Footsteps Toward the Restaurant
Footsteps heading toward the restaurant.
The A-frame sign was visible out front, but it only displayed an unpleasant menu riddled with spelling errors.
From outside, the interior of the restaurant looked so quiet it bordered on boring.
Yet for some reason, the owner in the kitchen couldn't stop smiling as he cleaned up.
The bell chimed as they stepped into Seona's Restaurant.
A cheap-looking smell—not quite what you'd expect from food—hit their noses, and their brows inevitably furrowed a little.
“Welcome! To Seona's Restaurant!”
The greeting came right then.
They turned toward the source of the voice, but the owner of that voice was nowhere in sight.
The momentary doubt didn't last long.
Feeling a presence down below, they looked down to find a small child holding a dishcloth in one hand and beaming up at them.
“......”
“Seia will show you to your seats!”
Seia spoke with confidence and tried to guide the two guests toward a window seat.
But then she realized—the window seat was where Choi Su-yeon and Lee Chae-yeon had just eaten tteokbokki, and it still wasn't clean.
What should she do in a situation like this?
The window seat was the best spot, but it wasn't clean yet.
Seia fell into a brief dilemma.
And Choi Su-yeon's father looked down at her with cold eyes.
He didn't dislike children.
But he didn't particularly like them either.
There were simply too many things to pay attention to.
All children were the same.
Being young was the best excuse of all.
That signboard outside the restaurant was probably this child's doing.
To someone who didn't know better, the spelling errors would only cause discomfort. Even if they learned a child had written it, how many people would leave it like that?
Most would call it cute. After all, a child wrote it.
They'd let it slide.
But Choi Su-yeon's father was not that kind of person.
Why hadn't the father pointed out the wrong spelling?
This wasn't a matter of opinion—it was objectively incorrect. And if something was clearly wrong, correcting it was a parent's job. That's what he believed.
“Why aren't you showing us to our seats?”
At Choi Su-yeon's father's question, Seia answered the dilemma she'd been pondering in her head.
“The window seat is the prettiest, but it's dirty right now.”
“Why is it dirty?”
“Noona ate tteokbokkii there earlier.”
From what he heard, it seemed that seat was where his daughter had eaten.
Just as the child said, the table wasn't clean.
Tteokbokki sauce was splattered here and there, and some of the fried batter had fallen onto it too.
“So you wanted to guide us to the best seat by the window, but you hesitated because it hasn't been cleaned yet?”
“Uh… yes! That's wight!”
Seia hadn't understood every single word perfectly, but she'd picked out the important parts.
And the look in Choi Su-yeon's father's eyes as he gazed at her changed just a little.
Softened, perhaps?
The reason he didn't particularly like children wasn't just the extra attention they required. It was also because children didn't pay attention to anything around them.
They did what they wanted first, without reading the room.
And those actions usually ended up causing trouble for others.
Is this one a little different?
He couldn't be sure yet, but she felt different from an ordinary child.
The things this child paid attention to weren't about her own comfort or interest, but about giving the customers something better.
“What does it matter? Just clean it quickly.”
“Yes!”
Seia answered energetically and toddled over to the table.
Just as Jungwoo had taught her, she sprayed it thoroughly with the cleaner and wiped it clean with the dishcloth. That was it.
Since she was still too short to reach the table properly, she had no choice but to climb up on a chair.
Choi Su-yeon's father didn't take his eyes off her.
When she climbed onto the chair, she took her shoes off first. At least the basics were there.
Luckily, the mess was fresh and they'd eaten neatly, so there wasn't much to clean.
A few wipes with the dishcloth and the table was spotless again.
Even so, Seia stood with her arm on her hip for a moment, staring at the table.
Did I miss any spots? Are there any dirty parts left?
Only when she decided the table was perfectly clean did she climb down from the chair and approach Choi Su-yeon's father.
“All done!”
“...Good.”
Was she still just a child after all?
It didn't feel like a server finishing a task. It felt more like a kid who'd finished a test and was waiting for the results.
Is it because she's a child?
This itself felt new to Choi Su-yeon's father.
Up until now, words like “young” or “just a child” had only been used to gloss over problems when they arose.
He knew that not knowing something wasn't a sin, and being young basically meant not knowing.
But now, those same words—“young,” “a child”—were being used in a completely different way.
Wasn't that interesting?
Quite interesting, in fact.
“What will you have?”
“Me? You mean me, sir?”
“Who else would I mean? You can't expect me to eat alone.”
“Ah, yes. Then I will have...”
The secretary's mind worked quickly.
No matter what, I must not finish eating after the president.
Something that would come out fast and could be eaten quickly.
His eyes landed on the stir-fried pork.
It didn't take long to make, and it could be mixed with rice and finished in no time.
“I'll have the stir-fried pork, please.”
“Alright.”
Choi Su-yeon's father glanced at the menu for a moment.
There were more options than he'd expected.
Among the varied dishes, he chose the most basic one.
“Will you take our order?”
“Yes! You can tell Seia!”
This energetic and bold child even took orders.
Even though the owner was focused on cleaning up in the kitchen, he must have noticed customers had arrived long ago.
When he looked toward the kitchen behind Seia, sure enough, a young man who appeared to be the owner was looking their way.
Still wearing that gentle smile, the owner didn't call out a greeting. He simply gave a slight bow in a light, polite acknowledgment.
It meant he was leaving everything to the child.
The father who runs this place is quite an interesting man too.
He'd sensed the child wasn't ordinary. That was probably because the father wasn't ordinary either.
“Stir-fried pork, kimchi stew, and tteokbokki. Three items total.”
“Yes!”
Seia answered energetically and headed to the counter, muttering to herself.
Daeji-bokkeum, kimchi-jjigae, tteokbokki.
She repeated it over and over.
“Daddy!”
“Yes, Seia?”
“Daeji-bokki, kimchi-jjigae, and tteok-bokkeum!”
“...Yes! Well done, Seia.”
The names of the dishes were somehow subtly wrong.
Yet when you actually broke down the meaning, they weren't entirely incorrect.
Tteokbokki or tteokbokkeum—it was basically the same.
Pork stir-fry or pork stir—close enough, right?
Anyway, since he'd overheard the previous customers' orders, Jungwoo had already started preparing the food.
Still… they don't look like ordinary customers.
Just by looking, their clothes screamed luxury.
One was wearing a black suit, and the way the other treated him with such deference suggested he was a secretary.
Had they just stopped by while passing through?
He was curious, but he had no intention of prying.
Jungwoo was nothing more than the owner of an ordinary neighborhood diner.
And Choi Su-yeon's father was watching all of this.
He knows his place. That's good.
After that single glance, he didn't look their way again.
Most people would have stolen a few more curious glances.
Someone more forward might have tried to strike up a conversation to get on his good side.
But there was no sign of that yet.
Even the little child must have sensed they weren't ordinary customers.
“I'll bring you some water!”
Seeing that bright, sunny smile… maybe she hadn't noticed after all.
While waiting for the food, Choi Su-yeon's father looked around the interior of the restaurant and the view outside.
It was an ordinary diner, but the cleanliness seemed very thorough.
There wasn't a speck of dust even in the corners.
The kitchen was the same.
The fact that the kitchen was fully visible from outside meant they were confident in it.
Confident enough to want to show it off, even.
He turned his gaze to the window.
“A cat?”
The first thing that caught his eye was a cat staring back at him.
A cheese-colored cat with lazy eyes and an arrogant gaze stared at Choi Su-yeon's father for a moment before abruptly turning away.
Come to think of it, his daughter had said a long time ago that she wanted to raise a cat.
The scenery outside was nothing special either.
It was the time when the sunset had faded and darkness was settling in.
It happened to be right before the streetlights came on, so everything felt especially dark.
It wasn't as good as looking out the large living room window at home.
All he could see were massive buildings and a single road stretching straight ahead.
What was so great about this place that his daughter would lie to her father to come here?
He couldn't understand it, but he wouldn't stop there.
At the very least, he would make an effort to understand.
That was part of Choi Su-yeon's father's values.
Before long, familiar smells began to fill the restaurant, and the dishes that created them appeared.
Kimchi stew in a stone pot, stir-fried pork on a plate, and tteokbokki.
They were familiar dishes, but their presentation was quite different from what top chefs would serve.
“Enjoy your meal.”
“Enjoy your meal!”
With greetings from the restaurant's big and small owners, the two guests each took their first bite of their ordered dishes.
It was a familiar taste.
Surprisingly, compared to what was made at home, the difference wasn't as big as he'd expected.
In fact, that very fact made it somewhat special.
The sincerity put into it?
The thoughtfulness toward the customers?
Choi Su-yeon's father considered those things basic.
There was only one thing that felt special.
The fact that this small, ordinary restaurant produced a flavor so remarkably similar.
The dishes served in expensive restaurants were made with only the highest quality, most expensive ingredients carefully selected.
For the taste to be so similar meant this restaurant had also used the best and most optimal ingredients available to them.
To Choi Su-yeon's father, that was sincerity. That was heart.
The food itself seemed quite edible too.
“How is it?”
“It's… delicious. Surprisingly so.”
“Not bad.”
Above all, he liked how clean it was and that they used good ingredients.
“Is it tasty?”
At that moment, Seia, who had been sitting nearby, cautiously spoke up.
Perhaps because they felt slightly different from ordinary customers, she was approaching them very carefully.
The secretary looked at Seia with warm, pleased eyes, but Choi Su-yeon's father didn't show any particular expression.
He thought it was the usual question restaurant owners asked—how is the taste, do you need anything else?
“...It's fine.”
“Hehe. Everything Daddy makes is tasty.”
“Is that not just because you're his daughter?”
At the question, Seia's eyes widened into perfect circles as she answered.
“Would that be bad?”
The hand lifting the spoon paused for a moment.
Would that be bad…
Why?
Suddenly, the image of Su-yeon—his own daughter—came to mind.