OTC Chapter 5

“One iced Americano and a butter scone, right?”

She knew her regular customer’s order without having to ask.

“Yes, but it looks like someone’s moving into the basement today?”

At the question from her longtime regular, Mihee, Eunkyo smiled brightly as she took her card.

“There’s a storage room in the basement, and they’re renovating it into a studio.”

“A studio? Is it someone who does music or something?”

“Not music, art. Here’s your card.”

“Ah, art!”

“I’ll bring your coffee to your table.”

“Thank you.”

Handing back the card, Eunkyo scratched her itchy lip with her teeth and took out a scone, placing it in the mini oven. As punishment for giving in to her curiosity the previous night, when she leaned out the window, she’d been bitten by a mosquito.

The warming scone filled the air with the rich scent of butter.

All the baked goods at the cafe were made by Kim Haeda. Not only that, he roasted the coffee beans himself and even designated a brunch day once a month to serve customers.

Anyone would think he was a professional manager or a young, successful small business owner, but Kim Haeda was famous in college for being known as the Yoon Dongju¹ of the Korean Literature Department.

He probably would have succeeded in anything he chose to do. Even though he seemed to live life effortlessly, she knew how hardworking Haeda actually was.

That’s why she didn’t hesitate to take his hand when he offered it.

Ding.

The scone was warmed, accompanied by a light chime. After delivering the coffee and scone to the customer on a tray, Eunkyo stepped outside into the bustling, chaotic scene.

Under the scorching sun, four movers were busy carrying belongings, sweating profusely.

The move had started around 9 a.m. Despite that, the moving truck was still filled with a fairly large workbench, bags of clay, and large boxes.

He was a sculpture major, so even Lee Jaeheon’s moving belongings weren’t ordinary.

‘But, did he really throw everything away…?’

Scratching her itchy lip, she looked around for the things that had been in the storage room, then changed her mind.

He must have taken care of it properly.

Besides, she didn’t want to question someone who had done her a favor by taking care of the bothersome task.

Tucking her hands into her apron pockets, she made small indentations on her swollen lip with her fingernails and went back inside the cafe.

“What happened to your lip?”

Kim Haeda, who had just came out from the baking room carrying a plate of sliced cake, frowned. Busy since early morning, he’d somehow managed to procure some late-season strawberries and bake a cake.

“I got bitten by a mosquito. Where did you get the strawberries? Are there any left? Can I have some?”

He pushed Eunkyo’s forehead away as she approached excitedly, and carefully placed the cake, cut into six pieces, into the display case.

“There are some in a colander in the back. Eat those.”

“What about the cake?”

“Eat the leftover strawberries.”

“Stingy.”

Glancing at him, she went into the baking room and took out her phone. In the short time she had been away, a delivery notification and an email from a publishing house had arrived.

Picking up the fresh strawberries from the silver colander on the sink, she casually opened her email.

Her jaw moved slowly as she read the email that began with “To Author Jung Eunkyo.” Sweet and sour juice dripped between her fingers.

The publishing house had emailed her with a response to the manuscript she had sent several months ago.

But Eunkyo closed the email without finishing it.

Her stomach burned as if gastritis was acting up, and her chest felt tight. Chewing on the strawberries with an indifferent expression, she leaned against the nearest wall.

Despite the added words of concern, it was ultimately a rejection email. Had they delayed their response all this time just to reject her?

Honestly, she had given up on it being published. She’d known from the moment she didn’t receive an immediate reply that the manuscript would be rejected.

If they were going to do this, they shouldn’t have contacted her at all. 

When they rejected her so gently, even mentioning her past, made it impossible for her to even put up a childish fight.

All she could do was accept it.

Throwing the strawberry tops in the trash, she washed her hands in the sink and tidied up the scattered items.

Well, it’s not like I was truly immersed in that story anyway. 

She’d had a few lucky breaks with some well-selling works, but she’d never thought of them as a result of her own skill. Yet, she felt breathless and her stomach churned. A sense of self-deprecating shame washed over her, as if she were denying her own efforts.

‘We miss your past works, with their unique synopsis, distinctive subject matter, and daring plots from the past.’

The past…

As Eunkyo stared at the wet sink, her lips pressed tightly together from the suffocating feeling in her throat, a fleeting memory, like an afterimage, flashed through her mind.

“That notebook….”

By the time lunch was over, she had a hectic afternoon dealing with the influx of customers. Seeing the moving truck leaving made Eunkyo’s heart race.

“I’m going out for a bit.”

The orders were all out, and all that was left was the dishes.

“Where are you going? What about food?”

“It’ll just be a minute. I have something to ask… down in the basement.”

At the mention of the basement, Kim Haeda, who was organizing receipts, looked up. A faint irritation clouded his face, which had been wearing a constant smile in front of the customers.

Eunkyo instinctively shrank back and changed the subject.

“I’ll do the dishes. So just leave it. I’ll be right back.”

“Forget it, grab some lunch while you’re out.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat anyway. And don’t be eyeing the cakes for sale.”

Nodding, Eunkyo took off her apron, folded it neatly, and left the cafe. The entrance, which had been piled high with moving boxes in the morning, was now spotlessly clean.

Before heading down to the basement, she glanced at the recycling area behind the building.

If he had put out the discarded items, they would be there. All she needed to do was retrieve her idea notebook from the discarded metal drawer, but the discarded items were nowhere to be seen.

Then she had no choice but to ask him directly.

Pressing her swollen, itchy lip with her fingernail, she hurried down the stairs. A faint light pushed back the darkness, and the familiar sounds of City Pop² drifted from the open door of the studio.

The thought of the man being inside made saliva pool under her tongue for no reason. She swallowed nervously and cautiously knocked on the open door lightly.

“Excuse me, hello. I came to ask you something.”

As she spoke and stepped inside, the first thing that caught her eye was the man’s bare back.

Lee Jaeheon’s back, as if plucked straight from an anatomical chart, was sharply defined. From his neck to his waist, his toned, muscular back, devoid of any fat, curved gently.

Picking up a shirt from the floor, he turned to look at the frozen Eunkyo, his brow furrowed. He looked quite tired.

“I was just about to change. It got too dirty because I was sweating a lot.”

“Oh….”

“Eyes.”

“Ah!”

Startled, Eunkyo squeezed her eyes shut. She pretended to be composed, but her mind was in turmoil.

Why is my timing always like this? 

She wanted to run away. 

So, with her eyes tightly shut, she asked,

“I’ll just ask like this. Did you throw away my things? Where?”

He rustled around and then replied,

“I disposed of them. Why?”

“Oh… Did you throw away the drawer too?”

“Drawer? Ah, the metal drawer. I didn’t throw that away.”

Surprised, she opened her eyes wide. Lee Jaeheon, who had somehow approached right in front of her, chuckled as if amused.

Even though he was wearing a loose, light beige shirt, his muscular physique couldn’t be hidden.

“Should I give the drawer back to you?”

“Oh, that’s not it… Then what about the things inside?”

“Things? Ah… the condoms. Aren’t those too old? Three years is quite a long time.”

Not those!

Unable to even breathe, Eunkyo shook her head vigorously. Yes, those were there too, but that’s not what she was asking about.

“Not those, the notebook. Did you see a notebook?”

“Ah.”

“Where did you throw it away? If I can find it, I’d like to.”

Tilting his head, Lee Jaeheon ran a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. He was so tall that even his slightest movements amplified his presence.

She wished he would just say he threw it away or that he didn’t know, but he hesitated.

She first met Lee Jaeheon’s gaze when he entered the recording studio.

Back then, she had felt as if his eyes were piercing through her. And now, she felt that inexplicable pressure again, making her want to escape.

“Um, Mr. Lee Jaeheon…”

“Sunbae, what’s in that notebook that makes you so desperate?”

He lowered his gaze, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. Then, he suddenly cupped her chin and pressed his thumbnail against her lip—precisely on the swollen mosquito bite, leaving another small indentation.

She instinctively flinched and tried to turn her face away, but his grip was firm, and she couldn’t move.

“It’s swollen. Do you just let anyone suck you like this?” 

“What…?”

“I kept the notebook at my place. It didn’t seem like something to just throw away.”

As if his previous rudeness had never happened, he turned nonchalantly and headed towards the pile of boxes. He casually opened a box and started taking things out one by one.

Eunkyo, blinking in disbelief, approached him briskly as if in a trance.

A beam of light streaming in through the basement window cast a long shadow over the empty workbench.

“Give it back. I just need the notebook.”

Standing behind Lee Jaeheon, she spoke.

“Just like that, for free?”

Ha, unbelievable. 

A hollow laugh escaped her lips at the thought that she was the real owner in the first place.

He took out a transparent, glass Pensive Bodhisattva statue³ and placed it on the shelf in front of him.

“I’ll buy you a meal.”

“Well, I have plenty of money, sunbae.”

“Then what should I do? Help you organize? That’s pure manual labor on my part.”

“Hmm.”

He seemed tempted, pondering for a moment before turning around with a rather insincere smile. This time, it was her turn to be startled.

He stared intently at her lip, marked by his fingernail, then suddenly lowered his head towards her. His damp hair drew closer.

“Can… I tell you anything?”