AUG Side 1 Chapter 1.1

Side Story: Greeting

A warm breeze slipped past, brushing against me as if tickling on its way through.

I turned my head toward the side the wind was flowing from. A long window across the wall was open wide. It almost seemed as if I could see the breeze effortlessly gliding through the broad opening. Despite the late hour, the garden outside wasn’t all that dark. As I gazed idly at the scene, another wave of wind rolled in. My hair swayed lightly, then slowly settled against my forehead. The fading late-summer breeze was warm with the heat finally dissipating, and the temperature had dropped just enough to feel pleasant as autumn drew near.

This place, which could only be reached after driving far out into the suburbs, was an elegant traditional house, with roof tiles sharply outlined against the night. There was no sign, no mark to suggest it was a restaurant. A destination no one would stumble upon by chance. Only those who already knew what this place was could approach it. Knowing the entrance itself felt like a kind of barrier, a privilege akin to class. If not for that man, I would never have even tried to step foot here.

“Should I pour you another cup?”

At the dry, though not cold, voice, I turned back. My vision filled with his restrained movements as he tilted the bottle in his hand to fill the white porcelain cup before me. From his austere face, to his unyielding shoulders that never slouched even in a casual dinner setting, to his strong hand that made the thick bottle seem almost slight. My eyes finally stopped at the sight of the chrysanthemum blossom floating up to the bottle’s mouth, spilling gracefully into my cup with the flow of liquid. It tickled inside. The flower drifting atop the surface didn’t feel like it was floating in my drink, but in my heart.

I accepted the refilled cup and obediently brought it to my lips. The fragrant scent of chrysanthemum drew near. As I sipped and let the liquid slip past my lips, the rich aroma of flowers spread thickly through my mouth.

“This doesn’t really taste like alcohol.”

It was already my third cup. Here, traditional liquor was always served with meals, its variety changing with the season or the day’s main dish. Last time it had been cornelian cherry wine, before that wild cherry, and tonight it was chrysanthemum. Each time my cup was refilled, another blossom floated in, until petals blanketed the surface, brushing faintly against my lips with every sip. The alcohol came slower that way. The deep fragrance and the mild taste of alcohol slid down my throat as smoothly as if it was a sugary drink. Watching me, he lifted his own cup, the corner of his lips turning upward.

“This isn’t actually a low-alcohol drink.”

His reply gathered back my scattered thoughts. I had assumed its sweetness meant it was mild, but apparently not. Even after experiencing different kinds of liquor with him, I still didn’t really understand alcohol. I only drank because I liked spending my time sharing the same thing with him.

“Maybe it’s because you’re weak to visual stimulation.”

Was I really? Perhaps the floating flowers had beguiled me into thinking it was milder than it was. But was I really so swayed by appearances? The doubt arose belatedly, just as his eyes curved. A lithe smile spread across his face, gentle enough to soften my own mood.

“You drink well.”

I still found it hard to read the intent behind his words, but this time it wasn’t so difficult. Words spoken with a candid smile usually meant exactly what they seemed. An unexpected compliment. Apparently, my tolerance wasn’t as pitiful as I’d thought. Rather than feeling boastful, I simply felt a little more recognized as an equal adult beside him. It made me feel oddly floating.

“You’ll like it even more with the main dish.”

I carefully lowered the cup from my lips.

“Uh… then maybe I should save the rest?”

“Looks like you’ve already finished it all.”

Startled, I looked down. The surface of the liquid was gone. I had thought I’d been sipping little by little. I set the cup down neatly on the table. His light chuckle lingered near my ears. Somehow, that laugh felt like permission to drink another until the main course arrived, which embarrassed me even more. I wanted to believe it wasn’t that I’d discovered a taste for alcohol, but simply that the floating blossoms had left less room for the drink.

“We’ll bring out the main course now.”

Just then, fresh air streamed in through the window, and the opposite door opened as the server entered. The moment someone else stepped in, our conversation dissolved as if by tacit agreement, leaving silence to settle.

My blossom-filled cup was replaced with a new one, and empty dishes were cleared. As new dishes were placed one after another, the table transformed into a flower garden. Fresh blossoms decorating the rims of the large plates gave a lavish touch.

“Please enjoy your meal.”

After the server left, the silence was broken by the sound of liquid filling a cup. I raised my sight from the plentiful table setting to see him generously pouring into my cup before filling his own. He usually let me drink only as much as he allowed, so his generosity tonight puzzled me. Watching him calmly serve himself from the dishes, I finally reached out to plate some food as well. When I tasted the main dish with chrysanthemum drink, my eyes widened without meaning to. The flavor melted sweetly on my tongue the moment it touched, utterly divine. When I sipped the alcohol and then tasted the meat again, the ecstasy doubled. It was just as he’d said.

“What kind of meat is this?”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, very much. I’ve never tasted anything this tender before.”

My mouth was too busy with exclamations. I could never get disappointed by him. As I chewed and swallowed another bite of meat, he suddenly spoke, his face unusually serious.

“Hmm. Do you really want to know?”

Was it only my suspicion making me think so?

Since I hadn’t tried many different dishes there wasn’t anything I was particularly picky about, and I had no intention of being so with food he bought me. Yet something about his manner made me anxious, and I found myself chewing slower and slower.

“I don’t know if you can handle knowing it.”

At those words, I suddenly felt like my tongue had gone numb. The texture I’d thought was simply tender now seemed strangely slippery, suspiciously delicate.

If it was meat I couldn’t handle, what could it be? Something beyond my imagination…? I’d already had horse meat, even camel. Fruits notorious for their stench hadn’t been so bad. I’d eaten grotesque-looking seafood without a problem. So what was this meat that he wouldn’t tell me outright, instead making me uneasy?

This restaurant always served fine dishes, never bizarre creatures or exotic rarities… Or had they? Last time, that meat roasted over hot stones—what was it again? And the one time we were given just a single slice of that meat pancake dish—what had that been? The more my thoughts strayed, the more I tried to cut them off, forcing myself to swallow my half-chewed bite.

“…I’ll just eat without knowing.”

I barely muttered the words, so quiet I almost didn’t hear myself. The next moment, his laughter rang out, clear and amused.

“I was just joking.”

I froze. My eyes shot from the meat to his face. Had I heard right? I couldn’t believe my ears. I blinked several times, but the sight of him didn’t vanish. He could joke like this? He could look at me like that, entertained by me flustering?

“It’s veal, smoked with herbs. What were you imagining?”

…If I had to put my vague imaginings into words, they would be frogs, toads, lizards, or some amphibian or reptile I hoped it wasn’t. But I didn’t say it aloud.

Flustered, I quickly lifted my cup instead. The chrysanthemum wine washed over my tongue, carrying away my brief fluster with its flavor. I ate another piece of the veal, then another sip, and soon enough the cup was empty again.

“Yewoon.”

I lifted my head and saw him pouring the drink into my cup again.

“What if you could eat food from this place every day at home?”

His next words were harder to grasp, and I blinked slowly, trying to take them in.

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