A Taste of the Past

“Haa…”

A hollow laugh escaped her. It felt as though his insufferably handsome face was shimmering right there on top of the kimbap.

“You’ll think of me before you go to sleep. Maybe every time you see noodles or eat kimbap, you’ll think of me.”

The brat was right. The spell he’d cast—delivered with that likable smile and a hint of hidden desire—seemed to have worked.

“Ah…”

Taerin rubbed her aching shoulders and leaned deep into her chair. She had tossed and turned last night. Whatever he had done, Jae-hwi had even chased her into her dreams, leaving her mind in a state of disarray.

Perhaps the clean, light flavor of the anchovy broth at the little restaurant he’d taken her to had left quite an impression. Even in her dream, Taerin was eating noodles. Jae-hwi sat across from her, watching. At first, he seemed to be using his chopsticks, but eventually, he set them aside and rested both arms on the table. He was observing her in earnest.

His expression had looked so satisfied that it was absurd. She’d wanted to snap at him, to ask why he was watching someone else eat and tell him to focus on his own bowl, but she couldn’t. He looked far too happy for her to deliver a blunt rebuff.

So, she had just eaten her noodles in silence. Just as she had in reality the night before.

“…”

Taerin picked up her chopsticks to dispel the lingering thoughts. As she picked up a piece of kimbap—its ingredients neatly packed—and began to chew, she naturally thought of a warm broth. And from there, her thoughts traveled back to noodles, and then back to Jae-hwi.

“Phew…”

Was the noodle soup just that delicious? Deciding to blame the destination of her thoughts on the noodles rather than Jae-hwi, Taerin stood up. She opened the window to ventilate the stuffy office air; the damp, heavy scent of winter that rushed in felt good.

“…It was tasty, though.”

The toppings had been nothing more than a few slices of zucchini and carrots on top of boiled somyeon, with an egg swirled into the broth. It was meant to be eaten with seasoned chives, chopped kimchi, and a splash of soy sauce—a flavor that somehow tugged at her nostalgia.

A taste that reminded her of something forgotten in her oldest memories. That was probably…

“Deputy Director?”

“…Yes?”

“What were you thinking about so deeply? I called you three times.”

“Ah… please, go ahead.”

Closing the window as if to shut out the thoughts, Taerin turned toward Han So-yeon, the General Manager.

“We were discussing the menu for tonight’s staff dinner. Sora says she knows a great sushi place, but since the weather is like this, I was thinking something with warm broth would be nice. I recently found a good kal-guksu place. Their boiled pork is tender, and the pancakes are great. What do you think, Deputy Director?”

Taerin fully agreed with the idea of warm broth. The sky was overcast, looking as though it might snow at any moment. It was the kind of weather that made one hunch their shoulders against the damp, cold air. However…

“Where is the sushi place Sora mentioned?”

“It’s not far. It’s in the residential area behind the post office. But it’s quite expensive, and I’m not sure if we can even get a reservation on such short notice…”

“Is it… Sam-hyeon?”

“Oh, you know it?”

“My father is a regular there. I’ve been going there with him since I was young.”

“Ah…”

“Let’s go there. Let’s eat something expensive. It’s been a while since the operations team had a dinner together.”

Taerin smiled as if to tell them not to worry about the reservation and walked back to her desk. She carefully folded the wrapper of the kimbap she’d only taken one bite of, hiding it from view, trying her best to prune the branches of her thoughts that kept growing in a single direction.

“Ah, you’re here. I was so glad to get your call.”

“I’ve been busy lately. How have you been?”

Taerin smiled at the head chef who welcomed her. <Sam-hyeon> was a cozy sushi restaurant located in a residential area near Gallery <One>. It was so popular that it was usually booked out months in advance, but Taerin had secured a table for four easily. She knew the restaurant kept a private room reserved specifically for their long-time regulars.

“I’ve been well. But I’m afraid I have bad news. As I mentioned on the phone, I’ll have to seat you at the bar today. My apologies.”

“That’s fine. I requested the reservation so suddenly. My staff actually prefers sitting at the bar.”

The operations team stood beside Taerin, their faces lit with excitement. After handing their coats to the staff and sitting down, they were provided with warm towels. As Taerin wiped her hands with a towel that smelled of fresh citrus, the head chef stood before her.

“The Assemblyman stopped by a few days ago and ordered a takeout box for his daughter. Did you enjoy it?”

“Of course.”

As Taerin gave a soft smile, the head chef looked satisfied. The team members chimed in, remarking that Won Kyung-pil truly was the “doting father” everyone claimed he was.

“It’s always delicious, but the tamago that day was especially good.”

“…I didn’t serve tamago that day due to some circumstances.”

“…What?”

Tamago referred to the sweet egg sushi, a staple of any sushi house. At <Sam-hyeon>, the egg sushi was particularly famous for its soft, fluffy texture. Even Won Kyung-pil, who usually preferred fish, acknowledged it as the best, so Taerin always felt comfortable eating mostly the egg sushi whenever she came here.

“My daughter takes after me; she’s a gourmet.” “It seems so.” “Whenever she comes here, she doesn’t even touch the uni she loves so much.”

The last time she had come with Won Kyung-pil, he had taken the sea urchin (uni) from in front of Taerin and put it in his own mouth, having already finished his own portion. Marveling that the rich flavor was top-tier and that he could never tire of it, he had glanced at Taerin with feigned pity.

“…The tamago here is just so good.” “True. I’ll grant you that. Let’s eat. We’ve talked too long in front of the food. Pack a lunch box for me. She always regrets it once she gets home, saying she should have had a few more. She says she even thinks about it before bed.” “Yes. Shall I pack half tamago and half uni as usual?” “Let’s do that.”

Because this had happened several times, Taerin had naturally assumed the box her father bought for her contained egg sushi. As Taerin’s expression stiffened in confusion, the chef looked as though he’d made a slip of the tongue.

“I apologize. I must have confused the dates.”

“…I see.”

“Then, I shall begin preparing your meal immediately.”

As the chef bowed and began to prepare the ingredients, Taerin bit the inside of her lip. Just then, her phone vibrated inside her bag.

[Jeong Se-hyun]

“Ah. I’ll be right back; I need to take this. Don’t wait for me, go ahead and eat.”

After excusing herself, Taerin walked out to the small Japanese-style garden located at the back of the building. After checking that no one else was around, she put the phone to her ear.

“Yeah.”

— Is it okay to talk?

“I’m at a staff dinner. Speak.”

— Uh, well… about that.

“If you have nothing to say, I’m hanging up.”

— Wait. Just a second, Taerin.

Taerin suppressed a surge of irritation and waited for him to speak. This was their first phone call since she had slapped him at the gallery.

Taerin knew that yesterday, Se-hyun’s older brother had held a gathering for friends of their age before his wedding. She had sent a message saying she wouldn’t attend, even though it was a long-standing appointment. She had no intention of following his lead until Se-hyun cleaned up the mess he’d made.

He seemed to have understood her intent, as he hadn’t pressed further. He wasn’t entirely without tact. She had expected not to hear from him for a while, so it was a surprise that he called just one day later.

— Haa… Taerin. I don’t even know where to start…

His long sigh sounded sticky and heavy. Taerin pulled the phone slightly away from her ear. She knew that when he acted like this, the silence would be long.

Se-hyun probably thought she was waiting patiently for him to find his words, but she wasn’t. Instead, she began to inspect the garden.

The bamboo water feature (shishi-odoshi), which usually made a sharp clack as it emptied, was dry today. In the spot where water usually bubbled up, there was only frozen, half-melted snow.

She didn’t know if it was still there, but in the past, there had been a Japanese-style space outside the window of Goo Kwang-hyun’s room, located deep within Jae-hwi’s house. There, where black, square stepping stones were laid with absolute precision, sat a bamboo ornament and a sand garden.

He had told her that raking the sand of that garden was Jae-hwi’s job. Except for days when it rained or snowed, he had to rake the sand tirelessly for two hours every day. He even told her once that he had collapsed while raking under the sweltering midsummer heat.

At the time, Taerin thought Goo Kwang-hyun was quite malicious for making Jae-hwi stand under the summer sun like that. Moreover, the sand, without a single patch of shade, would have been even hotter.