Chapter 54 - Chuseok Holiday (1)
What was a holiday for an office worker?
It was like an oasis in the desert, a lighthouse in the sea.
A box of zero-calorie cola arriving in an empty pantry.
An absolute force that gave you the strength to live once in the first half and once in the second half of the year, and created a shackle that made it impossible to quit.
There was a time when holidays felt that way to me.
When the year started, I counted how many statutory holidays there were this year, and would desperately try to use up vacation days for the holidays.
Even when working late until the night before a holiday, the thought of ‘I can rest for a few days while still getting paid’ would make me happy.
‘Just a little while ago, I was breaking my back making these guys’ 7th-anniversary banner just so I could use up my vacation days during the Chuseok holiday.’
I suddenly felt dizzy.
It had been 8 months since I started this miserable trainee life. I could only cry.
“Now that I think about it… Are you guys going home for the holidays?”
“For Seollal and Chuseok, we each go to our hometowns! We stay for two nights and come back!”
Lee Cheonghyeon made a V-sign with his fingers.
Hometown. It was fitting for the holidays.
…Wait.
Did this mean I had to vacate the dorm?
This was an unexpected crisis.
Even if I tried to book holiday accommodation now, there wouldn’t be any rooms or they’d be ridiculously expensive.
The 15 million won my sister left me… No.
I couldn’t waste the remaining 14.2 million won after spending 800,000 won like that.
Unaware of how flustered I was, Lee Cheonghyeon stuck close to me and asked.
“Where’s your home, hyung? Mine’s in Seoul!”
“Me?”
I don’t know. All the adults in my family vanished overnight.
“I… want to stay at the dorm.”
“If you get permission from the manager, you should be able to stay. But why? Don’t tell me you’re going to practice?”
“No, just. To rest a bit.”
It was fortunate that I could stay at the dorm. Otherwise, I might have had to spend all night searching for available rooms on accommodation apps.
At that moment, Lee Cheonghyeon looked around and said in a low voice,
“Maybe Joowoo hyung will stay too. He didn’t go home for Seollal either.”
“Joowoo?”
“Yes. Joowoo hyung has his own reasons, so please don’t directly ask him about it…!”
Lee Cheonghyeon added cautiously, then looked around again. He seemed to be checking if Park Joowoo was around.
“Okay. I won’t bring it up first.”
“Thank you. Sigh, if hyungs are staying, should I stay this time too?”
“Didn’t you say you only get two vacations a year? You still want to practice?”
“I’ll be back soon, hyungnim.”
With that, Lee Cheonghyeon made a run for it.
I wasn’t interested in Park Joowoo’s personal life. Especially when it came to family history.
So I thought I would never have a conversation with Park Joowoo about this topic.
So I never imagined that I’d be chatting with him over grilled skewers in the near future.
* * *
When the holidays came, younger employees would often talk about what they were going to do during their vacation.
Meanwhile, the older or married employees would talk more about ancestral rites or memorial services.
‘Setting up the ancestral table during the holidays is such a hassle. I’m already stressed out.’
‘Does your family do ancestral rites, Team Leader?’
‘We do both memorial service and ancestral rites. It’s so annoying.’
When asked, ‘What are you doing for the holiday, Assistant Manager Kim?’, I usually replied, ‘I’ll meet up with my sister for a bit, then just rest at home’.
That was until my sister passed away.
The day before Chuseok, the first Chuseok after my sister died, I lay in bed and searched for ‘how to set up an ancestral rites table’.
Even after turning off my phone and lying down, sleep wouldn’t come.
So I stayed awake until the supermarket opened, then went there right at opening time. I bought loads of ingredients I’d seen in the search results.
I hadn’t realized how much work went into preparing food for ancestral rites.
I hadn’t cooked much, and it was even before my sister’s first death anniversary.
For someone like me, making seasoned vegetables and skewered pancakes was a high-level challenge.
The vegetable lost its color, and the pancakes spread out so much that no matter how much egg batter I used, it just kept spreading sideways.
By the time I was frying donggeurangteng, the whole house smelled of oil.
After wrestling with piles of ingredients all day, I was finally able to set up a late ancestral table after the sun had set.
Without a proper ceremonial tray, I brought out as many plates as I could find at home, and even opened a 1.8L bottle of cheongju to pour the ceremonial alcohol.
“Noona, this is probably the first time you’ve seen an ancestral table set up at our place, huh?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Looking at the messy pancakes made me laugh even harder.
At the sight of macarons and financiers piled high on a ceremonial table without ancestral tables—how could I not laugh?
“Many dessert shops in our neighborhood are closed on holidays. Next time, I should buy macarons in advance.”
With that, I started unwrapping the individually packaged desserts.
“I figured you’d be disappointed if you came for something delicious and there wasn’t any, so I bought these. If there’s no flavor you like, blame the lineup at the local macaron shop. I bought one of everything they had, so I’m innocent.”
Even though I was mumbling to myself, why did it feel like I was talking to my older sister?
That day, I built a colorful tower of macarons on our low dining table. It looked pretty impressive.
And then, after finishing a bottle of cheongju, I lay down next to the ancestral rite table and fell asleep.
* * *
After setting up the ancestral table and holiday offerings three times a year, I became quite skilled at making ceremonial dishes.
Every holiday morning and on my sister’s memorial day, I would wake up at dawn, go grocery shopping without a list, and cook without looking at recipes.
‘Yeah. It’s good to be familiar with this.’
I thought to myself, feeling the weight of the bag in my hand.
‘But why am I still doing this…!’
Right.
After 9 years had passed, I woke up early on Chuseok, realized what day it was, and instinctively went to the nearest supermarket to buy a bunch of ingredients.
I did it with the unconscious thought of preparing an ancestral table for my sister, who should still be alive at this point. How messed up was that?
By the time I fully came to my sense, I had already paid for everything.
I thought about returning it all, but since there was frozen food in the ingredients and because, as Lee Cheongyeon mentioned, Park Joowoo was staying at the dorm too, I figured I could use the food to at least enjoy some holiday dishes. So I took everything home.
I’m sorry, noona.
Think of this not as an ancestral table but as traditional learning to preserve our cultural identity.
“…What is all this?”
“… Preparations for holiday cooking content?”
“Cooking content…?”
At my words, Park Joowoo opened a plastic bag. It was a bag containing donggeurangteng, fish, and flour.
Park Joowoo looked back and forth between the inside of the bag and me with a subtle expression.
I wasn’t going to repeat the mistake of saying something awkward like last time when I told him I couldn’t go to college due to lack of money.
Stay calm.
“It’s a holiday after all, so I thought we could do something festive. I’ll do the cooking, Joowoo, you should go rest.”
“No. Let’s do it together.”
“Well, that works for me. Oh, if you don’t like the smell of oil, we don’t have to fry the pancakes.”
“Wouldn’t it be fine if we ventilated it well…?”
“That’s true.”
Thanks to Park Joowoo’s consideration, I decided to fry donggeurangteng as well. It started off smoothly.
While Joowoo beat an entire carton of eggs into egg batter, I stir-fried and sautéed the other ingredients.
Just as I was thinking that with this level of skill, I could quit being an idol and get a job as an assistant at a side dish shop, Park Joowoo called me over after preparing all the flour.
“I’ll fry the pancakes, so could you coat them with flour and egg? Make sure to wear gloves and put on a mask—an KF94 one.”
“Why gloves and a mask…?”
“You’re a singer. You shouldn’t be inhaling smoke.”
“…You’re a vocalist too, hyung.”
I’m a temporary vocalist and you’re the main vocalist.
I gave Park Joowoo the mask I had bought just in case.
Because he insisted I wear one too, we both ended up frying pancakes indoors with masks on.
Now that I’d gotten the hang of it, the pancakes turned out beautifully. It was even good enough to sell.
Park Joowoo said as he watched me put red peppers and green peppers on the donggeurangttaeng.
“Hyung, you’re really good at cooking….”
“Not at all. Feel free to have one if you want. They’re low-sodium.”
“Can I eat it before it’s finished?”
“Why not? I made it for us to eat. The peppers look hot, but they’re not spicy.”
I assured Park Joowoo, who preferred bland food, that my donggeurangttaeng was harmless.
Even though I had absentmindedly bought way too many ingredients this morning, I hadn’t forgotten my role as an idol and opted for healthy food choices. Good job, me.
When I took out the appetizer plate and served him one donggeurangttaeng, Park Joowoo waited for it to cool down and then carefully took a bite. Park Joowoo’s eyes widened a little.
“How is it?”
“Hyung, it’s really good…!”
“Have two. They’re made with tofu, so they’re lighter than ones made with meat.”
Park Joowoo’s expression brightened at my words. It was the same expression he usually had only when talking about rock bands.
After tasting the donggeurangttaeng once, Park Joowoo also tried the skewered pancake and pollack pancake.
Both the lightly seasoned fish pancakes and the mini skewered pancakes, filled with finely chopped ingredients, passed the test.
“Do you like cooking, hyung?”
Park Joowoo asked as he watched me boil spinach.
“Not at all. Aside from ceremonial dishes, I’m not great at other things. I can…make ramen really well.”
If the former was a dish that I had mastered with concentration, the latter was a dish that I had eaten so often that it had become a habit.
“Why do you only learn to make this kind of thing…”
Park Joowoo spoke cautiously. He was curious, but he seemed to be hesitant because the ingredients were typically served for memorial dishes.
“I just like it. And since you were staying at the dorm today, I thought I’d try making something.”
“I see… Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m eating it too, after all.”
As I pulled the spinach out of the pot to rinse it in cold water, Park Joowoo called out to me.
“Hyung.”
“What is it?”
“Why… didn’t you go home?”