Chapter 1
The scent of antiseptic and freshly brewed coffee clung to the air as Seol Yoona stepped into the town’s small hospital. It was a stark contrast to the massive, high-tech facility she had left behind in the city. Here, the hallways were quieter, the pace slower—but that didn’t mean the job would be any easier.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, straightened her white coat, and took a deep breath before stepping into the main reception area.
“Dr. Seol!” A nurse, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, greeted her with a warm smile. “Welcome to Haneul General. I’m Nurse Kyujin. We’ve been expecting you.”
Yoona gave a polite nod, her professional mask firmly in place. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to working with you all.”
“Dr. Park, our chief of medicine, wants to introduce you to the team,” Nurse Kyujin continued, leading her down the hallway. “It’s not a big hospital, but we do our best. Some of the locals can be a little stubborn when it comes to seeing doctors, though. Small-town life, you know.”
Yoona hummed in acknowledgment. She wasn’t here to make friends or immerse herself in town gossip—just to do her job and move on. That’s what she had told herself when she took this position.
The staff meeting was brief. Dr. Park, an older gentleman with silver hair and a no-nonsense demeanor, gave her a rundown of the hospital’s needs. “We’re short-staffed, but our patients are like family here. You’ll find that trust is everything in this town, Dr. Seol. Earn it, and you’ll never feel like a stranger.”
Trust. That was something Yoona wasn’t sure she was ready to give—or receive.
Her first few hours passed in a blur of routine checkups, reviewing patient files, and familiarizing herself with the modest facilities. It wasn’t until early evening, just as she was finishing paperwork, that she encountered her first real emergency.
The ER doors burst open, and a frantic voice rang out. “Somebody help! He collapsed while eating!”
Yoona immediately shot up from her chair and rushed forward. A man, likely in his 50s, was being carried in by two younger men, his face flushed and breath shallow.
“What happened?” she asked quickly, already moving to check his pulse.
“He was at Sol’s Table—Jinsol’s place—he just grabbed his chest and fell forward,” one of the men explained.
Yoona worked on instinct, issuing orders to the nurses as they wheeled him into an exam room. As she worked to stabilize the patient, she didn’t notice that outside the ER doors, a woman with an apron stained in broth and flour was pacing anxiously.
Bae Jinsol.
And just like that, Yoona’s new life in town had already intertwined with someone she’d soon find impossible to ignore.
Seol Yoona worked swiftly, slipping into the calm, practiced focus that had carried her through years of emergency cases. The man—identified as Mr. Kang—was conscious but sweating profusely, his breathing uneven.
“Chest pain?” she asked as she checked his vitals.
He gave a weak nod. “Felt… tight. Hard to breathe.”
Yoona’s mind immediately went through possibilities—cardiac arrest, allergic reaction, or even just indigestion. But his clammy skin and elevated heart rate pointed to something more serious.
“Nitroglycerin, now,” she ordered a nurse. “Get the ECG ready.”
As they worked, the ER doors swung open again.
“Is he okay?” A voice, breathless with worry, cut through the sterile air.
Yoona glanced up—and that was the first time she saw Bae Jinsol.
She wasn’t what Yoona had expected. With short blonde hair, a simple t-shirt under a flour-dusted apron, and eyes dark with concern, Jinsol looked completely out of place in the hospital. But the way she hovered near the doorway, fingers twisting in the fabric of her apron, told Yoona that she was deeply invested in the man on the bed.
“You’re family?” Yoona asked, even as she adjusted the monitors.
Jinsol shook her head. “No—no, but he’s a regular. He eats at my restaurant almost every day. He looked fine one minute, and the next…” Her voice faltered. “I—I should’ve noticed something was wrong.”
Yoona’s gaze lingered on her for half a second longer than necessary before turning back to her patient. “It’s not your fault,” she said matter-of-factly. “If he has a heart condition, this could’ve happened anywhere.”
The ECG confirmed her suspicion—unstable angina. A heart attack had been avoided for now, but it was a close call. They stabilized Mr. Kang, and once she was sure he was no longer in immediate danger, Yoona turned to Jinsol.
“He’ll need further tests, but he’s stable. Do you want to sit with him until his family arrives?”
Jinsol exhaled in relief, nodding quickly. “Yeah. Thank you, Doctor…?”
“Seol Yoona.”
Jinsol gave a small smile. “Bae Jinsol.”
There was a brief, almost awkward pause. Yoona wasn’t sure what it was—maybe the way Jinsol’s eyes held warmth even after all the panic, or the way she seemed completely at home fussing over a man who wasn’t even her relative.
“You should sit down,” Yoona found herself saying, noticing the way Jinsol’s hands still trembled slightly. “You look like you’ve been running around.”
Jinsol blinked, then let out a small laugh, as if surprised by the doctor’s concern. “Yeah… I kinda did sprint here.”
Something about the easy honesty in her voice made Yoona’s lips twitch, almost into a smile. Almost.
“Well, don’t make a habit of it,” she said instead, turning away to write down notes. “Wouldn’t want you collapsing next.”
Jinsol chuckled. “Guess I’ll have to eat healthier, then. Maybe you should drop by the restaurant sometime—I promise not to give you anything that’ll land you in your own ER.”
Yoona didn’t respond, just focused on her clipboard. But as she left the room, she caught herself thinking that maybe—just maybe—she’d take Jinsol up on that offer.
The moment Mr. Kang’s family arrived, Bae Jinsol took a step back, exhaling as she watched them fuss over him. Relief softened the tension in her shoulders, but there was something else too—an unshakable restlessness, the lingering adrenaline from the evening’s events.
She turned toward Dr. Seol, who was finishing up her notes. “Well, I should get going. I have a restaurant to run.”
Yoona glanced up briefly, nodding. “Right.”
Jinsol hesitated, as if considering something, then smiled. “Thanks again, Dr. Seol. I mean it.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out, the scent of flour and broth trailing faintly behind her.
Yoona didn’t think much about Bae Jinsol after that.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Her first week at Haneul General passed in a steady rhythm—morning rounds, consultations, the occasional emergency. The pace was a stark contrast to the chaotic, unrelenting demands of her old hospital, but the quiet had yet to settle comfortably on her shoulders.
—
One evening, after a long shift, Yoona found herself walking down the quiet streets of town, searching for something to eat. She hadn’t stocked her fridge yet, and the idea of instant ramen in her empty apartment didn’t appeal to her.
That’s when she saw it.
Sol’s Table.
The name stood out in warm, glowing letters above a small restaurant tucked between a bookstore and a florist. The windows were fogged slightly from the heat of the kitchen, and through them, she could see a handful of customers enjoying their meals, the atmosphere cozy and inviting.
Yoona could have kept walking. Should have, maybe. But before she could think twice, she pushed open the door.
A bell jingled, and almost immediately, a familiar voice called out.
“Welcome! Have a seat wherever—”
Jinsol’s words cut off mid-sentence as she turned and spotted Yoona standing in the entrance. For a second, she just blinked, as if trying to make sure she wasn’t imagining things.
Yoona shifted slightly. “I was hungry.”
Jinsol huffed a small laugh, grabbing a menu. “Well, Doctor, you’ve come to the right place.”
She gestured toward a seat at the counter. Yoona hesitated, then sat down, watching as Jinsol wiped her hands on her apron and leaned forward slightly.
“So,” Jinsol said, propping her elbows on the counter, “should I assume you’re a picky eater, or do you trust me enough to bring you something good?”
Yoona met her gaze, surprised by the directness. Most people were careful around her, unsure how to handle her detached demeanor. But Jinsol didn’t seem the least bit intimidated.
“Surprise me,” Yoona said finally.
Jinsol grinned. “Now we’re talking.”
As she disappeared into the kitchen, Yoona found herself tapping her fingers against the counter, realizing—perhaps too late—that she might have just started something she wasn’t ready for.
The soft chime of the wall clock signaled the late hour. Outside, the streets had emptied, the quiet settling in like a heavy blanket over the small town. Inside Sol’s Table, the restaurant was still lit with a warm glow, but the chairs were now stacked on tables, and the lingering scent of soy sauce and grilled fish clung to the air.
Yoona was the only customer left.
She hadn’t meant to stay so long, but the combination of exhaustion and a satisfying meal had kept her rooted to her seat. The tea in her hands had gone slightly cold, but she still cupped it, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.
Across the room, Jinsol finished wiping down the last table, stretching her arms above her head with a quiet sigh. When she turned toward the counter and saw Yoona still sitting there, her lips curled into a small, amused smile.
“You’re still here,” she remarked, her voice softer in the near-empty space.
Yoona glanced at the clock. It was late. Too late, really.
“I should go,” she murmured, though she didn’t move.
Jinsol didn’t rush her. Instead, she grabbed a cup for herself, poured some tea, and slid into the seat across from her. The restaurant, now devoid of its usual hum of conversation and clinking dishes, felt quieter—more intimate.
Yoona’s fingers tapped lightly against the rim of her cup. She wasn’t used to this, the quiet after-hours atmosphere of a place meant for company. The spaces she usually occupied—hospitals, apartments, hotel rooms—never held this kind of warmth.
Jinsol leaned back in her chair, resting an elbow on the counter. “Long day?”
Yoona nodded once. “Mm.”
Jinsol didn’t press for details.
The silence between them wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. It hung in the air, not heavy, but unfamiliar—two strangers who had crossed paths in an unexpected way, now sitting together without the buffer of duty or necessity.
After a moment, Jinsol took a slow sip of her tea and glanced at Yoona’s empty bowl. “You liked the food?”
Yoona nodded again. “It was good.”
Jinsol huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s all?”
Yoona considered her words. “I haven’t had a proper meal in a while.”
Jinsol raised an eyebrow. “Doctors don’t eat?”
“They forget,” Yoona corrected.
Jinsol didn’t look surprised. Instead, she swirled her tea slightly, watching the liquid shift. “You’re not from around here.”
It wasn’t a question.
Yoona shook her head. “Just moved.”
“Why?”
Yoona hesitated, then said simply, “Change.”
Jinsol didn’t pry, but something in her gaze told Yoona she had more to say. She didn’t, though. Not yet.
A beat of silence stretched between them. The sound of the wind outside, the faint hum of the refrigerator, the quiet clink of Jinsol setting her cup down—it all filled the space between words.
Jinsol stretched her arms again, this time more lazily. “Well, if you’re staying here, you’ll probably end up back in this restaurant. Not many options in town.”
Yoona glanced at her, something unreadable in her expression. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jinsol smirked. “You don’t seem like someone who eats out much.”
“I don’t,” Yoona admitted.
“So why tonight?”
Yoona hesitated, staring down at her tea as if the answer could be found in the amber liquid. The truth was simple—she hadn’t wanted to go home to an empty apartment. But saying that aloud felt too revealing, too soon.
Instead, she shrugged slightly. “I was hungry.”
Jinsol let out a small chuckle. “Fair enough.”
The restaurant felt even quieter now, the kind of quiet that only comes when a place is winding down for the night. The warm air carried the last traces of the evening’s cooking, the scents fading but still present.
Yoona shifted, finishing the last sip of her tea. She set the cup down carefully. “I should go.”
Jinsol stood up as well, stretching her back before walking over to the door. She unlocked it with an easy flick of her wrist, holding it open. The cool night air slipped in, carrying the distant scent of the sea.
As Yoona stepped past her, Jinsol spoke, her voice light.
“You should come by again.”
Yoona paused, glancing back.
Jinsol grinned. “I’ll make you something new.”
Yoona studied her for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before stepping out into the night.
She didn’t look back.
Inside Sol’s Table, Jinsol watched her disappear down the quiet street, a small smile playing at her lips.
—
Hospitals were supposed to be places of order, precision, and control. At least, that’s what Yoona had always told herself. But no matter how clean the floors were or how sterile the walls seemed, people brought in their own chaos, their own messiness, their own emotions.
She had been here for nearly two weeks, and already, she was beginning to see the patterns in this hospital—who moved with urgency and who dragged their feet, which nurses kept the doctors in line and which ones indulged their egos. Haneul General was smaller than the hospitals she had worked at before, but the pace didn’t bother her. In a way, it made her job easier.
What did bother her, though, was Dr. Park Jihoon.
He was friendly. Too friendly.
Yoona had dealt with men like him before—confident, charming, used to being well-liked. The kind of man who treated interest as a puzzle to solve rather than a boundary to respect.
“Dr. Seol.”
She didn’t look up immediately. Instead, she finished writing her notes in the patient chart before acknowledging him with a glance.
Jihoon stood across the nurse’s station, a coffee cup in hand, his usual relaxed smile in place. He wasn’t bad-looking. Tall, well-dressed, his white coat fitting him a little too perfectly—like he had tailored it for style rather than function.
Yoona had seen nurses and even some younger doctors light up around him. But she wasn’t interested.
“Dr. Park,” she greeted curtly.
Jihoon leaned on the counter, angling himself so she couldn’t ignore him completely. “How’s your day going?”
“Fine.”
“Busy?”
She didn’t answer.
He chuckled, undeterred. “You know, you’re not exactly making it easy for me to get to know you.”
Yoona sighed and closed the patient file. “I wasn’t aware that was my responsibility.”
Kyujin, one of the nurses behind the station, choked back a laugh. Jihoon raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I walked into that one.”
Yoona tucked the file under her arm, prepared to leave.
“But since you’re already here,” Jihoon continued, “I was thinking—you probably haven’t had much time to explore the town yet. I could show you around.” He smiled easily, as if he hadn’t just ignored every cue she’d given him. “Maybe grab dinner after?”
Yoona finally met his gaze, her expression unreadable.
It wasn’t the first time he had tried. Over the past two weeks, Jihoon had found ways to linger, always striking up conversations that lasted just a little too long.
She had no interest in entertaining it.
“I’m busy,” she said, voice neutral.
Jihoon tilted his head. “You have to eat sometime.”
“I already have a place I go to.”
His brows lifted slightly, intrigued. “Oh? Already found a favorite spot?”
Yoona didn’t answer.
Jihoon’s smirk deepened, as if he had just discovered something interesting. But before he could push further, a nurse called for him down the hall.
“Guess I’ll have to try again later,” he said with a wink before walking away.
Kyujin, who had been watching the whole interaction with amused interest, leaned on the counter. “You know, most women around here wouldn’t turn him down.”
Yoona exhaled slowly and handed her the patient chart. “I’m not most women.”
Kyujin smirked. “No kidding.”
—
By the time Yoona left the hospital, it was late. The evening air was crisp, the streets mostly empty except for the occasional passing car. She walked with slow, measured steps, her body exhausted but her mind restless.
Jihoon’s persistence wasn’t surprising, but it irritated her. It wasn’t just him—it was the expectation that came with people like him. That if she was distant, it was a challenge. That if she wasn’t interested, she just needed to be convinced.
She hated that game.
Her feet carried her through the familiar streets without much thought. The town wasn’t big, and already, she had learned the small turns and shortcuts that led her back to her apartment.
And yet, she didn’t go home.
Instead, she found herself standing outside Sol’s Table.
The lights inside were still on, but it was quiet. Through the glass, she could see that most of the chairs had already been flipped onto tables, the night winding down. The air smelled faintly of grilled fish and something warm, something comforting.
For a moment, she debated leaving.
But then she pushed the door open.
The small bell above the entrance chimed, and Jinsol looked up from where she was wiping down the counter. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of her. “Back again?”
Yoona stepped inside, rolling her shoulders slightly. “I was hungry.”
Jinsol smirked, tossing the rag onto her shoulder. “You say that every time.”
Yoona didn’t respond, but instead of sitting at her usual table, she made her way to the counter. The restaurant was nearly empty, the last of the evening’s customers finishing their drinks at a far corner.
Jinsol studied her for a moment before turning toward the kitchen. “Sit. I’ll make you something quick.”
Yoona slid onto the stool, resting her arms against the counter.
The quiet of the restaurant felt different than the quiet of the hospital. There, silence meant exhaustion, a brief reprieve before the next emergency. Here, it felt… easier.
She exhaled slowly, letting herself ease into it.
From the kitchen, she could hear Jinsol moving—pans clinking, the soft sizzle of something hitting the heat. The scent of garlic and broth filled the air, familiar and calming.
Jinsol reappeared a few minutes later, setting down a steaming bowl of soft tofu stew, accompanied by a side of rice and pickled radish. “Nothing fancy,” she said, watching as Yoona picked up her spoon. “But you looked like you needed something warm.”
Yoona hummed in acknowledgment, taking a small bite. The warmth spread through her instantly, the flavors subtle but satisfying.
Jinsol leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Long day?”
Yoona nodded.
Jinsol didn’t ask for details.
Instead, she picked up a cloth and absentmindedly wiped the already clean counter. “You get hit on at work?”
Yoona paused mid-bite. She looked up. “What?”
Jinsol smirked slightly, tapping the counter. “You’re a doctor, new in town, kind of mysterious. Someone’s probably trying to get your attention.”
Yoona scoffed lightly. “That’s a bold assumption.”
Jinsol shrugged. “I’m good at reading people.”
Yoona took another bite. “One of the doctors has been persistent.”
Jinsol nodded knowingly. “Let me guess. Smooth talker, thinks he’s charming, doesn’t take no easily?”
Yoona tilted her head. “You sound familiar with the type.”
“I used to date one.”
Yoona raised an eyebrow.
Jinsol grinned. “Didn’t last long.”
Yoona didn’t press for more. She wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t interested in knowing or because she was.
Jinsol sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “So, what’s your plan? Ignore him until he gets tired?”
“Something like that.”
Jinsol smirked. “Cold.”
“Efficient.”
Jinsol chuckled. “I like it.”
The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… easy. Natural.
Yoona finished the last of her meal and set the spoon down. “Thanks.”
Jinsol picked up the dish. “You want tea?”
Yoona hesitated. Then, surprisingly, she nodded.
Jinsol’s smile was small, but it lingered as she turned toward the kitchen. “Good. It’s too early to go home anyway.”
Yoona watched her move, realizing that, for the first time all day, she didn’t mind staying just a little longer.
---
Mornings at Haneul General always began with a certain rhythm. The early hours were quieter, filled with the soft shuffle of nurses checking vitals, the distant hum of medical machines, and the occasional hushed conversation between doctors discussing patient cases.
Yoona had settled into this routine quickly. She liked the predictability of it—the way the hospital functioned like a well-rehearsed orchestra, each person moving in sync with the others. Her morning rounds had become a comfortable pattern: reviewing charts, checking on post-op patients, and listening to the occasional complaint about the food.
She was in the middle of scanning a patient’s file when something unusual broke through the usual hospital sounds.
A voice. Familiar.
“Good morning, Nurse Kim.”
Yoona’s eyes lifted from the chart, her focus sharpening.
She wasn’t mistaken. That was Jinsol’s voice.
She glanced toward the open door of the patient’s room, catching a glimpse of the front desk. And there she was—standing casually at the nurse’s station, a large paper bag in her hands.
Jinsol looked completely at ease despite the stark contrast between her and her surroundings. The restaurant owner’s dark green sweater and jeans made her stand out among the sea of white coats and scrubs, yet she didn’t seem the least bit out of place. She was smiling, chatting with the nurses as if she had done this a hundred times before.
Yoona hadn’t expected to see her here.
She lingered a little longer in the room, watching through the half-open door as Jinsol set the paper bag on the counter. One of the nurses, a young woman with tired eyes and a frazzled ponytail, peered inside. Her face instantly lit up.
“Oh my god,” the nurse breathed, reaching for something inside. “You brought the egg tarts again?”
Jinsol smirked. “Thought you might need the sugar rush.”
Another nurse peeked inside and gasped. “Is that the spicy rice cake too?”
“Leftovers from the lunch rush,” Jinsol said casually, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Figured you all could use some.”
The nurses swarmed the bag like starved children. One of them groaned in appreciation as she bit into a piece of warm bread.
“You’re actually saving lives here, Jinsol.”
“Yeah, why aren’t you a doctor instead of a chef?”
“Doctors don’t get tips,” Jinsol quipped, making them laugh.
Yoona watched this unfold in silence, something unsettled stirring in her chest.
This wasn’t what she had expected from Jinsol. She had assumed the chef mostly kept to herself, much like she did. That she didn’t go out of her way for people unless necessary.
But here she was—bringing food to overworked nurses, chatting with them like old friends, slipping effortlessly into their routine as if she belonged here just as much as they did.
Yoona stepped out of the patient’s room, moving toward the front desk with measured steps. She stopped beside Nari, one of the younger nurses, keeping her voice low.
“She does this often?”
Kyujin, who was halfway through chewing a piece of bread, turned to her in surprise. “Jinsol? Oh yeah. Maybe once or twice a week.”
Yoona frowned slightly. “Why?”
Kyujin shrugged. “She says it’s because we work too hard and forget to eat. But honestly, I think she just likes us.”
Yoona’s brows furrowed slightly.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on why this bothered her. It wasn’t irritation, exactly. More like… confusion.
Before she could dwell on it further, Jinsol turned her head, finally noticing her. Their eyes met across the counter.
Jinsol’s mouth twitched into a small smirk.
“Dr. Seol.”
There was a teasing edge in her tone, like she found something about this situation amusing.
Yoona lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jinsol leaned against the counter. “This is my hospital.”
Jinsol let out a soft laugh. “Still. Feels weird seeing you outside the restaurant.”
Yoona glanced at the paper bag, still filled with more food. “You bring food here regularly?”
Jinsol tilted her head slightly, watching her. “Why? Jealous I don’t bring you any?”
Yoona’s brow twitched. “I eat just fine.”
Jinsol smirked, clearly entertained. “Sure you do.”
Yoona ignored the knowing glances from the nurses around them. The energy in the room had shifted—suddenly, it felt like everyone was watching this exchange with barely concealed interest.
Kyujin, ever the opportunist, nudged Yoona’s arm. “You should try her cooking outside of the restaurant sometime, Doctor. It’s even better when she’s not charging you.”
Yoona shot her a look.
Jinsol chuckled under her breath, but she didn’t say anything to confirm or deny the suggestion. Instead, she straightened up, brushing invisible dust off her sleeves.
“Anyway,” she said, “I should get back. Just wanted to drop these off before you all start skipping meals again.”
As she turned to leave, Yoona found herself speaking before she could think.
“You came all the way here just for that?”
Jinsol paused.
For a brief moment, she didn’t answer. She simply looked at Yoona, as if debating something in her head.
Then, with a small, knowing smile, she said, “Doctors aren’t the only ones who take care of people.”
And with that, she walked away.
Yoona stood there, unmoving, her mind turning over those words.
She wasn’t sure why, but they lingered.
---
The day had felt… different.
Jinsol wasn’t the kind of person to dwell on things, but as she wiped down the last of the tables at Sol’s Table, she couldn’t help but notice the empty seat near the window.
The one Yoona usually took.
She hadn’t come in today.
Not that Jinsol had expected her to. The doctor wasn’t a regular—not yet, at least—but she had been stopping by often enough that it felt noticeable when she didn’t show up.
It wasn’t something Jinsol should care about. People got busy. Maybe Yoona had been caught up at the hospital. Maybe she had already eaten somewhere else.
Still.
Jinsol had caught herself glancing at the door once or twice, expecting to hear the soft chime of the entrance bell, only to find another customer instead.
The thought irritated her.
Why did it matter?
She tossed the rag onto the counter and exhaled, rolling her shoulders back. It had been a long day. The lunch rush had been especially hectic, and she had barely taken a break between handling orders, checking inventory, and making sure her staff wasn’t slacking off.
But now, with the restaurant finally empty, she felt the exhaustion settle into her bones.
She finished closing up, flipping the sign to Closed, locking the doors, and double-checking the kitchen. Then, with a tired sigh, she grabbed her helmet and stepped outside.
The streets were quieter now, most of the town winding down for the night. The scent of salt lingered in the air, carried by the breeze coming in from the ocean.
Jinsol straddled her scooter, securing her helmet before starting the engine.
The road stretched ahead, leading toward the coastline.
She always took the long way home.
The ride was familiar, comforting in its routine. The hum of the scooter, the cool wind against her skin, the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore—it was all second nature to her.
The ocean was a constant presence, one she had never grown tired of. It explained why her seafood was always the freshest—she had spent years learning how to pick the best from the morning markets, knowing exactly where each supplier got their catch.
Freshness mattered.
She slowed down near a small coastal road, the sea stretching endlessly beside her. The moonlight reflected off the waves, turning the water into a shimmering expanse of silver.
She pulled over near a lookout point, letting the engine idle for a moment. Taking off her helmet, she ran a hand through her hair and exhaled.
It had been a long day.
And yet, her thoughts drifted back—back to the hospital, back to the way Yoona had looked at her when she had shown up with food. The slight furrow in her brow, the way she had hesitated before speaking.
"You came all the way here just for that?"
Jinsol had brushed it off at the time. It wasn’t like she had gone there for Yoona. She had been doing this long before the doctor arrived.
So why did it linger in her mind?
She clicked her tongue, shaking her head.
Not her problem.
She stared at the water for a few more seconds, letting the ocean settle her thoughts.
Tomorrow, she would wake up early, check on the morning’s catch, and start the prep for another busy day.
But for now, just for a moment, she let herself breathe.
Then, with a final glance at the waves, she put her helmet back on and continued the ride home.
By the time Jinsol pulled into the driveway, the hum of the scooter’s engine fading into silence, the night felt heavier than usual. The exhaustion from the day clung to her shoulders, but it wasn’t just the long hours in the kitchen or the late-night ride home. Something else lingered in the back of her mind.
She barely had time to take off her helmet before the front door creaked open.
“You’re late.”
Jinsol glanced up to see her mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. The porch light cast a warm glow over her figure, highlighting the slight furrow in her brow—the same one she always had when Jinsol came home later than usual.
Jinsol sighed, stepping inside. “Not really.”
Her mother stepped aside, letting her in, but didn’t move far. As Jinsol toed off her shoes and placed her helmet on the side table, she could feel her mother’s gaze lingering on her.
“You ate, right?”
“Yeah, at the restaurant.”
Her mother hummed as if she didn’t quite believe her but didn’t press further.
Jinsol made her way to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. It was routine at this point—coming home, drinking water before bed, sitting at the small kitchen table for a few minutes just to wind down.
But tonight, something felt off. Or rather—her mother looked like she was waiting for something.
And then, after a moment of silence, she spoke.
“I heard about the new doctor in town.”
Jinsol’s hand froze midair, the glass inches from her lips.
She blinked, lowering the cup slightly. “What?”
Her mother, now leaning against the counter, crossed her arms again. “The new doctor. Seol Yoona.”
Jinsol’s brows furrowed slightly. “How do you know about her?”
Her mother scoffed, as if the question was absurd. “Everyone knows about her. The market ladies have been talking about her since she arrived.”
Jinsol sighed, setting her glass down with a soft clink. “Of course they have.”
“They say she’s very pretty. And kind,” her mother added casually. “Hardworking, too.”
Jinsol tried not to react, but she could feel her mother’s eyes on her.
She took a slow sip of water, hoping to move past the conversation, but her mother wasn’t done.
“You’ve met her, haven’t you?”
Jinsol exhaled. “Yeah.”
Her mother’s eyes immediately lit up. “Oh?”
“She comes by the restaurant sometimes.”
There was a beat of silence before her mother’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile.
Jinsol frowned. “What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking something.”
Her mother didn’t deny it. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, watching Jinsol with that same amused expression. “She must like your food if she keeps coming back.”
Jinsol rolled her eyes. “People eat where the food is good. That’s normal.”
“Hmm.”
Jinsol took another sip of water, trying to ignore the way her mother was looking at her.
“You didn’t see her today, did you?”
Jinsol tensed for just a second. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but her mother caught it.
Jinsol sighed. “No. She didn’t come by.”
Her mother hummed again, tapping her fingers lightly against the counter. “Maybe she was busy.”
“Probably.”
“Or maybe she ate somewhere else.”
Jinsol didn’t respond.
Her mother studied her for another moment, then, as if sensing that Jinsol wasn’t going to say anything more, she smiled to herself.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
“I just worked all day, Mom.”
“Mm.” Her mother pushed away from the counter, heading toward the hallway. But as she passed, she patted Jinsol’s shoulder and said, “You think too much for someone who pretends not to care.”
Jinsol scoffed, shaking her head. “You always say that.”
Her mother chuckled. “Because it’s always true.”
And with that, she left, disappearing down the hall.
Jinsol sat there for a moment longer, staring at the ripples in her water glass.
Her mother’s words lingered, just like everything else today.
Yoona hadn’t come in. It shouldn’t matter.
And yet, somehow, it did.
---
The sun had barely risen when Jinsol arrived at the market. The scent of salt and fresh seafood filled the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of vegetables and the sharp tang of spices. Vendors were setting up their stalls, their voices already loud as they called out the day’s freshest catch.
This was her routine—early mornings at the market, checking the fish, negotiating prices, making sure she got the best ingredients before heading back to the restaurant. It was familiar, predictable.
But this morning, something was different.
Because right there, near the seafood stalls, stood Seol Yoona.
Jinsol slowed her steps, watching as Yoona bent slightly over a vendor’s display of crabs, listening intently as the elderly fisherman explained something to her. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she was dressed casually—sneakers, jeans, and an oversized hoodie that looked slightly too warm for the weather.
She didn’t look like she belonged there.
And yet, she didn’t seem lost either.
Jinsol should have walked past. She should have focused on her own shopping. But instead, before she even realized it, she was stopping a few feet away.
“You don’t seem like the type to be out this early,” she said.
Yoona straightened at the sound of her voice, blinking in surprise.
For a moment, she just stared at Jinsol, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. Then, slowly, a small, polite smile formed on her lips.
“I could say the same about you,” she replied.
Jinsol huffed. “I run a restaurant.”
Yoona nodded. “And I work at a hospital.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
Yoona glanced back at the stall, then lifted the small net bag in her hand. Inside were a few carefully selected crabs. “One of my patients mentioned that the seafood here is really fresh. I wanted to see for myself.”
Jinsol raised a brow. “You cook?”
Yoona hesitated, then let out a soft laugh. “Not really. But I wanted to try.”
Jinsol looked down at the crabs in Yoona’s bag, then back at the doctor’s face. “You bought these?”
Yoona nodded.
“…Do you even know how to clean them?”
Yoona’s smile faltered slightly. “I was going to look it up.”
Jinsol sighed, shaking her head. “You’ll end up with a mess in your kitchen.”
Yoona looked mildly offended. “I can follow instructions.”
Jinsol gave her a look. “Have you ever cooked live crab before?”
“…No.”
“Then you won’t be able to do it properly.”
Yoona frowned, looking down at the crabs again, as if realizing she might have made a mistake.
Jinsol sighed again, rubbing the back of her neck. She didn’t want to get involved. But the thought of Yoona ruining perfectly good crabs was somehow unbearable.
“…Come by the restaurant later,” she said before she could stop herself. “I’ll show you how to cook them properly.”
Yoona looked up, surprised. “You don’t have to—”
“I don’t,” Jinsol agreed. “But I also don’t want to hear about you accidentally setting your kitchen on fire.”
Yoona let out a soft chuckle, her expression relaxing just a little. “Alright. I’ll stop by.”
Jinsol nodded, then, without another word, turned back to her own shopping.
But even as she walked away, she could still feel Yoona’s gaze on her.
And for some reason, it didn’t bother her.
Jinsol didn’t plan to leave the market with an extra person.
But there she was, standing next to Yoona, crabs in hand, while the morning crowd bustled around them.
“You’re really going to teach me how to cook these?” Yoona asked, adjusting the bag in her grip.
Jinsol exhaled. “I already said I would.”
A small, amused smile tugged at Yoona’s lips. “You don’t seem thrilled about it.”
“I just don’t like wasting good seafood.”
Yoona hummed as if she wasn’t convinced but didn’t push.
Jinsol shifted the bag of ingredients she’d just bought into one arm and reached for the keys in her pocket. “Come on, let’s go.”
Yoona followed her toward where the scooter was parked. But just as Jinsol slipped on her own helmet, she turned to Yoona and asked, “Have you ever ridden a scooter before?”
Yoona blinked. “Me? No.”
Jinsol studied her for a second. “…Have you ever been on one?”
“…No.”
Jinsol let out a slow breath, tilting her head slightly as she processed that information. “…You’re not going to freak out, are you?”
Yoona scoffed. “I’m a doctor. I understand how balance works.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Yoona rolled her eyes but stepped forward. Jinsol pulled out a spare helmet and handed it over. “Here. Put this on.”
Yoona took it hesitantly, studying it for a second before attempting to slide it over her head. She struggled slightly, adjusting the fit, and then reached for the strap beneath her chin.
Her fingers fumbled.
Jinsol, watching, let out a small sigh before stepping closer. “You’re worse at this than I expected.”
Yoona huffed. “I can—”
But before she could finish, Jinsol was already reaching forward.
“Stay still.”
Jinsol’s fingers brushed lightly against Yoona’s jaw as she reached under her chin, adjusting the strap with practiced ease. It was a simple, quick motion—lifting the buckle, pulling the strap through, securing it snugly. But for some reason, the moment felt slower than it should have.
Yoona’s breath hitched—just a tiny bit.
Jinsol didn’t comment on it. She just fastened the strap properly and then stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides.
“There. Done.”
Yoona blinked a few times, as if bringing herself back to reality. “That was unnecessary. I could’ve done it myself.”
Jinsol raised a brow. “Yeah? How long were you planning to struggle with it?”
Yoona pressed her lips together in a thin line, clearly choosing not to respond.
Jinsol smirked but didn’t push further. Instead, she swung a leg over the scooter and tapped the seat behind her. “Alright, get on.”
Yoona hesitated for a moment before carefully climbing onto the backseat.
“Where do I hold?” she asked.
“There’s a grip on the sides,” Jinsol said, tapping the handles behind her.
Yoona reached for them, fingers wrapping around the bars.
“Ready?” Jinsol asked.
“Yeah.”
Jinsol started the engine, and as soon as they began to roll forward, she felt Yoona tense slightly behind her. The first few seconds were fine, but the moment they picked up speed, there was the lightest shift of movement—Yoona, letting go of the side handles.
Then, hesitantly, she gripped the back of Jinsol’s jacket instead.
Jinsol didn’t say anything.
She just focused on the road, pretending not to notice.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of the ocean as they weaved through the quiet streets. The town was still waking up, the roads not yet crowded, making the ride smoother than usual.
Jinsol wasn’t sure how long they rode in silence, but when she finally pulled up in front of the restaurant and cut the engine, Yoona let out a breath she had clearly been holding.
She quickly released Jinsol’s jacket and stepped off, pulling off the helmet and exhaling as she fixed her hair.
“That wasn’t so bad,” she said.
Jinsol smirked as she parked the scooter properly. “I thought you understood how balance worked?”
Yoona shot her a dry look. “I do. I just prefer having my feet on the ground.”
Jinsol chuckled, setting her helmet aside. “Well, you survived.”
“Barely.”
Jinsol shook her head but didn’t argue. Instead, she unlocked the restaurant door and pushed it open, nodding toward the entrance.
“Come on. Let’s get to work.”
Yoona followed, stepping inside as Jinsol closed the door behind them.
The restaurant was quiet, the usual hum of customers replaced by the bubbling of broth on the stove and the occasional clatter of kitchen utensils. The scent of simmering seafood filled the air, mixing with the faint saltiness drifting in from the ocean outside.
Yoona stood beside Jinsol at the stainless steel counter, sleeves rolled up, an apron loosely tied around her waist. She looked completely out of her element—her posture was stiff, her grip on the knife awkward, and her eyes filled with a mixture of determination and uncertainty.
Jinsol had seen plenty of rookies in the kitchen before—new employees struggling to keep up, young apprentices hesitating over every little thing—but there was something different about watching Yoona in this setting.
The doctor, who always looked composed in her white coat, was now hesitating over a crab.
Jinsol smirked a little. “You sure you still want to learn?”
Yoona huffed, adjusting the way she held the knife. “I’ve already committed to this.”
Jinsol nodded toward the cutting board. “Alright. First, you need to make sure the crab is prepped properly. Hold it like this.”
She demonstrated, picking up a crab with ease, flipping it over, and prying off the shell in one smooth motion. The sound of the shell cracking echoed softly in the kitchen.
Yoona frowned slightly and copied the motion, gripping the crab just as Jinsol had shown her.
Jinsol glanced at her hands. “Tighter. If you don’t hold it firmly, it’ll slip when you cut.”
Yoona adjusted her grip and took a deep breath before attempting to remove the shell.
Jinsol watched, resisting the urge to step in.
“You don’t have to be too careful,” she said. “Just firm enough to—”
Then it happened—quick, barely noticeable, but Jinsol caught it immediately.
Yoona flinched, sucking in a sharp breath as she quickly pulled her hand back.
Jinsol’s eyes snapped to her fingers, spotting a thin line of red forming along the tip of her index finger.
“You okay?” Jinsol asked, frowning.
Yoona pressed her lips together, staring at the tiny wound. “Yeah. It’s just a scratch.”
Jinsol didn’t buy it. Without waiting for Yoona’s permission, she grabbed a clean towel, reaching for her wrist before she could move away.
“Let me see.”
“It’s nothing, I—”
“Just let me see,” Jinsol repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Yoona hesitated before reluctantly extending her hand.
Jinsol examined the cut—not deep, but enough to sting. She let out a small sigh and turned toward the first-aid kit she kept under the counter.
“This might sting a little,” she warned, grabbing a disinfectant wipe.
Yoona nodded, bracing herself.
Jinsol gently dabbed at the wound, and the moment the antiseptic touched her skin—Yoona flinched.
Then, to Jinsol’s complete surprise—her eyes welled up.
It wasn’t dramatic. No sharp intake of breath, no exaggerated whimper. Just a quiet shift in expression—her lips pressing together, her eyes glistening in a way that caught the light.
Jinsol’s hands stilled for half a second.
“…Are you crying?” she asked, blinking in confusion.
Yoona inhaled sharply, looking away. “No.”
Jinsol tilted her head. “You—”
“I’m not crying.”
But then a single tear slipped down Yoona’s cheek, betraying her words.
Jinsol just stared.
She wasn’t used to seeing this Yoona—the Yoona who had confidently handled emergencies at the hospital, who spoke with unwavering certainty, who always seemed so in control.
This was different.
Yoona wiped at her face quickly, sniffling. “It’s not because of the cut,” she muttered. “I don’t know why—”
Jinsol exhaled softly.
She had a feeling she knew.
Maybe it wasn’t just the cut. Maybe it was everything—the exhaustion of adjusting to a new town, the pressure of proving herself at the hospital, the loneliness of being somewhere unfamiliar.
Maybe it had all just caught up to her in this small, unexpected moment.
Jinsol didn’t say anything.
Instead, she focused on what she could do.
“…Hold still,” she murmured, dabbing at the wound a little more gently this time.
Yoona stayed quiet, letting her.
Jinsol finished cleaning the cut, then unwrapped a small bandage, carefully placing it over the wound.
“There,” she said, voice softer than usual. “All done.”
Yoona let out a slow breath. “Thanks.”
Jinsol let go of her hand. “Do you want to stop for today?”
Yoona hesitated. She could have said yes, could have used this as an excuse to step back—but instead, she shook her head.
“No. I want to keep going.”
Jinsol studied her for a moment, searching her face for any sign of hesitation. Then, with a small sigh, she grabbed another crab and placed it on the cutting board.
“Alright. Let’s try again.”
Yoona wiped her eyes discreetly, took a deep breath, and picked up her knife.
This time, when she held the crab, her grip was a little steadier.
The kitchen was alive with motion. The soft bubbling of broth on the stove, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, and the occasional sizzle of something hitting a hot pan filled the space with a comforting warmth.
Jinsol hadn’t expected Yoona to last this long.
After the minor mishap with the cut, she thought Yoona would quietly step back, maybe make an excuse about needing to be at the hospital early tomorrow. But instead, she had rolled up her sleeves, tightened her grip on the knife, and declared, Let’s try again.
Jinsol would never admit it, but she was impressed.
Yoona wasn’t fast, nor was she particularly skilled, but she was focused. She took each instruction seriously, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration as she tried to perfect every step.
At first, Jinsol found herself watching over her like a hawk, ready to correct every little mistake. But as the minutes passed, she started easing up. Yoona was getting the hang of it—slowly, clumsily, but surely.
“Not bad,” Jinsol muttered as Yoona finished cleaning another crab.
Yoona glanced at her with a knowing smirk. “That sounded dangerously close to a compliment.”
Jinsol scoffed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Yoona chuckled, her posture more relaxed now. The earlier stiffness in her shoulders was gone, and even her knife skills—while still questionable—were improving.
They moved on to chopping vegetables next. Jinsol grabbed a handful of green onions and sliced through them effortlessly, the pieces falling in neat, uniform shapes. She turned to Yoona.
“You try.”
Yoona stepped up, picked up the knife, and carefully lined up the green onions.
Jinsol leaned slightly against the counter, watching.
Yoona exhaled, adjusted her grip, and made the first cut.
It was terrible.
The pieces came out uneven—some thick, some thin, one so small it was practically dust.
Jinsol stared.
Yoona blinked.
“…It’s not that bad,” Yoona said slowly, as if trying to convince herself.
Jinsol pressed her lips together, trying to keep a straight face. But the absolute randomness of Yoona’s chopping skills was too much.
A small, amused snort escaped her.
Yoona immediately narrowed her eyes. “You’re laughing.”
“I’m not,” Jinsol said, even as her lips twitched.
“You are.”
Yoona huffed, looking at her mangled pile of onions. Then, with a glint of mischief Jinsol hadn’t expected, she grabbed a handful of the chopped greens—
—and tossed them at Jinsol.
Jinsol froze.
The tiny pieces of green onion clung to her apron, a few even sticking to her hair.
Yoona gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. “Oh no.”
Jinsol slowly turned to her, eyes narrowing. “…Did you just—”
Yoona burst out laughing.
Jinsol scowled, brushing off the green onions. “Oh, you think that’s funny?”
“I know it’s funny.”
Jinsol exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out of my kitchen.”
Yoona grinned. “You wouldn’t.”
Jinsol rolled her eyes and handed Yoona another bunch of green onions. “Try again. But this time, don’t turn them into a crime scene.”
Yoona straightened up, gripping the knife. “I make no promises.”
She tried again—still uneven, but slightly better than before. Jinsol guided her occasionally, correcting her posture, adjusting her grip.
Somehow, amidst all the teasing, the cooking lesson had turned into something fun.
Yoona wasn’t just following instructions anymore; she was engaging with the process, asking questions, making jokes, and—perhaps unknowingly—becoming more at ease in Jinsol’s world.
Jinsol, for her part, found herself… enjoying it.
It wasn’t often that she had company in the kitchen. Most of the time, she worked alone or gave orders to her staff. Teaching someone—especially someone like Yoona—was different.
It was a kind of warmth she hadn’t expected.
Just as they were finishing up a batch of stock for tomorrow’s menu, the front door opened with a familiar chime.
A loud, familiar voice called out.
“Boss! I’m here!”
Jinsol turned just as Kim Jiwoo strolled into the kitchen, stretching her arms lazily.
Jiwoo was her part-time delivery worker—fast on her scooter, a little too nosy for her own good, and always arriving just in time to avoid being scolded.
She came to an abrupt stop when she saw Yoona standing beside Jinsol, an apron tied around her waist.
Jiwoo’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Oh? What’s this?”
Yoona blinked. “Huh?”
Jiwoo looked between them. “Did we get a new employee?”
“She’s not an employee,” Jinsol said before Yoona could respond.
Jiwoo raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because she looks like one.”
Yoona wiped her hands on a towel. “I was just… learning.”
Jiwoo turned to Jinsol. “You? Teaching someone?”
Jinsol sighed. “What’s your point?”
Jiwoo grinned. “It’s rare.”
She turned back to Yoona, lowering her voice playfully. “Did she yell at you?”
Yoona smirked. “A little.”
Jinsol groaned. “Oh my god.”
Jiwoo cackled. “Well, congrats on surviving. That’s an achievement.”
Yoona chuckled, shaking her head.
Jinsol crossed her arms. “Jiwoo, don’t you have deliveries to prepare?”
Jiwoo lazily saluted. “Yes, boss.” She grabbed a delivery bag, still smirking as she packed up orders.
Jinsol turned back to Yoona, exhaling. “See what I have to deal with?”
Yoona smirked. “I think it’s nice. You’ve got good people around you.”
Jinsol blinked, caught off guard for a second.
Then, clearing her throat, she turned back to the counter.
“…Yeah. I guess I do.”
Yoona glanced at the time and sighed. “I should probably head out soon.” She hesitated, then asked, “But—can I come back? You know, for another lesson?”
Jinsol eyed her. “You sure? You already cried once in my kitchen.”
Yoona groaned. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
Jinsol smirked. “Nope.”
Yoona huffed. “Fine. But I am coming back.”
Jinsol just shrugged. “Your funeral.”
Yoona rolled her eyes, untied the apron, and set it aside.
But as she made her way toward the door, Jinsol found herself watching her go.
For some reason, the idea of her coming back didn’t sound so bad.