By the time Soon Hae's sneakers slapped against the cobblestones leading to Haebada Bunsik, the dinner rush had already started. The warm glow from the restaurant spilled onto the street, along with the mouthwatering scent of fried mandu and sizzling pork belly.
Inside, customers hunched over steaming bowls of jjigae, chopsticks clinking in a steady rhythm. Her stepmother, hair tied in a tight bun, moved like a storm between tables.
The moment Soon Hae slipped through the door, her stepmother's voice cut through the din.
> "Late. Again."
Soon Hae froze, clutching the market baskets like a shield. "I...there was this guy he had a mask..."
"Put the groceries down," her stepmother said, not even glancing up from the sizzling grill. "And since you're late, you get half a portion tonight."
"But..."
"No 'but.' Sit."
Soon Hae's shoulders sagged as she shuffled toward the kitchen's small staff table. A steaming bowl of rice sat there… well, half a bowl, with a single piece of mackerel perched on top like a sad crown.
She sank into the chair, muttering, "Guess my stomach's going on a diet."
From the front, a deep chuckle drifted over the clatter of dishes. Her father, still wearing his salt-stained fisherman's jacket, strolled into the kitchen carrying his own full dinner.
He plopped down across from her, his weathered face creased with a smile. "Your stepmother's tough, but fair."
"She's tough," Soon Hae muttered, stabbing at her rice with her chopsticks.
Without a word, her dad slides his own bowl toward her, replacing it with hers. "Eat."
Soon Hae's eyes widened. "What about you?"
He winked. "The sea fed me all day. You're the one who looks like you just fought a war at the market."
Her chest warmed, though she tried not to grin. "Thanks, Dad."
From the kitchen doorway, her stepmother's voice rang out. "What's going on back there?"
"Nothing!" they chorused, though Soon Hae quickly scooped a mouthful of his fish before she could get caught.
---
After dinner, the scent of detergent replaced the smell of grilled fish. The small laundry shop down the street hummed with the low rumble of washing machines. Soon Hae hung her apron on a hook, rolled up her sleeves, and plunged her hands into a bin of damp uniforms.
The shop belonged to Mrs. Kim, a short woman with a sharp tongue but a soft heart. She had given Soon Hae this part-time job so she could help pay her stepbrother's school fees something her father couldn't cover on fishing income alone.
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Mrs. Kim called from the back, "Fold faster, girl! Clothes don't fold themselves!"
Soon Hae shot her a mock salute. "Aye, captain."
She flipped a shirt in the air, trying to fold it in one dramatic motion like they do in department stores but it ended up landing on her head.
From the counter, Mrs. Kim snorted. "You're hopeless."
"Efficiently hopeless," Soon Hae corrected, pulling the shirt off her head and folding it properly this time.
The doorbell jingled, and a tall figure walked in with a gym bag slung over one shoulder.
Her stomach dropped.
It was the masked stranger from the market only this time, the mask was off. He had dark, sweat damp hair, sharp eyes, and the kind of posture that screamed athlete.
He glanced around, spotted Mrs. Kim, and set the bag on the counter. "For pickup." His voice was low, calm, and somehow even more annoying because of it.
Soon Hae ducked behind a stack of towels. No way was she letting him see her after yesterday's shouting match.
But Mrs. Kim was merciless. "Soon Hae! Bring the man his order!"
She winced, stepped out from behind the towels, and met his gaze. His eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition.
"Oh," he said. "It's you."
"Don't 'oh' me," she said quickly, grabbing the bundle of neatly folded clothes from the shelf. "Here....Take them and don't bump into any more old men's bells."
His lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. "It wasn't my fault."
"You were in the way."
"You walked into me."
Mrs. Kim looked between them, confused. "Do you two know each other?"
"Unfortunately," they both said at the same time.
The stranger smirked, took the clothes, and headed for the door. "See you around, market girl."
Soon Hae stood there fuming, but a strange thought followed him out the door: the way he had said it… it didn't sound like an insult.
---
By the time her shift ended, the streets were quiet, the market stalls closed. She walked home with the faint smell of detergent still on her hands, passing once again by the Iron Tiger Boxing Academy.
This time, the gate was open. Inside, she caught a glimpse of a dimly lit ring where a coach was shouting instructions to a group of boxers. Her eyes lingered on the large black banner overhead , the same one she had seen on the poster.
Iron Tiger Boxing Academy — Home of Champions.
Her chest tightened.
One day, she promised herself, she would step through that gate.
Even if she tripped over her own feet the moment she did.
---