Boiling Point Chapter 1

Rain poured down. It was a fierce downpour, hammering onto the asphalt like rods. The rain that day was somewhat special. Sudden climate changes bring unexpected whims. For her, that day was one of those days.  

 

The damp scent of summer seeped in through the gap between the closed glass doors. At the same time, the movements of people beyond the floor-to-ceiling window grew more hurried. Over time, the relentless trampling had worn down the asphalt, forming irregular puddles that soaked their pant legs.  

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It was a refreshing sound, as if washing away the stagnant emotions of weariness. Watching the rain fall blankly, she stepped out from behind the counter, retrieved an umbrella from the storage area behind the display shelves, and hooked it onto the iron rack.  

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The convenience store where she worked was somewhat different from others. When the redevelopment was confirmed and disputes over compensation made the neighborhood noisy, commercial buildings and franchise convenience stores sprang up like mushrooms after rain. This place was the only one among them that remained privately owned—an old, run-down convenience store.  

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The faded yellow sign, its lettering barely visible, fluttered precariously, as if it would fall off at the slightest gust of wind. On days when strong wind warnings were issued, an uneasy rattling sound persisted throughout the day, and on such days, she would cautiously peek out, double-check the sign, and only then step inside.  

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The display shelves, haphazardly arranged with mismatched sizes, beverage boxes so faded that their arrival date was uncertain, miscellaneous items left in disarray underneath—it was hard to tell where to even begin organizing. Dust had piled up on canned goods and instant meals.  

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The store’s regular customers were mostly elderly men and laborers steeped in alcohol and cigarettes. Occasionally, underage kids sneaked in for delinquent behavior. Every day was a battle with unruly customers and old-fashioned men.  

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And yet, she had been holding onto this job for nearly a year because she had nowhere else to go. Struggling just to maintain her life in a tiny boarding room, any kind of progress felt out of reach.  

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If there was any upside, it was that on payday, she could walk away with bags full of ramen, canned food, and soon-to-expire instant meals. Most importantly, the number of customers was low, making it quieter compared to other nearby convenience stores.  

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Buzz, buzz.  

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Her phone vibrated. She glanced indifferently at the three letters displayed on the screen before shifting her gaze out the window.  

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Dull sounds echoed from the rotting wooden terrace floor. Rather than letting up, the rain pounded down even harder. Droplets trickled down the glass door, blurring the scenery.  

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Ah… I forgot to bring in the laundry.

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Her lamenting voice echoed in the empty space. Should she call the girl in the next room? No, it was probably already soaked. Oh, right, she had plans today. Then that wouldn’t work. She pulled up her hoodie and sniffed it. A little musty, but it would still be wearable tomorrow.  

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With her dilemma solved in an instant, she sat back down, looking at the deserted road with relief.  

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> “The rain is crazy.”

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> “Yeah.”

> “What are you doing?”  

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> “Training. Seon-ah, I’m busy. Let’s talk later.”

 

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When is this ‘Later’?  

 

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She hesitated, debating whether to reply. Then, out of misplaced pride, she set her phone down.  

 

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It was a conversation so dry that it was hard to believe they were a couple. A relationship of one and a half years—long enough not to be considered short, yet Han Seon-ah barely knew him. Once a week, at a time he chose, she could see him. Even that had become rare lately, as their schedules no longer aligned.  

 

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How long had it been since she last saw him? Exactly eighteen days. Since hearing his voice? About ten.  

 

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> Seon-ah, I love you.  

 

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The man who once spoke of love to a woman starving for it had, at some point, begun pushing her away.  

 

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And so, Han Seon-ah had been pushed out.  

 

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Of course, she hadn’t been passively cast aside from the start. She had swallowed her pride, clung to him desperately in hopes of salvaging their relationship, blamed herself, begged for forgiveness, even resented him. She had struggled to pick up the shattered pieces of their relationship, only to cut herself on the shards.  

 

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But in the end, all her efforts had been futile. Pushed and pulled at his will, she had become a plaything of his whims. Maybe, deep down, both of them were waiting for the other to end it, to cut the ties.  

 

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She shoved her phone to the edge of the counter.  

 

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What she had thought would be just a passing shower showed no signs of stopping. A mist had begun to rise. The rain, cooling the heavy summer heat, carried the scent of damp earth.  

 

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Through the quiet streets, a hazy figure emerged. Seon-ah squinted, trying to make out the silhouette walking through the downpour.  

 

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It was a man.  

 

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His towering frame and broad build left no room for doubt, even from a distance. Gradually, his silhouette grew clearer.  

 

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No way.  

 

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Seon-ah’s brows furrowed in displeasure.  

 

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The man’s destination was obvious. His black suit, absorbing the transparent rain, looked almost like mourning attire. His outfit, stifling for the peak of summer, made one forget the heat entirely. His strides were long and unhurried, exuding ease.  

 

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In this chaotic downpour, a man approaching without even carrying an umbrella was anything but normal. And yet, there was something about him—an aura that made it seem less like recklessness and more like calculated intent.  

 

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Don’t come. Don’t come.  

 

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Her trouble-sensing instincts flared up. Damn it, if he walks in drenched like that, the whole floor will be a mess. She fixed her gaze and silently pleaded. But to her dismay, the man stopped in front of the convenience store.  

 

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Seriously, can’t I have a single quiet day—  

 

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Then, Seon-ah inhaled sharply.  

 

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The sheer presence of the man, filling up the entire window, was intimidating. His hair, slicked down with rain, partially hid his eyes, but what little was visible sent a chill down her spine. He looked like a predator surveying its prey. Through the countless droplets clinging to the glass, she thought she saw his gaze lock onto hers.  

 

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A cold sensation, sharp enough to cut through the summer heat, crawled over her skin. She swallowed involuntarily.  

 

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She had never seen him before.  

 

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He was an outsider.  

 

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Even recalling all the time she had spent here, observing the regulars of this convenience store, she was certain he was a complete stranger.  

 

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Come to think of it, ever since the redevelopment project had been announced, large-built men and well-dressed outsiders had occasionally come and gone. He was probably one of them.  

 

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Might as well get the mop ready.  

 

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Just as she made up her mind, the man unexpectedly took a seat on the terrace.  

 

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The rain was still pouring down in torrents. He sat down on the aged wooden chair.  

 

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The moment he did, the chair let out an eerie creak, struggling under his weight. The sound alone was enough to make anyone wince.  

 

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Yet, beyond the glass, the man remained utterly composed.  

 

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Years ago, the terrace canopy had been removed, making it a terrible place to avoid the rain. Completely exposed, the man sat with his back to the convenience store, gazing at the quiet neighborhood.  

 

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What the hell is wrong with him?  

 

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That was the extent of her thoughts on the matter.  

 

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The man sat there for a long time. Even as she filled the hot cabinet with drinks, he remained in place without so much as a movement.  

 

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Her gaze kept drifting toward him. She didn’t know why, but he caught her attention. The reason wasn’t hard to deduce.  

 

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He’s handsome. Another line was added to her impression.  

 

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The man’s features stood out now that he was sitting so close. When she glanced to the side, his sharply contoured profile captured her gaze.  

 

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His high, sharp nose bridge and strong jawline gave off a thick, rough, and unpolished aura. And yet, he was meticulously put together, like a finely honed blade. He was also composed.  

 

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It was an atmosphere she couldn’t quite put into words. Like a drifting mist in the heart of the city, he exuded an uncanny aura, as if he were detached from the world.  

 

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He’ll catch a cold like that. Ah, Han Seon-ah. There you go again, meddling. I can barely take care of myself, so why am I worrying about someone else?  

 

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Contrary to her thoughts, she picked up one of the cheap canned coffees she had just finished stacking and slipped it into her hoodie pocket. The weight of the heavy can dragged down the front pocket. Then, she grabbed a cheap yellow polka-dotted plastic umbrella from the metal rack.  

 

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It was the kind of rain that stirred up impulsive kindness. She had plenty of time before her shift ended, plenty of umbrellas, and, apparently, plenty of generosity.  

 

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More than anything, he was a distraction—a disruption to business. A part of her also found it irritating how he had made himself so comfortable, as if this were his own home.  

 

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I should hurry up and kick him out so I can sit down and watch the summary video of the drama I didn’t finish yesterday.  

 

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The heavy raindrops pounded violently against the thin plastic sheet. The sound was foreboding.  

 

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She turned her back to the convenience store and stole a glance at the man, who was staring at the far end of the bright street. At the very end of a winding alley, beyond a shabby staircase, lay a cluster of filthy shanties. His gaze was fixed there, unwavering and relentless.  

 

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“Excuse me.”  

 

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It was Seon-ah who broke the silence. At the sound of her voice, the man slowly turned his head.  

 

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Despite looking like a drenched rat, his impression was surprisingly unassuming. However, the moment she met his indifferent gaze, Seon-ah changed her mind.  

 

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Two seconds.  

 

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In just that fleeting moment of eye contact, her judgment flipped.  

 

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The first thing she noticed when she fully took in his face was the scar at the corner of his mouth. A jagged mark ran sharply from the right side of his lips, slashing across his cheek—far from an ordinary injury.  

 

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His well-defined eyes, sharply arched brows, and languid pupils formed a strange harmony.  

 

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Seon-ah’s gaze drifted downward.  

 

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She examined him more closely.  

 

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Even though he was wrapped tightly in a stifling suit, there was no hiding the sturdy build beneath the clinging, rain-soaked fabric.  

 

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He’s got a good body.  

 

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Even under her bluntly appraising gaze, the man showed no sign of displeasure—only indifference.  

 

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“…….”  

 

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He who had stolen her attention was now staring at her in return, waiting for her to speak.  

 

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“You’ll catch a cold if you stay in the rain.”  

 

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Seon-ah said the obvious as she pulled out the umbrella and can of coffee from her pocket.  

 

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In her haste to retrieve the coffee, she fumbled, and for a brief moment, she thought she heard a faint chuckle.  

 

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“Here.”  

 

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The man blinked at the can of coffee and umbrella extended toward him.  

 

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Somewhere along the way, the boredom had disappeared from his gaze, replaced by curiosity. It was an expression that didn’t quite suit his otherwise rugged features.  

 

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“…….”  

 

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“…….”  

 

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The silence stretched, an awkwardly long moment of scrutiny.  

 

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As if he had reached a decision, his long arm stretched out slowly toward the can of coffee.  

 

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His fingers hovered, hesitating just near the can, before finally brushing against Seon-ah’s fingertips.  

 

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His touch was cold.  

 

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His slender fingers, chilled and pale, trembled slightly.  

 

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She had exchanged money, cards, cigarettes, and countless other items with people before, but never had she seen hands this large.  

 

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If she exaggerated just a bit, they seemed like the hands of a giant, straight out of a fairy tale.  

 

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Yet, for all their size, they were unexpectedly refined. His long fingers, as fluid and well-proportioned as his towering frame, were even smooth to the touch.  

 

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Seon-ah’s reflection filled the rain-drenched pupils of the man before her.  

 

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As time passed, an unsettling glint flickered in his once-blank eyes.  

 

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He looked dangerous.  

 

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Instinctively, her body tensed.  

 

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His gaze lingered on the fingertips where their hands had touched. Without realizing it, she took a step back.  

 

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“I have to return anything I receive.”  

 

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The man was the one to end the silent assessment.  

 

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His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.  

 

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He was smiling now.  

 

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If not for the hint of intrigue in his deeply etched eyes, the smile—crooked at only one corner—would have been eerie.  

 

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It was a feigned look of goodwill, but unfortunately, it failed to reach Seon-ah.  

 

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“You don’t have to give it back.”  

 

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She drew a line, seeing through his obvious game.  

 

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“But I’m giving you a chance.”  

 

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He replied smoothly. A trail of rain trickled down his angular cheek.  

 

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“So just take it.”  

 

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“…….”  

 

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She firmly pressed the can of coffee into his hand.  

 

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The man silently stared at the coffee can now fully enclosed in his grasp.  

 

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A droplet of water clung to his sharp jawline before dropping onto the aluminum surface with a soft plop.  

 

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“You’re making your life complicated in the strangest way.”  

 

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“It just means you should take it and leave.”  

 

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Stop interfering with business.  

 

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“Do you live around here?”  

 

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He asked as he accepted the coffee.  

 

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Since when did he feel entitled to speak so casually? Why were troublemakers always so predictable?  

 

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“Pardon? Oh, yes.”  

 

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But Han Seon-ah could not escape her deeply ingrained work ethic.  

 

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Her instinctive, polite response was a conditioned reaction honed from experience.  

 

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“Must be shitty.”  

 

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“…….”  

 

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His crude remark shut her mouth tight.