The customers were eating everything up, so… maybe I should start making cookies and pies.
I still had a bit of ingredients left in my fridge. And I’d stocked up on some things while working part-time—stuff I could use to practice on my days off. Plus, the neighbors I’d gotten close to kept slipping me little extras whenever we ran into each other, so I figured I’d be fine for a while.
The owner said he’d get the café’s oven fixed so I could use it, too…
If I wanted to stay on the good side of someone that high up, I didn’t have a choice.
No—think positive. It’s practice. Practice is good.
And anyway, even if I made a batch, I could never finish it alone. I’d planned to share with the neighbors who always looked out for me.
Tch. Smacking my lips, I went home with the cookies still untouched and flopped onto my bed.
If I had to go to my morning shift, I could squeeze in about two hours of sleep.
I stared blankly at the ceiling until my eyes landed on the family photo I kept within reach beside my blanket, and a small sigh slipped out.
As demeaning as it all was… what choice did I have?
“Ha…”
I didn’t bother holding it in. I exhaled, turned off my phone, and shut my eyes.
…Now that I think about it, it’s even more infuriating.
*****
“Oooo!”
“This is really good, kid.”
Ta-da—what I revealed with a flourish was an apple pie, made from a precious apple I’d been saving like it was treasure.
The downside was that there weren’t many slices, so I couldn’t hand it out to every customer. Still, I was confident, and seeing the owner, Eoun, and the praying mantis-faced customer eat with genuinely happy expressions made me laugh.
Word about my cookies must have traveled fast, because there were a few more customers than yesterday.
If the rumor was that good, then that man couldn’t not show up.
The owner even rushed the oven off for repairs after telling me to use it comfortably, and if things kept going like this… changing that VIP’s mind had to be only a matter of time, right?
…Except reality didn’t match my expectations.
1:00 a.m.
2:30 a.m.
5:10 a.m….
Time flew because I was working nonstop, but just like yesterday, I didn’t see so much as a single strand of his hair.
…Unbearable. Seriously unbearable.
I stared at the lone slice of apple pie I’d saved specifically for him, let out a heavy sigh, and started getting ready to clock out.
What if he shows up on the one day I don’t bring something… and I get fired?
*****
And the next day.
Brownies—made at home while nodding off, powered purely by the conviction that I absolutely could not get fired.
I handed out drinks with the snacks I’d made and waited for him, but today he showed no sign of coming either.
I stared at the last brownie and sighed again.
I’m running out of ingredients. Once what I bought is gone, I’m done. Done-done.
That’s it. I’m not bringing anything anymore.
*****
And the day after that.
I used walnuts a neighbor lady gave me and made a walnut pie, then went to work—only to find everyone staring at me with sparkling eyes, like they’d been waiting.
While the oven was away for repairs, the owner suggested I try selling my baked goods sometimes. He’d cover ingredient costs and pay me separately for the labor.
There was no reason to refuse.
Wait—so I can practice as much as I want without even buying ingredients?
…But if that’s the case…
I really can’t get fired.
I begged the universe for him to show up today, but of course he didn’t. The owner even said it was for the best, but… was it?
At this point, hadn’t he just… forgotten I existed?
*****
And then the next day.
Maybe the rumors were spreading in a good way, because whenever I came in for my shift, there were already quite a few customers.
The best news of all was that the repaired oven arrived.
I ran a hand over it with a borderline creepy grin, like some kind of equipment freak. The owner saw me and, for the first time, looked genuinely alarmed and edged away—but the oven was too pretty, so I pretended not to notice.
Anyway. Today, too.
He didn’t come.
At this point, it was certain. He’d forgotten me.
…So irritating. Seriously.
*****
Then came the day it had been more than two weeks since I started working.
It was 4:00 a.m. The owner had gone home, and I was alone.
I was sitting in a chair, tapping the cookies I’d made using the owner’s money and the café oven, sighing to myself, when—
Ding-a-ling—
The door opened.
Normally there were no customers at all around this time, so I stood up, curious.
And a man with stunningly ornate features strolled in—someone I recognized the instant I saw him.
Lord Bihyeon.
Wow. I almost forgot what your face looked like.
I’d waited for him every day, and somewhere along the line I’d already bonded with him in my head, so instead of irritation, a laugh came out first.
It was more of a drained, exhausted laugh, but still. When I stood up smiling, he tilted his head. A smile curved at his mouth as he walked closer. That icy image—scary enough to make your spine tense—hadn’t changed, and his eyes still didn’t smile.
I beamed at him—mixing professionalism with real, stupid relief—and immediately held out the cookies I’d made.
He let out an impressed little “Oh,” but he didn’t look like he had any intention of taking them.
“Wow. Seriously… I’ve been baking every single day until you finally showed up, because I didn’t want to get fired.”
I muttered like I was one breath away from bursting into tears and shoved the cookies closer.
He gave me a soft eye-smile, but his gaze still screamed, Why would I trust you?
“I didn’t put poison in them… Want me to eat one first?”
“Human. Iced Americano.”
“I’ll serve them with the drink. You’re really going to eat them, right? I barely slept baking these. Have a heart, at least.”
Sure, the sleep thing was mostly because I still hadn’t adjusted to the night shift. And it had only been a few days. But… a little exaggeration was allowed, right?
My sulky face lasted only a second. I snapped my service smile back on, started making his drink, and set the cookies beside it.
He could’ve sat down, but instead he watched me—probably to see if I’d poison anything—then shifted his attention to the cookies.
Is he really not going to eat them? Am I going to get fired like this?
Honestly, if he’d let things go this long, it didn’t feel like he was going to fire me over cookies, but still—
I slid the coffee and cookies toward him, wore the most harmless service smile I owned, and pointed at the cookies, emphasizing my point without quite saying it outright.
“Seriously, no poison. Don’t worry. People line up for these….”
It’s true. Do you know how popular my stuff is here?
After days of baking, it even looked like the owner waited for my cookies more than me—
Bihyeon hesitated, then turned back and, like he was proving something, tore the wrapper open and popped a cookie into his mouth right there.
I took a step closer, eyes bright, waiting for his reaction.
He chewed—crunch, crunch—without changing his expression, took a sip of coffee, and said one word.
“Sweet.”
“…Huh? I made it as barely sweet as I could—oh. You really, really hate sweet stuff.”
“Yeah.”
He smiled at me, and I nodded hard.
From his reaction, it wasn’t that he hated it because I made it. It was just genuinely too sweet for his taste.
“Then tomorrow I’ll make it even less sweet.”
Maybe because he actually ate it, all the resentment I’d been carrying started to melt away.
I said it with bright, confident eyes. He shrugged, rewrapped the remaining cookie, turned, and walked out of the café.
…Okay. His face says I can keep working, right?
For the first time, I looked at the empty paper bag and let out a small smile. Then I grabbed my cleaning supplies and headed out to close up.
I feel so proud I can’t stop grinning for no reason.
*****
And the next day.
I braced myself to wait for days again, but he showed up surprisingly early.
I handed him an Iced Americano with the cookies, smiled, and pointed at the wrapper.
Today, I genuinely made them less sweet. Even I—someone who liked sweets—could barely believe it counted as a cookie.
“By my standards, I basically erased the sugar. Be honest—yesterday was good, wasn’t it?”
He opened the wrapper and bit into one.
Crunch, crunch.
He chewed with the same blank expression, took a sip of coffee, then spoke with a small smile.
“Yeah. Less sweet.”
…I watched him eat one bite, then start wrapping it back up again.
He’s not taking it to toss it, is he?
I lightly tapped his arm. He tilted his head like he was asking what I thought I was doing.
“Um… if you’re going to throw it out, give it to me.”
“Huh? Throw it out?”
“I worked hard on it, so it’d feel like a waste… and it looked like you weren’t going to eat any more.”
It would’ve been sad enough to have my effort thrown away, but noticing it happen would’ve hurt even more.
Bihyeon stared at me like I’d said something ridiculous, then laughed.
“I’m not quite that heartless.”
“…You’re going to eat it all?”
“If you leave food, you get divine punishment.”
“What? Then you ate all of yesterday’s, too?”
“Didn’t you give it to me so I’d eat it? I made an effort.”
What—so you’re nicer than I expected!
I broke into a bright smile, and he looked at me steadily.
“You made it yourself, so I’ll finish it. Today’s one suits my taste, too.”
He took out another cookie and popped it into his mouth, then gave the owner a casual wave and left the café.
Right. Leaving food gets you punished.
While I stood there smiling like an idiot, the owner and a few familiar customers practically leapt up and hurried over, smacking my arm—
Tap!
It didn’t hurt, but it felt like being slapped by a frog—squishy, wet, and utterly bizarre.
“I’m seriously on edge because of you! What if he changes his mind and drops divine punishment on you—what then?!”
“Huh? You can get divine punishment?”
All I did was bake something delicious. And that gets me divine punishment? That feels unfair.
And okay, it had only been two days, but looking at him now, he didn’t seem like the type to punish me out of nowhere. He acted like he disliked humans, but when I said I’d worked hard, he still accepted it in the end.
He didn’t even seem as cold and terrifying as I’d assumed…
Maybe I was opening my heart too fast just because he accepted my cookies.
“Of course! Do you have any idea how great he is?! Not just us—he could wipe out humans without a sound. He’s someone who judges.”
“How great is he, exactly?”
“Good grief, you idiot. You didn’t know and you went and poked him anyway? You can tell just by looking—he’s overflowing with holiness! He is—!”
Like I have the kind of ability that would let me notice something like that…
Okay, honestly, I did sense something the moment I saw him, but I’m clueless about this world, so I don’t know what he actually is.
And I didn’t “poke” him. I just worked hard because I didn’t want to get fired.
“Calm down, Boss Bbiik…!”
As I tried to stop the owner—who was thumping his own chest in frustration—Eoun gave me an awkward smile.
“Still, judging by his reaction, I don’t think you need to worry about getting fired. Thank goodness.”
Wait, don’t leave me hanging! Stopping mid-sentence is a crime!