
Haeun sat on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. Yuri had snuggled up next to her, using Haeun's toned arm as a pillow. Haeun started to pull her arm away, but stopped when she noticed how sleepy Yuri looked. Instead, she pretended nothing was out of the ordinary and kept looking at her phone with one hand. Watching them, a strange, warm sensation bloomed deep in my chest.
Seojin finished the dishes, drying her hands as she turned around. "Siu, Yuri keeps saying your food is the absolute best lately. She even told her preschool teacher, 'Mister's food is the tastiest.' The teacher asked me who this 'Mister' was..." Seojin laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly. "She said she thought you were my husband."
"..."
Our eyes met. One second. Two seconds. Seojin was the first to look away.
"I should take Yuri home. She's getting sleepy." Seojin scooped Yuri up into her arms. Haeun massaged her freed arm, remaining silent. "Siu, I think it would be nice to gather and eat like this sometimes. If you don't mind, that is."
Dain chimed in, "I'm totally down!"
Haeun silently slipped on her shoes.
"Sure. Food always tastes better when shared," I replied.
Seojin smiled. "I knew you'd say that, Oppa!" Dain cheered.
Haeun walked out the front door without a word. Silence returned to the apartment.
11:00 PM. I wiped down the empty table. The traces of five people remained—ring marks from plates, stray water droplets. I had lived alone for three years. I had constantly convinced myself that being alone was more comfortable. But today... when Seojin's arm brushed against mine, when Haeun ate the rolled omelet, when Yuri shouted that my food was delicious... I felt like I had to admit that it wasn't comfort I had been feeling, but loneliness.
1:00 AM. Sitting in my workspace, I sketched earlier's scene on a blank canvas, free from any commission constraints. People gathered around a dining table—a rough sketch capturing only their forms. As I drew, I noticed one more empty seat. Room 301. Out of habit, I turned on the intercom screen. A familiar silhouette was visible on the stairs outside my door. Long, straight hair. Silk pajamas. Bare feet.
I went to the kitchen. I poured milk into a pot, added a spoonful of honey, and a pinch of cinnamon powder. I warmed it slowly over low heat. Pouring the milk into a mug, I stepped out into the hallway.
"Chaewon."
She turned around. The moonlight streamed diagonally through the window at the end of the hallway, sliding smoothly over her silk pajamas. The pale light pooled in the hollow of her collarbone, exposed beneath the V-neck of her top.
"Can't sleep tonight either?"
"...No."
"Here, some milk." I offered her the mug. Chaewon took it with both hands, her movements slightly more natural than yesterday.
"Thank you."
Silence stretched between us.
"Siu," Chaewon said, taking a sip of the warm milk.
"Yes?"
"It was noisy today. From downstairs."
"Ah, I'm sorry. There were quite a few people—"
"No," Chaewon shook her head. "It was a nice sound. The sound of laughter drifted up. It's been a long time since I've heard laughter like that."
Her words lingered in my chest. The fact that she had been listening to the laughter from the second floor meant she had been all alone during that time.
"Next time, could I... if it's alright?"
"Pardon?"
"Join you for a meal." Chaewon spoke while cradling the mug with both hands. Her voice was low and quiet, but there was a faint tremor in it. "If I wouldn't be a bother."
Chaewon looked up at me. Her dark eyes held emotions that had drifted close to the surface.
"Of course. Anytime."
"...Thank you."
Having finished her milk, Chaewon handed the mug back to me. Our fingers brushed briefly. They were still cold, but perhaps a little warmer than yesterday. As she walked back up, she paused on the stairs and looked back at me.
"Goodnight, Siu."
"Goodnight, Chaewon."
The door to room 301 clicked shut.
Holding the empty mug, I returned to room 201. I closed the door, leaned my back against it, and stared up at the ceiling. My fifth day at Haedam Villa. There hadn't been a single empty chair at my four-person dining table. And now, another person might join us. This wasn't the life I had planned. My plans were completely derailing. But... it didn't feel so bad. I rinsed the mug, knowing I would use it again tomorrow. The honey went back into the fridge, the cinnamon onto the shelf. The dining table of a man who had wanted nothing more than to live a quiet, solitary life was slowly growing larger.