Dahyun places her pencil down, delicately, in the open spine of her textbook. She's finished with her homework. Actually - a dawning - and her textbook is now closed and her pencil tucked into a magenta case she thought was cute at the corner shop. It came with a matching coin wallet; of course it was a steal.

Dahyun looks up, and around. It's midday, now. Kim Noodle House is bustling. Her brother, Myungsoo, is handing a girl - a very pretty one, Dahyun thinks - her receipt. The girl bows, and leaves the restaurant. A satiated smile on her face, and a soft hand on her tummy. The sunlight reflects off her eyes a bit.

Dahyun is called to begin serving by her father, and she vows to finish her homework earlier the next day.

/

It'll be the noodle house's tenth anniversary soon. Situated next to a train station and a local beach, the outdoor restaurant garners a lot of temporary patrons, although there are a few regulars as well.

It's for that reason, that Dahyun doesn't have more than faint hope for the girl from yesterday to be there again today. Dahyun looks up, then at her watch. She'd finished her homework thirty minutes earlier, but - she looks around - it seems the girl was a one-off, a little splash of beauty never to be seen again. A small thread of disappointment starts to form, but then - a signal ding from the kitchen, and the girl rounds the corner, walks into the establishment, shakes hands with her father. Dahyun chuckles as the girl wipes her hands on her jeans afterward, rids herself of whatever kitchen muck her father's hands are coated in.

She sits in the same seat as before. Now that's luck, Dahyun thinks. That seat has the best view of the beach; of the ripples in the water, of the laughing children running up and down the shoreline, of the molten, blood orange sunset, and - if you squint, along the horizon, you might catch a myriad of splashes. Dahyun figures they're dolphins engaging in some sunlit air, or a bird diving down for a meal. It hurts her eyes, but Dahyun likes to do this for a length of time, despite the scolding from her mother. It helps her re-center; ground herself in a faraway place.

Dahyun still has a stupid smile on her face when Myungsoo comes over to switch off serving duties. Dahyun generally tries to prolong her homework time to delay this, but dealing with drunk older men is a price she's willing to pay.

"Dahyun!" her father shouts from the kitchen, rings the signal bell, "table seven!"

Her table. Dahyun rushes over, hurriedly washes her hands. Her steps are a little shaky today, and as she sets the hot bowl down, meets the girl's sparkly eyes - the broth burns her thumb a little hotter. Her cheeks resemble the ripe apples from the fruit vendor next door, and she scurries away. Like a schoolgirl, she chastises herself. The next encounter of picking up the finished bowl and dropping off the check goes similarly. Dahyun doesn't look up, but she does hear a giggle. She flees to the bathroom, rolls her eyes at the red saturating her cheeks, damns her pale skin for once. By the time she walks out - the girl is gone. Dahyun's face falls.

/

Dahyun has been serving for years, since she was old enough to wrap her tiny fingers over the rims of the bowls her father likes to think are 'oriental.' Apparently they look more authentic to tourists. He had trained her personally: to avoid burning herself, to avoid falling over, and - to convey a perfect smile that spoke of home. She was a naive child then; eager for her father's approval, and a rewarding lollipop from the host's podium.

Some time later, Dahyun became numb to the touch of the burning liquid, no matter the circumstance. She thinks she might win a contest for heat endurance (entry: Dahyun's thumb). And so, why is it that, come this girl - her thumb burns like the scorched, ginger tips of her ears. Her smile is shaky, not perfect in the slightest, but attaining one is a feat itself.

Dahyun turns back to the kitchen, picks up two bowls of their daily special for table eight. She's in the midst of serving them when -

"Sana!" shouts a passerby, not too distant. Dahyun pays it no mind until she hears a giggle, a very familiar giggle, sound behind her. It emanates fondness, settles in like an old radio tune.

"Oh, hey," says the lady who Dahyun can only assume to be the reason for the blood rushing back to her joint. Sana. "How's everyone back home?" It's spoken in Japanese, and Dahyun thinks it's as sweet as her favorite lollipop.

Dahyun presents a smile to the diners in front of her, shining brighter than the afternoon sun. They comment in a kind of singsong: what's gotten you so happy, is it a boy at school, you've grown up so well. Dahyun shys away, back to the kitchen, though the coos linger and fade out. She turns back, for a second. Sees Sana hugging the stranger. Dahyun's smile stays put, though there's now a tinge of green at its edges.

/

Dahyun's father is in charge of the music. It's usually an eclectic mix of trot, old Chinese pop, and early 2000s Western. Dahyun tunes it out most of the time; not out of distaste, but moreso necessity. Instead, hums white noise as her pencil scribbles in the answer to a maths question.

Myungsoo is quietly singing along to Hong Jin Young as he's bussing a nearby table. He swears he hates the music, complains about it at dinner time with half-chewed rice in his open mouth. Dahyun meets his eyes, then - he straightens up, clears his throat, walks away with a towel thrown over his shoulder. Dahyun snickers. 'She's just really hot, okay?' he would say. A few minutes later, she catches him again.

Dahyun places an order in for #12. It's what Sana always gets. Dahyun feels a bit weird knowing her name when they haven't been properly introduced, but - it's been a week now. Sana comes into view around the corner. This is clockwork.

When Dahyun reaches the foot of Sana's table (miraculously, the same one), Sana is engaged in what appears to be pleasant conversation with her neighboring diners. They look quite taken with her. Dahyun sees the bright eyes, the parted lips, the leaning bodies; thinks they might be spellbound. Dahyun sets the bowl down.

"Hi." Dahyun doesn't register it at first, doesn't move. But, she lifts her head, finds herself -

"Thank you," Sana says. There's a hint of an accent, and her voice rings out like her own melody: Sana's melody. It's prettier than the gayageum in the background.

Dahyun seems unable to speak, and is doing that fish thing. But - a squealing dolphin off the coast comes to her aid, and Dahyun is finally stirred from her semi-frozen state. Sana giggles.

"You're welcome." It's soft, and quiet, but Dahyun doesn't stammer. Her smile is tentative.

Sana's eyes crinkle and her pupils sparkle more, almost impossibly. "Dahyun, right?" Dahyun's brows furrow, just slightly. "I hear your dad calling you," tilts her head, "he's really sweet."

"Ahh, yea," Dahyun looks over her shoulder; her father is chopping up pig intestines, "he can be."

When Dahyun looks back, Sana is staring at her with a gaze that says you have my complete attention,