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Chapter 8
The next day, Yoon-ah sat staring at the message she had written, reading it over and over again. She worried endlessly, afraid her apology to Yeong-won might not come across properly.
She wanted to meet him in person to say sorry, but today she had to rush straight to the café after class, and after work she still needed to finish packing the rest of her things. There was no time. After going through the message for the tenth time, she carefully checked it one last time before pressing send.
[Thank you so much for yesterday, Yeong-won. But after that senior left, I don’t remember things very clearly… I do remember that you put me in a taxi and made sure I got home, but if I said or did anything wrong, I’m really sorry. I always end up relying on you. I feel bad. Let me know when you’re free—at least let me treat you to a meal.]
“……Haah.”
To be honest, she was fairly certain she’d blurted something silly in the taxi—something like asking what business he had at her house. But that was too humiliating to admit. And since she couldn’t recall his reaction at all, she cut that part out. She wasn’t even fully sure if it was a taxi.
‘I guess I really can’t handle alcohol.’
Only now realizing her pitifully low tolerance, Yoon-ah sighed as she stepped into the lecture hall. Since it was a major class, the same freshmen she’d seen at the welcome party were gathered everywhere in noisy little groups.
Some of them gave her polite nods when their eyes met, but it was clear they had no intention of including her in their circles. The disconnect was sharp and stung more than she expected.
“…….”
She hadn’t had a chance to get close to her peers—and instead of them, she’d ended up drinking with upper-year seniors. And then that happened. It was no surprise she had no one to sit with.
Drooping with gloom, she sat down in an empty seat and fiddled with her phone. Just then, a reply from Yeong-won popped up.
[You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.]
The brief, businesslike sentence felt unusually cold today. Should she answer back? Yoon-ah sat there hesitating, staring at her screen, when suddenly something dangled into her vision.
A keyring of Gusan County’s mascot, a little ginseng character. The same one she’d hung on her tote bag.
Startled, she checked the strap of her bag, then looked up. It was one of the girls she vaguely remembered from the welcome party.
“I didn’t even realize I’d dropped it. Thank you.”
“From Gusan, are you?”
“…Pardon?”
The thick, familiar dialect hit her ears like a jolt. It had been so long she was momentarily stunned. The girl continued with a grin.
“I’m from Nansan.”
That was the neighboring town to her own hometown.
“…Wow! Really? That’s amazing—we’re from right next to each other!”
Yoon-ah’s blank expression brightened at once. The girl chuckled.
“Well, calling it a ‘big city’ would be embarrassing… but it’s livelier than Gusan. Gusan’s practically tucked away in the mountains, isn’t it?”
Yoon-ah laughed awkwardly and admitted as much. The girl asked if the seat beside her was taken, and Yoon-ah quickly swept aside her stationery to make room.
As the newcomer arranged her things, Yoon-ah sneaked glances. She recognized the face but, embarrassingly, couldn’t recall the name. Still, since she’d made the first move, Yoon-ah decided to be brave.
“Um… I’m sorry, but… what was your name again? At the party yesterday, I didn’t notice anyone from around my area…”
“Ahh, that was a formal setting, so I kept the dialect hidden. I’m Ahn Seo-yeon.”
“Oh, I see! I’m Han Yoon-ah.”
“Heehee, I remember you. Such a pretty unni. Gusan really did raise a beauty.”
“…Haha.”
It was the kind of line the old village ladies used to say whenever they saw her running errands around town. Her nose prickled faintly, and she couldn’t help smiling.
Seo-yeon finished setting up and asked, “So, do you not use dialect on purpose? I can, but I switch it off whenever I want. I’m basically bilingual.”
She demonstrated by switching effortlessly between the soft drawl of the countryside and crisp, perfect Seoul speech. In Chungcheong Province, the accent wasn’t too heavy anyway—shopkeepers dealing with tourists often did the same.
But for Yoon-ah, her Seoul accent wasn’t a casual choice; it was drilled into her. After a slight pause, she explained quietly,
“No… my brother wouldn’t let me use dialect.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“He said… I’d be looked down on unless I spoke standard Korean.”
Her tone was light, but her smile was stiff. Her adoptive brother was obsessed with appearances. Born in the countryside himself, he hid his dialect at all costs.
And since his long-term plan was to marry off his beautiful younger sister into a good family—thus repaying all his debts—he strictly forbade her from speaking with a provincial accent.
Seo-yeon, oblivious to the deeper story, simply nodded solemnly.
“Yeah… the first impression is the most important. Strike first, win first.”
“Still… I can speak it if I want. That’s the way I grew up, after all.”
“Omo? You’re like a ghost, unni. I was just about to say the same!”
The two broke into laughter. Seo-yeon patted Yoon-ah’s shoulder.
“Talk casually with me, unni.”
“If you do first, then I will too.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
They laughed again, easy and natural. Maybe it was the bond of sharing a hometown, but even Yoon-ah—who usually clung to formal speech with strangers—found herself relaxing. Seo-yeon had a knack for opening people’s hearts.
The professor entered then, and both of them quickly straightened up.
Yoon-ah opened a brand-new notebook, while Seo-yeon pulled out a tablet. Looking around, she noticed most students had either tablets or laptops. More than in her general classes.
‘Should I have brought mine, too?’
She remembered her beloved laptop, bought with her café earnings. While she was thinking that, Seo-yeon scribbled something on her tablet and slid it across. Yoon-ah’s eyes dropped to the screen.
[What’s your number? I like pretty unnies with strong vibes.]
Seo-yeon smiled and offered her phone. Yoon-ah’s face lit up despite herself.
They were exchanging numbers. She was making a friend.
‘Wait… do I really look like I have strong vibes?’
She tilted her head a little, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Heart thumping with joy, she carefully tapped her digits onto the keypad.
After class, Yoon-ah headed straight to her café, where she was finishing up interviews. She glanced at the last applicant’s résumé, her expression darkening.
“…So you can’t work weekends?”
“I’ve got another job.”
“I see… And you’d be available starting next week?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
She asked a few more questions, then set down a tall glass of her homemade apple-ade. She’d prepared it to serve each candidate.
“Thank you for coming today. I’ll be in touch as soon as possible.”
“I heard the apple concentrate here is famous. Thanks so much.”
The applicant bowed brightly. Yoon-ah’s chest warmed at the praise. The apples came straight from the village headman, who’d always doted on her—it made them feel even more precious.
As the final candidate left and the café door shut behind, the day’s closing time arrived.
“Haah…”
Yoon-ah slumped back into her chair.
Thanks to Yeong-won’s suggestion about posting on Dingdong Market, she’d gotten far more applications than expected. That was good. But her problems weren’t over.
The biggest hurdle was wages. She’d known it would be tough, but now that she was staring it in the face, the reality was daunting.
If she worked one weekend day herself and hired for the other, then tried to juggle weekdays around group projects and other commitments… extra help was unavoidable.
But the numbers didn’t lie. She could only afford to keep a full-timer for three months at most.
“Well… during vacation I can cover full days myself…”
Her temples throbbed as she massaged her head. Just then, the little bell over the door chimed again. She looked up—and froze.
There, hesitating in the doorway, was a familiar figure.
“…Yeong-won?”
He stood at the entrance, uncertain, as if debating whether to step in. All Yoon-ah could do was blink in confusion.
