Chapter 2
“Miss!”
Samdeuk called out again desperately. But Iseo still didn’t move. In fact, it was closer to her being too shocked to move at all. She had only just realized that the world she had lived in so peacefully was actually inside a book.
As she looked at the blazing rafters and the burning servants’ quarters, a dull ache throbbed at the back of her head, as if someone had struck her there. Then, memories of her previous life—where she had died in an accident—came rushing back.
It had been hard enough to get into a major corporation, but working there was even harder than she had imagined. If she did well, more work piled onto her. If she didn’t, harsh criticism came without mercy. Years passed like that, and Iseo grew exhausted. Burnout had found her. Everything in the world felt like a burden.
In that state, there was no way things could go well. Her request for leave was denied. There were plenty of people lined up who wanted her job.
After quitting, Iseo spent her days simply breathing and letting time slip by. She didn’t want to do anything. She wouldn’t eat, only sleep, until she was nearly starving—then she would go outside to find something, anything, to eat. As long as it filled her stomach, it didn’t matter: convenience store meals, street toast, ramen, kimbap…
She would pick the first thing she saw, fill her stomach, return home, and fall into a death-like sleep again. When hunger woke her, she would go back out and eat just enough to survive.
Iseo sometimes thought she was like a frightened mouse. Sleeping as if dead, only peeking out into the world when hunger forced her to—it was pitiful, but she couldn’t help it. Living was still difficult. Even without anything happening, her heart was always heavy with gloom.
That day, too, she only woke at evening from hunger. A red sunset flooded her room. She opened the curtains and looked outside. It must have been rush hour—cars filled the roads, everyone hurrying somewhere. A hazy orange light stretched over it all.
For some reason, the scene felt comforting. It was still barren and dry, yet somehow different. Iseo drank a glass of cold water and stood there blankly for a moment.
Sounds she had missed while sleeping came rushing in: car horns, loud pop music from shops, restaurant owners calling out to attract customers for dinner.
Normally, the noise would have tormented her. She would have shut the windows tightly, drawn the curtains, and buried herself under blankets.
But instead, she washed her face, changed clothes, even put on a light touch of makeup, and stepped outside.
She usually chose times when no one was around, but now the early evening streets were crowded. She began walking as if on a leisurely stroll. She bumped into people once or twice, but strangely, even that didn’t bother her much.
I should eat something.
Her body, used to surviving on one meal a day, protested the sudden walk. Her stomach churned noisily, growling so loudly she felt embarrassed someone might hear.
Still, she didn’t want just anything. Until now, any food that filled her stomach had been fine, but not anymore.
As she walked, a pretty Korean dessert shop caught her eye. She hadn’t known there was such a place so close to home. Then again, she had always gone out late when it was quiet, grabbing quick meals.
Judging by the sign that said the shop closed early if they sold out, it was likely always closed when she used to come out.
After browsing the traditional sweets in the display case, Iseo slowly stepped inside.
“Welcome!”
She looked around at the shop as a kind employee greeted her. It was small, with only a few tables, but customers were constantly coming and going. She sat at a table in the back and ordered a warm cup of handmade ssanghwa tea and some yakgwa. They had coffee, too, but it didn’t seem right on an empty stomach.
“Here’s your order.”
The ssanghwa tea was topped with nuts and even had an egg yolk floating in it. An egg yolk? The combination seemed bizarre, and Iseo hesitated.
“You can scoop out the yolk first with a spoon or break it and mix it in,” the employee explained, noticing her hesitation.
“They say the yolk is good for your stomach. Give it a try—it’s rich and nutty. Even young people like it. Oh, and this is something we made as a test today—a tart made with glutinous rice and honeyed apples. Could you try it and tell me what you think?”
The employee set down a glossy apple tart. A gentle cinnamon aroma mixed with the fresh scent of apples tickled her nose. Her stomach, which had briefly quieted, growled loudly again.
Embarrassed, she quickly scooped the egg yolk into her mouth, thinking she’d get the strangest part over with first. But the result exceeded her expectations. A rich, savory flavor spread through her mouth. She had expected a raw, fishy taste, and her eyes widened in surprise.
The employee, who had been watching, chuckled softly before moving on to greet other customers.
After sipping the hot tea, Iseo picked up the apple glutinous rice tart and took a bite. The bright aroma filled her senses, and the chewy texture delighted her.
She finished the tart in no time and reached for the yakgwa. It was a snack she used to receive after ancestral rites at her grandfather’s house—a sweet, chewy treat she had loved as a child.
But as an adult, when it became easy to buy, she rarely reached for it. The ones sold in stores were too sweet and often tasted greasy.
Maybe the delicious yakgwa she remembered was just nostalgia. Maybe it had always tasted the same, but her happy memories had made it seem sweeter.
The shop’s yakgwa looked different—smaller, with a delicate four-petal flower pattern stamped into each square. Each piece was just one bite.
She examined one before placing it in her mouth. It was sticky yet soft. The slightly firm surface crumbled gently under her teeth, releasing a subtle syrupy sweetness and the nutty flavor of fried pastry.
Before she knew it, she had eaten five pieces. She ordered five more along with another cup of tea before finally standing up. Her parents would probably scold her for filling up on snacks, but she was truly full—more satisfied than she had been in a long time.
“Thank you for the meal.”
A faint smile lingered on her face, unlike when she had first entered.
“How was the apple glutinous rice tart?”
“The fresh apple flavor was wonderful. And I liked that it wasn’t too sweet.”
“Oh, that’s a relief. It’s my first time making it, so I was worried. Here, take some with you. It’s a thank-you for your detailed feedback.”
“Oh, no, I can’t—”
But the employee pressed a bag of tarts into her hands.
“I insist. I didn’t make these to sell anyway. Just take them—and if we put them out later, please come back and buy some.”
“Well…”
“Come on, just visit again next time.”
By then, the display case was empty—the remaining sweets had all sold out. As Iseo stepped outside, the employee began tidying up and preparing to close.
Standing outside, watching absentmindedly, Iseo noticed a sign posted near the entrance.
“Now hiring: Women aged 20 to 28. Full benefits.”
She was thirty—just outside the range.
Then again, even the company where she had been doing well hadn’t tried to stop her from leaving.
A big corporation, a nice car, a promising career—she had once believed her future would be clear and bright. But it had all been an illusion.
I guess it’s not for me.
Clutching the bag, she sighed and turned toward home. The sweet scent of the tarts drifted up. The streets were still crowded, but the noise no longer bothered her.
Streetlights cast a warm glow over weary shoulders, as if offering comfort. Even the music that once sounded like mere noise now seemed to soothe her.
Looking back, she realized she had never done anything for herself. Her life had always been about meeting others’ standards—good grades, a good school, a good company. The 기준 had never been hers.
That was probably why she had become so exhausted.
Whenever depression and lethargy hit, she had either neglected herself or pushed herself harder, scolding herself for wasting time. Until one day, she simply couldn’t do anything anymore—like a broken machine.
She walked slowly home through the crowd. Even though she had eaten her fill, hunger returned once she arrived. She brewed a cup of warm tea and took out the tarts, eating them piece by piece.
Warmth and comfort filled her.
That night, she fell asleep very late. Unlike before, when she would escape into sleep, she stayed awake, watching the streets and the people passing by for a long time. They no longer frightened her.
The next day, she went back to the dessert shop. And the day after that. And the day after that.
Each time, she had a cup of ssanghwa tea and some traditional sweets.
Yakgwa, gyeongdan, yugwa, sanja, maejakgwa—she hadn’t known there were so many kinds. On her way out, she would always glance at the hiring notice.
Perhaps it was hard to find someone, because the notice stayed up for days.
One day, as she stood staring at it, the shop owner came out.
The young woman she had thought was an employee was actually the owner of the dessert shop.
