The air-conditioning hits her in the face as she steps in, followed by the usual jingle of the door.

“Hi, are you here for the delivery jo-“ a man in a black and orange apron who Jisoo recognizes as Minwoo, last night’s delivery man, greets her but reels back for a moment.

He examines her yet appearance with mild curiosity – her elbow is in a makeshift sling from tying Jiae’s exercise band around her, and she dons a black sweater with loud English lyrics on the back; “IF YOU AIN’T TALKIN’ MONEY, I DON’T WANNA TALK” and face mask and a snapback with a cheesy “¥O!” on the front.  

“You… you do know this is for a night delivery job, right?”

Jisoo nods fervently.

“So you’re not here to bomb this place? Or for a SMTM5 audition?” Minwoo asks as he peers at the rap lyrics on her sweater. “And you’re not here for dollarz and gold chainz?”

“I came here to work… so I don’t need gold chainz but I sure hope I’ll be paid some dollarz.”

She catches him staring.

“I know, I look like a fashion terrorist.”

“Nah, just a terrorist,” Minwoo says as he directs her to the back kitchen. “But it’s okay. As long as you don’t bomb the houses you deliver jajangmyun to, it should be fine.”

“I’m Minwoo by the way. You know, you look kinda familiar. I swear I saw someone like you recently…”

“I was here last night! Complete with a dislocated elbow and uh, terrorist outfit. ”

Minwoo stares at her weirdly. “Oh… but why were you at this shop anyway?”

Jisoo panics internally, but she guesses she’s pretty good at smoking.

“You see, I have a great passion for night jobs like these. So I went down to check it out, feel the atmosphere and confirm the interview timings, et cetera. I even observed how the night kitchen works, it’s really systematic.”

She almost can’t believe she had pulled that off as she stares at Minwoo’s impressed face.

“I even saw you come in and collect the food orders. It’s a very hectic job, I must say. I really hope that by hiring me, I’ll help you lighten that burden.”

Minwoo gapes in awe.

“Kwangmin-hyung! cAN WE LIKE, HIRE THIS GIRL NOW???” he calls out to the highly efficient sous chef at the back. “SOMEBODY FINALLY UNDERSTANDS MY PAIN! AND SHE’S PRETTY!”

“Yah, how would you know? I haven’t even taken off the face mask.”

“Then take it off!”

“Hell no.”

Kwangmin emerges from the kitchen to hand her a job application form to fill up and when she’s done, they look over her info briefly.

“You’re called Jisoo…” Minwoo scratches his head. “You know, I think there was a scandal about some girl group idol with the same name… they accused her of some really ed up -”

“-And did you believe it?” Jisoo quickly interrupts.

“Well the last I heard, the rumors got cleared up, but she still doesn’t get to promote with the group.”

“EXACTLY. That like hell. Imagine all of those days spent in loneliness, those nights spent crying my-herself to sleep…”

Minwoo gives her a weird look.

“-Anyway, when does my job start?”

“Tonight.”

___________________

Jisoo changes her sleep cycle; she now works from 11pm to 5am, sleeps from 6am to 10 am and wakes up to dance practice and vocal practice and guitar playing with her good arm. Rinse and repeat. It’s been pretty draining for her, and the stress that delivery work has put on her elbow is unmeasurable. It’s worse now. But hey, at least she has a job. And she never needs to go to bed without dinner.

She makes a list of what she’ll do when her first pay check comes; the first thing on the list is probably a visit to the doctor for her elbow, and then some good, heavenly samgyeopsal. Maybe she’ll treat Jiyeon, Minwoo, Sunggyu and Myongeun. Maybe, if she has enough cash. And then, some new dance shoes would be nice. Also, a new stash of cup ramyun would be great so that she doesn’t need to go hungry when she doesn’t have enough lunch money. The list is non-exhaustive.

One thing Jisoo doesn’t want to restore are her visits to the psychiatrist. Not only are those, along with the heavy pill dosage, a large waste of money, but sometimes, it leaves her more emotionally drained than before. Working at Dongyang has proven to be an even better treatment method.

The amazing thing is, Minwoo, on one of those nights where they were delivering together, kind of found out that she was yes, the same Seo Jisoo that was accused of girls and being a lesbian and he’d literally treated her the same.

“But all that was fake, right?” He’d asked. She had nodded frantically.

“Ah, you must have had a hard time. What’s an idol doing in a job like this?”

“I… I need money.”

The kid had slung his arm around her neck without any constraints, any disgust. “Yeah, I kind of figured out you were that girl group girl. You know, that backpack that you carry? Yeah, it says WOOLLIM ENT on the front. ”

Jisoo had facepalmed at her stupidity, and he had shook his head sagely. “The lust for money often leads to desperate foolishness.”

It’s a tough job, but it’s encouraging. She still doesn’t have the courage to go out without a face mask, but she isn’t scared of daylight or busy streets anymore. She’s also discovered her hidden talent of exceptional public service and winning over the hearts of night shift security guard ahjussis and guys burning midnight oil from university dorms alike. I’m actually good at this; I should have totally done this in junior high instead of uh, being a community librarian. Ew.

There are a lot more people than she had expected that order food deep into the night.

Her next delivery address is surprisingly close to her dorm. She carries the plastic bag of food as she leans against the cool metal walls of the lift. The guy had sent an e-order for fried Shandong style dumplings. Which is her absolute favourite, and she tries very hard not to succumb to the heavenly smell wafting from the bag when she waits outside this customer’s door.

There’s the sound of a guitar playing and muffled singing. When she rings the bell for the third time, she hears frantic footsteps bound down the corridor.

The door swings open. A cute g