Pau Hana and the Softest Headache

Lee Da-in had to face the first five unfamiliar dishes the moment she arrived at Pau Hana. They were the cautionary side dishes Dan had warned about—Korean-style stir-fried noodles personally crafted by Clara, who had been waiting for Da-in’s verdict.

Clara stood with her hands framing her chin, petals and all, her gaze locked in eager anticipation.

“I’m no expert, Clara.”

“That’s fine. Just one bite each. I’ve been experimenting with Asian-style new recipes! This one here—Korean soybean paste noodles.”

The dish was swimming in soybean paste, yet it gleamed an unnatural green.

Da-in had never cared much about cooking, and she simply ate whatever was served. Any advice she might offer would have been useless.

Still, she didn’t want to disappoint the eyes shining with such hope.

If a Michelin-starred restaurant could name this place after a single butter shrimp, the chef couldn’t be completely hopeless. She would believe in that.

Da-in swallowed hard, then began plating the dishes clockwise, starting with the frontmost one.

From the kitchen, the counter, and every corner of the hall, Pau Hana’s staff poked their heads out, all waiting for Da-in’s reaction.

Oh… this is a bit… stressful.

But there was no help for it. One by one, she lifted the plated foods to her mouth.

Tasty. Tasty. Tasty.

With her mind firmly in self-hypnosis, she shut her eyes tight, chewing and swallowing until she finally shot up and shouted, “Water!”

Throughout the room, sighs rose or high-fives went around as wallets were pulled out.

Someone even brought pineapple mango juice, as if they had been waiting. Laughter and gestures filled the air—something about a bet, no doubt.

They clearly knew exactly how spicy this was.

“It’s spicy! So spicy! How did you make it this spicy? This is planned murder!”

Her tongue, of its own accord, chattered nonstop. Clara, chin propped on her hand, furrowed her brows in clear disappointment.

“Strange. I don’t feel it at all.”

“It’s spicy!”

“That’s the problem. I can’t figure out why the spice level keeps changing.”

“Then just don’t add any chili at all?”

Da-in’s face burned crimson as she gulped down the juice to cool it. The problem wasn’t her face. Her tongue and stomach, well trained against spice, were now tightening painfully.

Thinking about it, the menu had started with “If you want to survive…”

Da-in buried her face against the table, sniffling.

“Did you do that on purpose? You’re awful, Clara.”

“I never said I would.”

“But you look exactly like the kind of person who would.”

“Too much, Nine. Banana milkshake, quick!”

Clara called toward the kitchen in her breezy voice.

Her eyes wide, she thought of the missing Dan.

“What about Dan?”

With a casual wink and a playful finger snap to the music drifting in, Clara shrugged. Da-in pressed a hand to her forehead, a chill of unease running through her.

“What happened to him yesterday?”

“He’s fine. Don’t worry. I even threw some flowers his way, so he’s probably already safe in hell.”

“Sounds like the whole place burned down. If it hadn’t, he’d still be here.”

Clara’s shoulders lifted in a careless shrug, then she returned with a proper dish—plain rice crowned with a butter shrimp and a generous shower of fragrant green vegetables.

But with her appetite already stolen, Da-in couldn’t even pick up her chopsticks.

“Dan’s handling it alone?”

“These guys were after Keith Kwon. The kid’s not involved.”

“Just one person?”

“You really worried about Dan? You’re giving me the most useless worry in the world.”

“I know he won’t get hurt, but if we’re together it’ll be over faster.”

“To Dan, that’s just a date.”

Strong enough for that?

Still, Dan had proven himself through results. Nothing would happen.

Still, worry gnawed at her. After eating, she returned the bicycle and accepted the scooter.

“Going somewhere?”

Clara, who had come all the way to see her off, handed over the helmet with obvious reluctance.

Da-in pointed at the busy restaurant with her chin and put the helmet on.

“Just to check if he’s alive. If he’s hurt, I’ll bring medicine. If I get any info, I’ll share it.”

“It’s probably still in full swing right now.”

“Then what? We can watch live and turn it into audiovisual material.”

“Mm… okay. Here.”

Clara pulled a phone from her back pocket and pressed it into Da-in’s hand. The phone used only during missions.

On the main screen, Dan’s real-time coordinates were already moving. Slow speed. He must have just left the yacht.

Clearly strolling toward the hotel. The GPS tracker was alarmingly precise. Correction—far too accurate.

Clara leaned in to peek at the screen, then met Da-in’s eyes. She jolted.

“Dan uses a skin-implant GPS. We started using it recently. A few months ago in Cambodia, when we fought the mafia, it worked fine…”

“Huh.”

“Nine, you don’t have to worry. Valentine respects your choice.”

Clara laughed brightly, then started the scooter’s engine for Da-in.

Da-in exhaled deeply and fastened the helmet buckle tightly.

“I’ll be back. And if you play around with food in Korea, you’ll get the back of your head. Never mess with my food again—I’ll die of indigestion.”

Kwon Hee-jae’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the management office door opening.

A woman stepping toward the entrance smiled faintly and reached for a wet towel.

“I’ll take care of that.”

“I still need to remove the oil…”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

Despite the crisp, precise tone, the manager nodded without another word and wandered toward the shelves as if tidying the used items.

“You should step outside at times like this, Kim So-yeon.”

The person extending a hand toward Kwon Hee-jae was Ju Seung-eon. The woman glancing between the two men smiled awkwardly.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

“It’s nothing.”

Only after the woman left did Kwon Hee-jae rise, drape his robe over his shoulders, and head toward the bathroom.

Washing with water felt far more refreshing than wiping with a towel.

“I came to ask how it tasted, but it looks like it won’t matter.”

Behind Kwon Hee-jae standing under the shower, Ju Seung-eon let out a soft laugh. Turning on the lukewarm water, he answered irritably.

“Who’s that woman? You?”

“I didn’t do anything. I usually don’t like this kind of style.”

“You seemed to be taking things a little too far. It’s not my style. I’ve changed my tastes.”

“Oh, then do you like children now?”

The remark was oddly blunt and tilted. It was Ju Seung-eon’s usual tone, but the image that rose immediately was displeasing.

After rinsing the oil, he dried himself with a towel and stood before the mirror, fingers combing through his slightly longer hair on the Korean side and pulling it through with a light touch.

“If you’re going to spout nonsense, get out, bastard.”

“Iu-hee is out. Her identity isn’t confirmed, her address is still unverified, and she’s a student.”

“Hey.”

The cold gaze Kwon Hee-jae fixed on Ju Seung-eon through the mirror was icy. After a long time, the two men faced each other with no trace of playfulness.

“If we’re only going to meet briefly, why not take the easy route?”

“I want to live easy, but you keep making it hard.”

“Iu-hee is only twenty-six. It’ll be a headache.”

“Keep your conscience in check,” Ju Seung-eon said with a soft laugh and turned to leave the powder room.

Chew… I know that too. Running around with weirdos.

After changing clothes, he left the management office with the waiting Seung-eon.

“I had Yeon-woo when I was twenty-six, you bastard.”

Ju Seung-eon’s head spun at the unfamiliar reaction from Kwon Hee-jae.

He had seen many expressions from the man, but the recent ones toward Ju Seung-eon had been refreshingly new. That made them dangerous.

Since they were not entered in the process, Ju Seung-eon, who had to leave soon, grew troubled.

Looking down the stairs at the limp of the two men, they saw Kwon Yeon-woo playing with a game console while lying on the floor in the reception area, and Kim So-yeon squatting in front of him.

“You chose the name because it matches his mom’s?”

“The surnames are different. Have you already forgotten?”

“I haven’t.”

No one had asked them to, yet the two men watched the woman who seemed to enjoy playing with the child. She asked the boy questions about a game she didn’t know well, and Yeon-woo, growing a little shy, explained it while smiling.

Ju Seung-eon quietly studied Kwon Hee-jae’s expression. In Korea, children were overprotected, and he had never properly visited a kids’ cafe.

With frequent kidnapping attempts and blackmail, Kwon Hee-jae had lived like a spiky porcupine, shielding his child from the surrounding pressure.

So this time, too, Kwon Hee-jae would choose what was best for the child. Nothing would ever be more important to him than Yeon-woo.

That much was certain.

While watching the child, Kwon Hee-jae turned toward the bedroom.

“For now, stop trying to find the kid’s mom. And get back to Korea quickly—you’re being too loud.”