SSH Episode 4
by Emperor_StarHongwoo treated himself to a hearty bowl of soup, some boiled pork, and, of course, a drink to mark the occasion. Just thinking about the meal ahead lifted his spirits.
“Enjoy your meal.”
As the dishes were set before him, Hongwoo picked up his spoon. He stacked a slice of boiled pork, a piece of kimchi, and another slice of pork before taking a big bite, washing it down with a sip of makgeolli (traditional Korean rice wine). Next, he scooped up a generous spoonful of gukbap (rice served in a hot soup), savoring the rich broth before downing a full bowl of makgeolli in one go.
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‘Ahh. This was the taste. No other place could match the clean, deep flavors of this tavern.’
Pork broth was tricky—it could easily turn greasy or develop an unpleasant gamey smell. But here, they skimmed the fat regularly, keeping the broth light yet flavorful. A touch of savory doenjang (fermented soybean paste) removed any lingering odors and enriched the taste. The kitchen staff here really knew what they were doing.
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Hongwoo had no plans to move elsewhere, but if he ever had to, he knew he’d long for this place. The thought of leaving this tavern’s food behind was already unbearable. As he took another spoonful of gukbap, one thought came to mind:
‘This broth… is perfection.’
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“How do they make it this good? If three people walked in, two could drop dead from its sheer flavor, and no one would even notice! Wait, didn’t three people come in just now? I must’ve been the only one who survived—everyone else must’ve died from how delicious this is.”
“Oh my, my! Among all my customers, young master, your compliments are the sweetest!”
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Laughing, Hongwoo exchanged playful banter with the tavern mistress, who was about Madam Kim’s age. He patted his full stomach and stepped out of the tavern.
Ah, right.
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After walking quite a distance, he suddenly remembered—he had meant to ask about job opportunities! But now, stuffed with food, he couldn’t be bothered to go back.
His house didn’t even have a kitchen, so he’d be eating out often anyway. He’d just ask next time.
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With that thought, Hongwoo waddled off, his steps slow and content.
As Hongwoo strolled through the bustling market, patting his full stomach, he took in the sights—stalls overflowing with ornaments, tobacco pipes, taffy, honey rice cakes, and farming tools.
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As the son of Gaegyeong’s most renowned merchant guild, surely he had a knack for selling something too, right?
He pondered for a long while, wracking his brain for the perfect idea—until inspiration struck like a slap to the back of his head. ‘That’s it! I’ll sell that!’
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Excited, Hongwoo sprang into action. But first, he needed a spot. As he scanned the market for an empty stall, a bearded man with a sly air approached him.
“Looking for something?”
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“I need a space to sell my goods. How do I get one?”
“Ah, then you’re in luck, little brother!”
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The man grinned and threw an arm around Hongwoo’s shoulders like they were long-lost siblings. Then, offering to help, he led Hongwoo to his own store.
The shop was filled with expensive-looking goods, confirming the man was a seasoned merchant. He explained that securing a spot in the market required money.
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Hongwoo hesitated. “I don’t have much on me right now.”
The merchant thumped his chest confidently. “No problem! I’ll lend you some.”
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Hongwoo narrowed his eyes. “And why would you do that for a stranger?”
“Aren’t we brothers now? You’re about the same age as my younger sibling. How could I ignore someone in need?”
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On the day Hongwoo left home, a magpie had cried—maybe it had been a sign of good fortune. Who would’ve thought he’d stumble upon such a benefactor?
Seizing the opportunity, he accepted the loan and secured a prime location in the market. The merchant, ever the professional, insisted on drafting a loan agreement, which Hongwoo stamped with his personal seal. His first official document as an independent man—it almost felt surreal.
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The ‘market hyung’ even helped him set up a proper table, and before long, Hongwoo had a prime stall in a high-traffic area. Now, it was time to unveil his secret weapon.
Pulling out a brush and paper, he carefully wrote out the name of his store, inspired by something the tavern mistress had said earlier.
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The Compliment Shop.
Customers would pay him, and in return, he would shower them with endless praise. He made money, they left feeling great—a win-win!
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Truly, a business idea as brilliant as he was.
Was this a bad idea?
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For two days, not a single customer had stepped into Hongwoo’s Compliment Shop. With a deep sigh, he slumped over the table in defeat.
“Compliment master, are you open for business or not?”
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At the sound of a voice, Hongwoo’s head shot up.
Madam Kim stood before him, a playful grin on her face.
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His initial excitement faded—he had hoped for a real customer. But given how empty his stall had been, even seeing a familiar face was a small comfort.
“The whole household is buzzing about your Compliment Shop, young master.”
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Has word really spread so quickly? …Then why wasn’t anyone coming? Shouldn’t rumors bring in customers? And yet, not a single member of the Jang household had even peeked in.
“How much for a compliment?”
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“One nyang.”
“Young master, even a pawnshop charges less interest than that! What a shameless scam!”
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Madam Kim burst into laughter, clutching her stomach.
Hongwoo couldn’t help but chuckle too. No wonder people had scoffed and shaken their heads at his stall for the past two days—he really had no clue how the world worked.
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Even as he laughed, a dull ache settled behind his eyes. But what could he do? He had spent his life sheltered, and at twenty-one, he was only now stepping out of his older brother’s shadow, learning how the world truly worked.
He was late, but as long as he kept learning, he’d get there.
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“Well then, give me a compliment.”
Still grinning, Madam Kim tossed a nyang onto the table.
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“Uh… Madam Kim is—”
“Ahem. The customer is…”
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“The customer has a warm and comforting presence. Just seeing them feels like coming home after a long, exhausting day and sinking into a soft, cozy bed.”
Even Hongwoo was surprised by his own words. He glanced at Madam Kim, watching for her reaction.
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She raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she silently urged him to continue.
Hongwoo hesitated before speaking.
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“Uh… You seem like someone who’s great with their hands—crafting, repairing, handling things with care. Anything that passes through your hands, whether a person or an object, must come out looking polished and well-kept. Oh, and… you probably make amazing dongchimi (Korean water-based kimchi). I can almost taste the crisp radish and tangy broth. Imagine eating roasted sweet potatoes with your dongchimi on a cold winter night… That would be absolutely perfect.”
Madam Kim raised an eyebrow.
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“You just want some dongchimi, don’t you?”
“…Yeah.”
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With a groan, Madam Kim got up, rolling up the mat while motioning for Hongwoo to follow. He picked up the table and trailed behind her.
It hadn’t been long since he left home, but stepping through the familiar courtyard felt strangely nostalgic—like it had been years. The trees and flowers seemed fresher, the eaves of the roof more beautiful. This was what a home should be—lush greenery, a serene pond, a quiet pavilion. He had missed it. A house wasn’t just four walls to keep out the wind and rain.
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Not that his current place even did that. If Madam Kim hadn’t packed him a thick blanket, he would’ve frozen to death. Though Ipchun had passed (the first solar term marking the beginning of spring, around February 4), the weather was still bitterly cold. Just last night, he had shivered himself to sleep and woken up with his body stiff from the chill.
Madam Kim disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a small earthenware jar.
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“I made plenty, so you won’t run out. Now that your eldest brother should be satisfied, why not come back home already?”
Hongwoo forced a smile.
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Truthfully, he wanted nothing more than to return.
But being here reminded him too much of his father, which inevitably led to thoughts of his mother. After she passed, he had drifted into a deep depression, losing all motivation to live. When his father died, his older brother had been so overbearing that he hadn’t even had time to grieve. Yet still, this house held too many memories, too many moments that ambushed him when he least expected it.
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And besides, it was time. Time to step out of his father and brother’s shadows. Time to prove himself—not as some sheltered young master, but as an adult capable of standing on his own.
“Thank you, Madam Kim. Really. I’ll enjoy it.”
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Madam Kim clicked her tongue.
“Oh, look at me, forgetting the rest.”
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She turned back toward the kitchen, then returned with a basket filled with roasted sweet potatoes and handed it to him.