Limits of Paradise

When she woke up, she saw a stream of water trailing down the window. It was raining after a long dry winter.

Tae-eun looked out at the steady drizzle with clear eyes, devoid of drowsiness. The soothing sound of rainwater soaking the ground made her perk up her ears.

Her heart, which had sunk coldly, seemed to beat somewhat slower. She picked up her phone, which had been charging on the bedside table. There were no notifications on the screen, but she went into the messaging app just to be sure.

The conversation window with Hyun-ho at the top was silent. Below it were intermittent chats with her family, exchanging dog photos, and a series of unnecessary notifications.

As she scrolled down to the end with her thumb, an old conversation appeared at the very bottom. The last message was from two years ago.

[Lee Ye-jin: Yay! Great! >.<]

Her friend had responded enthusiastically to the suggestion of a picnic in Seoul Forest, and the next day, had sent a message of condolence. Tae-eun couldn’t bring herself to open the conversation and could only gaze at her friend’s final reply in the preview.

The inactive screen went dark. Then, a deep voice penetrated her eardrums.

Snap out of it.

She pushed the phone aside and pulled the blanket over her head. She didn’t want to encounter him in her dreams like this.

***

Tae-eun carefully folded her umbrella to avoid splashing water as she entered the warm café. She glanced around, but there was no sign of anyone.

She glanced at the ceiling before heading to the break room to change her clothes. As she was tying the apron strings, she bumped into Hyun-ho who was emerging from the staircase leading to the second floor.

“Hey, Noona.”

He briefly greeted her and quickly turned his back. Feeling she had missed the opportunity to respond, she blushed and went to the bathroom to soak the mop.

A chilly air seemed to emanate from the man. As much as she wanted to believe it was just her imagination, unfortunately, Tae-eun had been exceptionally perceptive of others’ negative emotions since childhood. She was the first to pick up on who disliked whom, who harbored ill intentions, and who was upset.

Right now, Hyun-ho was not in a good mood.

What did she do wrong? She glanced back at the man who was cleaning the counter inside, the broad muscles under his white shirt rippling as if moving on their own.

Despite diligently mopping the floor, no dirty water seeped out of the mop due to the lack of customers coming and going. But she kept rinsing the clean mop, lingering aimlessly in the bathroom.

Yesterday, she had learned that she and the younger brother of her brother’s friend, the café’s owner, had shared the same dream, and they had even ended up kissing. But in just one day, the atmosphere had become so awkward and cold. If only she could turn back time.

Tae-eun shuffled her feet as she entered the counter area. Next to the register, she saw the latte Hyun-ho had made, the milk foam shaped into a heart.

The man sat far away, sipping his coffee and staring at his phone. She turned on the register, settling in front of it. Her lips protruded as she held the warm mug.

She had worried about how to respond if he asked about the dream he had had yesterday, but it turned out to be unnecessary. He had barely exchanged a greeting with her, and the faint music was trying its best to cover the stifling silence.

“Hey, guys, hello.”

Fortunately, Hyun-ho’s mother visited as the first customer of the morning. The heavy silence quickly dissipated.

“Is Tae-eun working well? You’re not too hard on her, are you?”

“No, it’s fun.”

“Hyun-ho, don’t overwork your Noona, okay?”

Hyun-ho, who had been sitting in the corner playing with his phone, approached the counter to greet his mother.

“Are you having a group meeting today?”

“Yes, about six more people will be coming. Once they’re all here, I’ll place the order. Be generous with the service, boss.”

“Yes, Mrs. Kang Bo-yeon.”

It wasn’t long before a stream of customers arrived. They were the first customers Tae-eun had encountered since starting her part-time job. She took their orders with a tense expression.

“Okay, three hot Americanos, one iced Americano, one hot vanilla latte, and one hot milk tea, is that right?”

“No, wait. Make mine a vanilla latte too.”

“Alright, I’ll change the iced Americano to a hot vanilla latte. The total will be 27,000 won.”

“Oh, should we order a cake too?”

“Hey, can I get a sandwich as well? I haven’t had breakfast and I’m hungry.”

Surrounded by the chattering voices, her head gradually turned white. She must have been working too comfortably until now.

“The cake and sandwich will be on the house. I’ll bring them over to your table.”

Hyun-ho, who had been observing from the back, came to her rescue. The group’s treasurer brightened and handed over a check card. Her hands trembling, Tae-eun returned the receipt and the card.

While the man quickly prepared the coffees, she carefully arranged the sandwiches and cake on a tray. She could finally take a breath when she successfully placed the tray on the customers’ table.

“Ah, you’re Tae-eun, aren’t you?”

The treasurer who had just paid seemed to recognize her face and recall her name. As she politely greeted him with a nod, curious gazes landed on her.

“How’s the cooperative president doing? Is he still running the orchard?”

“Yes, he’s still working at the orchard.”

Tae-eun’s father had returned to being a farmer after serving three consecutive terms as the cooperative president, but he was still addressed as “President.” The locals recognized her because of Song Ki-seok’s fame.

“How’s your health? I heard you even quit your company because you weren’t feeling well?”

“It’s gradually getting better.”

“Tae-eun, we’ll enjoy the cake. Go back to work.”

Hyun-ho’s mother tactfully sent her away. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she returned to the counter. The sound of her name still echoed behind her.

“You can rest in the break room if you’d like.”

The man who had followed her spoke up for the first time beyond just a greeting.

“Your complexion looks pale.”

She almost let out a wry laugh at how weak she was, with her appearance changing just from dealing with a few unfamiliar people. She pulled up the corners of her mouth and shook her head.

“I was just nervous handling orders for the first time. I’m fine.”

Hyun-ho looked at her with a heavy gaze. Unable to meet his eyes, she averted her own. Loud voices of the group members reached her ears.

The renovation costs of this café, the resulting rise in the property value, Song Ki-seok and Tae-eun’s, and Ji Yong-jae’s cooperative president election, and the recent land prices—these were the topics that came up.

Kang Bo-yeon must be smiling and nodding along, hearing similar chatter while making the rounds. Her husband needed to be elected as the cooperative president, after all. Tae-eun’s mother had gone through a similar process three times.

“How much does Tae-eun make per hour here?”

“Don’t you need more staff in the afternoon? Our eldest child is unemployed and just lounging around—can’t you hire them?”

Tae-eun glimpsed the group members hovering around the counter, pleading with Hyun-ho’s mother. Bo-yeon’s face showed a conflicted expression.

Tae-eun briefly imagined the uproar that would occur if it became known that she was earning 40,000 won per hour, but quickly dismissed the thought. Hearing her name being constantly mentioned by others was making her uncomfortable.

“Alright, let’s head out. Take care.”

“Go on, Mother.”

When it was time for lunch, Kang Bo-yeon led the customers out of the café with a weary expression. As Tae-eun watched her usher the party, she thought of her own mother, who must have had it tough all this time as well.

“When you finish work, come upstairs and have lunch with me.”

Hyun-ho suggested as he rinsed the cups. She paused her sorting of recyclables and hesitated before quietly offering an excuse mixed with sincerity.

“I’m not feeling too well today, so I’ll just head home.”

The man stopped washing the dishes and dried his wet hands as he approached her. His brow was furrowed.

“Is it like yesterday? Feeling stuffy and hard to breathe? Like you might throw up?”

“No, it’s not that. I just think my digestion is a bit off today.”

“Did you have a bad dream or something?”

His direct question made her feel a lump in her throat. She wasn’t used to his straightforward way of speaking, unable to respond with anything but silence, she simply folded boxes flatly.

“It wasn’t a bad dream.”

“Then what was it?”

“Just…a sad dream.”

“Why was it sad?”

His persistent questioning irked her, but she lacked the confidence to directly tell him she disliked it.

“Did someone die?”

The box slipped from her hands. Even after two years, the word “died” still pained her heart. He bent down to pick up the box for her.

“A friend.”

In the brief response, her tears threatened to spill out. Tae-eun turned to refill the empty display case.

“A close friend?”

“Yes.”

“How close were you?”

“Very.”

“How much did you love them?”

As she lined up the sandwiches, Tae-eun turned back. Hyun-ho’s questions seemed a bit odd. Their conversations often didn’t flow smoothly, but today it was particularly so.

“Hyun-ho.”

His name came out coldly from her, causing his facial muscles to twitch.

“I’m feeling uncomfortable with this situation right now. Could you please stop with those questions?”

Her voice was calm, but her heart was racing fast. She quickly finished restocking the display case. Today, she wanted to leave as soon as possible.

The sound of him resuming dish washing came from behind. In the meantime, she wiped the clean tables again, keeping her distance from him. She was determined to spend the time this way until the afternoon part-timer arrived.

Just before 1 PM, the pale Oh Min-woo quietly entered, greeting her before retreating into the break room. Taking the chance, Tae-eun also headed to the sink to wash the towels.

Hyun-ho’s large figure cast a shadow over her head. His deep voice settled by her ear.

“At least come have a meal with me before you go.”

He took the damp towel from her and wrung it out himself. Then, in a voice quite unlike his own, he pleaded like a child.

“I don’t want to eat alone.”

 

 

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