Genuine Five
The Spanish mackerel was fresh. It was peak season for the fish, after all.
In this market, the place Jeongwoo and Seoa held was a little different from everyone else. Though, truth be told, it was mostly Seoa who had made it that way.
Even so, nothing particularly extraordinary came of it. The only real difference was that Jeongwoo’s workload had lightened just a bit. For instance, he no longer had to pick out the freshest ingredients himself.
“Hoho, the Spanish mackerel must have been good.”
“It wath tho good! Tho, tho good!”
Whether it was because Seoa loved food so much or because of the meals Jeongwoo prepared, the market vendors always set aside the freshest catches for them without being asked. This Spanish mackerel was no exception. Instead of the ones already on display, the vendor had given them fish that had just been cleaned.
It had been the same last time, too.
“We have to come back again later?”
“Yeth!”
The owner of the seafood stall was a round-bellied man with a thick beard and a scar across his face. Most children might have been frightened of him, but Seoa showed no fear. On the contrary—
Bear-man!
She had taken a liking to him, saying he reminded her of a bear. It was, in its own way, a rather convincing opinion. The first time they met, the man had been holding a whole fish in one hand.
Two portions of Spanish mackerel were prepared for the customer. Given the man’s sturdy build, Jeongwoo figured two would be just right and bought them accordingly.
“I’ll have it ready in no time. Please wait a moment.”
“All right.”
Back in the kitchen, Jeongwoo first scored the fish and patted it dry as thoroughly as possible. Once the moisture was gone and it had been seasoned with salt and pepper, the preparation was essentially complete. He wasn’t worried about any fishy smell. From experience, he knew that the fresher the fish, the less it smelled.
The most important part of grilling fish was controlling the heat. Too strong, and the outside would burn before the inside cooked through. Too weak, and the flesh would turn dry and crumbly. That wouldn’t be fair to the customer, nor to such fresh, high-quality Spanish mackerel. So Jeongwoo focused entirely on the flame.
Meanwhile, Seoa was attending to the customer—bringing side dishes, water, and clearing empty glasses. She carried the water with both hands, grunting with effort, and moved the cups one by one. The containers of side dishes sat too high for her to reach properly.
“…I’ll take it.”
In the end, the customer who had been watching simply carried the side dishes over himself.
“Hehe. Thank youuu.”
Even after hearing Seoa’s cheerful thanks, the man gave little reaction. His gaze simply lingered for a moment before drifting away.
Soon, the savory aroma of grilled Spanish mackerel began to fill the restaurant. The sound of sizzling oil mingled with the clatter of utensils, and Seoa’s legs swung rhythmically beneath the counter as if keeping time with the sounds.
Even though they weren’t seated by the window, the soft light filtering in from outside gave the impression that sunset had already begun, lending the room a gentle, nostalgic atmosphere. The man found himself staring blankly out at the view. The golden light brought with it a quiet warmth. The sizzling became a soothing white noise, and the smell of perfectly grilled fish made him feel as though he were by the sea.
Perhaps it felt that way because this place most closely resembled his most recent memories.
From his seat in the deepest corner, he could see part of the kitchen, the scenery outside the window, and the only moving thing in sight—Seoa’s swinging feet—all at once. Within that now-familiar frame, a plate of grilled Spanish mackerel was set down with a soft clink.
“Enjoy your meal.”
“…Thank you.”
How would it taste? Considering everything he had seen, felt, and smelled in this restaurant so far, it seemed promising. The moment his chopsticks touched the skin, he felt the crispness. With a little pressure, they sank through with a delicate crackle, revealing moist, tender flesh beneath. When he lifted a piece to his mouth, the rich juices and soft texture filled his senses.
…It’s good.
It was delicious—more so than he had expected. Perhaps that was why his long-forgotten appetite began to stir. Before long, the man was eating with quiet urgency, clearing the plate. The side dishes, with their varied textures and flavors, helped rekindle his appetite each time it threatened to fade.
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?”
“Could I have another bowl of rice, please?”
“Ah, of course. Just a moment.”
One portion of fish, one bowl of rice. With two portions, two bowls should have sufficed, but the side dishes had done their part so well that the man ended up finishing three bowls in total. When the last grain of rice was gone, so was his appetite. In its place, an enormous emptiness began to settle in, slowly spreading.
Just as the hollow feeling started to grow—
“It wath good!”
The sudden voice stopped the emptiness in its tracks. He didn’t know why. The child wasn’t special to him, yet her words had somehow held it back.
“…Yes. It was delicious.”
“My daddy made it, tho it’th the betht!”
Seoa puffed out her chest proudly, as if she had cooked it herself. The man wondered if the Spanish mackerel she had eaten tasted the same. After a brief moment of thought, he found his answer. Yes—it had been an ordinary dish, yet it carried a flavor that surpassed the ordinary. At least, to him.
“I suppose so. How old are you?”
“Seoa ith five… I think?”
Seoa had been about to answer confidently when she suddenly remembered that yesterday had been her birthday. Did that make her six? She wasn’t sure how birthdays worked. The man chuckled softly. Most children—or rather, most people—knew their own age for certain.
After a moment’s hesitation, Seoa seemed to realize something and dashed off toward the kitchen.
“Daddy—!”
“Hm? What is it, Seoa?”
“How old am I?”
Seoa, who had always gone around saying she was five, was suddenly asking this? Jeongwoo blinked.
“Hm? You’re five, aren’t you?”
“But Seoa’th birthday already pathed.”
“Ah, so that’s what it was.”
Jeongwoo laughed and gently patted her head.
“Seoa became a real five-year-old after your birthday.”
“A weal… five-year-old?”
What did “real” five mean? Did that mean she had been a fake five until now? Seoa’s expression grew confused, her fingers alternating between showing five and six.
“Then when doeth Seoa become a fake thix-year-old?”
“Well… after two sets of thirty nights?”
“Th-thirty nightth…”
Fortunately, Seoa had learned the number thirty through a game of tag. Two sets of that? It was just thirty nights, twice. Simple enough for her.
After a brief pause, Seoa returned to the customer and declared proudly, “Seoa ith a weal five-year-old now!”
“…I see. So you are.”
A soft laugh escaped him. A real five-year-old. He hadn’t spoken with children often, and the ten-year gap made it even harder. He didn’t know what to say, or even whether speaking at all was the right thing to do.
“How old are you?”
Seoa had never once asked someone their age in return. So why now? There was only one reason. Through the unkempt hair, she had seen his eyes—and those eyes had looked as though they were asking to be asked back. That was all. Of course, she might have misunderstood, but Seoa didn’t think that far. She had simply followed her instinct, the way children do.
“Me… you mean?”
“Yeth!”
It was such a simple question. The same kind of straightforward question he had asked the child who had returned after learning she was a “real” five-year-old. And yet, he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t bring himself to.
How old am I?
He had to answer. The child was waiting. Still, the words wouldn’t come. Should he say the age of the person who had stayed in this world the longest—ten years ago? Or the age of the person he was now, ten years later? The number was the same either way, but the thought lingered. Fake and real. Standing at that crossroads.
“Little one.”
“Yeth?”
“Between fake five and real five… which do you like better?”
In the end, the man chose to ask Seoa instead. It was clearly an evasion, pushing the question onto a five-year-old.
“Seoa liketh both!”
The child answered easily, her face bright. She liked both. The memories from when she was a fake five and the memories from when she was a real five—both were good. Past and present tense. It was a sentence too mature for a child, yet because it held no falsehood, only pure honesty, it somehow felt possible.
At her answer, the man let out a quiet laugh.
“This uncle is thirty-seven.”
Right now—ten years later. In this time where he could no longer tell what was real and what was fake, the starting point of memories he could call “good” seemed to be here.
“Ooh, I thee!”
Seoa, the very reason he had given that answer, didn’t seem particularly interested in the number thirty-seven. In truth, she didn’t quite grasp its size.
“Well then, I suppose I should be going.”
The man rose from his seat and approached the counter.
“It was delicious.”
“I’m glad it suited your taste.”
“And… I’m sorry for making such an awkward request earlier.”
“Not at all. Thanks to you, I was able to add a new menu item.”
Jeongwoo smiled, genuinely grateful for the chance to expand his menu. His smile and gaze were so sincere that it was almost surprising. With a father like that, it was no wonder the child never lost her smile, not even for a moment. This place was remarkable—both as a restaurant and as a family.
With a faint tremor at the corner of his lips that might or might not have been a smile, the man finished paying and stepped out of the restaurant. It felt mysterious, almost as if he were leaving a gate. And then, the power he had sensed earlier began to stir once more.
“…It seems you have business with me.”
He didn’t know what that business was, but the power carried a trace of wariness, so he responded in kind. The approaching force guided him forward, as if inviting him to follow. He didn’t know its intent, but he had no reason to refuse. A flicker of curiosity stirred within him as well.
The man’s steps led him toward an alley a short distance from the restaurant. As expected, the source of the power was waiting inside.