Around noon, the members finally began to stir.
The room looked like the aftermath of a small, cozy storm.
Blankets were everywhere.
Pillows had somehow migrated to places where pillows had absolutely no business being.
One sock was lying in the middle of the room.
Nobody knew whose it was.
And nobody was interested in finding out.
Bodies were scattered across the room in strange sleeping positions, while soft breathing filled the warm silence.
The first one to wake was Jinhun.
He blinked slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Then he looked around.
Yomin and Minjo were curled up together on the small sofa bed, completely buried under one blanket.
They looked less like grown men and more like two children who had lost a fight with winter.
On the carpeted floor, Teahun, Kim Joon, and Hosu had pushed the coffee table aside sometime during the night and simply collapsed there.
It was honestly impressive that nobody had woken up with a broken neck.
Or a missing tooth.
Jinhun quietly smiled.
Then he noticed Jeon J.
Jeon J was lying beside him.
Awake.
Not moving.
Not even pretending to sleep.
He was staring at the ceiling with a distant, heavy expression.
Jinhun's smile slowly disappeared.
He turned slightly toward him.
"Jeon J…"
No answer.
Jinhun frowned.
"What's wrong?"
Still nothing.
Jinhun lowered his voice.
"You're not acting like yourself."
Jeon J continued staring at the ceiling.
"If even one of us changes a little, we notice."
Jinhun studied him.
"And you…"
He paused.
"Since yesterday, you've been acting like you're fighting with something nobody else can see."
Jeon J's eyes moved slightly.
"You suddenly sit down."
"Then you space out."
"Someone talks to you and you don't even hear them."
Jinhun sighed.
"What happened?"
Silence.
Jinhun became a little frustrated.
"Jeon J."
Nothing.
"Say something."
For several seconds, Jeon J didn't move.
Then, without warning, he shifted closer.
And rested his head on Jinhun's shoulder.
Jinhun froze.
He looked down.
Jeon J didn't say anything.
He simply stayed there.
Like someone who had been carrying something too heavy for too long and had finally found somewhere safe enough to put it down.
Jinhun's expression softened.
He understood.
Jeon J wanted to talk.
He just didn't know where to begin.
So Jinhun didn't force him.
He waited.
After a long silence, Jeon J finally spoke.
"When I came to Busan…"
His voice was quiet.
"It was in the middle of our U.S. concerts."
Jinhun listened.
"I took the fastest flight I could get."
He paused.
"It was a connecting flight from Thailand."
"They only had economy seats left."
Jeon J gave a tired little laugh.
"I didn't care."
"I just needed to reach Busan."
His voice dropped.
"I needed to find Bamson."
Jinhun's face became serious.
Jeon J continued.
"Jea was sitting a few seats to my left."
"I sat by the aisle."
He stared ahead.
"And in the row ahead me… by the window… there was a girl."
"I never saw her face."
Jinhun frowned.
"Then how do you know she was there?"
"I heard her."
"Heard her doing what?"
Jeon J swallowed.
"Crying."
Jinhun's expression changed.
"Very quietly."
"She was trying not to let anyone hear."
He paused.
"And she was talking to someone."
"Maybe."
"Recording something?"
"Maybe."
Jeon J shook his head.
"I couldn't understand the language."
Then he stopped.
"And suddenly… her voice disappeared."
Jinhun waited.
"A little later, she started reading something."
"What?"
"A poem."
Jeon J lowered his eyes.
"One of Yomin's poems."
Jinhun blinked.
"The one he gave me years ago."
"The blessing one."
"The one you sang for the blind children?"
Jeon J nodded.
"The one about asking God for light… strength… and safe days."
His voice became quieter.
"She was reading those lines."
"Slowly."
"Softly."
"Like she was speaking to someone who wasn't there."
Jeon J repeated the words he had heard.
"O Lord, place a gentle light on the path ahead.
Bless the hearts that wander in fear,
And guide the ones who have lost their way.
Send comfort to the lonely,
And peace to the restless souls."
Jinhun stared at him.
Then he gave a small shrug.
"Jeon J… that's not exactly strange."
Jeon J looked at him.
"RAMY are everywhere."
Jinhun smiled faintly.
"People love us."
"Maybe she was a fan."
"I know."
"Maybe she recognized the poem."
"I know."
"Maybe she was emotional."
"I know."
Jinhun tilted his head.
"Then what's the strange part?"
Jeon J looked away.
"The strange part isn't what happened on the plane."
His voice dropped.
"It's what's been happening since."
Jinhun's expression changed.
"I keep hearing those same words in my sleep."
"Not clearly."
Jeon J rubbed his face.
"It's like echoes."
"Sometimes I don't even know if I'm dreaming."
"I don't know what language it is."
"But I hear it."
"Again and again."
He swallowed.
"Last night I couldn't sleep."
"That's why I looked strange this morning."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I don't understand."
His voice became frustrated.
"How can I hear something I've never heard before?"
Jinhun placed a hand on his back.
"Jeon J…"
He spoke gently.
"Millions of people pray for us."
"They wish for us."
"They love us."
"They cry for us."
"Maybe that girl was a fan."
"Maybe she was going through something."
"Maybe she just happened to know Yomin's poem."
Jeon J lowered his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not talking about Yomin's poem..."
He paused, as if trying to find the right words.
"Before she started reading it... she was saying something else."
His brows slowly knitted together.
"I don't know what language it was."
"I couldn't understand a single word..."
He took a slow breath.
"But... there was something incredibly peaceful about it."
"The way she spoke... it felt calm. Gentle. Like every word carried a strange kind of comfort."
Jeon J fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
"And then... all of a sudden..."
He looked at Jinhun.
"I remembered something."
"For months now... every once in a while... I've been hearing those exact same words in my dreams."
"I never paid much attention to them because I couldn't understand them."
"But the moment I heard them in that girl's voice..."
He swallowed.
"...I recognized them instantly."
"I tried to see her face."
"I leaned into the aisle... I even looked back when people stood up..."
His expression darkened.
"But no matter what I did..."
"I couldn't see her."
A long silence settled between them.
Jeon J slowly wrapped an arm around Jinhun's waist and leaned against him without thinking, as if he still needed the reassurance that someone was there.
His voice grew even quieter.
"Last night..."
"After so many days..."
"...those words came back again."
He tightened his grip on Jinhun's hoodie just slightly.
"I don't know why..."
"But this time..."
"They scared me."
He squeezed Jeon J's shoulder.
"You're stressed about Bamson."
"You barely slept."
"And when you're exhausted, small things start feeling huge."
Jinhun smiled.
He hadn't expected that.
For a brief moment, even he didn't know what to make of Jeon J's words.
Hearing the same unknown voice in dreams for months…
Then hearing those exact words from a complete stranger…
It was unsettling.
Very unsettling.
But Jinhun also knew Jeon J.
Once something settled inside his mind, he would keep chasing it until it exhausted him.
That was exactly what Jinhun didn't want.
He gently rubbed Jeon J's arm, keeping his voice calm.
"Your brain is basically running on two percent battery."
Jeon J finally looked at him.
Jinhun added seriously,
"And unlike a phone, you don't even have a charger."
For the first time, the corner of Jeon J's mouth moved.
Almost a smile.
Almost.
Jinhun noticed.
"There."
Jeon J frowned.
"What?"
"You almost smiled."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I didn't."
"You absolutely did."
Jeon J rolled his eyes.
Jinhun smiled.
"See? You're still alive."
But Jeon J still looked troubled.
Whatever he had heard on that plane…
Whatever he had felt…
It had followed him.
And it wasn't letting him go.
Before either of them could say anything else—
"Ughhhhh…"
A horrible groan came from the floor.
Teahun was waking up.
He stretched both arms above his head like a cat.
Then groaned again like a seventy-year-old man whose entire body had filed a complaint against him.
"My back…"
He rolled over.
THUD.
His forehead slammed directly into Hosu's back.
"OW!"
Hosu shot awake.
"Teahun!"
Teahun blinked.
"What?"
"You just headbutted me!"
Teahun stared at him for three seconds.
Then pointed at Hosu's back.
"Why are you there?"
Hosu stared at him.
"Because I was sleeping!"
Teahun nodded thoughtfully.
"Okay."
Hosu waited.
"Okay?!"
Teahun yawned.
"I'm sorry."
Hosu narrowed his eyes.
"You're not even sorry."
"I'm extremely sorry."
"You don't sound sorry."
"I'm too tired to sound sorry."
Hosu stared at him.
"Don't use sleep as an excuse."
Teahun pulled the blanket over his head.
"Stop being soft like a pillow."
Hosu looked offended.
"I'm not a pillow!"
Teahun's voice came from under the blanket.
"Then stop being comfortable."
Hosu opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then muttered,
"I hate mornings."
A few seconds later, chaos erupted from the sofa.
Minjo suddenly woke up.
"MY BLANKET!"
He grabbed the blanket.
Unfortunately, Yomin was holding the other end.
Minjo pulled.
Yomin pulled back.
"Give it!"
"No!"
"It's mine!"
"It's not yours!"
"It was on me!"
"It was on both of us!"
"You stole it!"
"You stole it first!"
"I was sleeping!"
"So was I!"
Minjo pulled harder.
Yomin pulled harder.
The blanket suddenly slipped.
Minjo's hand flew forward.
SLAP.
It landed directly on Yomin's face.
"YAH!"
Yomin shot upright.
"WHY ARE YOU ASSAULTING?!"
"You slapped yourself!"
"I did not!"
"You moved your face!"
"How is that my fault?!"
"You were standing in the way!"
"My FACE was standing in the way?!"
Kim Joon slowly opened his eyes.
He stared at them.
Then looked at the clock.
Then at the two idiots fighting over a blanket.
"Why…"
Nobody listened.
Kim Joon sat up.
"Why am I sleeping next to these four disasters?"
Minjo immediately pointed at him.
"Because you agreed!"
Kim Joon looked offended.
"I agreed when I was unconscious!"
"You were awake when we slept!"
"I was emotionally unconscious!"
Yomin nodded seriously.
"That's not a legal defense."
Kim Joon pointed at him.
"Don't speak to me about law when you almost poisoned Jinhun last night."
Yomin's face dropped.
Jinhun slowly turned around.
"Wait."
Everyone became silent.
Jinhun looked at Yomin.
"What?"
Yomin immediately looked away.
"Nothing."
Jinhun frowned.
"Why did everyone suddenly go quiet?"
Minjo covered his mouth.
Teahun started shaking with laughter.
Kim Joon looked at the ceiling.
Hosu suddenly became very interested in the carpet.
Jinhun looked suspicious.
Then he slowly sat up.
He scratched his head.
Blinking at everyone as if he had just woken up in a completely different universe.
Then he looked down at his feet.
His expression changed.
"…Why do my feet hurt?"
Everyone turned toward him.
Jinhun looked genuinely confused.
"It feels like something extremely heavy fell on them last night."
Hosu immediately looked away.
Jinhun narrowed his eyes.
"And my throat feels like it's burning."
He swallowed.
"Like I ate something really spicy."
Silence.
Jinhun looked around.
"Did I?"
Teahun covered his mouth.
Minjo's shoulders began shaking.
Kim Joon's lips trembled.
Jinhun frowned.
"Why are you laughing?"
That was it.
Everyone exploded.
Teahun fell sideways.
Minjo buried his face in the blanket.
Kim Joon grabbed his stomach.
Even Jeon J couldn't hold it anymore.
He laughed.
A real laugh.
Warm.
Natural.
For a few seconds, the strange voice disappeared completely.
Jinhun stared at them.
"What's funny?"
Minjo tried to breathe.
"You don't remember?"
"No."
"Seriously?"
"Yes!"
Minjo pointed at Hosu.
"Last night, Hosu stepped on your feet."
Jinhun slowly turned toward Hosu.
Hosu immediately raised both hands.
"I apologized!"
"Fully," Minjo continued.
"Completely."
He spread his arms.
"Like he was climbing stairs."
Hosu groaned.
"I was trying to get past him!"
"You climbed his feet!"
"I couldn't see!"
"You were standing on him!"
"I SAID I APOLOGIZED!"
Jinhun looked horrified.
"How many times?"
Hosu became very quiet.
Jinhun's eyes narrowed.
"How many?"
Hosu whispered,
"…Twice."
"TWICE?!"
The room exploded again.
Jinhun pointed at his feet.
"These are my feet!"
Hosu nodded.
"I know."
"They're not stairs!"
"I know."
"Then why did you climb them?!"
"I was drunk!"
"That's not an excuse!"
"It is a little bit of an excuse!"
Kim Joon laughed.
"No, it's definitely not."
"What about the Yomin?" Teahun chuckled
Jinhun looked at Yomin.
Yomin shot Teahun a warning glare.
Teahun simply shrugged, looking completely unapologetic.
"What?" he said innocently. "Did you forget?"
He pointed at Jinhun with a grin.
"You were the one who proudly brought our hyung that 'lemon water.'"
A slow smile spread across Minjo's face.
"Oh, right..."
"The famous lemon water."
Kim Joon immediately snorted.
"You mean the one that almost sent Jinhun into another dimension?"
"you brought me lemon water?"
Yomin nodded proudly.
"Yes."
Jinhun smiled.
"I remember that."
He paused.
"It tasted strange."
The entire room went silent again.
Jinhun looked around.
"Why did everyone stop laughing?"
Yomin slowly raised his hand.
"I may have made a small mistake."
Jinhun frowned.
"What mistake?"
Yomin took a breath.
"I accidentally added green chili."
Jinhun stared.
"…Green chili?"
"Yes."
"Into my lemon drink?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It was dark."
Minjo immediately burst out laughing.
"There was no darkness!"
Yomin pointed at him.
"There was!"
"The kitchen lights were ON!"
Yomin paused.
Minjo leaned closer.
"The darkness wasn't in the kitchen."
He pointed at Yomin's forehead.
"It was in front of your eyes because you were drunk."
Everyone screamed with laughter.
Jinhun looked personally betrayed.
"You almost murdered my throat!"
"It was an accident!"
"You gave me chili water!"
"I thought it was lemon zest!"
"HOW?"
"The shape!"
"CHILI DOESN'T LOOK LIKE LEMON ZEST!"
"It was green!"
"LEMON ZEST IS YELLOW!"
Yomin paused.
"…It was a very confusing night."
Jinhun stared at him.
"You almost killed me."
Yomin pointed at himself innocently.
"But I was trying to save you."
"By burning my throat?"
"It was an experimental treatment."
Kim Joon immediately interrupted.
"Experimental treatment?"
Yomin nodded.
"Yes."
"For what?"
Yomin thought for a second.
"Foot trauma."
Kim Joon stared at him.
"You treated a foot injury with chili water?"
Yomin shrugged.
"I was drunk too."
Teahun collapsed onto the floor laughing.
"You were coughing like a dragon!"
"And crying," Minjo added.
"I was NOT crying!"
Jinhun protested.
"You were!"
"I wasn't!"
"You were literally wiping your eyes!"
"My eyes were watering!"
"That's crying!"
"No!"
"We have video proof."
Jinhun froze.
"…What video?"
Kim Joon smiled.
"The live."
Jinhun's face went blank.
"What live?"
Everyone stared at him.
Teahun slowly pointed toward him.
"You forgot?"
Jinhun's eyes widened.
"We were LIVE?"
Minjo nodded.
"Very live."
Kim Joon added,
"Extremely live."
Teahun grinned.
"Painfully live."
Jinhun's face fell.
"Oh no."
Hosu groaned.
"Please don't remind me."
Minjo started counting on his fingers.
"RAMY saw Jinhun screaming."
"RAMY saw Hosu standing on his feet."
Teahun added,
"RAMY saw Yomin making chili lemon water."
Kim Joon nodded.
"And RAMY saw you crying."
"I WAS NOT CRYING!"
"Fine."
Kim Joon smiled.
"Emotionally leaking."
Jinhun covered his face.
"I hate all of you."
Teahun patted his shoulder.
"Too late."
Minjo grinned.
"Someone has definitely already made an edit."
Jinhun slowly looked up.
"What kind of edit?"
Kim Joon became serious.
"Slow motion."
Teahun added,
"Sad piano music."
Minjo continued,
"Zoom on your face."
Hosu whispered,
"Probably dramatic subtitles."
Yomin added,
"Maybe a thumbnail saying—"
Jinhun immediately shouted,
"STOP!"
Everyone burst out laughing again.
Jinhun pointed at all of them.
"I am never going live with you people again."
Minjo smiled.
"You love going live with us."
"No."
"You do."
"No."
"You love us."
Jinhun crossed his arms.
"I tolerate you."
Yomin nodded.
"That's basically love."
Jinhun tried not to smile.
Failed.
And started laughing again.
The room became noisy once more.
Messy.
Ridiculous.
Warm.
Exactly like home.
For a moment, Jeon J simply watched them.
Yomin laughing.
Minjo arguing.
Teahun lying half-dead on the carpet from laughing.
Kim Joon pretending he was the only mature person in the room.
Hosu still trying to defend himself from the accusation of using Jinhun's feet as stairs.
This was his family.
Not just a team.
Not just members.
Family.
A loud, ridiculous, beautiful family.
And somehow, being around them made everything feel lighter.
Jeon J smiled.
But somewhere underneath that smile, the question remained.
If I have all of this…
Then why do I still hear that girl's voice?
Why does it feel like she's still reading it somewhere?
He looked toward the window.
Seoul was bright outside.
Alive.
Peaceful.
But deep inside his mind—
the voice returned.
Soft.
Faint.
Almost like a whisper coming from very far away.
O Lord… place a gentle light on the path ahead.
Jeon J's smile slowly disappeared.
He didn't tell anyone.
Not yet.
For now, he let himself laugh with them.
Because these were the only people who could pull him back from the darkness without even knowing they were doing it.
And perhaps…
that was exactly why the voice had chosen to find him.
__________________________________
Winter had arrived in Busan with a sharpness that had once made every morning feel unfamiliar.
But somewhere along the way, without anyone noticing exactly when, the cold began to soften.
The heavy coats slowly disappeared from the university corridors. Mornings became brighter. The streets that had once looked grey and lifeless began to bloom with quiet colors, and the first flowers of spring appeared between buildings as if the city had finally decided to breathe again.
And Zoya had changed with it.
The girl who had once walked through Busan with careful steps, memorizing bus routes and checking her phone every few minutes, no longer looked like someone who had just arrived in a foreign country.
She knew which classroom to rush to when she was late.
She knew which corner of the university café Hana liked.
She knew how Ruhi took her coffee.
She knew which vegetables Chef Min-seok wanted prepared first during the dinner rush.
Even the restaurant no longer felt like a workplace she had to adjust to.
It had slowly become a familiar part of her life.
University, work, late conversations with the girls, rushed meals between shifts, quiet walks back to their place—days had begun slipping into one another so naturally that Zoya rarely stopped to notice how much had changed.
Perhaps that was how time worked.
It didn't always announce itself.
Sometimes, it simply changed the weather outside your window… while quietly changing you with it.
After the stressful first-semester exams, the university finally announced a short break.
Fifteen days.
Enough time for the students to breathe, rest, and forget about assignments for a little while.
The moment Minji heard the news, she had already made up her mind.
"There's nothing to do here during the break," she announced, tossing her hair back dramatically. "We're going to Seoul."
Hana, Sophia, and Ruhi exchanged amused looks.
Zoya smiled.
"You're already deciding for everyone?"
"Obviously." Minji grinned. "Someone has to."
The only problem was their jobs.
Their part-time contracts had recently come to an end, leaving all five girls with an unexpected amount of free time—and a very real need to find new work once the break was over.
Zoya tried to be practical.
"Maybe we should stay here and look for new jobs. We'll need money."
Minji waved her hand dismissively.
"One week. That's all I'm asking. We'll go to Seoul, enjoy ourselves, come back, and then we'll search for jobs together."
She pointed toward the window.
"Besides, look outside. Spring is finally here. We're not wasting it."
She wasn't wrong.
Spring had arrived quietly in Korea, carrying warmth where winter had left only cold.
The locals often called it a gift after the long winter.
Flowers returned.
Colors returned.
And people seemed to return to life with them.
Minji, despite coming from a wealthy family, had never behaved as though money made her different from anyone else. She laughed easily, treated everyone with the same warmth, and never made her friends feel the distance her background could have created.
Sophia was much the same.
Whatever their families had, whatever their lives looked like beyond university, none of it mattered when the four girls were together.
Soon, their rooms were filled with the sounds of packing.
Suitcases opened.
Clothes were folded.
Someone was always laughing.
Someone was always searching for something they had misplaced.
And somewhere between the chaos of packing and the excitement of finally getting away from university life for a few days, Zoya found herself smiling at the thought of Seoul.
She didn't know it yet, but this break was about to bring something unexpected into her life.
Something that would begin with a restaurant kitchen…
and end with her walking away from a job she had never imagined losing.
That story, however, had begun several days earlier.
The restaurant had been unusually noisy that afternoon.
The moment Zoya, Hana, and Ruhi stepped inside, they noticed the difference.
Waiters moved faster than usual.
Kitchen staff whispered among themselves.
Orders were being checked twice.
Even the atmosphere seemed to carry a strange, restless energy.
Ruhi glanced toward Head Chef Min-seok.
"Min Oppa, what's happening today? Why is everyone acting so nervous?"
The restaurant had been unusually noisy that afternoon.
The moment Zoya, Hana, and Ruhi stepped inside, they noticed the difference.
Waiters moved faster than usual.
Kitchen staff whispered among themselves.
Orders were being checked twice.
Even the atmosphere seemed to carry a strange, restless energy.
Ruhi glanced toward Head Chef Min-seok.
"Min Oppa, what's happening today? Why is everyone acting so nervous?"
Chef Min-seok wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and looked toward the dining area before lowering his voice.
"Because the owner's daughter is visiting today."
"Oh?"
Zoya blinked.
"We have an owner's daughter?"
Hana looked equally surprised.
"We never heard about her."
Min-seok gave a small shrug.
"She doesn't come here often. Maybe two or three times a year."
He paused before adding,
"Mr. Kang Jisoo keeps his personal life very private. Most of the staff don't know much about his family."
"Where does she live?" Hana asked.
"In the UK."
"She lives with her mother?"
"Yes."
Ruhi tilted her head.
"Why?"
The chef's expression changed slightly.
He seemed to consider whether he should answer.
Eventually, he sighed.
"Mr. Kang and his wife separated many years ago. Their daughter was only five at the time."
He lowered his voice.
"Her mother is British. After the separation, she returned to the UK and raised the girl there."
Zoya listened quietly.
"So she rarely comes to Korea?"
"She used to come even less."
Chef Min-seok leaned against the counter.
"In the beginning, Mr. Kang would travel to the UK himself to see her. But she's grown up now. She comes to Korea on her own whenever she can."
"What's her name?" Ruhi asked.
"Emily Kang."
The three girls exchanged glances.
"Emily..." Hana repeated thoughtfully.
Min-seok nodded.
"And this isn't actually her first visit this year. It's her second."
Ruhi's eyes widened.
"Then why does everyone look like they're preparing for an inspection?"
The chef laughed under his breath.
"Because when the owner's daughter walks into a restaurant, everyone suddenly remembers how important perfection is."
That earned a quiet laugh from the girls.
But the chef wasn't entirely joking.
The restaurant really did feel different.
Tables were being polished again even though they were already clean.
The kitchen counters had been wiped twice.
Orders were being inspected before leaving the kitchen.
Even the junior staff were standing straighter than usual.
Zoya tied her apron and looked around.
"Do you think she's strict?"
Hana shrugged.
"We'll find out."
Ruhi leaned toward them.
"Maybe she's actually sweet."
Hana smiled.
"Or maybe she's terrifying."
Zoya laughed softly.
"Why are you both making her sound like a villain?"
"Because rich people in stories are always suspicious," Ruhi whispered dramatically.
Zoya shook her head.
"You're impossible."
She turned back toward the cutting station.
Whatever Emily Kang was like, Zoya had no reason to worry.
She had come here to work.
And work was exactly what she was going to do.
The kitchen was already running at full speed.
Zoya stood at the cutting station, chopping vegetables with neat, practiced movements.
She had become faster over time.
In the beginning, every instruction had required concentration. Every new task had felt like something she needed to prove herself at.
Now, her hands moved almost automatically.
Chop.
Sort.
Pass.
Repeat.
Whenever she had a free moment, she helped Hana and Ruhi with their tables.
The two girls were waitresses, always moving between the kitchen and dining area with bright smiles and endless energy.
Somehow, despite their different jobs, the three of them had become a team.
The restaurant had become a comfortable place for Zoya.
Not perfect.
Not home.
But familiar.
There was one thing she had made clear from the beginning.
She would not handle pork.
It had never caused a problem.
She simply avoided those trays and worked with everything else.
One afternoon, when the kitchen had finally quietened for a few minutes, Chef Min-seok had asked her about it.
"Zoya."
She looked up.
"Yes, Chef?"
"I've noticed you never handle pork."
There was no accusation in his voice.
Only curiosity.
"If it's personal, you don't have to explain."
Zoya gave him a small smile.
"It's not a problem, Chef. I'm comfortable cooking everything else."
She hesitated.
"Just not that."
Min-seok nodded.
Zoya continued gently.
"In Islam, we don't eat pork. It's part of our teachings."
She paused, then added,
"But I don't want anyone to think I'm judging them for what they eat."
Her voice remained soft.
"Everyone has their own choices and their own way of life. This is simply something I follow because of my faith."
She looked down at her hands.
"It reminds me who I am."
Then she smiled.
"And it gives me peace."
Chef Min-seok looked at her for a moment before nodding.
"I respect that."
"Thank you for understanding."
"Of course."
The matter had ended there.
No argument.
No awkwardness.
Just understanding.
At least, that was what Zoya had believed.
"Why are we preparing so much food today?"
Zoya glanced toward the long line of dishes covering the counter.
"Usually we prepare things according to the orders. But today everything is being cooked at once."
Chef Min-seok didn't look up from the pan in front of him.
"Because today is Mr. Kang's birthday."
He pointed toward the trays.
"And because Miss Emily is here, we're preparing a small feast for the employees."
Zoya nodded.
"Oh."
Then the chef added,
"Just stay in the kitchen today, all right?"
Zoya frowned.
"Why?"
"Because Emily can be..."
He searched for the right word.
"Complicated."
Zoya smiled.
"Complicated?"
"She can seem rude sometimes."
His expression softened.
"But don't take it personally. She grew up away from her father. Her parents' separation affected her."
Zoya nodded slowly.
"I understand."
"Good."
He picked up another tray.
"Just stay here."
Zoya laughed.
"But what would I even do outside? My work is here."
She pointed toward the vegetables.
"I'll stay. Don't worry."
Min-seok laughed.
"Good. I'll go check the dining area myself."
He started walking away.
Zoya called after him.
"Chef!"
He turned.
"Yes?"
"You're getting old. Maybe you should retire."
The chef's mouth fell open.
"Yah!"
Zoya burst out laughing.
"I just became young again! Don't call me old!"
"You say that every time."
"And you call me old every time!"
Their laughter filled the kitchen.
For a few seconds, everything felt normal.
Warm.
Familiar.
Almost like family.
Then Zoya turned back toward her cutting board.
She didn't notice the figure standing at the entrance.
Not at first.
But she felt the gaze.
A sharp, assessing gaze.
Her knife slowed.
She looked up.
A woman stood in the kitchen doorway.
Tall.
Nearly six feet.
A perfectly tailored black coat framed her slender figure, while long, light-golden hair fell over her shoulders.
She looked to be in her late twenties.
There was nothing uncertain about her presence.
She didn't enter a room like someone asking for permission.
She entered as though the room already belonged to her.
Her eyes moved across the kitchen.
The chefs.
The staff.
The counters.
The dishes.
Then they stopped on Zoya.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Emily raised one eyebrow and looked toward Chef Min-seok.
She didn't have to ask aloud.
Who is she?
The chef understood.
"She's Zoya."
Emily's eyes returned to her.
"Zoya?"
"She works in the kitchen. Vegetable preparation is mainly her responsibility."
Emily gave a small nod.
A polite smile touched her lips.
But there was something cold behind it.
"Good."
She stepped inside.
"She can assist me."
Min-seok looked surprised.
"Of course."
"I'm preparing Father's favorite dish today."
Emily glanced toward the kitchen staff.
"Make sure everything outside is handled properly. I don't want any mistakes."
The chef smiled awkwardly.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
He left.
And just like that, the atmosphere changed.
Emily walked toward Zoya.
"You're new here, aren't you?"
Zoya straightened.
"Yes, Miss Emily."
"I don't remember seeing you during my last visit."
She studied her.
"How long have you been working here?"
Zoya smiled politely.
"I'm still fairly new."
She gestured toward the kitchen.
"If you need anything, I can help."
Emily nodded.
"Good."
She picked up a list.
"Then start with the ingredients."
She began naming them.
Zoya listened carefully and collected everything Emily requested.
Vegetables.
Spices.
Sauces.
Oil.
Everything was placed neatly beside the burner.
Emily inspected the ingredients.
"Good."
Zoya relaxed slightly.
Then Emily looked at her.
"Now I need the meat."
Zoya turned toward the refrigerator.
"Which one?"
"Pork belly."
Her hand stopped.
For a second, the kitchen seemed to go silent.
The sound of the pans disappeared somewhere in the background.
Zoya stared at the refrigerator.
Her fingers slowly tightened around the tray in her hands.
She couldn't.
Not that.
Not even touch it.
She lowered her eyes.
Her lips moved almost soundlessly.
"رَبِّ إِنِّي مَغْلُوبٌ فَانْتَصِرْ"
My Lord, I am overpowered, so help me.
She repeated it once.
Then again.
Her breathing slowly steadied.
Behind her, Emily waited.
"Zoya?"
No answer.
Emily frowned.
"Pass me the meat."
Zoya remained still.
Emily's voice became firmer.
"I said, pass me the meat."
Zoya swallowed.
Her hands were trembling now.
Emily looked at her in disbelief.
"What's wrong?"
Still nothing.
"I need you to cut it into finger-sized pieces."
Zoya finally turned around.
Her face had gone pale.
"I'm sorry, Miss Emily..."
Emily's expression hardened.
"What?"
"I can't."
A junior chef stepped forward.
"I can do it—"
Emily immediately raised a hand.
"No."
She didn't take her eyes off Zoya.
"I asked her."
The junior chef stopped.
Emily stepped closer.
"What's happening, Zoya?"
Zoya lowered her gaze.
"I can't handle it."
"Why?"
Zoya couldn't answer.
Not because she didn't have an answer.
Because she didn't know how to explain something so personal in front of everyone.
Emily's patience disappeared.
"I gave you a simple instruction."
Her voice echoed through the kitchen.
"Why are you refusing to follow it?"
And then—
another voice cut through the hallway.
"Emily."
The tone was sharp.
The chef Min knew that voice.
His heart sank.
He hurried toward the kitchen.
By the time he reached the doorway, several staff members had already gathered behind him.
Hana and Ruhi were there too.
They immediately looked toward Zoya.
She stood frozen beside the cold storage.
Her eyes were lowered.
One tear slipped quietly down her cheek.
Chef Min-seok understood everything.
He walked toward them.
"What happened?"
Emily turned toward him.
"Your employee is refusing to follow a basic instruction."
The chef looked at Zoya.
Then at the meat.
His expression softened.
"Emily..."
He spoke carefully.
"Zoya doesn't handle pork."
Emily stared at him.
"What?"
"She never has."
"Why?"
"Because of her religion."
Emily gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
"You're telling me she can't even touch meat?"
"It's pork."
"And?"
The chef remained calm.
"It's against her religious beliefs."
Emily's eyes narrowed.
"What kind of logic is that?"
Hana stepped forward.
"Emily."
The room fell quiet.
Hana's voice remained respectful.
"Before Zoya started working here, she made only one request."
She looked toward Zoya.
"She wouldn't handle pork."
Ruhi nodded.
"And she's never caused any problem because of it."
Hana continued,
"She does everything else. She works hard, she never complains, and she never refuses an ordinary task."
Emily looked around.
"And today she embarrassed me in front of everyone."
Her voice rose.
"On my father's birthday."
No one answered.
Emily looked back at Zoya.
"In fact, today she will pass me that meat."
Zoya slowly lifted her eyes.
Emily's expression was cold.
"Or she doesn't continue working here."
The words hung in the air.
Zoya stared at her.
For a moment, there was pain in her eyes.
Then something steadier replaced it.
Peace.
She took a slow breath.
"Miss Emily..."
Her voice was quiet.
But everyone heard her.
"My knowledge is small."
She paused.
"I'm still learning my way through this world."
Her fingers slowly relaxed.
"But I know what my Allah has asked me to do."
She looked directly at Emily.
"And I love my Allah."
There was no anger in her voice.
No accusation.
Only certainty.
"So when He asks me to stay away from something, I try my best to obey."
Emily stared at her.
Zoya continued,
"I don't expect everyone to follow what I follow."
She gave a small smile.
"I don't judge anyone for their choices."
Her voice softened.
"This is simply my choice."
Emily folded her arms.
"And what about your job?"
Zoya looked around the kitchen.
At Chef Min-seok.
At Hana.
At Ruhi.
Then back at Emily.
"My sustenance comes from Allah too."
Her eyes were calm now.
"If this job is written for me, no one can take it away from me."
A beat.
"And if it isn't..."
She smiled faintly.
"Then I won't hold anyone responsible for what Allah has chosen for me."
Silence.
Even Emily seemed caught off guard.
Zoya untied her apron.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She folded it once.
Then placed it on the counter.
"If you want to fire me because I won't touch pork, I understand."
She bowed her head slightly.
"This is your restaurant."
Her voice remained gentle.
"You have that right."
She turned toward Chef Min-seok.
"Chef, please send whatever salary I have earned to Hana or Ruhi."
Hana immediately stepped forward.
"What?"
Zoya smiled at her.
"Hana..."
"Absolutely not."
Hana shook her head.
"Why should we take your salary? We're staying with you."
Ruhi stepped beside her.
"Exactly."
She looked toward Emily.
"Where an employee's dignity becomes someone's ego issue, how can we continue working here?"
Hana sighed.
"I still can't believe this."
She glanced at the doorway.
"Mr. Kang Jisoo is such a kind man. I never imagined his daughter would..."
She stopped herself.
Emily's face had gone red.
The next second—
she swept her hand across the counter.
The vegetables crashed onto the floor.
Knives clattered.
Bowls rolled.
The sound echoed through the kitchen.
Everyone froze.
Emily stepped toward Zoya.
She stopped only inches away.
Her eyes searched Zoya's face.
Fear.
Regret.
Apology.
Anything.
But Zoya gave her none of it.
She simply stood there.
Calm.
Steady.
Almost peaceful.
That seemed to anger Emily more than anything else.
She turned sharply.
"Chef!"
Min-seok looked at her.
"Fire all three of them."
Hana's eyes widened.
Emily continued without looking back.
"Clear their accounts."
She walked toward the exit.
"And send them out."
The door slammed behind her.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Ruhi looked at Zoya.
"Well..."
Zoya turned toward her.
Ruhi forced a smile.
"At least we'll come back here as customers."
Hana laughed despite herself.
"Exactly."
Ruhi pointed toward the kitchen.
"And Chef will have to cook whatever we order."
She looked at Min-seok.
"Right?"
The chef sighed, but a smile finally appeared on his face.
"You're both impossible."
Zoya laughed softly.
The pain was still there.
The humiliation was still there.
But somehow, standing between the two friends who refused to leave her alone, it didn't feel as heavy.
A few minutes later, the accountant arrived carrying three envelopes.
"Your pending salaries."
He handed one to each girl.
They accepted them quietly.
No arguments.
No explanations.
No looking back.
Zoya adjusted her bag over her shoulder.
Hana stood beside her.
Ruhi stood on the other side.
And together, the three girls walked out of the restaurant.
Their jobs were gone.
Their plans had changed.
Their hearts were heavy.
But their heads remained high.
None of them knew that walking through that door would mark the end of one chapter of their lives...
and the beginning of another.
To be Continued...
Regards,
ZK 💌