Yokai Come to the Countryside Café

Chapter 39: Like Father, Like Son (1)

‘Why are all the signs in this neighborhood like this?’

The place I arrived at after rushing from Jinseong’s café was an old building with the sign “Sunflower Orphanage” on it.

It was just over 20 km away, the closest orphanage according to the navigation’s distance sorting.

Returning the gifts Ria hadn’t accepted never crossed my mind. There was no way I’d embarrass myself by going back to the department store just to get a little bit of that money back.

Though it hadn’t been promised, since the gifts were already loaded into the car, donating them to the orphanage was the only viable alternative.

‘Seriously, it’s not like I’ve been possessed by a ghost or something.’

It all started with tonkatsu. No, looking back, maybe tonkatsu had just been an excuse.

I had simply wanted to have a meal at Jinseong’s café.

The heir of the Daecheon Group and an ordinary employee.

That vast gap instead made me feel at ease without any pretense.

Jinseong wasn’t like others who carefully watched me, afraid they’d make a mistake when facing me.

Even if I were not of Daecheon Group but the president’s son, he would probably still treat me the same.

Drawn by that atmosphere, I found myself coming to the orphanage, as if possessed by a ghost.

“Thank you for making such a generous donation in this economy.”

“No, it’s not really anything expensive...”

“Especially for the girls, when their clothes are worn out, they get teased a lot. The donated clothes are usually in bad condition too.”

“Huh, isn’t it bad enough that they don’t have parents, and now they’re getting teased too? What little bastards!”

At my outburst, the orphanage director gave a bitter smile.

Malice directed at the powerless went beyond cruelty.

Moldy clothes thrown at the orphanage door, expired food,

Calls protesting that their children were being assigned to the same class as orphans,

And children who teased others with smiling faces saying, ‘They’re beggars without parents.’

The children, having gone through countless things no one would believe even when told directly, didn’t shed tears anymore.

“If those bastards show up again, let me know. I won’t let them off. Anyway, take care.”

“You’re just leaving?”

“Is there more to do?”

I had already refused the hassle of donation receipts and whatnot, but the kindly and warm-looking orphanage director held me back once more.

“Most people stay to see the kids’ reactions when they receive the gifts.”

“I’m fine.”

“Still...”

‘Why does he keep insisting I stay and watch, it’s embarrassing.’

Reluctantly giving in to the director’s request, I went to the dining hall where the children were and found them gathered around, inspecting the gifts I had brought and spread out on the tables.

“Alright, attention. This gentleman brought you these gifts. Let’s all thank him, okay?”

“Thank you!”

A perfectly polite belly-button bow. Perhaps it was because they knew that visitors to the orphanage often gave support in some form.

“Tank yew.”

Even a very young child, too young to understand, belatedly bowed so deeply it looked like his head would touch the ground.

He clearly didn’t understand what he was doing, just following the other children’s lead.

And even though he was a little boy, there wasn’t a single toy among the gifts that he would likely enjoy.

Watching that child, I bit my lip. A surge of indescribable emotion welled up in my chest.

“Director, what time does the orphanage close?”

“Pardon?”

“Ah, never mind. It’s not a place that closes. Hold on! I’ll be right back!”

Maybe realizing how stupid his own question was, I quickly waved my hand and ran outside.

But just at the entrance, an unexpected obstacle blocked my way.

“Oh my, finally someone shows up. I’ve been shouting for a while, didn’t you hear? It’s a quick delivery.”

“Quick delivery? No, I’m not from here...”

‘Damn it, I’m in a hurry.’

It felt wrong to just ignore him, so I was about to head back to the dining hall when the deliveryman handed me a pen and receipt and said something unexpected.

“Let’s see... Recipient’s name is Joo Dohyuk, correct?”

“Huh? That’s me?”

“Yes, five boxes. Please sign here.”

The boxes I was forced to accept were filled with toys that any young boy would love.

The sender listed on the receipt was Minho Stationery Shop.

No sender name was included.

And then,

-Ketalk.

[Kim Jinseong: I quickly sent them because there weren’t any toys for the boys.]

“Doing things no one even asked for.”

Despite my gruff tone, a small smile formed on my lips.

“Alright!”

With my burly hands, I lifted the boxes filled with toys all at once and carried them back into the dining hall, where I practically spilled them out in front of the children.

“Oh? It’s a mini car!”

“There’s a transforming robot too!”

“Wow! There’s so many!”

How long did I stand there watching the children play with the toys?

Suddenly, I thought of someone I could call.

(Hello?)

“How did you know I’d come here?”

(It’s the closest orphanage, that’s all.)

“You’re not psychic. Geez. So, do they need anything else? Like computers or something?”

(Pizza.)

“Pizza?”

(Yes, it’s the kids’ favorite food. It’s more expensive than other delivery food, so they never get enough of it.)

“How do you even know that? Do you come here often?”

(Because that’s what it was like when I lived in an orphanage.)

“……”

(You must be busy, so I’ll hang up. See you at work tomorrow.)

Hearing about Jinseong’s past at such an unexpected moment, I stared blankly at the now-ended phone screen.

“Seriously, he’s got a knack for leaving me speechless.”

“Yes?”

A child asked in response to my mutter.

“It’s nothing. Want some pizza?”

“Pizza?”

“Yeah, I’ll order enough to fill you up.”

“Really?”

A worried question.

It was probably because they had already received so many gifts.

He instinctively knew his answer was shameless. That shame buried the anticipation of having pizza.

Dohyuk tousled the hair of the anxious child who was standing there nervously and said,

"I'm—no, I'm Uncle Joo Dohyuk."

The next morning.

As always, the Daecheon Group’s Strategic Planning Team office was busy with work.

Everyone except for one person—Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk, who was humming a tune and flipping through documents with a pleased look on his face.

“Hmm, hmm. But how long do I have to keep flipping through these pointless documents?”

“You need to keep reviewing them. Even if they look familiar.”

“It’s a waste of time. They’re all past projects.”

“Would you take a look at the meeting minutes?”

“Meeting minutes? Why?”

“The meeting time should be listed.”

“From 9 a.m. to 11 a.m.”

“How long did Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk take to skim through those minutes?”

“Maybe five minutes?”

“If you understood two hours of meeting content in five minutes, you’ve saved 24 times the time.”

“Still, just staring at documents all day doesn’t feel like real work…”

In Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk’s grumbling, I saw my past self.

I had effectively experienced my entry-level days twice, thanks to being placed in a completely unrelated department.

Because it took me longer than my peers to get actual responsibilities, I had been more impatient.

But there is no shortcut. Especially for Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk, who earned his title in less than a year.

“Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk will probably only stay in this department for about half a year at most. Right?”

“Well, yeah, probably.”

Even in a promotion built on appearances, a certain pretext is necessary.

Skipping over a senior’s rank within a department looks bad, so it's more reasonable to soak up the best quarterly performance and move to the next department. It’s the most logical choice for both the one staying and the one rising.

“In that case, this might be the last year Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk gets to actually learn how the company works. It’s unlikely he’ll meet another senior who would go out of their way to assign tough and annoying tasks, especially if he ends up on their bad side.”

“Pfft! That actually makes sense.”

Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk burst into hearty laughter and then focused back on his documents.

Not just at Daecheon Solutions, but throughout the Daecheon Group, it’s unlikely there’s another senior like that.

Not everyone has a pillar to lean on like I do.

Each person shows up to work with an urgent reason they can’t afford to lose this job.

Aged parents, a wife who had to quit work for childcare, growing children.

Being the breadwinner who steps into society forces more compromises than one might think.

The resignation letter you hold close to your heart doesn’t come out until you hit a dead end.

But even though he has a computer, why is he printing all the documents and reading them that way? He’s even diligently taking notes.

“Ah, don’t look!”

His bear-like bulk quickly turned around as he resumed writing notes.

What the heck is he doing?

-Tak.

Late at night, the last approval document on Chairman Joo Man-ho’s desk was closed.

‘Hmph, it’s already this late.’

Lifting his thick magnifying glasses, Chairman Joo Man-ho checked his wristwatch and stood up to grab his coat.

“Leaving for the day? I’ll call for your car.”

“Oh, no, I’m going down... Actually, never mind. I’ll call later, just leave it for now.”

“Yes, understood.”

The secretary, well aware of Chairman Joo Man-ho’s hobbies, returned to his seat instead of following.

Having pulled an all-nighter despite his age, his slightly heavy steps brought him to the Strategic Planning Team office.

-Tak.

With the dull click of a switch, the lights came on in the dark office.

‘Damn, it was right in front of me the whole time.’

After looking around for a while, he realized that the place he was searching for was right under his nose.

【Strategic Planning Team Assistant Manager Joo Dohyuk】

That was what the nameplate perched on the partition read.

How many parents could freely visit the workspace of their working child?

He was one of the rare fathers who could enjoy that privilege.

‘That brat, at least he’s not slacking off, huh.’

His son’s desk was cluttered with stacks of documents. Chairman Joo Man-ho picked one up.

It was a meeting record.

Meeting minutes about collaboration with a subcontractor whose name was unfamiliar.

But something felt off.

There were scribbles in rough handwriting below the minutes.

『Discussion Items for Additional Development

(Discussion) 1. Establish a schedule and cost estimation plan related to the progress of function improvement. (Daecheon Solutions Sales Team 2, Manager Jeong Ji-won)

(Discussion) 2. Consider whether some parts of the additional development can be supported free of charge as part of maintenance. (Daecheon Solutions Sales Team 2, Division Head Jeong Ji-won)

…

┗ Hey you bastard, how the hell do you ask for additional development for free? Got no business ethics?

A raw commentary laced with profanity. And it didn’t stop at just one line.

┗ The contract says six months, so why are they suddenly asking for five?

┗ Jeong Ji-won’s the problem. This bastard’s dragging Daecheon Group’s name through the mud.

The meeting document was filled with brutally honest commentary.

“Heh heh.”

Each one was laughable in its own way.

‘So he even looked through the contract. That means he analyzed the business directly and wrote all this?’

He already knew his son wasn’t the type to listen just because someone told him.

It was clear he had found and analyzed everything himself.

The proof was in the stack of papers on the desk, all crinkled with folded corners.

His son had found his own way to learn the work.

Even at the end of the meeting minutes, someone’s teaching was noted with touching sincerity.

┗ Could I become like Manager Kim too?

Chairman Joo Man-ho couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across his face as he urgently made a phone call.

“Hey, is this the secretary’s office? Cancel all my appointments for tomorrow morning. I’ve got to go to the department store—my boy’s school dues are overdue.”