Chapter Text
It’s a cold, rainy morning in Seoul. Spring is on the horizon, and if you look closely enough at the cherry blossom trees lining the streets, you can see the buds starting to grow, tiny promises of beauty waiting to bloom. Rain taps gently against your umbrella, a rhythm that feels like it’s trying to soothe you. For a moment, you let yourself imagine brighter days ahead – blue skies, pink petals floating in the breeze, and warmth on your face.
But reality anchors you like a stone. The glow of your phone screen pulls your gaze, the email you’ve read and reread sinking deeper into your chest with each word. Another rejection. Polite, distant, and final. Your stomach twists as the weight of it settles in your chest. You’ve lost count of how many interviews you’ve gone to, how many “ we regret to inform you ” messages you’ve endured.
Bills are piling up, and you’re running out of money. You’ve started going to your parents house for meals more often in an attempt to save on food, but you know you can’t do that forever.
The rain no longer feels soft – it’s a drumming reminder of what’s missing, of what you can’t seem to grasp no matter how hard you try. You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat, wishing for even a fraction of the hope those cherry blossom buds seem to carry.
You trudge along the street, the once white, fluffy snow that fell a few weeks ago now grey, slushy sludge that soaks into your sneakers and makes your socks wet. Each step feels heavier, as if the dreary weather is clinging to you like the damp chill in the air.
You pause, leaning against the railing overlooking a canal. The pitter-patter of rain on your umbrella fills the silence and you sigh, spinning it absentmindedly. Water droplets fly off, merging with the rain as they fall into the canal below, lost in the steady flow of the murky water.
You stare down at the canal, watching the rain ripple across its surface, and your thoughts drift to the ever growing number of rejection emails cluttering your inbox. Each one is another weight pressing on your chest, another reminder of how far you are from where you thought you'd be by now.
Sure, you didn’t graduate top of your class from Seoul National University like some people, but that doesn’t mean that you’re any less qualified for or deserving of any of these positions.
Is there something wrong with you? Something that you can’t see, but everyone else seems to notice? You can’t help but wonder if your interviews are full of subtle cues you’re unaware of – hesitations, accidental bitch face, or the wrong answers at the worst possible moments. Do you come across as immature? Inexperienced? Rude?
The thought gnaws at you, twisting in your chest like an ache you can’t soothe. You spent hours preparing, running through mock interviews, perfecting your answers, and researching every little detail about the companies. But no matter how much you analyze what could have gone wrong, you always come back to the same empty conclusion: maybe you’re just not good enough.
The canal water churns below you, mirroring the storm of self-doubt in your mind, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll ever feel like you’re moving forward again.
You grip the railing, as if the cool metal could anchor you from spiraling. Anger starts to bubble beneath the surface, hot and sharp. How many times can you face rejection before it really takes a toll?
You think of all the hours spent perfecting your resume, adjusting every word, tailoring each application like you’re being graded for something that shouldn’t feel so cold, so impersonal. All that effort for nothing.
Your hands shake as tears begin to well up in your eyes, frustration rising in your chest, “Why can’t anyone see what I can do?” you exclaim and, without thinking, swiftly kick down the sandwich board that was propped up next to you, an innocent victim to your anger.
It falls over, a loud clang cutting through the rain-soaked, empty street.
You stare at the sandwich board for a minute and you exhale sharply, the anger fading into exhaustion. Sighing, knowing that you shouldn’t have done that, you bend down and right the board, glancing at the crumpled paper advertisement that was haphazardly taped on. Your fingers brush against the edge, smoothing it out.
Dalgona Cafe
GRAND OPENING TODAY!
Coffee so smooth, it'll make you swoon,
Get your caffeine fix, from morning to noon
The first 50 peeps, get a free sample, hey,
Dalgona in your cup, brighten up your day!
The paper is dotted with hand-drawn hearts, stars, and coffee cup stickers. It’s cute and silly, and it lifts your spirits just enough to pull you away from the deep, dark feelings that were creeping into your mind.
And you could use a cup of coffee. The cold is threatening to seep into your bones, and something warm is just what you need.
You put the address into your phone and tap the go button. It’s just down the street from your apartment building - maybe your luck is finally looking up.
You make your way there, turning corners and stopping briefly to take a photo of an orange cat sitting in a window.
The smell of coffee wafts through the air and you know you’re almost there. Your worries from before are beginning to fade, and now you’re wondering if you’re early enough to be one of the first 50 “peeps” to get a free sample. Maybe the girl who made the advertisement is working and you can tell her how much you liked it.
You look up and see the sign a little bit down the street - it’s an abstract coffee cup made out of a square, circle, and triangle.
The neighborhood is quiet and still, but there’s plenty of activity inside the cafe. You shake off and close your umbrella and push open the door.
The cafe is a mix of sleek and modern, warm and cozy. It’s as if two people couldn’t decide on an official design look, so they just mixed them together.
The walls are covered in white tile, with designs of stick figures playing different playground games – tug-of-war, marbles, and some figures hopping over squares. The biggest one being four stick figures each holding onto different shapes – an umbrella, a triangle, a circle, and a star.
The furniture is an eclectic mix of styles. Comfortable, oversized armchairs in soft shades of brown and beige are tucked in the back of the cafe next to a small bookshelf, while the large window is lined with a marble countertop paired with metal stools. Potted plants seem to fill every nook and cranny of the place.
There are only a couple of customers here, one man at the window working on his laptop and a woman making herself comfortable in an armchair.
“Welcome in, señorita!” a purple-haired barista in a dark green apron calls from behind the wooden counter, grinning like he’s just cracked a joke you didn’t hear. “Yo, yo, you’re the fiftieth, that’s no joke, a free coffee’s coming, it’s time to celebrate and toast! Welcome to Dalgona, now let’s make this day shine – sip that brew, and everything will be just fine!” he raps, badly, and ends with his arms crossed in a pose.
As you make your way to the counter another barista, a man with shoulder-length, slicked back hair, drapes his arm over the purple-haired barista’s shoulders. He holds up a fist to you in support, trying to be part of the moment.
“Did you write the advertisement?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
The purple-haired barista stretches his shoulders with a confident grin, clearly ready to hear some praise, “I most certainly did. You like?” He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for your verdict.
You giggle, “Yeah, I like. It was cute, and the doodles were a nice touch.”
He frowns a bit, clearly looking for something other than cute to describe his rap, but the other barista chimes in, excited.
“I drew those,” he says with an exaggerated swagger, lifting his chin like he’s the star of the show, proud of his work.
Another barista walks in from the door to the kitchen carrying a box, “Yeah, only after I spent the better part of my morning teaching you how to draw stars,” he says, rolling his eyes, and he sets the box on the floor. He reaches up his arms and reties his short ponytail, “You should be giving me some of the credit, too.”
“Hey, hey,” he responds, biting at his nails, “You should be focusing on our fiftieth customer here instead,” he deflects as he nods in your direction.
The other barista turns to you, wide-eyed and excited, “Oh, for real ? Hell yeah! You–” he looks up, back through the kitchen door, and shouts, “Jun-hee, don’t pick up that box! Let me get it!” and he bolts back through the door.
“So, what’ll it be, señorita?” the purple-haired barista asks you, turning his attention back to you as he leans against the counter.
You look up at the menu and your face scrunches in confusion. The menu items are all listed as numbers, with only a couple of words of description. You squint at it, trying to make sense of the vague labels, but it looks more like a roster than a menu.
“What’s the one-twenty drink?”
“Ah, the one-twenty!” the barista exclaims, straightening his posture as if preparing for a grand performance, “That’s a lavender honey latte. Lavender, for sophistication and charm. Honey, for sweetness that emerges as you drink it,” he explains, punctuating his words with a flourish of his hand, “And a double shot of espresso, for intensity and strength,” he finishes, making a fist in the air. The barista that’s still hanging off of him makes a fist as well.
“I’ll take that one, then,” you choose quickly, not quite in the mood for ten minutes of him theatrically reciting the menu at you.
He bounces his fist on the counter and calls out to one of the baristas, “Yo Hyun-ju, our special customer wants a one-twenty!” he turns his attention back to you, “That one’s her specialty,” he tells you as he gives you a wink.
The door to the kitchen opens, and that’s when you see her. She’s tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms. Her dark hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her face. Her eyes are shy and bright, and the way the light catches them takes your breath away. Every detail of her draws you in – from the curve of her neck to the way her strong hands seem capable of both precision and tenderness. And she’s gorgeous . Butterflies swarm in your stomach.
“Our special customer? What do you–” she stops in her tracks when she sees you, and a soft “ oh ” escapes her lips. For a heartbeat, it’s like the world stops, and you two are the only ones on the earth. It’s just her gaze, holding you in place, like nothing else matters or exists.
The two baristas look back and forth between you both.
“She’s our fiftieth customer,” the one with the purple hair says, as if it were obvious, “And she ordered your drink!”
Hyun-ju blinks a few times before taking a deep breath. She ducks her head and smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Of course, coming right up.”
She walks over to one of the machines and starts brewing. Your brain hasn’t quite snapped out of its daze yet, so you watch her as she moves from place to place, pouring things into cups and pouring those cups into other cups. She’s focused, concentrating on her craft. With each motion, she seems completely absorbed in what she’s doing, the routine almost like second nature. You can’t help but notice how effortlessly she works, and for a moment, it feels like time slows down around her.
You ignore the other baristas as they talk amongst themselves.
“You have something on your shirt, just here,” the purple-haired barista tells the other, waiting until he looks down, just to flick his nose. That gets him put into a headlock, and they wrestle in the background as Hyun-ju drizzles honey and sprinkles purple powder on the top of your drink.
She hands it to you, gently, so the design sitting on top of the foam stays in place. You look down at it and see that she’s drawn a heart with the honey, and a light shade of pink graces your cheeks.
“Th-thank you,” you stammer as you reach for the cup.
She looks up at you through her thick eyelashes, “I hope you like it, it’s my favorite drink,” she says shyly.
You don’t want to step away, don’t want to break the spell of the moment.
“Oh, and,” she says, moving to the glass case full of pastries, “Because you’re our last and most special customer of the day, I’ll give you an extra treat,” She slides open the back of the case and puts something into a little white paper bag. “It’s a dalgona. We make them fresh here,” she says and holds it out to you.
“That’s very kind of you, thank you,” you lower your head slightly and take the bag in your free hand, “But are you sure it’s alright? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
She leans forward, voice low, as if sharing a secret, “Nobody will notice. Besides, you’re our special fiftieth customer,” She gives you a shy smile, “If anyone gives me a hard time, I’ll just tell them it’s a VIP perk.”
You smile at her once more, then look around for a spot to sit and enjoy your treats. You find an empty armchair and make yourself comfortable, leaning your umbrella against it.
You sip on your latte and watch the baristas. They're laughing and joking with each other, poking fun and helping make drinks. The barista with the short ponytail comes back out, carrying more boxes. A girl follows him out, looking annoyed.
“I'm perfectly capable of carrying these myself, Dae-ho.”
“Not in your condition!” Dae-ho says, looking at her as if she just grew a second head.
“I was hired in this condition! Do you think they would take me on if they didn't think I could do any of the work? It’s just boxes.”
“I helped each of my older sisters through their pregnancies, and I’ll help you, too, Jun-hee. No ifs, ands, or buts about it!”
Jun-hee sighs, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation, “Young-mi, back me up here,” she says, turning to a smaller girl who comes through the kitchen door, struggling to carry a bag of coffee beans. Hyun-ju hurries over and takes the bag from her before it falls to the ground.
“I wouldn’t mind an extra hand sometimes,” Young-mi says quietly.
“See? You’re making things harder for Young-mi. How dare you?”
Dae-ho rolls his eyes, but he isn’t upset – it’s more like he’s treating them like younger sisters. “You quit carrying heavy things too, then, Young-mi. I’ll take care of it,” he says with a wave of his hand.
You sigh, wishing you had a job and coworkers to pal around with, had the kind of camaraderie that could lift the weight of the day. The deep sorrow from earlier claws at the back of your mind, threatening to creep back in, its familiar sting aching at the edges of your thoughts.
But then, an idea pops into your head. Maybe you could…? Well, what's the harm in asking?
You get up to throw your empty cup in the bin and walk back up to the counter, where Dae-ho is wiping down a machine. He looks up at you and gives you a friendly smile.
“Anything else I can get for our special customer? You'd have to pay for it this time though, we've gotta start making money now,” he smirks.
"Actually, I was wondering if the cafe is hiring," you say, your voice tentative as you muster up the courage. You hold your breath, bracing yourself for the familiar sting of rejection, already expecting a polite but firm " no ."
Instead, Dae-ho furrows his brows, as if he’s choosing his next words carefully. “Well, we don't really… hire people?” he looks to Jun-hee for help answering, and she steps in.
“We um, get recruited to work here, actually. Each one of us was approached and asked if we wanted a job. It's kind of unconventional, since this is a cafe and not a corporate business or anything like that.”
“More like kind of weird,” the purple haired barista interjects. You're finally able to read his name tag, and see that his name is Thanos.
“Kind of really weird,” his buddy says, resting an elbow on Thanos’ shoulder. His name tag says Nam-gyu, “We were all struggling when we were recruited. This guy in a suit came up to me at the subway and asked if I wanted a job. I didn’t really believe him at first, the pay seemed too good to be true. But I showed up here and turns out it was legit.”
“We call him The Recruiter, even though I guess he's really just our hiring manager,” Jun-hee says.
“The owners of the cafe are pretty… Different,” Young-mi pipes up. “We just… go with it.”
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you anyway,” you say to them, turning away.
You head back to your seat, disappointment curling around your chest, but you do your best not to let it show.
The cafe buzzes around you. More customers file in, soft conversations mingling with the hiss of the espresso machine and the occasional clink of a mug. It’s cozy here, and the hum of life makes you want to stay as long as you can, not wanting to go back to your apartment just yet.
Settling into your seat, you pull the small tin tray holding the dalgona out of the bag, and idly pick at its delicate edges. The golden treat cracks under your fingers as you work, piece by piece, chipping away at the triangle shape in the center. Time slips by, raindrops running down the windowpanes while you lose yourself in the small, quiet task.
You break off the last side of the triangle, and a feeling of satisfaction rises in your chest. You pop the piece in your mouth, savoring the sugary sweet taste. You admire your work for a moment – clean edges, no breaks. It’s good to have a win sometimes, even if it’s small.
You move to nibble on the triangle when you notice someone standing before you. You glance up, blinking at the sight of a handsome man in a sharply tailored suit. He’s carrying a sleek leather briefcase in one hand, and the other is tucked in his pocket. His smile is warm but enigmatic, the kind of smile that feels like it knows something you don’t.
Is this… the hiring manager the baristas were just telling you about?
“Hello, miss. May I have a moment of your time?”
You look around, worried that you’re moments away from calling for help, and notice the baristas have all but frozen in place, their eyes glued to the interaction. Thanos holds a coffee pot mid-pour, with Nam-gyu grasping the fabric of his shirt. Hyun-ju is reaching for a pastry, and Jun-hee, Young-mi, and Dae-ho poke their heads out from the kitchen door. Everyone’s eyes are locked on the both of you, curiosity lighting up their faces as they lean closer, hanging on every moment of the exchange, straining to hear as much of the conversation as they can.
You nod, their reactions making it obvious that you’re correct.
“I represent the owners of this cafe, and we would like to make you a job offer.”
You listen intently, more than a little put off. Nam-gyu was right, this guy is really weird.
“What’s the catch?” you ask, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“No catch,” The Recruiter says, “We simply request that you remain employed here at Dalgona Cafe for at least one year,” he pulls a business card from his suit pocket, “We don’t have many spots left. Just think about it.”
The man hands you the business card and you take it with both hands. One one side, it has the cafe logo – a coffee mug made out of a square, circle, and triangle. You turn it over and the other side has a date and time on it – tomorrow at 6 in the morning.
“I trust that won’t be a problem for you,” the recruiter says, a glint of something in his eye that you can’t quite decode. You shake your head. It’s not like you have anywhere to be, and you have a feeling that he knows that, too.
He smiles once more and lowers his head in a slight nod, then turns and walks out the front door.
You sit there holding the business card, a mix of confusion and tentative happiness welling up inside of you as you watch him walk away. Did that really just happen?
You’re pulled back to reality when you hear the sound of clapping from behind the counter. You glance over at the baristas, who are practically beaming, their faces filled with genuine excitement and happiness. You get up from the armchair and step over to the counter.
“Alright, new employee!” Dae-ho exclaims, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he holds up a hand to high-five Jun-hee, who reluctantly smacks his hand.
Thanos raises a finger, striking a pose, “Welcome to the Thanos world,” he says with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrow, like he’s delivering some kind of secret initiation. Nam-gyu copies him from behind.
Hyun-ju beams at you, her smile warm and welcoming. “We’ll be glad to have you on the team,” she says, her tone soft but sincere. Young-mi stands beside her, nodding encouragingly.
“So, what’s your name, new hire?” Dae-ho asks, leaning on the counter.
You smile and tell them your name, feeling a warmth spread through you as the group welcomes you in. It’s a strange mix of excitement and nervousness, but it feels right. You chat with them for a few minutes, gaining a sense for who they are and what it will be like to work with them.
A large group of customers walk in, and you decide it’s time to take your leave, “I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning,” you say with butterflies in your stomach, happiness and relief lifting in your chest.
They say their goodbyes and you head for the door.
The rain has stopped now, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. You step outside, the sun warm on your face. For a moment, you stand there, letting the warmth settle over you, the world feeling lighter than it had just an hour before.
You begin your walk home, and a voice calls your name, soft yet urgent, pulling you to turn. Hyun-ju is running toward you, her dark hair catching the light, your umbrella clutched in her hand.
“You, um, forgot your umbrella,” she says once she catches up to you, holding it out to you.
“Oh, thank you,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended, as you reach for it.
Your fingers brush against hers and a fleeting, electric touch sends a shiver through you. Your breath hitches, your gaze meeting hers, the moment shared between you lingering in the soft sunlight.
And you wonder, as your heart pounds in your chest, if she feels this, too.