2. Chapter 2
“Oh, well. If you want the full marketing speech, I’ll have to go get my brother. Long story short, it’s free waffles for two hours every Wednesday night.” The girl offered Eunjae the waffle she’d been carrying around. “Our signature waffle,” she clarified. “As many as you want before time’s up. Everything else on the menu is discounted, too.”
Eunjae realized at this moment that his new acquaintance was not at all dressed like the other employees behind the counter. For one thing, her orange apron was layered on top of a blazer patterned in bright red poppies. The red and orange clashed with such exuberant cheer that it had the air of something deliberate. And there were the tiny flowers somehow suspended amid the strands of her dark hair, which fell in waves over both shoulders. Who was she? The owner, maybe? Someone who wandered in from a movie set?
He took the waffle and allowed himself to be settled at a table in the corner, far from any windows or the main entrance. Before she swiveled to answer a question from another customer, Eunjae caught sight of the name Emma embroidered on the orange apron. And underneath this, another name in Hangeul: Han Jiyeon.
Despite having eaten dinner plus dessert less than an hour ago, Eunjae went to work on that signature waffle with a vengeance. No one was around to stop him. The waffle was delicious, in part because he wasn’t supposed to eat it. His manager would be aghast, but she wasn’t here, and stepping through the orange door had roused some long dormant spirit of rebellion. It was Waffle Wednesday and Eunjae was going to enjoy this waffle, which had the perfect combination of slightly crisp edges and fluffy texture. Just the barest hint of lemon came through, bright as a drop of sunlight. More magic.
Perhaps ten minutes before Waffle Wednesday came to a close, Eunjae got up to order another free waffle at the counter. He still had a bit of cash in his pocket from splitting that gelato with Jungwoo earlier, so he added a scoop of vanilla ice cream too. He might not be back in this area for a while, if ever. He might as well.
It was Jiyeon who brought it over, along with a glass of water. She sat down in the empty chair across from Eunjae, opened her mouth as if to make small talk, then suddenly paused to study his face. The mask dangled from his right ear. He’d taken it off to eat.
Eunjae’s heart clawed right out of his ribcage and up into his throat. Had she guessed already?
He took this opportunity to stuff a giant bite of signature waffle into his mouth. He was determined to chew forever. As long as it took for her scrutiny to break, for something else to snag her attention. Eunjae wasn’t about to give his identity away, not when he’d gone the whole trip without being recognized. If only it was possible to devour his second helping with the face mask still on. Would that be weird?
That would be extremely weird, scolded a voice in his head. Don’t you dare do that. Be normal! Eunjae shuddered reflexively even though this rebuke was a fabrication of his mind. Did the voice of his conscience have to sound so much like his eldest brother?
Really, it wasn’t fair. In cartoons they had pudgy angels and miniature devils perched on their shoulders, whispering advice in characters’ ears. Eunjae got to have an echo of Jeon Jaehwan that lived inside his head and occasionally berated him just like he did at dance practice.
What would the most terrifying of his brothers say right now? How would Jaehwan handle this question?
I wouldn’t have wandered off in the first place, supplied the invisible Jaehwan in tones of deep disappointment. You could get caught. You know what would happen then.
Eunjae lowered his head a little. At least his hair was longer now, and it had been mostly restored to its original color at last, no longer dyed deep purple all over. Maybe this would help him avoid being recognized right away. The borrowed bucket hat further obscured Eunjae’s looks from immediate view. He chewed some more. Then, deciding it would be suspicious otherwise, he made himself glance up at Jiyeon and shrug.
She tapped a fingernail on the plastic tumbler she’d set down in front of him. “Hmm.”
Invisible Jaehwan waved his arms wildly. Misdirection, misdirection, misdirection! “Is it Emma,” asked Eunjae, “or Jiyeon? Both?”
“You can read that? I wish I could. My brother did the apron order and I had to trust that this actually spelled out my name.” She smiled at him. “It’s both, I suppose. Depends on who I’m talking to or where I am. But here at the shop, it’s just Jiyeon.”
Eunjae nodded. He understood what it was like to have two names.
“Let’s see,” Jiyeon said, then. “You look like your name might be… Ryan.”
“Ryan? Really?” He had to laugh. “Why?”
“I can’t explain. You just have the aura of a Ryan. Super nice Ryan Kim who’s in town for his sister’s wedding and plays tennis on Sundays.”
“Tennis.”
“Yeah. Doubles, with your cousin. He’s a sore loser but you love him anyway. And you live in… San Bernardino. That’s a little over an hour from here.” Jiyeon squinted at him in an exaggerated manner. “You wear glasses while reading. You’ll read anything, but only one book at a time. Your mom still buys you an ice cream cake for every birthday. And after this, you’ll stay up way too late with your sister even though you’re both supposed to be up early for a big family breakfast.”
“Why are we staying up so late?”
“Talking. She’s getting married in a few days. She’ll be feeling nostalgic. Trust me, my sister was the same way.” Here, Jiyeon glanced over Eunjae’s shoulder, waving at a customer on their way out. “You know what else, Ryan Kim? She’ll want to look at all the old photo albums. It’ll be fun. You haven’t seen those in forever.”
Eunjae leaned back in his chair, considering. “But will I cry at the wedding?”
“A little. What kind of monster doesn’t cry at noona’s wedding?”
“You’re right.”
“About which part?”
“All of it. You know everything about me. There’s nothing more to tell.”
Jiyeon flashed him another dimpled smile. She seemed about to say something else, but then another person in an orange apron lumbered out of the kitchen. An older man, squarely into his late sixties but built like some of the bodyguards Eunjae had met and worked with on countless occasions. He had the bearing of a warlord in full armor and the smudge of batter on his stubbled cheek did nothing to detract from that impression. With a grin, this formidable personage reached over to bang on a gong that sat near the register.
“All done! No more Waffle Wednesday! Thank you!”