The Taste of Luxury
I'd been looking forward to tonight's dinner more than I cared to admit.
From the moment I'd seen Cha Seeun off to work that morning, the evening had been the only thing on my mind.
And when she told me she'd made a reservation and to simply follow her, that anticipation hit its absolute peak.
"Still, this is a bit…"
"What, you don't like it?"
I'd sensed something was off from the moment we stepped through the entrance. But nothing could have prepared me for the dishes that began arriving, one after another, in that hushed interior.
Seasonal sashimi gleaming with the clarity of cut jewels. Thinly sliced tuna belly crowned with gold leaf. Tuna blooming across the plate like red coral. And beyond those, meticulously prepared seafood of every kind, each piece asserting its presence from porcelain tableware.
"Isn't this… a little much for just the two of us?"
"You stayed home and behaved today."
I shoved the memory of breaking a cup while trying to copy her that morning deep into the recesses of my chest. She picked up a piece of sashimi so white it looked frosted and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't tell me you don't like seafood either."
"No. It's not that."
Whether seafood I'd never tasted would suit my palate wasn't the point. The real question was whether someone like me had any business touching a spread this extravagant.
"Seeun… do you normally eat like this? As a kind of gift to yourself after a hard day, or something?"
"You give gifts to yourself?"
She murmured it with zero interest, as if the idea were mildly curious, then reached her chopsticks toward the next plate. I followed her lead and picked up a piece of sashimi. Even holding it, my body hesitated at the thought of swallowing something this expensive.
"I keep wondering if I'm even allowed to eat this."
"Why?"
"We're only here because of you."
She'd made the reservation, driven over to pick up the freeloader lounging at home, and would handle the bill herself. Every last part of it was on her.
"You're out there working hard for the money, and I'm just sponging off—"
"You're right. This place is pretty expensive."
Cha Seeun cut me off in that dry, flat voice of hers. It was the first time she'd ever agreed with something I'd said.
"So what, now that we're here, am I supposed to sit around fretting over how uncomfortable you feel about it?"
"That's cold…!"
I wasn't actually hurt. When you're the one being treated, the only real etiquette is to keep your mouth shut and put on a properly satisfied reaction. My goal had just been to make it clear I didn't take her kindness for granted. That much was enough.
I popped a piece of sashimi into my mouth and let out a genuine sound of wonder.
"Wow…"
I could feel it. The philosophy of this restaurant. The intention behind the chef's choice of plate, the way he'd laid each thin slice of fish. This wasn't ordinary cooking. It had nothing to do with the people who wanted more flavor, more volume. This banquet had been prepared for an entirely different class of customer.
This was the taste of luxury.
Cost was irrelevant. The food existed solely for patrons who would buy it no matter what price was named.
Cha Seeun moved through the courses with the ease of someone long accustomed to places like this, rearranging the order as she pleased and sampling everything. I tried to keep up, then suddenly came to my senses and opened my mouth.
"Seeun. You know, we're basically in a common-law marriage."
Her chopsticks changed course mid-air and sniped the tuna belly I'd been eyeing with the precision of a hawk.
"Do me a favor and keep the insane talk to a minimum."
"What? We're not?"
I went for the large shrimp beside it with a look of genuine innocence. That, too, was shipwrecked by chopsticks that moved like a master's blade.
"Honestly. Your table manners are a disaster."
"Look who's talking about word choice. Why are you spouting nonsense about common-law marriage?"
"Well, what else do you call a man and a woman living under the same roof?"
"Keeping."
I frowned theatrically at those two blunt syllables.
"Are you going to eat me, then?"
Clack.
Cha Seeun set her chopsticks down with a sharp little sound. As she rinsed her palate with tea, I seized the opening and got to the point.
"It's not that. I have a suggestion."
"Drop it in the suggestion box. I'll read it and review it."
"You have one of those?"
How big would a house have to be—more to the point, Cha Seeun was not the type to install a suggestion box.
"I don't. That's the point. Whatever suggestion you've got, I have no intention of accepting it."
"Come on. I just want to live a little more like a modern person."
She didn't answer. Instead she lifted a napkin and dabbed her lips with the delicacy of someone handling a precious object. I watched without meaning to, then pressed on.
"I think I need an ID and a phone."
"Out of nowhere?"
"It's weirder that I haven't had them this whole time."
Those few hours apart from her today had been enough to show me just how powerless I was. Nowhere to go if I left the house. No way to contact anyone. Somewhere along the line, every single one of my survival strategies had come to depend on Cha Seeun—but I wasn't about to explain that kindly.
"I don't know. I'm just… bored, I guess."
I tossed out the excuse. Cha Seeun didn't so much as twitch before she spoke.
"Come to work with me tomorrow."
I thought I'd misheard, and in that instant lost the tuna belly I'd finally been aiming for. The glistening, fatty flesh sprang elastically back onto the plate.
"Work? Me?"
"We're going together in the morning, so be ready."
"And what am I supposed to do once I'm there?"
"Sit quietly."
What was I, a pet?
More importantly—was bringing the person you lived with to the office even allowed? Laughing and chatting, giving a tour of the workplace, checking out nearby restaurants?
"…"
Even I, who couldn't remember whether I'd ever held a job, knew that wasn't how it worked. And if it was Cha Seeun's workplace, all I could picture was emotionless efficiency—a cold, results-only ruthlessness.
I fretted over it while working my chopsticks to the last, unwilling to waste what remained on the table. Cha Seeun watched me over sips of tea, then rose from her seat.
"Let's go."
The bill had already been settled, apparently. She walked toward the exit as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Outside, the street greeted us with lights burning brighter than ever, as if mourning the vanished sun. I deliberately slowed my steps.
"Seeun. How about we walk a little?"
"You can walk. I'm driving."
Of course. Her skill at drawing lines was every bit a match for the chef's knife work.
"Don't be like that."
How could one person have so little sense of atmosphere—or of other people? She almost certainly knew what I wanted and would ignore it anyway. Still, I scurried up beside her.
"Just thirty minutes. We'll play a little and then go home."
"No."
"I figured you'd say that, so I started high. Fifteen."
"No."
"I'll be generous. Five minutes. Please?"
Cha Seeun let out a long sigh.
"…Five minutes."
The moment permission dropped, I strode ahead. Destination: the entertainment district beyond.
A five-minute limit didn't mean she'd humor me for five full minutes. It meant that if I failed to hold her interest in that window, she would end tonight's outing without mercy.
Time was short and there was too much to see. I scanned the street at speed and stopped.
"Do you like plushies?"
Inside the machine, stuffed animals pressed against the glass like prisoners screaming to be freed—a cage without bars. Electronic noise drowned out their cries. The whole thing looked like some inhumane zoo.
I held out both hands politely.
"Just give me the money and I'll win you a cute one as a present."
"Winning one's fine. I'll pay if the condition is you don't give it to me."
"Then I'd be taking a loss, so no deal."
We walked on through streets strung with color after color. I couldn't tell whether the scenery felt strange because it was my first time, or because some buried memory of walking here was trying to surface. One thing I was sure of: I'd never walked these streets with Cha Seeun before.
"Let's just go back."
There was no way I could ignore how uncomfortable the noise and chaos made her.
"Nothing much to look at anyway. Not particularly fun."
"Already?"
I turned around, trying to shake off the lingering attachment, steps lighter than before. The timing was off—the traffic light had just flipped to red and begun to flash.
I was paying more attention to Cha Seeun's mood than to the cars streaking past when a sudden acrid, bitter wind brushed my nose. I stepped aside. The smoke followed, as if aimed deliberately at us.
I turned my head. A man of no small age was openly looking Cha Seeun up and down—flushed face, sticky gaze he made no effort to hide. An uninvited guest, determined to smear the memory of a good night with his own ugliness.
"…"
Cha Seeun's raised brows drew together in a frown. If that expression had been meant for me, my heart would have pounded. The fact that someone else had put it on her face was, somehow, deeply unpleasant.
I walked toward him.
"…What?"
The man still staring at Cha Seeun reeked of alcohol. Before he could react, I plucked the cigarette from the corner of his slack mouth.
Hiss.
I crushed the ember out between my fingers. The light vanished with a sound like something burning.
"Huh?"
I shoved the dead cigarette straight into his pocket.
"What the—you crazy bastard?"
"Is there a problem?"
I answered calmly as he glared. A man who stood on a public street ogling someone else's woman while blowing smoke—would he ever accept being told he was in the wrong?
His mouth worked open and shut, dazed. Then he kicked at the innocent pavement and spat a stream of curses.
"What kind of fucking lunatic—putting on a show because there's a girl watching…"
In the end he just brushed the ash from his pocket, courtesy of the butt I'd jammed in there, and left.
"Crazy fucking bastard…"
I looked away from the retreating pest and flicked my fingers clean. Cha Seeun watched me steadily, then spoke.
"You. Have you lost your mind?"