Chapter 11

Yeon-Jun jolted awake to the persistent beeping of his alarm, a dull throb pulsing in his temples as he instinctively reached for his phone, squinting at the harsh glow of the screen. Even in a world turned upside down by chaos, there was one constant: his alarm. It had become a lifeline of sorts in his otherwise unpredictable life, a reminder that he needed to maintain some semblance of normalcy—even if last night had shattered that illusion.

"I guess he left..." Yeon-Jun pondered, glancing around the room in an attempt to assess his surroundings. Everything was strikingly clean; the surfaces were devoid of clutter, and the trash can stood empty, a testament to Woo-San's brief presence. It was the least Woo-San could do after the turmoil he had caused in Yeon-Jun's life. "It was only morally right that he cleaned up," Yeon-Jun reassured himself, trying to dispel the remnants of guilt nestled in his chest. "You don't owe him anything."

As the morning unfolded, it took on a pace that felt unusually serene, marked only by the pulsing pain in his head. Unlike most days where he would be rushed to wake Sung-Hoon and prep the cafe, today seemed like an oasis of calm. Sipping his tea, Yeon-Jun skimmed through the headlines on his phone, his brow furrowing as he stumbled upon a disturbing article. Reports of rising abduction cases flooded the local news, particularly highlighting a surge in serial kidnappings in the area. It seemed particularly nightmarish that two would-be abductors had been apprehended while trying to exploit the chaotic road blocks.

"I hope she's safe... and him too…" he thought, a pang of concern gripping his heart. His thoughts drifted to Woo-San, who had likely left in a hurry the previous night, perhaps even worried for Yixan's safety as well. Turning his attention away from the news, he recalled the message from Sung-Hoon that informed him of Yixan's plans to come by and help him navigate the torrential rain. Yet, the thought of her absence stirred a sense of dread within him—Yixan never arrived.

Feeling a knot of anxiety, Yeon-Jun resolved to call her. His phone calls were often awkward and uncertain, yet when he needed immediate communication, he preferred the directness of a call over waiting for texts. After ringing her number, he shot off a message, fully aware that responses often took their sweet time. But as the minutes ticked by without any reply, he felt a bubble of worry emerge. Shrugging it off, he convinced himself that she was likely just sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the storm that had swept in. Unbeknownst to him, she was indeed in her car, curled up and dreaming.

Prepping his station with methodical precision, Yeon-Jun felt a sense of readiness wash over him as he surveyed the familiar space of the cafe. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans mingled with the scent of clean surfaces, a testament to Yeon-Su's diligent work earlier that morning. "It seems you had quite the eventful day yesterday," Yeon-Su remarked, a hint of curiosity in his tone, as he referred to the chaos surrounding the broken sink and Yeon-Jun's resourceful fix. A wave of heat rushed to Yeon-Jun's cheeks, and he fumbled for words, reluctant to divulge who had kept him company the previous night. Yet, to Yeon-Su, his flustered demeanor only hinted at embarrassment, which was surprisingly satisfactory for him.

"I'll be heading out now," Yeon-Su announced, leaving Yeon-Jun to manage the cafe solo as the clock ticked towards the busy hours. The afternoon passed quietly, a stillness underlying the cafe's usual buzz. Yeon-Su planned to return during the evening rush, but given the unusual road blockages and the unnerving reports of abductions that had recently cast a shadow over their neighborhood, Yeon-Jun suggested that Yeon-Su reconsider his trip. "I might close early if business doesn't pick up," he advised cautiously, a protective instinct surfacing beneath his pragmatic exterior.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Yeon-Su mused aloud, as he adjusted his clothes before throwing his bag over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on the cafe's cozy ambiance. Yeon-Jun, caught off guard by the question, raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Yeon-Su let out a soft sigh, a hint of wistfulness in his tone. "Isn't it liberating to work in a place where you can clock out at any moment without the fear of disappointing customers?"

It was curious, Yeon-Jun thought, that Yeon-Su would pose such a question, especially considering that his own decision to run the cafe was far from whimsical. Presently, the streets outside were eerily quiet; the ongoing roadwork discouraged foot traffic, while the recent crime reports made people hesitant to walk alone after dark. Logically, one could argue that Yeon-Jun's position was particularly enviable under these circumstances—a chance to escape the grind without consequence.

However, the chasm between their philosophies stretched wide. Yeon-Jun was firmly rooted in the belief that every endeavor in life should have a purpose—be it for social interaction, personal growth, or even economic gain. He had always maintained that as long as the outcome yielded a positive result, there was little reason to shy away from pursuing it. Yet in stark contrast, Yeon-Su viewed life as a singular journey toward a definitive goal, believing it foolish to engage in activities that dispersed energy towards various, disparate ends.

"It's truly nice if you don't have to forget meaningful stuff for it," Yeon-Jun countered, his voice edged with an intensity that underscored his conviction. The weight of his words hung in the air, striking a chord with Yeon-Su. In that moment, it became clear that while Yeon-Jun had found a temporary reprieve in his cafe life, the nagging thought that he hadn't pursued a path aligned with his passions gnawed at him. The irony wasn't lost on either of them—what could have been an ideal career for Yeon-Jun, if he had chosen to embrace it fully, continued to be a source of internal conflict that silently haunted him.

As Yeon-Su made his way to the bus station, a cascade of thoughts swirled in his mind, replaying Yeon-Jun's words repeatedly. "Am I forsaking my own ambitions simply because I invest so much energy in caring for someone else?" he pondered, standing still in the midst of the bustling crowd, individuals darting around him like frantic flies. "Especially if that person is no longer present in my life. If they can't scrutinize my choices, why am I still so concerned about their judgment?"

This internal conflict resonated with a universal struggle: the tension between adhering to the expectations imposed by others and following one's own path. People often navigate these expectations in two primary ways. Some are driven by the desire to meet the wants and needs of others, striving to please those they care about—an aspiration rooted in love and a yearning for connection. Conversely, there are those who are propelled by a desire to defy the doubts cast upon them, motivated by a deep-seated need to prove their critics wrong. This second impulse resembles a form of revenge—a powerful catalyst that can ignite determination and resilience. While the latter might initially seem like a more potent motivator, it is the pursuit of genuine approval that often holds greater depth and significance.

Yeon-Su found himself ensnared by both of these conflicting desires. He craved the validation of the very person he sought to take revenge on, entangled in a complicated web of feelings. His emotions reflected a tumultuous love-hate relationship, characterized by both intense admiration and resentment. Yet, despite the fire of vengeance stirring within him, Yeon-Jun's words were not quite enough to serve as a decisive turning point. Instead, they marked the nascent beginning of a journey—an awakening of sorts, one that would inevitably be shaped by Yeon-Jun's influence and insights in the days to come.

"He recognized it," Hee-Jun informed Woo-San, recounting the revelation about the locket and Tae-Min while he filled him in on the events he had missed after being out for a whole day. The atmosphere was thick with confusion as Hee-Jun asked, "I thought you mentioned that your grandfather had destroyed everything related to your mother's past husband?" His brow furrowed, unable to comprehend how Woo-San had come into possession of a piece of Tae-Min's father's legacy.

"She entrusted it to me," Woo-San replied, his voice weighed down by the gravity of the memory. "Before she passed, she revealed its hiding place to me—how she had concealed it so that grandfather would never discover it. Her hope was that I could use it to build a bridge with Tae-Min Hyung, to mend the rift between our families."

"And you used that precious keepsake to assist me?" Hee-Jun replied, injecting a mocking tone into his words, playfully thinning his voice to mimic a cute, childlike manner. "Thank you, Mr. CEO. I'm truly honored that you leveraged something so deeply personal to aid me in my search for something else. I'm in your debt." Hee-Jun's sharp sarcasm did not escape Woo-San, whose expression shifted to one of clear disapproval.

"If only grandfather didn't mistakenly include you as part of our family, you would be pleading for your job and possibly even your life after speaking to me like that," Woo-San retorted, his voice laced with a strict sarcasm that carried an edge.

"Well then," Hee-Jun replied with a smirk as he collected his belongings, preparing to take his leave. "For the first time in my life, I think I might actually find something to be thankful for regarding what your family did to mine." With a slight bow, he exited the room, leaving Woo-San behind to ponder the air thick with unspoken regrets. It struck him profoundly that in this moment, he had not only broken the promise he made to his dying mother but had also been the subject of mockery for it.