It was definitely the same sirutteok Winter had given earlier. There was no room for misunderstanding. The packaging, printed with Winter Rice Cakes, was still clutched in his hand.
Maybe she hadn’t left a great impression since the day she moved in, but still—this was too much. It had all been a series of misunderstandings, but things seemed to improve a little after he came over recently and she’d helped him out.
Was it all just in my head?
There’s a limit to how much someone can dismiss sincerity. And how dare he throw away my mom’s rice cakes…
Even the warmth she’d started to feel while getting closer to him couldn’t cool her boiling anger. Her emotions ran wild.
Why did I ever feel sympathy for someone like him? What did I find charming? Why did I even hide him or bring him medicine?
Everything she’d done that day hit her all at once—with regret.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Winter yanked Eun-woo’s hand back, glaring up at him with sharp, accusing eyes.
Startled by her sudden outburst, Eun-woo furrowed his brow.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m throwing out garbage.”
“Garbage? If you didn’t want it… or if it’s me you hate, you could’ve just returned it.”
The image of her mother, sweating in front of steaming heat that morning to make the sirutteok, flashed before her eyes. Tears welled up in Winter’s large eyes.
“That rice cake—my mom made it this morning, sweating in front of a hot steamer. It’s not just some ‘rice cake’!”
“What are you even…?”
“Did you really have to go this far? Why are people so cruel?”
“Hey.”
At that moment, the tears that had gathered spilled down her cheeks. Winter quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand and looked up at the man with a face full of anger.
“You bastard.”
“What did you just say?”
His brow furrowed even deeper, clearly offended.
“Trash.”
“Hey!”
But Winter didn’t turn back. She ran off, leaving him behind.
When she reached her front door, she collapsed on the floor just inside the entrance. Sitting against the door, she finally broke down in sobs.
Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop—like a broken faucet.
It had already been an emotionally exhausting day. Her bottled-up feelings had exploded.
Why is this so hard for me, when everyone else makes it look easy? Why does it feel like everyone hates me?
I try so hard, and all I ever get in return is pain.
“What did I do so wrong…”
Winter buried her face in her knees and wept. It was a night made even lonelier and more painful by the fact that she had no one by her side.
__________⋆ 𖤓 ⊹₊˚࿔ ❄︎ᝰ.________
Back at home, Eunwoo tossed his cap onto the couch and raked a hand through his hair in frustration.
“What the hell did I even do wrong?”
She came charging in, scolding him like the rice cake wasn’t just rice cake—and then he saw the tears clinging to her lashes, and his mind had gone completely blank.
Slumping onto the couch, Eunwoo stared at the half-eaten sirutteok left on the table.
It was the very rice cake the woman had handed over that morning.
There had been a memo written in round, neat handwriting, along with a business card for Winter Rice Cake Shop—that’s how he knew it was from her.
He wasn’t particularly fond of rice cakes, but the warmth that seeped through the packaging had compelled him to open it.
The red beans popped delicately in his mouth. It was soft, chewy, and sweet.
It paired perfectly with the slight bitterness of an Americano.
This place is a hidden gem.
He’d even fumbled with the business card, half out of curiosity.
He’d thought about sticking it on the fridge in case he ever wanted more.
Then he remembered the first time he’d met her—how she had practically tossed the rice cake at him and left.
He’d been so irritated that he hadn’t even thought of trying it, just threw it in with the delivery boxes.
Now, where did I put that?
Following his memory, Eunwoo looked around the apartment until his steps stopped near the kitchen.
Sure enough, the rice cake had been left sitting on the counter all this time, now rock hard and moldy.
A shame, but it couldn’t be helped.
He’d already gotten up, so he figured he might as well throw it out along with the expired food from the freezer.
As he retraced his thoughts slowly, it clicked.
He’d been too irritated back then to even consider eating it and had left it with the packages…
Right, this part—
“Ah!”
That’s when Eunwoo finally realized what had happened.
She thought the rice cake from back then was the one from today.
‘Did you really have to do this? Why are you so heartless?’
When that line echoed in his mind, Eunwoo shot up from the couch.
“She didn’t even check properly—what? ‘Bastard’? ‘Trash’?”
The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. All he could do was laugh.
Should he go and explain now? At least clear the air?
But he shook his head.
He hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should he be the one to explain himself after getting cursed out?
His pride stung.
Trying to push thoughts of her from his mind, Eunwoo opened a notebook on the couch. It was his songwriting notebook.
People might ask why he used a notebook in a digital age, but Eunwoo still preferred sketching notes directly onto staff paper.
His band’s comeback had been postponed due to back-to-back drama schedules following his debut project, but with their 10th anniversary coming up, he had dreams of filling the next album with songs composed by the members.
Ever since his worsening panic and sleep disorders led him to start medication, songwriting had become a struggle.
His mind felt foggy, and lately, he hadn’t been able to pick up a pen.
But now, Eunwoo started sketching out notes with his pencil.
Midnight Blue was a four-member idol band that had spent six years in obscurity.
The group had been operating at a loss, and with the company facing financial hardship, disbandment had seemed inevitable.
Then their “final” album, Butterfly Over the Fence, unexpectedly became a massive hit.
With his striking looks and undeniable talent, Eunwoo was flooded with casting offers for variety shows and dramas.
The drama he starred in after re-signing with the band was a hit, and he shot to stardom.
When he landed his first lead role, there was concern over his idol background, but his relentless efforts paid off.
As the episodes aired, his improving acting was recognized, and the series received even more love than expected.
But Eunwoo later realized this fame was a double-edged sword.
He thought he was spreading the word about Midnight Blue, but before long, it felt like his focus had shifted entirely to acting.
Seeing his bandmates gradually sidelined made him uncomfortable.
So when the next project came up—instead of an album—he clashed with the agency.
This whole escape was, in a way, his form of protest.
That thought didn’t last long, though. The image of his bandmates, still probably stressed because of him, made his heart heavy.
“I wonder what the hyungs are doing now…”
Maybe he should have gone with Jun-ho hyung instead of running off.
By now, they should be willing to listen to his side.
The chaos in his mind kept him from focusing.
He let the pen drop onto the table and sprawled out across the couch.
That’s when her face returned to him—along with the rice cake on the table he hadn’t finished.
The way she had looked at him, eyes filled with hurt and brimming with tears.
“Ah, damn it.”
He couldn’t take it.
Eunwoo jumped up, packed the remaining rice cake in a ziplock bag, and shoved it into the freezer.
Then he grabbed a cushion and buried his face in it.
Even after doing that several times, he couldn’t get anything done. He just kept tossing and turning.
“She’s really driving me crazy.”
Eventually, Eunwoo sprang to his feet and stormed out the door.
His raised fist paused just before it could knock on her front door.
He had already pressed the doorbell and was about to knock when a thought made him hesitate.
Do I really have to go this far?
But before he could fully finish that thought—
Thud thud thud thud!
He knocked hard enough to make the door shake, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration.
This isn’t about whether I was wrong or not—it’s just… I want peace of mind. That’s all.
“Hey. Can we talk?”
But the firmly shut door didn’t respond, not to the doorbell or the knocking.
“Gyeo—”
He stopped himself from calling her name.
Just a while ago, the sky had been painted in sunset hues, but now it was quickly darkening.
Eunwoo let out a hollow breath and checked the wristwatch peeking out from his rolled-up sleeve.
It was only six.
But it already feels like night here.
Part of it was the season, but mostly, this countryside town had shorter days.
He leaned on the railing, folding his arms over it.
Stars already dotted the sky.
‘You bastard.’
‘Trash.’
‘Hey!’
The memory of her red, tear-swollen eyes glaring at him replayed in his mind.
Eunwoo slowly ran a hand through his hair, his brows drawn tight.
“She didn’t even try to find out the truth.”
But then again, it was easy to mix up the two.
“She didn’t even give me a chance to explain. Didn’t let me finish a single sentence…”
And then, Eunwoo laughed bitterly.
He was the one who’d jumped to conclusions first—accusing her of being a package thief.
“Yeah… I’m really in no position to talk.”
His long sigh scattered into the cold night air like smoke.
I guess I’ll have to try again tomorrow.
Just as Eunwoo turned away from the firmly shut door— Gyeoul’s front door flung open.
