A Windfall and a Gentle Lesson
The sudden appearance of ten million won left Jungwoo stunned.
Of course, ten million was far less than thirty million, but the possibilities it opened up were endless.
“Tomorrow’s Monday, after all…”
Still, he wondered where that customer had been heading at this hour on a Sunday. Did he work weekends too? The thought didn’t linger long. What mattered now was how to use the money he’d received.
There was a saying that money earned easily was spent or lost just as easily. Jungwoo agreed with that to some extent. He could spend it without a second thought. But if he used it for something truly worthwhile, wouldn’t that be enough?
He could save it, of course, but Jungwoo had always valued present happiness over some uncertain future joy. Most people thought the opposite—they endured hardship now for the sake of future happiness. He didn’t think they were wrong; they simply saw the world differently.
Living each day happily. Perhaps that was something precious. Having once lost what mattered most, Jungwoo could hold this perspective. Still, if spending every last won today brought only fleeting happiness, he would shake his head. If the money could buy something that brought lasting joy, he would gladly spend it. Money was always a means to an end—one of many paths toward happiness.
“Our Seia’s gotten quite close with the cats, hasn’t she?”
“Yes! The cats were growling earlier.”
Jungwoo realized she meant the sound cats made when they were content. “I thought they were angry, but the pretty unnie told me cats purr when they’re happy!”
“Oh? So she explained it to you?”
“Yes! She’s a kind unnie. Dad, did you know cats make that growling sound too?”
“Of course. Tigers and other big cats do the same.”
“Tigers!”
“Haha. Do you like tigers, Seia?”
“Tigers are so cool!”
It had been a long time since Jungwoo had heard Seia call something “cool.” She had only ever seen tigers on television. Come to think of it, there were still so many places they hadn’t visited together. Though they spent plenty of time at home, they rarely went out. There simply hadn’t been the means. Tomorrow was Monday—the restaurant’s day off. Maybe they could go somewhere. A zoo, perhaps, or an amusement park. He had heard that facilities had improved dramatically thanks to magic stones being incorporated everywhere. It would be interesting to see just how much.
“Dad.”
“Hmm?”
“Um…”
Seia hesitated, twisting her body the way she always did when she was about to ask for something she suspected would be refused.
“What is it, my little princess?”
“The cats here…”
“The cats? What about them?”
Was she going to ask if they could keep one? With ten million won suddenly in hand, they could certainly afford to care for a cat for a while. But whether they could guarantee a good life for the animal long-term was another matter. Making such a promise would be presumptuous.
“Could we… make them a house?”
“…A house? For the cats?”
The request caught him off guard. Building a shelter wasn’t quite the same as taking in a pet. For stray cats living in alleyways, a safe place to stay would be a genuine sanctuary. They could provide food from leftover ingredients too. But did that count as taking responsibility for a life, or simply offering food and shelter?
The question seemed simple, yet Jungwoo considered it carefully. Stray cats were essentially wild animals—creatures that happened to get along with humans. If word spread that Seona’s Restaurant fed cats, more would surely gather. Any problems that arose would fall on him to handle. More importantly, the decision he made now would become a lesson Seia watched and learned from. Even when choices seemed small, Jungwoo always kept that in mind.
“No, Seia.”
“Hngh… I understand.”
“If you can wash the cats, take them to the vet when they’re sick, and feed them on time, then Dad will allow it.”
Seia’s face had fallen, but after hearing the rest, she nodded with complete understanding.
“Okay. Then when I’m bigger, I’ll ask again!”
“That’s my good girl.”
Seia’s expression showed she had truly grasped the weight of caring for another life. Jungwoo gently patted her head, proud of her.
“Instead, Dad will make sure we can leave food out whenever cats come by. All right?”
“Yes!”
Refusing outright was one thing, but offering an alternative was just as important. If he only ever said no, Seia might stop bringing her requests to him altogether. Jungwoo wanted the kind of relationship where they could talk about anything—where love was a given, and hopes, reasons, and solutions could be discussed openly. He didn’t know if this was the right way, but he would keep striving for what he believed was best.
“Want to play with the cats a little longer?”
“Hmm… No. Seia has work to do now!”
He didn’t know what work she meant, but her earnestness was endearing. Maybe he should give her a task. Ah—there was something. Yesterday’s special had been pork cutlet; today he had prepared something else. The very dish Seia had been learning about: bibimbap. And today, he planned to serve the bibimbap she made herself. He would handle all the prep work; Seia only needed to portion the ingredients into bowls and arrange them nicely. It would be a dish carrying both his care and hers—a meaningful creation born from the three people who made this restaurant what it was.
“Seia.”
“Yes!”
“Today’s special is up to you. Can you handle it?”
“Hehe. Yes!”
Holding Seia’s hand with one hand and the signboard still reading “pork cutlet” with the other, Jungwoo led her inside. They washed their hands until they squeaked, then checked the time. 9:40 a.m. If they moved quickly, everything would be ready right at opening. He had worried the morning’s events might make them late, but it looked like they would be fine.
“All right, today’s menu.”
He handed Seia a fresh sheet of paper and a pen, then began dictating.
“Today’s menu…”
“Fresh ingredients, carefully prepared.”
“Fresh ingredients, carefully prepared…”
“Topped with spicy gochujang sauce and a fried egg.”
“Topped with spicy gochujang sauce and a fried egg…”
Seia had written one character wrong. She scratched it out and carefully wrote the correct one.
“Deliciously mixed bibimbap.”
“Deliciously mixed bibimbap.”
There was a slight difference between “bibinbap” and “bibimbap,” but as long as the meaning came across, it was fine. Some customers might wonder why the signboard’s description was written that way, but Jungwoo wanted to keep it as part of Seona’s Restaurant’s identity.
“And then draw a star.”
“And then draw a star…”
“Haha, you don’t need to write that part.”
“Oh, okay!”
She scratched out the words and drew a small, careful star beside them. It looked like she had put a lot of thought into it, though the star was tiny. Still, it didn’t matter.
“Now add: ‘with seasoning made by Seia herself.’”
“Now add: ‘with seasoning made by Seia herself.’”
She hadn’t needed to include “now,” but it worked well enough.
“Well done, Seia.”
“Hehe. Did Seia do a good job?”
“Yes. Your handwriting is much better than yesterday.”
The letters were a little less crooked. Yesterday they had been clustered toward the top left; today they sat more centered, though still slightly to the left. He made a mental note to bring colored pens next time. A menu like bibimbap deserved a splash of color, especially since this signboard was becoming the restaurant’s signature.
After setting the finished signboard outside, Jungwoo returned and began making the bibimbap seasoning with Seia. The ingredients were simple: gochujang, minced garlic, soy sauce, plum syrup, sesame oil, and sesame seeds. One tip—crushing the sesame seeds instead of using them whole brought out a richer flavor.
“First, scoop in the gochujang like this.”
He ladled two generous spoonfuls into the bowl, scraped the spoon clean with his finger, and popped the bit of gochujang into his mouth. Seia watched intently, then grabbed her own spoon with her small hands and carefully transferred two spoonfuls into her bowl. She even copied the next step—scraping the spoon with her finger and licking the gochujang off.
“Oh.”
Seia noticed Jungwoo’s surprised tone, but it was too late. Gochujang was now spread across her tongue.
“Ah?”
The spiciness hit her all at once. For a child who wasn’t used to heat, it was overwhelming.
“Sp-spicy!”
“Haha.”
He couldn’t help laughing. Seia’s face was turning the same shade as the gochujang, her dark hair making the redness stand out even more. While she stuck out her tongue and fanned it with her hands, Jungwoo grabbed the milk from the fridge—the same carton they had used for the rolled omelet earlier.
“Here, this should help.”
Seia gulped down the milk in one go, only to be hit by a second problem.
“Ugh…”
The cold drink had been too much, too fast. She clutched her head.
“Dad… Seia’s head hurts…”
Two new kinds of pain at once—one burning, the other sharp and throbbing. The headache frightened her because she didn’t understand where it had come from.
“It’s all right, Seia. Sometimes eating something cold too quickly gives you a headache.”
Seia nodded instead of answering, her eyes glistening with unshed tears that only made them shine brighter.