For a Hungry Omega

Haon glanced at the wall clock and quietly sighed to himself. Time seemed to be crawling today, slower than usual. Normally, he wasn’t the type to check the time while working, but today was an exception.

“Haon, got a date after work?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking at the clock.”

One of the other servers asked teasingly, noticing how Haon kept sneaking glances at the wall clock. It was almost like how he checked his alarm clock at home—once every ten minutes.

“Sorry. I’ll focus.”

He quickly resumed tidying up the tablecloths, moving even more diligently. The server who had spoken to him winked, saying it was fine as long as the manager didn’t catch them, but Haon snapped back to attention and didn’t spare the clock another glance after that. Thanks to that, time passed by much faster.

When his long-awaited shift finally ended, he finished taking out the recycling and headed to the locker room. By the time Haon was changing his clothes, the other servers had already left. He’d intentionally taken his time, wanting to change when the place was quiet.

“Good work today.”

As Haon arrived at the locker room, the youngest kitchen assistant—already in casual clothes—waved at him from outside the door. Haon tilted his head at him for a moment, then his eyes widened in realization and he hurriedly grabbed his portable battery and came out.

“Um, I’m really sorry. I think I broke it.”

Even though it had been lent to him with good intentions, it seemed to have broken immediately because of his faulty phone. Haon apologized, saying he’d cover the cost, and asked how much it was. But the kitchen assistant looked more flustered than anything and waved his hands frantically.

“No, no! It was already wearing out.”

He scratched his head awkwardly, asking if he should run to the convenience store and grab a replacement. Of course, Haon declined.

“Thank you for being so considerate. But please, don’t worry about it. You should head home.”

Haon bowed his head out of habit as he declined, and the younger guy finally gave up with a sheepish smile and left. As he walked down the dim hallway, he glanced back—but Haon had already disappeared into the locker room.

Haon’s thoughts were still entirely preoccupied with the man’s number saved in his phone.

***

After leaving the restaurant, Haon decided to stop by the beer pub near his place to see the weekend manager before heading home. He’d skipped his shift without notice and hadn’t contacted them at all since, so the manager was probably furious.

The more he thought about the sharp-tongued manager, the heavier his steps became, but he forced himself to walk faster. He needed to get home and charge his phone so he could text that man. If he waited too long, he might miss the chance to get in touch. He had to send that message before 10 PM, no matter what.

However, Haon’s plan unraveled the moment he arrived at the pub, which was unusually packed that night. With two company gatherings booked since Thursday, the place was swarming with customers, and the owner himself was rushing around, serving beer.

“Hey, you little punk! Jung Haon!”

Normally, the owner would be glued to his phone behind the counter—his usual post—but the moment he spotted Haon, he shouted at the top of his lungs. Assuming Haon was just passing by, he dropped off a tray of beer glasses at a table and stormed out.

“You picked the wrong day to show up, you bastard!”

He lunged like he was about to grab Haon by the collar. Startled, Haon instinctively shrank back, but the owner seized him by the wrist and dragged him straight into the kitchen, tying an apron around him without warning.

“You’re staying until closing! Or you’re not getting paid, got it?!”

Without waiting for a response, the owner tossed the command over his shoulder as he headed off to fry chicken. Looking awkward and flustered, Haon still went ahead and tightened the apron strings.

“Did you come here to work?”

“You’re one of the regulars, right?”

The two weekday part-timers glanced at him with pleading eyes, clearly overwhelmed. Haon sighed, then rolled up his sleeves. ‘Just one hour. I’ll work for one hour and leave.’

“Boss, when’s the spicy whelk coming out?”

“This isn’t ours.”

But even after that one hour passed, Haon hadn’t been able to take off his apron. The weekday staff were complete rookies—he couldn’t just leave them. They were making constant order mistakes and couldn’t even pour draft beer properly.

“I’m so sorry! It’ll be out soon!”

Left to clean up their messes on his own, Haon darted around the restaurant, even more frantically. He apologized to every irritated customer for the delays and hustled to get food out as quickly as possible.

“Just a little longer! It’ll be right out!”

Even though he wasn’t fast and couldn’t carry much on a single tray, he never once lost his smile.

“Sorry for the wait! Please enjoy your meal!”

The more exhausted he felt, the brighter Haon smiled. A habit—one that never failed.

***

It was past 2 a.m. by the time Haon finally took off his apron. As he began wiping down for closing out of pure reflex, the owner stopped him and told him to start coming in regularly again from this weekend.

“If you ghost on me again, I’m seriously firing you.”

He didn’t even ask why Haon had suddenly skipped his shifts without a word. Perhaps watching Haon tackle the surprise shift with a cheerful smile had softened him. He even added that he’d pay Haon a higher hourly rate for today’s work.

“Thank you so much!”

Thanks to that, Haon walked out in high spirits. He was incredibly relieved he hadn’t lost his weekend job.

‘Whew… what a relief.’

But physically, he was wrecked. He’d been working nonstop since 9 in the morning until 2 a.m.—no breaks, just back-to-back labor. And with his already weak stamina, he’d pushed himself way too hard. ‘If I keep this up, I’m going to get sick…’

Dragging his exhausted body, Haon arrived at the goshiwon and let out a deep sigh as he stared up at the long flight of stairs. If he sighed out loud now, he felt like he’d end up dry heaving. Sometimes, when he was overly fatigued, his stomach would start to churn.

‘Yeah… I must’ve pushed myself too hard.’

Feeling guilty for having caused trouble by missing his shift without notice, he had worked even harder to make up for it. Still, since he’d managed to keep his job, it hadn’t been all for nothing.

He climbed the stairs one step at a time, pressing a warm palm to his heated forehead. If he didn’t warm his body properly before sleeping, it felt like it might turn into a full-blown cold. 

‘I should at least plug in the electric mat before bed.’

His eyelids were already heavy, drooping halfway shut. If he closed his eyes now, he’d fall asleep instantly.

“Gotta… charge my phone…”

He patted his pants pocket to make sure his phone was still there. During work, he had definitely plugged it into the charger at the restaurant, but unfortunately, he’d used the faulty cable—and it was still completely dead.

Finally reaching the fourth floor, Haon paused to brace his knees and bend over, catching his breath. Climbing all the way up with no energy left made his head spin. It wasn’t the first time, so he waited out the dizziness, already used to it.

Creak.

That’s when he heard a door opening somewhere. Haon, who had been breathing slowly to steady himself, perked up and looked around. ‘Did I imagine that?’ He was the only one standing in the hallway.

‘Maybe it came from another floor.’

Glancing around at the empty corridor, he made his way to his room. His body felt as heavy as lead—he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. As soon as he took off his shoes, he headed for the bathroom, but paused mid-step, tilting his head.

‘There was something I meant to do when I got home… what was it…?’

“Ah.”

With the toothbrush in his mouth, toothpaste already squeezed out, he stepped out of the bathroom and reached under the wardrobe. After some effort and grunting, he pulled out the electric mat by its handle.

He laid it across the bed, plugged it in, and returned to the bathroom. He’d almost forgotten and gone straight to sleep. Tapping his forehead lightly in scolding, he finished brushing his teeth and washed his face thoroughly with soap. He wanted to shower but was far too sleepy and gave up on the idea.

“You did good today.”

After stripping off his clothes and changing into pajamas, Haon moved to lie down on the now-warm mat. But just as his foot touched the bed, his eyes instinctively flicked toward the front door.

Knock, knock.

At the same time, a knock echoed through the room.

He glanced at his alarm clock—it was past 3 a.m. ‘Must’ve imagined it.’ This place wasn’t well soundproofed, so maybe someone was knocking on the neighbor’s door.

Still staring at the door, he slowly sat on the bed and clutched the blanket. The moment the old bed frame creaked under him—knock knock—the sound came again. It was unmistakably someone knocking on his door.

‘No way…’

The man he had completely forgotten in his exhaustion now suddenly came to mind. Thinking of him, Haon reached for his phone—then clicked his tongue inwardly as he realized he had forgotten to charge it.

Knock knock.

As Haon got up from bed to charge his phone, the knocking resumed. The calm, steady rhythm of it only heightened the sinking feeling in his chest.

“Who is it…?”

‘Could it be him?’

That man—had he come all the way here at this hour?

“Excus—”

He opened his mouth to call out, but paused. He didn’t even know the man’s name. Haon’s eyes narrowed, and he instinctively began to back away, step by cautious step. If it was the man, wouldn’t he have responded?

“……”

But there was no answer. The knocking stopped.

Leaning against the wall where his charger was plugged in, Haon strained to listen. There were no footsteps—nothing. It felt like someone was still standing right outside the door. The walls in the goshiwon were so thin that you could tell how many people were moving through the hallway at any given time.

Biting his lower lip, Haon opened the dial screen the moment his phone powered on. His finger trembled slightly as he typed in “112.”

‘Should I call the police?’

Maybe it was just someone who got the wrong room. But was it really okay to call the police over something like this?

His fingertip hovered over the call button, filled with hesitation. His mind blanked out under the pressure of the unfamiliar situation. Maybe the person had already left and he just didn’t hear it. His heart was pounding so hard that it made his ears ring.

Clack.

At that moment, like a cruel answer to his desperate hope, the doorknob turned.

Unlike the man who had once nearly ripped the door off its hinges, this time the handle turned slowly—eerily gently—as if the person were taking great care.