The man who had joined their conversation, producer Kim Seung-jun, continued with a false smile. “On that note, Miss Eugene, how about appearing on television while you work as a waitress? You know, as a side job.”

“... Partner, I was wrong. Come to think of it, a waitress only needs to be good at serving.”

“Glad you've finally realized it.”

Limon clicked his tongue at Eugene's sincere show of repentance. Kim Seung-jun, on the other hand, looked devastated. The change was so drastic it was hard to believe he was the same man who had been smiling, however falsely, just moments ago.

“Please, give it one more thought.”

“Producer, persistent men aren't popular, you know?”

“I don't care! My show's about to be canceled! What does it matter if I've been single my whole life?”

“... If you're going to say that so boldly, at least wipe your tears. It hurts just watching you.”

[“Tell me about it...”]

Limon and Yu Na-gyeong shook their heads as they watched producer Kim Seung-jun choke back tears without giving up his attempts to persuade them.

When they first turned down his offer at the restaurant, they'd thought that was the end of it. But they'd misjudged him because they knew nothing about the kind of man Kim Seung-jun was. At KTB, a struggling cable station, he'd held on until every other producer had fled. He was a stubborn bastard whose persistence and grit were maxed out.

“Kim, there's something I've been dying to ask.”

“The Music Challenge assignment? That's a secret. But if you'll agree to appear, I could give you a hint...”

“Not that. If you want to recruit us so badly, why'd you find her a waitressing job?” It would have been far easier to recruit Eugene as a singer while she was unemployed. Why sabotage his own chances? Limon tilted his head slightly.

Kim gave him a manufactured smile. “Ha ha ha. To show my sincerity, of course. People ought to help each other. If I do Miss Eugene a favor, perhaps she'll change her mind.”

“Oh? You know how the world works.”

Limon nodded once. Then his impressed expression vanished. Resting his chin on his interlaced fingers, he asked bluntly, “And the real reason?”

“If nothing else works, I'll use a random casting segment as an excuse to film here!”

It was certainly bold. As Kim clenched his fist and proudly revealed his scheme, Yu Na-gyeong's beak fell open and Limon was speechless for a moment.

“... You really are something else.”

“Anyone who fights their way up to producer at a station whose average ratings are on par with the national anthem ends up like this!”

“Now that I think about it, why do you work for a company that's such a soul-crushing meat grinder?”

“KTB isn't all bad. It has its good points!”

“Such as?”

“So many people quit that promotions come fast. That's how a rookie producer like me got to take charge of such an important project.”

“... Well, I suppose that is an advantage.”

Limon looked at him with pity. Kim had delivered, in complete earnest and in these peaceful times, the sort of army joke people made when commanders were dropping like flies on the battlefield. But Kim was unfazed. He simply kept pressing his case.

“Mr. Lee, why not reconsider?”

“My answer wouldn't change.”

“Please think it over a little longer! The fate of an entire cable station rests on whether the two of you appear!”

“Honestly, I think that meat grinder of yours, KTV or KTB or whatever, would be better off gone.”

“Please, do something about that!”

Kim clung to Limon as if he were about to grab his pant leg. Eugene frowned at the sight. Then someone swung a tray.

CLANG!

“Hey, you little shit. What do you think you're doing to one of our valued customers? Keep disrupting business and you can get out.”

“Senior! How can you tell me to get out? I'm the one who introduced you to an amazing part-timer like Miss Eugene!”

“That's the only reason I haven't cracked your skull open, you bastard.”

The fierce-looking middle-aged man who had come up behind Kim and smacked him on the back of the head looked embarrassed.

“Sorry about that. Seung-jun's always thrown himself headlong into things once he gets fixated on them.”

He was the café's owner, Kim Seung-jun's senior from university, and the man who paid Eugene's wages. At Mr. Jeong's words, Limon and Eugene shrugged.

“Well, it's not your fault your junior's so enthusiastic.”

“The producer's mistakes are his own. You don't need to apologize, boss.”

“Ha ha ha. Thanks for letting it go. Though I'd be even more grateful if you spoke a little more politely.”

Both of them looked young enough to be his niece or nephew, yet they addressed him with complete familiarity. Mr. Jeong merely laughed it off. Not because he was a saint: if he were, his smile wouldn't have twitched when he asked them to speak more politely. Even so, he never lost his temper. He merely cleared his throat.

“Ahem! By the way, Miss Eugene?”

“What is it, boss?”

“Customers keep asking when the live music starts. How about starting a little early today?”

As Mr. Jeong gauged her reaction, Eugene held up her tray. “I'm still on serving duty, though.”

She tilted her head, wondering how she could leave before her relief arrived. Mr. Jeong answered at once. “I can do the serving!”

“You? Serve tables?”

Surprised by the unexpected answer, Eugene tilted her head the other way and added another question. “With that face?”

“What's wrong with my face!?”

“If I gave you my honest opinion, I could be sued for defamation even though it'd be true?”

“...”

Mr. Jeong had protested without thinking, only to take a verbal nail to the heart. He clutched his chest. Kim Seung-jun sprang indignantly to his senior's defense.

“Miss Eugene! Our senior may have a face that would make a mountain bandit weep with envy, but you can't just say it so bluntly!”

Was that supposed to be a defense or the finishing blow? Mr. Jeong clenched a fist that seemed to be screaming for him to beat his foul-mouthed junior to death. Still smiling, he said, “Ha ha ha. Yes, my face is a little intimidating.”

“A little? Senior, have you no shame—”

SQUEEZE!

“But I am the owner of a café. Surely I can manage to serve a few tables. Don't worry about that. Just make whatever decision you're comfortable with.”

From his gentle smile to his mild voice, Mr. Jeong carried himself like a gentleman, despite his fearsome face. Granted, his hand had closed so tightly around his damned junior's throat that Kim's face was turning pale from lack of air.

“All right. If you say so, boss, I'll finish work now. But you remember the pay arrangement, right?”

“Of course. Don't worry.”

Mr. Jeong nodded, then declared with a broad, hearty smile, “I'll pay you for your waitressing hours, and count your entire performance as unpaid volunteer work.”

“OK! Knew you'd get it, boss.”

With his fierce grin to go with those words, Mr. Jeong had said something that, had anyone else heard it, might have earned him an immediate report to the Ministry of Employment and Labor as an exploitative employer. Eugene, though, gave him a satisfied smile and a thumbs-up.

[“No matter how many times I hear it, those employment terms sound like someone's missing a couple of screws.”]

'What does it matter if they're both happy with it?'

[“That argument only worked back when employers could make people work eighteen hours a day without even paying minimum wage.”]

'Wasn't that us at PAB?'

[“Oh, come on. We worked twenty-four hours a day, but we got minimum wage. At the rate for high-level players, too.”]

'... Lucky you.'

Yu Na-gyeong puffed out her plump belly, boasting that she had been a slave in golden shackles and shouldn't be compared with workers in shackles of dirt. Limon was debating whether to jab that belly with a finger.

“Ahem, ahem. The café's accompaniment machine isn't working too well right now. At this rate, Miss Eugene will have to play and sing all by herself.”

Mr. Jeong cleared his throat. His eyes darted toward someone as he continued, carefully gauging their reaction. “It would be nice if someone could handle the accompaniment so Miss Eugene could focus on singing...”

Limon, the “someone” in question, gave Mr. Jeong a wry smile. “Funny how that machine of yours always seems to break down when I come by.”

“Ha ha ha. Sorry about that. It's an awfully old model.”

“So, since I happen to be here, I'm friends with your waitress-slash-singer, and I'm a damn good musician, you'd like me to pick up a guitar?”

“I'd appreciate it.”

“You ask an ordinary customer to perform for you?”

“In return, your juice today is on the house! I'll even throw in a bagel and a sandwich!”

“Now there's a hell of a compensation package.”

Limon chuckled for a moment, then rose from his seat. Mr. Jeong's brazen request aside, he couldn't ignore the pleading look in Eugene's eyes.

“One thing, Mr. Jeong.”

“What? Need something else?”

“It's nothing important, but if you don't take your hand off him soon, he'll die.”

“... Huh?”

Kim Seung-jun, twenty-nine years old, had nearly crossed over to the afterlife, forgotten while being strangled by his university senior. At that moment, he narrowly escaped with his life.

* * *

'What a pair of treasures I've stumbled into.'

Mr. Jeong watched Eugene take the microphone onstage and Limon begin tuning his guitar, a contented look on his face. Just seeing the two of them prepare for a live performance left him feeling thoroughly satisfied.

“Senior, don't you think you went too far? That was attempted murder. Attempted murder!”

“Don't exaggerate.”

“You can see this and still call it exaggeration? Huh?!”

Kim pointed to the clear handprints on his neck. Mr. Jeong quietly looked away. Limon's warning had saved the man; a little later and Mr. Jeong really would have had a corpse to dispose of.

“Seung-jun, how did you find those two?”

“Don't change the subject.”

“No, I really want to know.”

Mr. Jeong was serious. When Kim had first said he'd found someone extraordinary to introduce to him, Mr. Jeong had thought he was making a fuss over nothing. Even after Eugene volunteered to sing live onstage in her spare time, he'd taken her for an aspiring singer with a little talent. But then Limon had come by for a visit, and Eugene had talked him into reluctantly joining her onstage. That was when Mr. Jeong realized what his boar-headed junior had brought him: not a halfway decent part-timer, but a gold mine.

“Do you know how much our café's sales go up on days those two perform?”

“I don't know. About 300%?” Kim said with a playful grin.

Mr. Jeong's face turned as solemn as if he were pronouncing a death sentence. “Put a one in front of that and you'd be about right.”