Chaewon loves the smell of bread and sugar. She loves sitting in front of the oven, feeling the warm escaping from the cracks, watching the dough rise. It is soothing, quiet. She likes it best when quiet. It gives her time to think, and time to not think about anything at all. When she was a child, all she wanted to do was open up her own bakery, but as she got older she realized she didn’t want to deal with the numbers or the people.

That’s why she’s grateful for the opportunity that Hitomi has given her, to bake and not worry about anything else. It’s a good deal, the Japanese owner handles the front and Chaewon handles the back. Hitomi pesters her a lot, but she knows pretty well how far Chaewon limits go. She knows the kitchen is Chaewon’s sanctuary. Not many people understand Chaewon’s eccentricities, and not many people try to, but Hitomi does and Chaewon doesn’t complain. She just does what she loves day in and day out.

Every day, Chaewon arrives a couple hours early to get the day’s fresh batch of bread going. She likes it best in the mornings before anybody else arrives. As she kneads the dough, its consistency familiar to her practiced hands, she sings. She sings as she cuts fruit for her cakes, putting her excitement into it for the birthday boy or girl who will eventually eat it. She sings when she fills macarons, her voice as light and sweet as the creme she pipes. She sings while she rolls dough in her hands, making each piece perfectly round. She sings while she draws delicate sugar flowers onto cupcakes, imagining the look of delight on the faces of the kids who come in and admire the sweets in the windows.

When she finishes baking the day’s batch, she spends the rest of the time filling customers’ drink and bingsoo orders.

Chaewon doesn’t like a lot of things, but she does like her part-time job. It’s quiet and peaceful in the backroom with all the cakes and pastries. It’s comfortable.

—

One day in the beginning of spring when winter is just about done melting away, Chaewon comes into work, and amidst the familiar scent of warm sugar and vanilla and sun streaming in the wide windows, something is off. Hitomi’s behind the counter, which isn’t unusual because she sometimes gets there early too, to manage the store, but she’s in her formal attire and not in her uniform. Chaewon remembers the outfit from when she applied for the job. She knows what it means.

“No,” she says before Hitomi can even open .

“Hear me out, please?” Hitomi begs and Chaewon doesn’t say anything. She owes Hitomi for being one of very few people who understands her need for privacy. “I’m going to the new location for a few months to help them get started.”

Chaewon nods, almost imperceptibly, in acknowledgment and not in agreement.

“I’m the owner and it’s good to have my presence there, you know. The temporary worker will manage the new place when it’s finished, so she’ll be gone before you know it. For the good of our bakery Chae.”

For the good of the bakery. Chaewon supposes she can live with that.

“You can trust my judgment,” Hitomi says and Chaewon doesn't answer.

What Hitomi said is true, even if Chaewon hates to admit it. Hitomi had hired Chaewon. Chaewon does her job to detailed perfection, but nobody could see past her stony exterior, except for Hitomi. She gives a hum of quietest affirmation, that only trained ears like Hitomi’s can pick up.

“Thanks, Chaewon.” Hitomi hugs her, squeezing the breath out of Chaewon while she struggles to get out of the hug.

She'll try trusting Hitomi.

—

Minjoo’s first day starts with a bang, literally, when she knocks a stack of baking sheets off the shelf. Hitomi closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fingers while resolutely turning her back to the frantic shouts of surprise coming from Minjoo.

(Chaewon doesn't bother with names. Usually. But coming into the store the first day, Minjoo had not ceased speaking.

“You must be Chaewon, right? I’m Minjoo, born February 5th, 2001. Remember that, ok? Did you get that? Minjoo. M-I-N-J-O-O. February, the fifth. That’s my birthday. Do you love baking? Me too! I love everything sweet!”

Chaewon had taken one look and walked into the kitchen, the door swinging behind her. It would have been okay, but Minjoo had followed her, and the first thing she managed to do was knock over everything Chaewon had so carefully arranged.)

The kitchen rings with the sound of metal banging on metal, and Chaewon can’t stand it. “Out,” she growls, whipping around and pointing at the door.

Minjoo had no boundaries. It seems like Hitomi had not given Minjoo a single warning about Chaewon. Chaewon fumes and wants to hate herself for trusting in Hitomi.

—

Apparently, Minjoo cannot take a hint. When there’s no customer she needs to assist, Minjoo bursts into—forget walking in—the kitchen to bother Chaewon.

“What are you doing? How are you doing that? Do you need help? I can help. Did you know my art was featured in an exhibit? I can do that,” she says as she observes Chaewon drizzle syrup in a swirl on a tart.

Chaewon tries to keep her back turned towards Minjoo, hoping that Minjoo would lose interest. Sometimes, she interrupts these long spans of one-sided conversations with the coldest stare she can muster.

Minjoo tries joke after lame joke in attempt to make Chaewon laugh, or at least smile, but Chaewon meets each with the same disinterest and annoyance.

It’s only a matter of time before Minjoo gets tired of doing this.

—

“Chaewon, can I try this, please?” Minjoo asks, holding up a macaron. She’s in Chaewon’s kitchen, uninvited, of course. Again.

“Pay for it.”

Minjoo whines but she drops a few coins into an empty cookie jar. Chaewon’s eyebrow jerks in annoyance, but it’s not like she uses the cookie jar so she ignores it. Minjoo makes a big show of stuffing the entire macaron into at once. “Mmm, thif ith amazing,” she says around her mouthful. “Chaewon, you are amazing, how does this taste so good?”

Chaewon doesn’t answer but she smiles by accident, before she catches herself.

“Wait, didja juth ‘mile?” Minjoo says, stopping all other jaw movements, crumbs dropping from her lips.

Chaewon glares.

“I saw that,” Minjoo says gleefully after swallowing. “You can smile!” She wraps an arm around Chaewon’s shoulders and Chaewon shrugs her off. That doesn’t stop her from laughing. Chaewon is going to regret this slip in her armor for just about forever.

—

Minjoo eventually tries everything Chaewon can bake and the cookie jar turns into a sort of tip jar. She also always pinches a macaron no matter what. They’re her favorite, so it doesn’t really come as a surprise to Chaewon when Minjoo barges in and slams her palms on the countertop. “Hey, can you show me how to make your macarons?” she asks.

Chaewon looks at her. Of all the things, making macarons was probably the most time-consuming and meticulous task she could have chosen. “You can watch,” she says, turning her back to Minjoo again.

“I want to help,” Minjoo says, in her most annoying nagging voice. “Can I please help?”

“No.” Chaewon reaches up in her carefully arranged cabinets for flour and sugar, but Minjoo impedes her reach by grabbing onto her forearms.

“What do you need? I’ll be your assistant.” Minjoo looks determined and Chaewon sighs.

“Fine. Almond flour and powdered sugar are up in that cabinet. Baking soda in that drawer. What kind of flavor do you want? Teas are in the cabinet to the left of the sink, cocoa powder is with the flour and vanilla is on the spice rack.” Chaewon starts issuing her commands quickly, hoping that Minjoo will give up. “Fetch me the sifter, the large and medium mixing bowls, and mixer. And eggs and butter, in the fridge.”

She watches as Minjoo scurries around in the least optimal pattern and doubles back to the same spot. “Ah, maybe I’ll just watch you,” Minjoo says sheepishly after gathering less than half of what Chaewon asked for.

Chaewon does feel a little bad for being so harsh and she concedes. She lets Minjoo hold the bowl while she mixes, even when she normally does it herself.

“If you want to help with something, I can start teaching you how to make the bubble tea,” Chaewon says later, when the macarons are in the oven baking.

Minjoo’s slumped defeated form immediately transforms. “Yes, please!”

—

Minjoo picks up making drink orders fairly quickly, and soon Chaewon admits she could probably take over the kitchen by herself, after Chaewon bakes all the bread, of course.

“Why don’t you come out and work the front sometime?” Minjoo asks. “While I man the kitchen.”

Chaewon ignores her.

“Oh yeah, you’d probably scare away your customers.”

Chaewon wonders when Minjoo will get tired of talking to her back.

“But you should really see the looks on their faces when they admire your work you know. And when they’re eating.” Chaewon’s ears perk up despite herself. She does sort of want to know what reaction her treats elicit in her customers.

Minjoo doesn’t continue though, and Chaewon swallows back the disappointment she convinces herself she doesn’t feel.

“Just switch with me once.” Minjoo says and Chaewon for once considers her words.

“Once,” Chaewon says and nothing else. When she steals a peek at Minjoo, she sees a wide smile and bouncy step.

—

The next day, after the day’s baking is finished, Chaewon nervously takes a step out of the kitchen, wearing the uniform instead of her flour-covered clothes. Of course, Chaewon’s first day out front starts out tentatively, but it’s less uncomfortable than she initially thought it would be. It’s quiet and once customers order, they turn and make idle talk to their friends, not paying her much attention.

Chaewon enjoys watching all the different people and their reactions to her baked snacks on display. Some of them take a long time staring, and some make a beeline for their favorites. Sometimes the high school girls flock around her mini cakes and squeal over how cute they are. Any positive reaction makes Chaewon glow a little inside.

“I haven’t seen you around,” a girl says. She and her friend seemed to be regulars.

Chaewon bows her head. “I’m usually in the back,” she replies, quiet and respectful.

“Oh, you’re the baker? I can’t live without your shu cream puffs!” The girl looks at her friend, who nods. “Thank you for making them.”

Feeling her cheeks bunch on their own accord, Chaewon smiles. She feels them grow warm and she hides behind the back of her hand. She doesn’t generally like to converse with customers but the “thank you” that leaves her contains her heart’s thoughts. They leave giggling, and Chaewon considers thanking Minjoo for pushing her out there. Speaking of Minjoo, she was doing well filling the drink orders.

Chaewon hadn’t expected to be happy out here, but she is. She’s enjoying saying “have a nice day,” to each of the customers. A lot of them say “you too” back.

All of a sudden, a loud screeching chair draws her attention.

The girl who had thanked her before is on the ground, clutching her neck. Chaewon leaps over the counter and rushes to her side, but she’s completely helpless.

“Allergic reaction,” her friend says, her face pale. She digs through her bag, and pulls out a cylindrical tube. Chaewon watches in horror, rooted to her spot, as the girl uncaps the pen-like object and stabs her friend’s thigh.

“Somebody call 119,” she hears somebody say, but her body won’t move.

“I’m on it,” a familiar voice from behind her says. Chaewon turns around to see Minjoo on her cell phone.

Before Chaewon sees anything else happen, she backs up and runs into the kitchen, hiding behind the safety of the swinging doors. She sits down, her back sliding against the oven door, and she starts to tear up.

Her hands shake an