The Woman Who Stole My Flower
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
#3.
For some reason, the fact that Kang Joo-heon had looked angry during the interview bothered her a little, but she decided to just shut her eyes and feign ignorance. She might not remember, but bluntly speaking, it wasn’t as if Yeon-seo had held a knife to his throat and forced him to sleep with her, right? That slang phrase—who held a knife to your throat?—was meant for times precisely like this.
Neither of them had lost anything, and the world wasn’t ending.
“It’s fine. Nobody knows.”
Yeon-seo murmured as if reassuring herself once more.
*
“I’m home!”
When Yeon-seo called out with deliberate cheer as she stepped inside, Dad, who had been sitting in his wheelchair wearing an apron and frying something, brightened up to welcome her.
“You’re back, sweetie?”
Matna Snack Bar.
It was a snack bar with thirty years of history, originally run by Yeon-seo’s grandmother and taken over by Dad after she passed away.
A small, shabby snack bar with only four tables, where the signboard, tables, and chairs were just as aged as the shop itself. Yeon-seo had grown up doing her homework at these little tables and eating the ramen her dad made for her. Connected to the back was a small two-bedroom living space—a cozy nest for Yeon-seo and her dad.
“Were you busy today?”
Dad boasted proudly.
“Yeah, an office nearby placed a group order, so I sold twenty rolls of gimbap.”
Yeon-seo felt a bit relieved. Ever since a clean new snack bar opened nearby, sales had been steadily declining, making it tight just to pay the rent each month, but it seemed business was picking up a little this month.
Yeon-seo scanned the sink. A pile of dishes from the day’s business sat waiting. Seeing more dishes than usual didn’t overwhelm her at all; instead, it left her feeling satisfied.
“Looks like you had plenty of other customers besides the gimbap order, huh?”
“Oh, leave it be. Dad can take care of it slowly!”
Dad waved his hands dismissively as usual as Yeon-seo tied an apron around her waist.
“You don’t have to clock out on the dot every day to come help out. Go out and meet your friends. Hang out somewhere nice, eat delicious food.”
Yeon-seo pulled on the rubber gloves and replied.
“It’s not like I don’t see my friends. I had lunch with Min-ah today too.”
“Still, isn’t this the prime of your life when you should be having fun? You’re only twenty-seven, and here you are doing dishes at the shop every single day.”
Dad looked at Yeon-seo with renewed affection and sorrow in his eyes.
“If you find someone you like, don’t worry about me and go ahead and date. You don’t have to come home early every day, and you really don’t have to help with the shop.”
“Dad, why are you suddenly bringing this up?”
“You stayed out overnight a few days ago.”
Ugh, so that was it. Yeon-seo quickly schooled her expression.
“I told you, I was working overtime at the office and accidentally fell asleep at my desk! When I woke up, it was already morning.”
“Really?”
It was only natural that Dad was skeptical. After all, his daughter, who rarely even attended company dinners so she could help with the shop, had actually stayed out all night.
Yet she couldn’t very well tell him the truth—that she had a one-night stand. Especially when her partner had been such an unbelievable man. So Yeon-seo squeezed her eyes shut and feigned complete ignorance.
“I’m telling the truth. So stop inventing nonexistent men, Dad.”
When Yeon-seo adamantly denied it, Dad looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. If only your dad had a healthy body…….”
Sitting in his wheelchair, Dad looked down at his useless legs.
“Is there anything I haven’t been able to do just because of your condition? Did I miss out on school? Did I miss out on seeing friends? I go to the stadium every weekend just fine, so why do you keep apologizing?”
Replying nonchalantly, Yeon-seo stood before the sink and skillfully began washing the dishes.
“You can’t date.”
Shhh. Dad’s voice cut through the sound of running water.
“When was the last time you even dated a guy?”
A year ago. Knowing full well, Yeon-seo played dumb.
“Who knows? I don’t really remember.”
“I’m worried you can’t date because you’re too busy helping your dad. Back in school, you came straight home after classes to help out and couldn’t even hang out with friends, and even now…….”
Yeon-seo cut in firmly.
“I told you. I have no intention of dating anyone.”
To Dad, Yeon-seo was surely the prettiest daughter in the world. Seeing such a daughter flatly state she had no intention of seeing men in the prime of her youth seemed to break his heart.
“If you don’t meet anyone, then what? Are you going to go your whole life without dating or getting married?”
“Yep. I’m never getting married, and I’ll live with you for the rest of my life.”
Sighing in disapproval, Dad eventually shook his head and muttered to himself.
“Well, she says that now, but the moment she meets her match, she’ll probably say she’s leaving right away.”
Dad didn’t know Yeon-seo meant every word. Nor did he know why she had resolved never to date or marry. That reason was something Yeon-seo intended to take to her grave.
Just as Yeon-seo was finishing up the dishes, a savory aroma of oil drifted over with a sizzling sound from behind her.
“Huh? Dad, what are you frying?”
Turning around, she saw large chunks of chicken bobbing in the deep fryer usually reserved for squid or dumplings, frying with a mouthwatering sizzle.
“I’m going to eat this later while watching Kang Joo-heon’s match.”
Kang Joo-heon again! Yeon-seo struggled to keep her composure.
“Kang Joo-heon is playing in a match? What about his ankle?”
“No, the Champions League final.”
Dad was an avid fan of European soccer. Drinking a beer and watching soccer late in the evening after closing the shop was his only hobby and joy after spending almost his entire life cooped up in this tiny snack bar.
The Champions League final that took place this past June was a match where Kang Joo-heon scored the winning goal, leading his team to victory. With that match, Kang Joo-heon’s club, Gloucester, achieved the treble (*winning all three competitions: the League, FA Cup, and Champions League) for the first time in the club’s history.
It was a historic showdown that filled not just soccer fans but all South Koreans with a lethal dose of national pride, and Dad’s all-time favorite match that he rewatched at every opportunity. If you boiled beef bones this much, only plain water would come out by now, yet Dad never seemed to tire of watching it over and over.
“Wait, have I watched the Champions League final too many times? Should I watch the Olympic final instead?”
Scooping out the golden-brown fried chicken, Dad muttered to himself with a happy face.
Like most Koreans, Dad had become a Kang Joo-heon fan before becoming a fan of European soccer. Cheering for Kang Joo-heon was what led him to take an interest in overseas soccer in general.
In truth, Kang Joo-heon hadn’t always been as popular as he was now. He used to take plenty of flak domestically. When he was first selected for the national team, a reporter asked him to say a few words about his determination playing with the national emblem on his chest, and his response was:
[It’s not particularly for the country or the people; I just play for my fans.]
Because he said such a thing so bluntly, he drew immense backlash at the time. Criticisms raged that playing in Europe at a young age had made him arrogant, where had he tossed his patriotism, and that he was unworthy of wearing the national crest.
However, he was a man who proved himself with actions rather than words. Even after resolving his mandatory military service by winning the Asian Games right after turning twenty, he always faithfully answered national team call-ups, throwing himself completely into every match until public criticism gradually subsided.
And finally, three years ago in the Olympic soccer final, when Kang Joo-heon scored the comeback goal in extra time to defeat none other than the Brazil National Team—even if their top-tier roster was missing—and claimed the nation’s first-ever gold medal, not a single soul dared criticize him anymore.
What did it matter whom he played for? As long as the people were happy in the end, that was all that mattered.
Thus, at twenty-eight years old today, Kang Joo-heon had become the undisputed top soccer player in South Korea—loved so passionately that even a middle-aged man in a tiny suburban snack bar was completely obsessed with him.
“By the way, why hasn’t there been any news about Kang Joo-heon signing with a new club yet?”
Looking at Kang Joo-heon’s beer ad poster proudly plastered on the snack bar wall—even though they didn’t even sell beer—Dad wore a slightly worried expression.
“He’s not even thirty yet. He wouldn’t possibly retire already, right?”
Currently, Kang Joo-heon was a free agent without a club. No matter how much he was in rehabilitation, it was rare for a world-class player like him to spend time without a team. Having won the top scorer award in this year’s Champions League, the eyes of soccer fans worldwide were focused on which league and which team he would choose, yet the man himself hadn’t dropped a single hint regarding his future plans or whereabouts.
“W-Well…”
“I really have to see Kang Joo-heon play in Europe with my own eyes before I die.”
To watch Kang Joo-heon’s match in person just once. That was Dad’s lifelong dream.
