Yokai Come to the Countryside Café

Chapter 45: The Tail Was Too Long (1)

“I brewed some tea, and you’ve arrived at just the right time. Hurry and have a seat.”

The moment I knocked on the President’s Office door after being summoned by the Chairman, a booming voice welcomed me from inside.

Seated face-to-face with him in such a warm reception, I was met with a fragrant tea aroma that tickled my nose—one I’d never smelled before.

“Thank you for the other day. The gift was so extravagant that I felt sorry my return gift was nothing much.”

“Extravagant, my foot! You turned that good-for-nothing son of mine into a decent human being. It’s not nearly enough! Oh, and that kimchi—you said you enjoyed it. After eating that kimchi, I even dreamed of my late wife for the first time in ages. Still, you should’ve said something when you came. I was disappointed you didn’t even send a message.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it would be presumptuous of me, just an employee, to reach out for a personal matter like that.”

“Is that so? Ha ha ha! Meanwhile, the other guys bend over backwards just to get one of my business cards, but you’re not greedy at all.”

“Then, may I ask what brings me here today?”

“Oh? Nah, I just didn’t feel right about us only exchanging things without seeing each other. Thought I’d at least see your face. So? How are those things I sent over—any good?”

“The computer was so good, I almost got caught by the other team members. They eventually found out, though.”

“Couldn’t you have made something up?”

“I’m not really one for lying.”

“So if someone asked who gave it to you, were you planning to say my name?”

“Yes.”

“You’re no ordinary man, huh? A person who lives without lying is practically an Immortal!”

“People do say that to me quite often.”

“Guilty? Ha ha ha! I still haven’t lost my touch for reading people!”

Though the conversation felt aimless, he clearly had something he wanted to say.

It was probably related to the National Intelligence Service. That was the only matter connected to me that the Daecheon Group wouldn’t be able to uncover.

But he didn’t ask.

Just as I hadn’t disclosed my connection to the Chairman to those around me, it seemed he also wouldn’t ask questions I’d find difficult to answer.

Instead of awkward questions, what appeared on the table was a small business card.

“Consider this us exchanging contact info. If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’ll do the same.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you.”

“Alright, let’s have a meal with my son sometime. What do you like? Beef, perhaps? You know Usanjeong? The beef there is raised on ginseng right here in Gangwon Province…”

I thought I’d leave after receiving the business card and hearing the usual “Let’s have a meal sometime,” but the topic suddenly veered off into food talk.

Since I’d already wasted half the day on a post earlier in the morning, it seemed like I was destined for overtime today.

After Jinseong left, Director Shin Ji-cheol took his place shortly after.

“Has Manager Kim Jinseong left?”

“Nothing good comes from holding up someone who’s working. He said he was leaving, so I let him.”

“Were you able to find out what happened?”

“Nope, just asked if he was doing alright.”

“As expected, he’s not an easy one.”

“I felt like if I really pushed him, he might answer—so I didn’t ask.”

“Pardon? What do you mean by that…”

“Ha ha ha! You don’t get what I mean either, huh?”

Chairman Joo Man-ho was so delighted by Director Shin Ji-cheol’s confused reaction that he nearly shed tears.

“I was curious, but somehow felt like I shouldn’t ask. Like I was possessed or something. This mighty Joo Man-ho just sat there chatting about this and that with no backbone. That kid’s really something the more you see him.”

His assessment of Jinseong was vague and full of abstract words, leaving Director Shin Ji-cheol looking unconvinced.

Regrettably, Chairman Joo Man-ho couldn’t think of any clearer way to explain it.

His private meeting with Jinseong had taken place years ago.

Though Chairman Joo Man-ho was a man who rarely reversed a decision once made, it had still been a nagging concern to assign someone to tutor his son based only on instinct.

But watching his son change over time, and now after this one-on-one meeting, all that anxiety was swept away without a trace.

Jinseong hadn’t changed one bit since their first meeting.

No, rather, the way he conversed so calmly in front of the Chairman felt like he’d grown into someone of even greater stature.

An immense presence that words couldn’t fully express.

It was a precise conclusion reached without even knowing that Jinseong, who lived each day among Divine Beasts who had lived for thousands of years, possessed a presence no ordinary human could compare to.

“Oh, right! I got so excited I forgot to say what I needed to.”

Suddenly remembering something, Chairman Joo Man-ho slapped his knee and called his son.

“Are you off work? The kimchi container at home doesn’t smell anymore, so go return it to your teacher tomorrow. Since when is returning an empty container part of our family’s manners! Fill it up with Korean beef!”

Ever the natural-born businessman, Chairman Joo Man-ho was quick-witted enough to even turn an empty kimchi container into part of his son’s lesson.

(Is Jinseong sleeping?)

(Yup! Today’s his day to sleep in.)

(Still, I’m hungry. We’ve got a packed schedule today, so we need to eat soon.)

(What’s the schedule?)

(Let’s eat first and think about it later.)

(So basically, you don’t have one.)

The chatter outside the door replaced the alarm I’d turned off for the weekend.

From early morning, it seemed Sanyi had arrived.

I considered pretending to sleep a bit longer, but I felt sorry for Ria, who would likely have to wrestle with Sanyi at the door, so I quickly got up.

“I’m awake, come on in.”

-Clack.

No sooner had I finished speaking than the door burst open, and Ria and Sanyi came running in and jumped on the bed.

“Good morning!”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, you must be hungry, right?”

“My belly’s stuck to my back, it is!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’d have to starve for about a hundred years to get like that.”

“That’s how hungry I am! Observation… ob… observation technique? Something like that!”

“It’s an idiom.”

“How did you know that?”

“I read it in a book!”

Ria ran downstairs and came back with a thin workbook that looked at least 30 years old.

On the cover, the title read: [Elementary Korean Idioms and Proverbs Dictionary], printed in bold Ming-style font.

A book no elementary student would ever want to read, both in design and title.

“You finished this whole thing?”

“It was fun!”

“I learned it too!”

Actually, this wasn’t the first time a workbook had randomly popped up like this.

Occasionally, such workbooks would be mixed in among the picture books I bought in bulk from secondhand stores.

Ria wasn’t quite ready to read them yet, so I’d set them aside to be thrown out as scrap. How she found it and solved it was beyond me.

Even more surprising, there wasn’t a single wrong answer on the answer sheet.

From picture books about toots and diarrhea to this—it was a remarkable leap forward.

“Did you try others too?”

“Yes! This one, and this one, and I finished this one too!”

All the workbooks Ria brought were yellowed with age. Some were difficult even for an elementary student to solve alone.

Maybe I should consider sending her to elementary school this spring instead of kindergarten.

“Does looking at that make rice come out? Or cake?”

“Don’t go using what you learned on me right away!”

“Ow ow ow ow! It hurts! I’m hungry and hurt!”

After all that ruckus in the morning, I was starting to feel hungry too.

“Since it’s morning, should we just have soy sauce egg rice?”

“Sounds good!”

“Oooh! That’s tasty too!”

A flawless choice for breakfast.

Even half-asleep, unless I accidentally spilled the soy sauce bottle over the rice, it was almost impossible to fail.

A few drops of Korean sesame oil from the market, and it could rival a hotel breakfast.

Simple, delicious, and just one side of kimchi would be enough…

-Clack.

“Huh?”

The rice cooker that should’ve been full of rice was empty.

“There’s no rice.”

“Right.”

“And there’s no uncooked rice either!”

The past few days had been chaotic with kimchi-making and other major mishaps, so I hadn’t gone grocery shopping—and that was my mistake.

Still, I couldn’t feed the kids ramyeon first thing in the morning.

In the end, I’d have to go grocery shopping. On a precious weekend morning.

“I’ll run to the store real quick, so you two stay here and watch the house, okay?”

“I’m coming too!”

“Don’t be silly. You can’t even use Transformation Arts. Just play with Ria. Ria, can you take good care of Sanyi?”

“Yes!”

The roles might’ve gotten a bit reversed at some point, but right now, Ria was the only one I could trust.

Whether I left Sanyi alone or took her with me, she was bound to cause some sort of trouble.

Sometimes I wondered if the shamans guarding the Divine Tree on Mount Gyeryong were actually raising Sanyi instead.

“You said you were going to buy rice, but you’re still not leaving!”

“I’m going now, you little brat!”

At the same time, over at the Sunflower Orphanage, iceboxes were being unloaded one after another from Dohyuk’s car, which had returned from Majang-dong since dawn.

Each icebox had a large sticker labeled 1++.

“Donating all this precious meat… We’re always so grateful.”

“No, I just had some leftover meat. Didn’t want to waste it. Last time I was here, the fridge was completely empty.”

Feeling shy from receiving thanks from the head of the orphanage—who was old enough to be his mother—Dohyuk scratched his cheek.

In Dohyuk’s view, a few boxes of meat bought with some spare change weren’t something to be so thankful for.

“Wow! So much meat!”

“Mister ‘I’m Joo Dohyuk’ brought it!”

“Really?”

“I wanna see too!”

Thankfully, the kids, who noticed the overflowing meat and Dohyuk, quickly cleared away the awkward mood.

“Guys, come here! Mister ‘I’m Joo Dohyuk’ brought meat!”

It was only his second visit, yet the children ran up to him with the brightest smiles in the world.

But something about the name the children called him was strange.

“Hello, Mister ‘I’m Joo Dohyuk’!”

‘Huh? Not just Mister Dohyuk?’

Apparently, the statement Dohyuk had blurted out while leaving behind toys and pizza without warning had left a big impression on the children.

With the kids’ tiny hands joining in, they moved the meat into the kitchen.

“You haven’t had breakfast yet, right? Please stay and eat. With this many grills, the meat’ll be ready in no time.”

“Mister, eat with us too!”

“Well… no, Mister’s full.”

Though starving from shopping for meat since dawn, Dohyuk said otherwise.

He’d only just realized how much more he ate than the average person.

If he held back, there’d be more meat for the kids.

Only recently had he realized that food he ate every day—or wouldn’t even touch because it was cheap—was something the kids sang about wanting to eat again.

“Alright, enjoy your meal. Let me know if you need anything.”

Dohyuk ruffled the kids’ hair roughly and got back in the car.

The flag on the navigation was set for the Dangsari Café.

Where Jinseong was no longer present.