Chapter 87

Chapter 87

The number one item on our coffeehouse's list of assets was unquestionably the recipe notebook.

Even an ordinary person like me could make reasonably tasty food as long as I followed the recipes written in the notebook, which was why the business I'd been running half in doubt all this time had managed to survive.

And surprisingly, number two was the wood-burning stove.

If someone asked why, among all the furnishings in the coffeehouse, it had to be the wood-burning stove, there was a story behind it.

For one thing, heating with firewood itself was just as atmospheric as mixing powdered coffee in the kitchen.

Then there was the kettle set on top of the stove, the potatoes and sweet potatoes wrapped roughly in foil and tossed in, and on some days it even replaced the perfectly functional gas range.

It was more than worth the trouble of constantly adding firewood so the flame wouldn't go out and clearing away the residue.

But even this well-used wood-burning stove couldn't overcome the limitations of being a seasonal item.

When even running the air conditioner at full blast wasn't enough, there was no way we could light a fire indoors in midsummer just for the atmosphere.

Then recently, while cleaning the stove, I discovered one surprising feature.

“You're holding the stovepipe properly, right?”

“Yes!”

“I'm holding it tight!”

“I'm pulling it out, okay?”

I carefully tugged on the stove.

-Rattle.

Contrary to my concerns, the stove came away remarkably cleanly.

“But I'm curious what we're doing with this stove.”

“We're going to grill meat.”

“Then can't we just leave it connected and cook on top, like when we had spicy stir-fried pork?”

“It would be hot. And look how many people there are.”

It was an obvious point.

No matter how large-capacity the wood-burning stove was, the top plate only had enough space for a single frying pan.

One frying pan wasn't remotely enough to grill meat for more than twenty people. And there was no reason to bother when we already had a high-powered gas range.

“We're grilling this directly over the fire.”

-Rumble.

I opened the lid of the detached firebox.

There was enough room inside to fit all the meat we'd bought today in whole pieces and still have space left over.

A whole-firebox steak, so to speak?

The cooking method was simple too.

All I had to do was season the whole chunks of meat with pepper and salt, hook them like this, and hang them in the middle of the firebox.

I'd already cooked plenty of rice, and I'd thrown whole garlic cloves, potatoes, and sweet potatoes into the firebox to serve with the steak, so the only thing I had to pay attention to now was the steak's internal temperature.

Even that wasn't something I had to judge by eye. The thermometer would handle it, so I'd essentially finished all the cooking I had to do today.

“Now all that's left is eating! I'll go to the kitchen and bring the rice!”

“It'll still take a long time before it's done.”

“How long?”

“Hmm, maybe about three hours?”

“Aw, that's too long. Jinseong should've hurried and started making it at dawn...”

“The guests aren't even here yet. You're the shameless one trying to eat first.”

“Ow, ow! That hurts!”

“I'm going to check on Wooju, so Lia, keep a close eye on Sani and make sure he doesn't touch the firebox. Got it?”

“Yes!”

If I'd had my way, I would've tucked Sani under my arm and taken him with me to keep him from causing trouble, but bringing him to Wooju, who was already nervous enough, would have been far too cruel.

And so I headed to the office alone, where Wooju was.

From inside the office came Wooju's singing accompanied by an acoustic guitar. His voice sounded much more tense than before.

-Knock, knock.

“Yes... Ah! Come in! No, I'll get the door!”

That was quite a lot of answers in such a short span.

“I just brought this so you could drink it while you practice. It has egg yolk in it, so I figured it might be good for your throat.”

“Thank you. You didn't have to...”

The drink I handed Wooju was ssanghwa tea with two extra egg yolks added.

He'd probably been singing on an empty stomach because he'd been too nervous to eat since morning, so I thought ssanghwa tea would be better than coffee.

“Anyway, take it easy and rest. There's still a long time until this evening.”

“Um, there's something I'm curious about. Can I ask?”

“What is it?”

“I don't really understand why you're treating me so well, Jinseong-hyung. I'm grateful, of course, but...”

It was only natural that gratitude would eventually give way to suspicion.

Giving several million won as an appearance fee to a young man I'd never met before and even personally arranging a place for him to sing like this clearly went far beyond the bounds of ordinary consideration, even by my standards.

In truth, it was excessive meddling.

Even giving myself every possible excuse, the proper thing would have been to pay him generously after he filmed the MeTube video with Sani and send him straight home. I'd already compensated him more than fairly.

But to me, it was nothing.

Not compared to the days this young man named Wooju had spent frustrated and despairing.

To Wooju, my help must have felt like a desperately needed lifeline.

And I wasn't heartless enough to cut a rope someone was clinging to with all their strength. If there was a reason I'd helped Wooju, that was it.

I was about to give him this long-winded explanation, but then stopped myself.

Wouldn't that just be wrapping paper added after the deed was already done?

One sentence was enough.

“Just because.”

“Pardon?”

“Just because I wanted to.”

___________

“Just because...”

Even after being left alone, Wooju spent a long time turning Jinseong's words over in his mind.

The fact that he'd attached no reason to his kindness had surely been for Wooju's sake.

It was something to be grateful for. So much so that Wooju felt ashamed of himself for ever worrying that Jinseong might later use his past kindness as an excuse to make unreasonable demands.

-Grip.

Without realizing it, his hand tightened around the guitar.

‘After receiving a kindness I could never repay even in a lifetime, what am I worrying about right now?’

Worrying, ‘What if my voice doesn't come out in front of people?’ was an unbelievably spoiled complaint.

Hadn't he been standing at a true dead end only a few months ago?

Jinseong had been the only person who reached out a hand to him.

Without asking for anything in return, simply hoping that things would go well for him.

‘Singing isn't the problem anymore.’

The anxiety vanished without a trace.

His mind, cooled and calm, erased the complacent resolution of days past.

And his tightly closed lips and blazing eyes formed a new determination.

‘I have to succeed. If only to repay Jinseong-hyung for everything he's done for me.’

A warrior dies for one who recognizes his worth.

Wasn't that how the saying went?

That day, the romantic young man who had once thought he'd be satisfied as long as he could remain a starving singer and sing songs that stayed in someone's heart died.

What remained was a beast willing to risk even death for Jinseong—no, for success.

______________

Eight o'clock in the evening arrived.

The time listed in the message was eight-thirty, but the guests who had arrived early had already set down their bags and belongings and busily begun helping with the work.

“I can do it.”

“It'll be done quickly if we do it together!”

Good grief, the concert hadn't even started, not everyone had arrived yet, and they were already setting the table for dinner.

While we were busily preparing the early evening meal, the wind chime on the door nearly shattered from how wide it was flung open, and a welcome face came inside.

“Hyung! I'm here!”

“Good timing. The shamans are setting up the tables, so take this tray and follow me first.”

“What about the pork cutlet?”

“Pork cutlet? There isn't any.”

“...You said you were making pork cutlet!”

“The menu changed. To something better.”

“Then what about the pork cutlet!”

“Why are you so obsessed with pork cutlet?”

“I came here to eat pork cutlet!”

“Stop talking nonsense and carry the tray.”

Was it because he hadn't eaten?

Dohyeok's condition seemed seriously off.

I took the muttering Dohyeok outside to where the firebox was.

“Watch carefully. This doesn't even compare to pork cutlet.”

It was steak.

And whole-roasted sirloin at that.

-Sssssizzle.

Even I had never seen a sight like the enormous piece of meat emerging while releasing clouds of steam.

“Ooooooh! That's incredible!”

“Are we really eating all of that?”

“My goodness. It's like there was an entire cow in there.”

“Pork cutlet probably would've tasted better.”

This bastard.

“Let's take pictures!”

“Yeah! We have to get pictures of this!”

Naturally, Dohyeok was the only person talking about pork cutlet in front of Korean beef sirloin.

Sani, Lia, and even the shamans crowded around, taking pictures and staring at it for quite some time.

And just as the photo session was coming to an end,

“What? Why is everyone outside?”

“Uncle Yongman! Immortal Grandpas!”

“You've arrived.”

The guests arriving late were Yongman and the immortal elders.

On top of that, all of them were carrying unfamiliar fruits in both hands.

“We heard there was a feast, so we brought some fruit.”

“We needed dessert after the meal anyway. Thank you.”

We had coffee and the snacks Sani had picked out prepared for dessert, but there was no comparing them to fruit freshly picked in the Celestial Realm.

And there was another guest late to the concert.

-Clang. Clang. Clang.

(Heave-ho, heave-ho, heave away. They're leaving. They're leaving. Our dear one is leaving. Must this body go to the northern grave mountain? Heave-ho, heave-ho, heave away.)

Ah, no way...

“Huh? Unni!”

“Oh my? So you're Lia? I haven't finished watching all the videos yet, but you're even cuter in person!”

It was King Yama.

Accompanied by the two grim reapers and pallbearers carrying a coffin.

‘We couldn't help it either.’

‘We're sorry.’

The desperate expressions on the two grim reapers' faces served as their excuse.

At this very moment, it would probably be difficult to find a bigger mess anywhere in the world.

Among the people from the Celestial Realm, the underworld, and the mortal world, not a single one was ordinary.

If I had to find one fortunate thing in this chaos, it was that the pallbearers put down the coffin and left again almost immediately.

But every one of them was a customer of our coffeehouse.

If we started listening to each person's story one by one, we could easily spend half a day talking.

And all these extraordinary guests had gathered to listen to Wooju sing.

No, more precisely, they'd gathered to cheer him on.

Shamans capable of altering fate with a single ritual, gods of the Celestial Realm, and even the ruler of the underworld.

There couldn't have been a better audience for his first concert.

“For now, everyone come inside. Let's eat first.”

A somewhat rustic restaurant opened, serving steak rich with smoky aroma, steamed rice, and perfectly ripened kimchi.

“Wooju! Come out now!”

“P-Pardon? Yes!”

“We'll be listening while we eat, so don't feel too pressured. Just sing. Got it?”

“Whew.”

Instead of answering, Wooju closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he prepared himself to sing.

Not long afterward, accompanied by the gentle sound of a guitar, Wooju's sweet singing began to resonate through the coffeehouse.

(The warm sunlight resembles your eyes

Your smile drifts through the seasons gone by)

(Even the way you spoke that day, which I thought I'd forgotten

Still lingers quietly in one corner of my heart)

And so, with live music that fit the shabby coffeehouse surprisingly well added to the meal,

for someone, it became a delicious dinner,

for someone else, a memory they kept filming over and over out of fear that they might drink the medicine and forget it,

and for someone else, the courage to move forward.