On a weekend afternoon, I found myself at a Chinese restaurant for the first time in a while.
I wasn’t alone; there was someone vigorously slurping up jjajangmyeon right in front of me.
“Eat slowly… or you’ll get a stomachache.”
The loud sound of noodles being slurped echoed. Had they not eaten for days? They were really enjoying their meal.
Despite the speed at which the food was disappearing, it didn’t feel gluttonous or excessive, perhaps due to the youthful freshness that was unique to their age.
“@$#% – Go ahead and eat.”
“Uh, I’ll eat slowly. You eat a lot.”
It seemed like they wanted me to eat too, but just watching them made me feel full. Even though I hadn’t had a separate meal, I was simply sitting there observing and not eating more than a few chopsticks of food.
This kid has a good appetite; it looked like they’d already eaten half of what had just been ordered.
As the jjajangmyeon in front of me was cooling down, I asked,
“Should I order some sweet and sour pork too?”
“#%@$ – Yes!”
They nodded vigorously, their mouth full of jjajangmyeon.
The sparkle in their eyes as they looked at me was like I was a life-saving benefactor for something as simple as jjajangmyeon and sweet and sour pork.
It felt like an exaggerated expression of gratitude for what was merely a 30,000 won meal, but at the same time, I understood why they felt that way. After all, it had been a lifelong regret for me during my student days not being able to eat what I wanted.
Maybe that’s why, when I started working as a newbie in society, I spent my entire first salary on things I wanted to eat. Only after indulging in good food was I able to think about saving money.
Seeing the reflection of my past self in Hee-eun, I inadvertently opened my wallet.
Hee-eun’s mouth was smeared with jjajang sauce.
She wasn’t a child exactly… wait, thinking it through, she is a child. Even if she’s a high school student, she’s still a kid. These days, while kids might grow up quickly, their minds and souls were still too immature to be called adults.
“Hee-eun.”
“Yes?”
I called out to the girl who had her head buried in her plate and gently wiped her mouth with a tissue, causing her face to blush slightly.
It was my mistake. Did I not consider enough for a girl in her prime? Perhaps she felt a bit embarrassed. Maybe I should have worded it differently, suggesting she wipe it herself.
As if to confirm that, Hee-eun was avoiding my gaze while intently picking at the sweet and sour pork.
I watched with satisfaction as the sweet and sour pork also disappeared quickly and reminisced about how I ended up at a Chinese restaurant I rarely visited on a weekend afternoon.
Of course, it was also significant that I was here with a high school girl I had never seen before.
The word “diligent” was somewhat distant from my reality.
Even now, I remain unplanned, sometimes impulsive, often postponing what I should do until I feel like doing it.
If the time I feel like doing something is early, then that means I have leisure time; but when I am forced to do something I don’t want to, I end up being pressed for time.
Even after working, that chronic tendency didn’t change much. At least society forced me to hold onto my time a bit, making me somewhat more regular.
During weekdays, I would manage to get myself up, albeit reluctantly. Such is the kind of forced routine.
I had to get up to eat and survive, so I couldn’t avoid it.
After repeating this for several years, I eventually became the kind of person who wakes up in the morning, whether it’s a weekend or a weekday.
Yes, this is the terrifying power of habit. The reason routine is important—the strength of a regular life.
Of course, once I became this body, and became a broadcaster, I relished a free life discarding that kind of regularity.
These days, though, I’ve been working hard to create my own sense of regularity again.
As part of that effort, I’m currently out in a park near my house. What am I doing on a weekend morning at the park? Jogging.
Jogging—light running. Even though I’m walking right now, since I alternate between running and walking, this can still be considered jogging, right?
The reason for suddenly jogging is that I read a self-improvement book recently. After reading such books, I inevitably find myself feeling like I need to live diligently.
Therefore, I’m engaging in this unlikely act of jogging right from the morning of my weekend.
Well, for me, weekdays and weekends aren’t much different. In that respect, I’m blessed compared to others. After a busy day of work during weekdays, I get to come out and jog on the weekends… just imagining it seems strenuous.
Books are nourishment for the mind, and reading is one of the excellent hobbies I strive to enjoy. I aim to read at least one book during the week, which also contributes to creating that sense of regularity.
Thus, forming the habit of reading books, and by reading self-improvement books, jogging again becomes a positive cycle.
In just one day to discover how to live healthily… I might be a genius…?
“Ha… ha…”
However, even a genius would be breathless after running.
I felt dissatisfied that I was already out of breath after only a short distance, but remembering my past when I couldn’t even run at all, I realized I had improved significantly.
I was grateful to my trainer, Mollu, for shaping me up. They said I would just turn into a human, and indeed, that realization came true. Thank you, teacher…
As I breathed through my mouth due to my exertion, my mouth became dry. Typically, drinking water or soda while running causes stomach pain, but right now I didn’t care. I had already completed my set route.
There was still about a 20-minute walk back home. I might as well stop by the convenience store nearby to grab something to drink.
I’ll walk while sipping on something. My sweat gradually cooled, creating a subtle stickiness across my body, giving me a mild discomfort.
However, aside from that, there was a refreshing feeling, which made me feel quite good.
In the morning, I had furrowed my brows, wondering why I set my alarm for this time… was it madness?… but now I felt totally different after dressing and coming out to the park.
It wasn’t far to the convenience store. About a 5-minute walk? But there was an even quicker way to shorten that.
By taking a back alley. The only downside was that the back alley was narrow and secluded, and therefore not heavily trafficked, though it wasn’t nighttime now.
Nothing would happen in broad daylight…
Except, something did happen. Rather than anything in particular, a person was there.
“Huh…”
There was a girl. A girl who let out a small sigh and was holding a cigarette, which is sometimes referred to as “cloud snacks,” as she sat crouched down, puffing out clouds of smoke.
For whatever reason, she was in her school uniform even on a weekend, and it was stained, possibly from dust or some time without washing.
Um, should I turn back now? I could always go back even if it took a bit longer. As the saying goes, all roads lead to Seoul.
I knew well how terrifying kids could be these days.
Images of students’ violent acts have frequently been shown on the news, and not so long ago, I had also encountered a terrifying school bully named Hayun, although she was a character from a game.
The girl before me seemed to be a bully, just like Hayun. Otherwise, there’d be no reason for her to be in such attire at such a secluded spot smoking a cigarette.
Yes, I should go back. I was about to turn around, thinking it was better than getting into an unnecessary confrontation and ending up in a tough situation.
Our eyes met. The girl, who had been blankly holding a cigarette, seemed to recognize me, and her eyes widened before she dropped the cigarette.
“Wow… so pretty…”
A voice murmured loud enough for anyone to hear. Although I had grown accustomed to compliments about appearances, in this situation, I wondered how to respond.
A rumble echoed—anyone would recognize that sound as a hungry stomach.
Blushing, the girl said to me,
“What, what are you looking at? Are you here to gawk?”
What did I feel seeing that?
A worn-out school uniform on a weekend. A cigarette being smoked in a corner. Hunger. An instinctive defense like a hedgehog towards others.
This girl might be…
I found myself speaking without thinking. It could be considered a subconscious impulse.
“Aren’t you hungry? Get up, let’s go eat.”
That was the backdrop of the situation. Reflecting on it now, it seems absurd.
Both me, who suddenly suggested we go eat, and Hee-eun, who followed upon hearing that I would treat her.
What if I were a strange person? When I asked with that in mind, I received an even more absurd response.
“Um, but you’re pretty, older sister.”
So being pretty makes it okay to follow someone? When I asked for the reason, she just kept repeating that I was pretty, almost like a mantra.
What kind of bizarre logic was that? Listening further, I realized she had come to the conclusion that someone who was pretty and bought her food couldn’t be a bad person.
These days, it’s said that cults attract people with pretty and handsome individuals; I couldn’t help but wonder if girls like Hee-eun were easily swayed.
I learned Hee-eun’s name and that she was, as I had suspected, an orphan when we entered the restaurant. Just buying her a bowl of jjajangmyeon made her relax her guard and start chatting away.
“Don’t do that next time, okay?”
“I don’t just do that with anyone…”
I firmly cautioned Hee-eun, who was devouring the sweet and sour pork. It wasn’t something I should say since I had invited her for a meal, but who knows? After all, Hee-eun was quite cute, so I felt the need to protect her.
While I absentmindedly picked at my already soggy jjajangmyeon, I engaged in conversation with Hee-eun while waiting for someone.
Someone I had asked to come here. Not that they were arriving first; rather, I had called them.
Why wouldn’t I? My younger sister Ji-yeon. Seeing Hee-eun in her school uniform reminded me of Ji-yeon.
Ji-yeon didn’t dislike jjajangmyeon either, so I thought it would be nice to treat her as well. If she didn’t want it, I could always buy her something else.
“Sis, you have a younger sibling?”
“Yeah. A year younger than you.”
“That’s so enviable… I wish I had a sister like you…”
A longing for family. It was a sentiment I, as an orphan, could fully understand.
It wasn’t a stranger’s matter, so I gently patted her head.
At that moment, the door to the Chinese restaurant opened, and Ji-yeon came in.
Ji-yeon, scanning the room for me, seemed to fixate her gaze on me as if a nail had been driven in.
I waved my hand, having removed my hand from Hee-eun’s head, signaling that I was over here, and Ji-yeon walked over.
“Hey, you’re here? How’s the Chinese restaurant? What do you want to eat?”
“No, wait… who is that?”
Ji-yeon’s expression as she said that held a strange chill.
It caused Hee-eun, who had been chewing on the sweet and sour pork, to pause in surprise.
