Hwang Tae-su pulled out two fifty-thousand won bills.

“A hundred thousand won is too much.”

“……”

This time, he put one of the bills back.

“Fifty thousand won is too little.”

As Hwang Tae-su stood awkwardly, Lee Seo-jun chuckled.

He’s getting more playful these days, huh.

“This’ll do.”

As he put the fifty thousand won into his pocket, fatigue suddenly washed over Hwang Tae-su.

Yeah… I should just get out of here. That’s the smart move.

“Then I’ll be on my way now. Please say hello to the boss for me.”

“Leaving already?”

If I stay longer, he might slice off my nose too?

Hwang Tae-su swallowed the rest of his words.

“It’s late, isn’t it?”

“Since you’re here, why not have some kimbap before you go.”

“…Kimbap?”

“Still got ingredients left over.”

His fatigue faded for a moment.

He thought about the kimbap he ate yesterday.

That was really good, actually.

“How much is the kimbap?”

“It’s free.”

Leftovers, after all.

This time, it was Lee Seo-jun who swallowed the rest of his words.

After a moment’s thought, Hwang Tae-su scratched his head.

“Then, shameless as it is, I’ll take you up on that.”

Seo-jun headed into the kitchen.

Left alone and glancing around, Hwang Tae-su called toward the kitchen.

“Boss, mind if I watch some TV while I wait?”

“Remote should be on table four.”

“Thank you.”

When Hwang Tae-su reached for the remote on table four, he flinched.

‘Shit…’

How often have I been here if I even remember the table numbers?

He shook his head.

Hwang Tae-su turned on the TV. The channel was already set to a sports network.

Just in time, the WFC middleweight title match was starting. Truthfully, the reason he wanted to head home fast was to watch this fight.

Champion Santos vs. Contender Charlson

“Let’s go, Santos!”

Santos entered the arena to the Rocky movie theme. Hwang Tae-su prayed for his victory with a solemn heart.

The reason was simple.

He’d bet on Santos.

Santos put on a flashy performance. Charlson sneered and flipped the middle finger.

“Hoo…”

Looks like I’ll get to see a real fight for once.

As round one was about to begin, Hwang Tae-su quickly went to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

Pop!

He wet his throat first. As he was sipping, the fight began with the referee’s announcement.

Clink!

The chime rang as someone entered.

Hwang Tae-su, absorbed in the match, gave only a glance. Seo-jun, who had been making kimbap in the kitchen, peeked out and looked slightly surprised.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Seems like it.”

“So this is where your shop is. I’ve passed by so many times and never noticed.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the convenience store right now?”

“Ah… There was something going on today.”

Usually cheerful, Shin Sung-hyun now wore a face clouded with worry.

“Are you still open?”

“Of course.”

“That’s a relief. I saw the closing time posted outside and wondered.”

“We’re open as long as there are customers. As you can see, someone’s here too. What can I get you?”

After a brief hesitation, Sung-hyun ordered the cheapest side dish—squid legs—and a bottle of soju.

“Sorry for ordering so little this close to closing time… My wallet’s kind of tight.”

“Don’t mention it. Please wait a moment.”

Seo-jun went into the kitchen and heated up the pan. He grilled some gochujang pork belly.

“I didn’t order this…”

“It’s on the house.”

“Pork belly, on the house?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not that it’s a problem…”

“Don’t feel pressured. Just eat.”

“Then… shameless as it is, I’ll gratefully enjoy it.”

Seo-jun gave a warm smile and returned to making kimbap in the kitchen.

Left alone, Sung-hyun poured a full shot of soju. Then he just stared blankly at the glass. He had come here intending to drink, but his hand wouldn’t move.

Whether it was because of the turmoil in his heart or simply not wanting to drink… he didn’t know.

“Get up! Damn it, use the cage and get up!”

Hwang Tae-su yelled, excited.

Maybe that cheer gave him strength—

Santos used the cage as leverage and stood up.

“Good! Now get out! Back off and recover your stamina!”

This time, it seemed Santos didn’t hear him. Just as he was trying to back off, Charlson’s head kick came flying.

Thwack!

Santos managed to raise his guard in time, but he was visibly shaken by the impact. Hwang Tae-su bit his lip.

Though Santos was the champion, he was considered the underdog for this fight.

He had suffered a major injury in his last title defense, and he was close to forty years old.

Experts predicted Charlson would win, 8 to 2. Most gamblers had bet on Charlson.

But betting, by nature, is high risk, high return.

The greater the risk, the greater the reward.

Just like now.

“Ohhh!”

Santos, who had staggered from the head kick, suddenly attempted a takedown. The contender lowered his stance to defend against it.

But it was a feint. Santos faked the takedown and launched a counter knee strike.

Smack!

The knee landed clean.

As the dull sound echoed and Charlson stumbled, Santos unleashed a combination—one-two punches, left and right hooks, an uppercut, and a leg kick.

It was a champion-worthy combo.

Thud!

Santos threw a straight. The challenger raised his guard, but that too was a feint.

The real strike came with his leg—a leg kick. Having already taken over a dozen of those, the challenger lost balance from the final blow and collapsed.

“Now! Now’s your chance!”

As if he were the champion’s corner, Hwang Tae-su shouted.

Santos rushed the fallen Charlson like a bullet, mounted him, and began raining down hammer-like punches.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

Charlson blocked a few, but eventually his guard broke.

His face bounced helplessly against the canvas floor. The referee crossed his arms and declared the match over.

“Woooooah!”

Hwang Tae-su shouted in awe.

He won! Santos won, and my bet won too!

High risk, high return!

“Kuhahaha!”

Of course, Hwang Tae-su hadn’t bet a large amount. But wasn’t the thrill of betting on sports the kind that made your heart race and your palms sweat?

That was the kind of thing money couldn’t buy.

“That was amazing.”

It was such a nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat kind of match. So much so that he needed to pee but couldn’t leave his seat.

Of course, now he finally could.

“Hm?”

As Hwang Tae-su got up, he noticed gimbap had been placed on his table.

Next to it was a Post-it note.

-Park Yeon said he’s lost his way. I’ll be out for a bit, so watch the shop for me.

“Unbelievable. Now he’s even asking me to watch the store? What does he think I am, one of his goons?”

Still...

With a shrug that left room for tolerance, Hwang Tae-su shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll let it slide today.”

To celebrate Santos’s victory.

As he whistled and headed toward the bathroom, a young customer caught his eye.

The young man was staring down at his soju glass with a look full of worry.

Looking closely, it didn’t seem like he had taken a single sip.

“What is this, some kind of shaman ritual?”

If he remembered right, the guy had come in just before the first round started. The match ended in the fourth round.

That meant he hadn’t taken even a single drink in at least 20 minutes.

“Hmph.”

Hwang Tae-su let out a thoughtful hum as he stroked his chin. Then he approached the young man.

“You’re not gonna pierce that soju glass just by staring at it, you know?”

“Huh?”

“I usually hate the word 'boomer.' So I try not to lecture young folks I just met.”

“……”

“But what kind of heavy burden does a young guy like you have that you're sitting there staring into a drink like that?”

“Ah... I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize... Just drink up. The food’s getting cold.”

“...Okay.”

After giving the young man a quick once-over, Hwang Tae-su resumed whistling and started walking toward the restroom. Then, as if something struck him, he suddenly turned around.

The young man was still looking at the soju glass with a heavy heart.

Scratching the back of his head, Hwang Tae-su returned to him.

“Hey, you ever heard of the Talmud?”

“Talmud?”

“Yeah.”

“No, not really...”

“There’s a saying in the Talmud. Don’t think of the time you spend drinking as wasted. Because during that time, your heart is resting. You get what that means?”

Tap tap!

“So pour your worries into that drink and down it.”

With those words, Hwang Tae-su got up. His bladder was on the verge of bursting.

As he watched Hwang Tae-su’s retreating figure, the young man, Sung-hyun, let out a faint smile.

“That’s a good saying.”

Finally, Sung-hyun gulped down the soju.

His face contorted instantly.

So bitter.

Yeah... that’s what alcohol tasted like.

The kind of bitterness that made your face scrunch up.

That bitterness suddenly reminded him of something a site foreman he once worked with had said.

-Only people with easy lives find alcohol sweet. For the rest of us, it has no choice but to be bitter.

Sung-hyun let out a bitter smile.

Back then, he didn’t really understand what that meant. But now, he thought he did.

A life where alcohol couldn’t help but be bitter.

That was the life he lived, the world he existed in.

And realizing that again made it all feel so unfair. It wasn’t the first time something unfair had happened, but this time it felt maddening.

Why does alcohol have to taste bitter for me?

Why do I have to live a bitter life?

Why? Why the hell? What did I do so wrong?

I thought I was living earnestly... I thought I was living harder than anyone else... So why does alcohol have to be bitter for me?

Sung-hyun clenched the soju glass tightly.

Crack!

Unable to control his strength, the glass shattered in his hand. Only then did Sung-hyun come back to his senses.

Just then, Hwang Tae-su was coming out of the bathroom and saw the scene—triggering a memory of someone from his past.

That person was himself.

He had played baseball until middle school. From a young age, he was called a rising star and always pitched as a starter.

But during a match, he got injured. He went through rehab but never regained his previous form.

One day, the coach, seeing him in despair, called him over.

Told him to quit and learn a trade.

It was realistic advice. But at the time, a hot-blooded young Hwang Tae-su was furious.

Looking back now, that was a kind of denial.

He had been playing baseball for seven years, ever since elementary school. To him, baseball was everything.

As a child, he thought quitting baseball was no different than dying.

He couldn’t control his rising anger. Didn’t even try to. And then he strayed down the wrong path.

For some reason, in that young man, he saw his own middle school self—seething with frustration.

“Shit, this kind of stuff doesn’t suit my character.”

Muttering a curse, Hwang Tae-su approached the young Sung-hyun.

“I told you to down that drink, not bleed all over the place.”

“Huh?”

“Your hand, I mean.”

“Ah?”

Only then did Sung-hyun notice his hand was bleeding.

The shards hadn’t gone too deep, and the cut wasn’t large, but blood was trickling down.

“S-Sorry.”

“It’s not even my shop, so whatever. Hold on.”

With that, Hwang Tae-su rummaged through a shelf. He thought he’d seen a first-aid kit somewhere.

Soon, he brought out the emergency kit and said,

“You need to wash that under running water first.”

“...Sorry.”

“I told you, it’s not even my store. Just wash it.”

As Sung-hyun rinsed the blood off his hand, Hwang Tae-su wiped away the rest with gauze and began plucking out the shards with tweezers.

“Luckily, not too many got in. If the angle was just a little different, your palm would’ve been wrecked.”

“...I’ll clean that up later. Sorry.”

“Leave it. The monsters will take care of it.”

“Monsters?”

“Yeah, they exist.”

Without saying more, Hwang Tae-su silently removed the shards with the tweezers. As the fragments came out one by one—

Hwang Tae-su suddenly spoke in a passing tone.

“You remember the Talmud I mentioned earlier?”

“Ah, yes.”

After hesitating for a moment, Hwang Tae-su rubbed his nose and said,

“I don’t really know what it is, but they say everyone has their time. Yours will come soon too.”

“……”

Tears rolled down Sung-hyun’s cheek.

It was the first time in his life he had ever been comforted.