Chapter 17
. You—No, Your Lunchbox Has Me Curious
The innermost room of a high-end Japanese restaurant.
Siwan sat at the long dining table alongside Seo Wangu, Factory Manager Go Hyangsu, and three other executives from the DK Foods factory.
The sliding door opened with a soft noise, and the chef—dressed in pristine white with a tall white hat—entered the room.
“Sushi is served.”
His face brimmed with confidence.
Sushi was the restaurant’s signature dish.
Every course served here was excellent, but none could compare to the sushi.
It was a dish the chef took personal pride in. Barring those with seafood allergies, anyone who tasted it would surely be impressed.
With certainty in his step, the chef placed a large platter filled with sushi in the center of the table.
Factory Manager Go Hyangsu beamed and said to Siwan,
“Come on, Director Do. Try one. The sushi here is really something else!”
“The previous dishes were great too. This must be even more impressive then.”
“Of course! The owner of this building is the restaurant owner. They bought it just from selling sushi! Hahaha.”
Siwan picked up a piece of salmon sushi with his chopsticks.
Everyone from the factory watched him with anticipation, sneaking glances his way.
Even Go Hyangsu, though smiling on the outside, was tense on the inside.
He had personally chosen and reserved this restaurant.
Following Seo Wangu’s suggestion that Japanese cuisine might be a good fit, Go had picked the most upscale Japanese restaurant in the area.
Although he was a factory manager and technically held the position of director—ranking higher than Siwan on DK Foods’ hierarchy—the reason he had taken the time to search and book the restaurant himself was simple:
Siwan was the son of CEO Do Myeongjin, whom Go revered like a god.
He wasn’t trying to suck up or curry favor.
It was more of a fond uncle’s sentiment toward a nephew—he simply wanted to feed him something good while he was here.
If he could’ve gotten away with giving him pocket money, he would have, but that felt a bit too awkward, so he restrained himself.
Siwan put the salmon sushi into his mouth and began chewing.
‘Huh… This is smoked salmon.’
He’d assumed it was raw, but it wasn’t.
Like expecting a Coke and getting a cold Americano instead.
His body rejected all food, but raw dishes were usually more tolerable. That’s why he had eaten without bracing himself.
Siwan understood the meaning behind Go Hyangsu’s hopeful expression, so he smiled as he always did.
“It’s delicious.”
Only then did the factory staff’s faces light up with relief.
They quickly dipped their sushi in soy sauce and began eating as well.
Go Hyangsu chewed and swallowed a bite, letting out an admiring sigh.
“Ahh, I knew it—this place has the best sushi. It’s amazing how the flavor deepens the more you chew. Isn’t that right, Director Do?”
“It really is. Seems like they put a lot of care into the rice, too.”
Hearing that, Go made a pleased exclamation, as if he’d taken a shot of alcohol.
“As expected of a food company director—you’ve got a sharp eye. The owner is known for being extremely picky about the rice. If it’s not perfect, they toss the whole batch and start over.”
“Quite the artisan. Though it’s a shame to waste the rice.”
Siwan was miserable, but didn’t show a hint of it.
He wanted to swallow the sushi residue in his mouth as quickly as possible, but his throat wasn’t cooperating. In the end, he had to gulp down some water and swallow it like medicine.
Thankfully, Go seemed too busy chatting with the others to notice.
Seeing everyone enjoying their food so cheerfully, a wave of melancholy washed over Siwan.
‘I used to be like that too, when I was a kid…’
He used to love food.
He and his father Do Myeongjin got along well on that front. If they saw a restaurant featured on TV, they’d sneak off together to try it.
The rest of the family didn’t care as much about food, so it was just the two of them—father and son—who traveled the country in search of good eats.
His eating disorder had struck around the time he hit puberty.
Food that once tasted so good now felt repulsive.
The irony was that although it tasted and felt awful in his mouth, Siwan could still easily identify what ingredients went into a dish and how it was prepared.
He could even tell with certainty whether other people would find it delicious or not.
This smoked salmon sushi, for instance—he was sure that 100 out of 100 people would love it. It was the most perfected sushi he’d ever tasted.
And yet, it did absolutely nothing to help his eating disorder.
Suddenly, the smell he’d caught on the subway that morning popped into his mind.
That greasy aroma coming from Hana’s bag.
He’d struggled to swallow his saliva quietly as his mouth watered.
‘What the heck was that smell? I wonder if Assistant Manager Joo Hana is eating alone again today…’
A round, soft face. Big, bright eyes.
Smooth, pale skin.
Her hair was always messily tied up, but somehow it suited her.
Siwan’s brows furrowed.
He’d only meant to imagine her lunchbox—but why was he focusing on her instead?
Just then, the sliding door opened, and a server entered with two baskets.
Steam rose from freshly fried tempura inside.
The scent and presentation were so intense, everyone gasped in awe.
Siwan also gasped—but for a different reason.
‘Ugh. Fried oil smells horrible. Hm… What was in Joo Hana’s lunchbox?’
If Siwan had known the answer, he would’ve fainted on the spot.
Because inside Hana’s lunchbox had simply been ordinary spam—no, spam coated in egg and pan-fried.
✽ ✽ ✽
Unlike most companies, DK Foods’ CEO office was on the first floor.
That was because one of CEO Do Myeongjin’s many principles was: “Unless absolutely necessary, don’t ride the elevator with employees.”
He explained the reason behind that belief like this:
“I used to be an average office worker myself. One day I got into the elevator with the CEO. It was so uncomfortable I nearly died. I’m not speaking figuratively—I literally didn’t breathe until I got off on the 15th floor. Thought I was going to pass out.”
If the CEO’s office were upstairs, someone would eventually be forced to share an elevator with him.
If the CEO was already in the elevator, you could simply let it go and wait for the next one.
But if you were already in the elevator and he got in afterward? Just imagining it was unpleasant.
That’s why Do Myeongjin had his office built on the first floor.
For the same reason, his office also had a private restroom.
What if the CEO had to use the shared bathroom? What if he was standing in line behind you?
God, that would be even worse than the elevator situation.
So, for everyone’s sake, his office included a personal bathroom.
That said, he still used the company café on the first floor along with everyone else.
Because that didn’t fall under “avoidable discomfort.”
Still, he tried to go during quiet hours when fewer people were around.
If he happened to line up behind a staff member while ordering, he’d buy their coffee.
Strangely, employees seemed more touched by a cup of coffee than a full meal.
3 PM.
Do Myeongjin left his office with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Now, who will I run into at the café today?”
Most employees visiting the café were clearly worn out.
The company encouraged people to go home on time, but work wasn’t always that simple. Sometimes he’d see late-night workers stopping in for a break.
But more than those working late, the ones who came around 3 PM—like now—looked even more exhausted.
Just as he passed the elevator, the doors dinged open.
Out popped Hana, wearing a loose hoodie and her hair hastily tied up.
Joo Hana from the Food Planning Team. She was the only woman in the entire company who walked around in a hoodie—there was no mistaking her.
Do Myeongjin already knew who she was. He even knew her nickname: “Clumsy Miss Joo Hana.”
Not because they were close, but because she was the employee who’d caused a company meeting over an unfamiliar issue: “Exception to dress code policy.”
Lately, he’d been watching her even more closely—ever since the “One bite of kimchi fried rice” incident with his son Siwan.
Hana had her hands in her hoodie pockets, heading toward the café.
Seeing this, Do Myeongjin quietly rejoiced.
‘Perfect. I’ve been wanting to talk to her.’
Do Myeongjin was the CEO.
Hana was an assistant manager.
At a company the size of DK Foods, a CEO would never have a reason to directly summon an assistant manager. If he did, rumors would explode.
And asking to meet outside work? That would seem even weirder. They didn’t even know each other well or speak casually.
Still, Do Myeongjin was determined to talk to her.
He wanted to know what kind of woman she was.
How had she managed to make kimchi fried rice so good that his son—who had an eating disorder—asked for a bite?
He wanted to know…
If, by chance, she could prepare Siwan’s meals every day.
Or—why not just marry him?
She could keep working, but it would be nice if she gave him a granddaughter, too.
